Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 440
October 10, 2013
Is your marriage destined for success? Rate you and your spouse using these indicators.
Researchers from Rice University and the University of Nebraska—Lincoln analyzed data collected from more than 5,000 couples in order to find out how similar political beliefs were among spouses, and how much these elements played a role in the success or failure of a couple.
Simply put, opposites don’t attract. Couples with more similarities tend to fair much better than those that don’t.
Researchers found that spouses’ strongest similarities were in church attendance and political attitudes, outweighing personality and physical appearance, and that these were key indicators of a successful marriage.
As a reluctant atheist, I have always felt that I married into the perfect religion, since (as a Jewish friend once said) Jews are just agnostics with complex backstories.
This isn’t far from the truth when it comes to my wife.
The study, published in the Journal of Politics, lists traits they found similar in spouses, from super-alike to somewhat-alike.
I went through the list to determine how Elysha and I rated, and we did well. It appears that we are destined for marital bliss. Here are the results:
Church attendance: Alike
Political attitudes: Super alike
Drinking frequency: Alike
Education: Super alike
Height: Alike
Smoking frequency: Super alike
Weight: Alike
Sleep length: Not alike
Here is a selection of specific issues and attitudes that couples had similar views on, again rated from super-alike to less super-alike:
School prayer: Super alike
Abortion: Alike
Gay rights: Super alike
X-rated movies: Huh?
Death penalty: Super alike
Divorce: Super alike
Women’s liberation: Alike
Nuclear power: Not alike
Astrology: Super alike
Willingness to take a dangerous drug: Super alike
Modern art: Alike
Censorship: Super alike
Belief that it’s better to follow the rules: Not alike
Liking to intimidate other people: Not alike
Having been “fresh” to their parents as a child: Not alike
Overnight adventures, except they weren’t adventures at all and they sucked.
Some nights I wonder if I would’ve been better off never having gone to bed. The course of events from last night is as follows:
Boy wakes up at midnight screaming his head off.
Cat wakes me with head-butt and meow at 1:00, wanting God knows what.
Boy wakes up again at 2:30 with more screaming. I attempt to move but instead writhe in bed for 15 minutes, unable to move my shoulder without crying out in pain. Apparently I have fallen asleep in some sadomasochistic position designed to inflame my previously separated shoulder to newfound heights of agony.
I’m finally able to get out of bed to soothe the inconsolable boy with 150+ rounds of the ABCs.
I awake with a start at 3:30 from a nightmare in which my wife and I accidentally commit murder and discover that we suck at cover-ups. I fear that my eminent incarceration will result in a lifetime devoid of golf, my children and Egg McMuffins.
Cat wakes me at 4:00 with another head-butt, still wanting God knows what.
Dog wakes up at 4:15, demanding to be walked.
Large, unidentified animal in neighbors yard turns a typically three minute bathroom break on the lawn into a 25 minute battle of canine fear and curiosity.
Cat escapes house while I am walking dog. Chase ensues down the street.
The presence of the large, unidentified animal causes dog and cat to sit on my feet as I write this list at 4:50 AM.
October 9, 2013
The right time and place for a mohawk
My wife sent me these photos in an email entitled Epic Bath Time Mohawk.
I couldn’t help but think that Elysha would find my son’s mohawk much less appealing in sixteen years.
There really is a time and a place for everything, and in a mother’s mind, the time and place for a mohawk is exceptionally brief.
Unfair assumption #17: If you lie, conceal or refuse to divulge your age, I will automatically assume the worst.
If you lie, conceal or refuse to divulge your age, I assume that you’re probably about ten years older than you look and probably lack self esteem.
Also, could we stop this ridiculous behavior?
We are what we are.
October 8, 2013
Which book is more frightening?
Dinosaur-on-human erotica or a Ryan Gosling coloring book?
Both are real. Which is scarier?
Serious sibling adoration
My four year-old daughter to my one year-old son: “You have such a cute face! I can’t even stand it!”
I’m not sure if I’ve ever said anything that nice to my sister.
October 7, 2013
Verbal sparring 101: Answer the rhetorical question
Whenever you find yourself in an argument, be on the alert for the rhetorical question. People love to use these questions as argumentative counterpoints, and they can quickly derail the unsuspecting opponent. But they are easily defended against by simply answering the question.
For example:
My opponent: “How dare you question my parenting decisions?”
Me: “How dare I? I didn’t really think of my opinion as daring. I just think your parenting decisions suck. But daring? Hardly. What the hell are you going to do to me? You can’t even discipline your own child.”
Another good example:
My opponent: “Who do you think you are?”
Me: I’m Matthew Dicks. Teacher. Author. Father. Master of reason. But I thought you knew that already. What a ridiculous question to ask in the middle of a debate.
This strategy won’t win you any arguments, but it’s incredibly amusing.
October 6, 2013
My namesake discovered 42 years later
My daughter’s name is Clara Susan.
Her first name comes from the protagonist in The Van Gogh Café by Cynthia Rylant. My wife loves that book, and it’s where she fell in love with the name for the first time.
Her middle name was my mother’s first name.
My son’s name is Charles Wallace.
His name comes from the character by the same name in A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. We both loved that book as children.
We are also fond of the poet Wallace Stevens, which helped cinch the deal.
My name is Matthew John.
Yesterday I learned that I was named after my father’s platoon leader in Vietnam. According to Dad, my namesake was a man “who was fair and honest, and the kind of guy who never tried to pull rank.”
My middle name was chosen because my parents felt that it went nicely with Matthew.
I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to learn this. Up until yesterday, I was under the impression that my name was chosen simply because my parents liked it. I had no idea that I had been named after another person.
It’s a shame that it took me 42 years to learn this fact.
If you’ve been named for a person or even a fictional character, you should probably be told this much earlier in life. Don’t you think?
As with most things, my family does things a little differently.
How to stop a friend from driving home drunk
His advice strikes me as fairly obvious and likely ineffective. A lot of emphasis on talking and humor with the eventual threat of law enforcement.
My advice is highly effective and much more practical.
Only once in my life did I have to struggle to stop a friend from driving drunk. Typically the offer of a ride home or an evening on the couch has been enough to convince my friends to stay off the roads.
When I spent time in bars when I was younger and saw someone leaving who was clearly inebriated, I would offer a ride to these strangers as well, and when they refused, it wasn’t uncommon for me to say something like, “Well, then I hope your mother is on the road tonight, and I hope that she’s the one who you kill or maim when you plow into someone with your car.”
This comment did not always result in a positive outcome, but on a least one occasion, the ensuing scuffle allowed me to wrestle the keys from the idiot and prevent him from driving home.
Only once did I struggle to convince a friend to stay off the roads after drinking too much. I was nineteen and hosting a party at my home in Attleboro, Massachusetts. It was a place that we affectionately referred to as The Heavy Metal Playhouse. Our parties tended to be large, alcohol-infused affairs, and most of our guests either sobered up before going home or (more commonly) spent the night sleeping it off.
On this particular night, however, a coworker and friend named Mike decided to leave the party early, and it was clear that he shouldn’t be driving. A few of our friends attempted to convince him into stay, but when it became clear to me that they weren’t going to succeed, I went outside and parked my car behind his.
In retrospect, letting the air out of his tires would’ve been a much better choice. Mike went outside, saw my car parked behind his and demanded that I move it. When I refused, he climbed into his car, started the engine and began ramming the side panel of my car, thereby confirming his high blood alcohol level.
In the end, Mike gave up and found a ride home with a friend. Our friendship, which wasn’t strong to begin with, was never the same again.
Both cars were slightly damaged as a result of the altercation, but when you’re nineteen years-old, dents don’t matter much.
Actually, even today, dents don’t matter much.
So when you find yourself with an inebriated friend who is preparing to drive and nothing will convince him or her otherwise, my advice is simple and practical:
Deflate a tire. Deflate all four if you have time, but one should be plenty.
It will work every time.
“And now my kids don’t die.”
This is hilarious, but it shouldn’t exist. It’s a goddamn tragedy that the argument in favor of vaccines is even necessary.
