Man Martin's Blog, page 134

Learning to Accept Yourself for Who You Are

This Man Has Clearly Accepted Himself for Who He Is.
Lucky Him.You have to accept yourself for who you are.  For example, you can't accept yourself for who somebody else is.  That's not even possible.  Go ahead and try it.

When you were little, maybe you wanted to be a garbage truck.  As you grew older you wanted to be a fire truck.  Briefly, in your teens, you wanted to be a jet plane.  Now look at yourself.  You're not a vehicle at all, are you?  You have to learn to accept that.  Be happy with who you are, even if it's a stationary object like a lamp post.

Freud says when boys are little they secretly want to murder their fathers and marry their mothers.  Very few of us have ever killed Dad, and even fewer have married Mom.  And those that have, are they happy with their choices?  Maybe.  You'd have to find them and ask them.  But in the meanwhile, whatever disappointments you've faced, you have to learn to accept it.  Maybe when you were little, there was a revolver handy you could have shot Dad with, and down the  street a nice shop where you could have bought Mom some flowers and candy.  Maybe you didn't take the opportunity when you had it, and now you have regrets.  Just get over it, is my advice, and move on.

I'm going to use another example because the previous one is making me uneasy.

How many of us wanted a pet chimpanzee?  I know I did, but I never got one.  Sure it hurts.  I try to act like it doesn't hurt, but it does.  My neighbor has a pet chimpanzee, and it just makes me eat my heart out.  "That's a great chimpanzee," I say, being gracious.  "That's my son," says my neighbor.  "Quit calling him a chimpanzee.  He can hear you."  So my neighbor has regrets of her own.  She wishes she had a son instead of a chimpanzee.  But we all have to learn to accept ourselves.  I have to be okay with the fact I don't have a chimpanzee, and she has to be okay with the fact she does.  And Billy needs to accept the fact he is a chimpanzee and quit getting on the school bus every morning because he's only fooling himself.

If you don't accept yourself for who you are, you're just causing yourself needless pain.  Sure, I could tell myself if I combed my hair, shaved, brushed my teeth, maybe even went "hole hog" and put on some pants, I could leave the house once in a while.  But I don't.  Because I've learned to accept myself.

In Dinosaur Heaven, There Are No Tears for Us

In Dinosaur Heaven, there are no tears for us.  The ankylosaurus is not grieved to see us heading to ecological catastrophe.  Just the opposite.  He's rooting for it.

Don't you understand, they want to see us fail.  They've watched us unearth their bones and assemble them in our natural history museums, make plastic models of them for our children to play with, make movies and books about them.  We always thought, "Dinosaurs are so neat!"  We thought we were paying them tribute.  But the dinosaurs in heaven don't see it that way.  To them it was just another way of pointing out they're extinct and we're not.  Every time they saw a six-year-old with a dinosaur pop-up book, it was like we were saying, "Losers!"  All the diplodici and stegosauri tried to act like it didn't hurt.  But it did.  It hurt.

But now the shoe is on the other foot.

What makes it especially sweet is one of the agents of our destruction is fossil fuels.  The triceratops laughs thinking that his decomposed remains provided the petroleum with which we are destroying the planet.  This is not strictly true; fossil fuels were formed 300 hundred million years ago, and dinosaurs didn't appear until about seventy million years after that, but the triceratops doesn't know that, because it never went to school.

So there's nothing to spoil the irony for all the dinosaurs in Dinosaur Heaven.

The Day Ahead

All day people will be asking me about the Oscars.  "Did you see the Oscars?  OMG!  Snooky the Pig won for best performance by a trained animal?!  What were they thinking????"

I shall be mum.  The Oscars for me are like the Superbowl, only with actors.  I don't watch either one of them, so the next day I'm subjected to a gauntlet of people who have.

I have no idea who won anything at the Oscars because I did not watch the Oscars.  I went to sleep instead.  I did not watch the Oscars because I haven't seen any of the movies this year.  Even years I do watch the movies, I don't watch the Oscars.  The movies that should win never do.  For example Machete and Machete Kills.  Two fine movies, but did they win an Oscar?  Even one?  No.

Or Planet Terror, which has, in my humble opinion, the best scene ever filmed of a helicopter decapitating an army of zombies.  Did it even get a mention at the Oscars?   No, it did not.

When excellent cinema such as this begins to get the recognition it deserves, I shall watch the Oscars.  Not before.

The Pet Tarantula Speaks

Oh, it's you.

Look, I just want to be left alone in my burrow until something comes along to eat.  Then I'll eat it.  Then I'll go back to sleep.

I really don't enjoy crawling over your fingers in order to impress that girl you got with you.  Face it.  You really don't have a chance.  Even with a pet tarantula.  If you had a chance, you wouldn't need a pet tarantula, but having a pet tarantula guarantees you will never have a chance.  Not until I die and you throw me in the trashcan.

Jeez, I wish I hadn't thought about that.  Now I'm depressed.

The deal is, friend, none of my coolness rubs off on you.  None.  If that mustache you've been trying to grow and those ill-advised tattoos haven't made you cool, what makes you think I will?  That's right, I won't.

In fact, I've got some news to break to you.  Tarantulas aren't even cool to themselves.  I see nothing remarkable about my eight hairy legs or the way I look.  I don't think I'm especially big.  Compared to you for example, I'd say I was pretty small.  Being a tarantula isn't something I do because it's cool.  It's just who I am.

If you really want to do me a favor, find me a mate.  I've got an itching to exchange some signals with a female of the same species, mate, then get the hell out of there before she eats me.  I've never been a daddy, and I'd like to know there's between fifty and two thousand eggs out there that I've fathered.

Now go away and let me sleep.

The Dog Speaks

Is there something you'd like me to say?  I mean, not that you would be, but maybe there's something about me you've always been curious about, that you always wanted to know.  Is there  something you feel needs saying, specifically needs saying from me?  Because if there is, just let me know and I'll be happy to be the one to say it.

Frankly, though, I'd much rather talk about you.  If you're comfortable with that, I mean.  If that's something you'd like.  Is it something you'd like?  You can sit there in your armchair telling me about yourself and I can just listen.  Yes, I'm perfectly happy here on the floor. No, really.  It's quite comfortable.  But you were just about to tell me something about yourself.

I don't care.  Whatever you want to talk about.  Sometimes people just need to talk, don't they?  Maybe you've got a problem you'd like to air.  Something worrying you.  It might help to talk, but it can be about anything at all.  You can just go "blah, blah, blah," and that'll be fine.  Really, I just like the sound of your voice.  You really have a great voice.  I could listen to it all day.

And if you wanted to, and I'm not saying you have to, but if you'd like to, from time to time you could scratch the spot at the base of my tail, that makes my leg to do thing.  I'd be totally okay with that, too.

The Cat Speaks

I'm basically just an animal lover.  I can't help it.  Especially if they're little and scamper.  When I see something scamper, it's like steak sauce to me.  I love me some scampering little animals.  If I saw a little animal scamper right now, know what?  I'd kill it.  If there was a contest for who liked to kill scampering animals the most, I'd win a Gold.

I'd kill a scampering animal if I saw it trying to run away.  I'd kill it if it was climbing a tree.  If it hailed a taxi, scampered in, and drove off, I'd hail myself another taxi, and say, "Follow that cab!"  And when the cab stopped, and the animal scampered out, I'd kill it.  My mission in life is to kill scampering animals.  If I was at a fancy restaurant, I'd say, "Do you have any scampering animals on the menu?"  If I was stranded on an island and could just bring along three things, two of them would be scampering animals.  The third thing would be a cage full of scampering animals.

When an animal stops scampering, I usually leave it on the doormat for my human.  She eats carrots.  I've seen her get into a bathtub that was completely full of water.  And she thinks I'm disgusting.  But I don't judge.  I'm a live-and-let-live kind of cat.  Unless you're a scampering animal.  In which case, I'll kill you.

The Queen Ant Speaks

So I'm sitting here laying eggs all day.  You cannot possibly imagine how boring this is.  All my daughters are running around taking care of me, making sure I'm okay, "Are you comfortable, mamma?"  "Do you have enough to eat?"  "Here, eat some of this random crap I foraged."  Do they ever bring me any entertainment?  Like maybe a video from Redbox or even a magazine?  No, they do not.

As soon as I lay an egg, one of my daughters takes it away.  They raise them for me, which is at least one thing I don't have to do, but the thing is, I never even get to know my own children.  The other day I was asking, "Whatever happened to 10352, 10353, and 10354?  I never see them around any more?"  "Oh, my goodness," someone said, "Don't you know?  They got stepped on!"  It was pretty awkward, but the fact is I didn't feel as bad as I should have.  The truth is, I can barely remember what they looked like.  I was always getting 10352 and 10353 mixed up.  You'd think a mother would be able to remember her own children, but it's not easy when you have so many.

 At least they get to see the sun shine.  I've never seen the sun shine; I don't even know what it looks like.  12355 says it's like being underground except there's no roof over you, and instead of dark, it's bright.  None of this makes any sense to me.

Where's the father, you ask?  Not here, that's for sure.  Not that I blame him.  He's dead.  We mated one time, one time, and fifteen thousand eggs later, I'm still sitting here.  If I'd known how this was going to work out, I'd have just said, "Let's be friends."  Not that I don't love my daughters, but Jesus.

The worst part is, I can't even decently complain.  My daughters are all like, "Oh, God, Monday again!  Back to work schlepping out foraging for random crap and hoping we don't get stepped on.  You're lucky, mamma.  All you have to do is eat and lay eggs."  I have to at least act grateful, "Thank you for this random crap you foraged for me.  No, it's delicious, really.  No, I couldn't.  I'm stuffed.  Okay, one more bite."  They all envy me.  They think my life is so sweet, and wish they could be me.  If they knew the truth, that my life is just as sucky as theirs, I think it'd break their hearts.  I guess their life is sucky, too, but I still wouldn't mind trading places for a while.  I think if my life sucked equally much, but in a different way, that would still feel like an improvement.

I am so tired of these damn eggs.

I Don't Need Much

Material things don't mean that much to me.  I don't need a big, fancy house with a thousand rooms, a maid and a butler.  I just want an ordinary place with a full basement, a formal dining room, a couple of extra bedrooms for guests, a private office, a sun room - oh, and at least three bathrooms, one for me, one for Nancy, and another, if - again we have guests.  And maybe someone to come in and clean once a week.  And someone else to do the yard work.

I'm just a simple guy at heart.  I don't need diamonds or rubies to feel good about myself or long ermine robes.  Frankly, that sort of ostentation just seems silly to me.  All I need are the basics: casual clothes, obviously, for when I'm casual, work clothes for work, "Sunday best," workout clothes - I've got special gear that "wicks away" sweat.  Plus of course winter clothes, summer clothes, sleep clothes.  I guess that covers it.  I need several changes of each, of course, plus plenty of options in footwear, neckties, and so forth.  All in all, my wardrobe takes up about one and a half closets plus all my dresser drawers.  But really, I'm very simple.

Some people feel they need the very best of everything, they're like, "Peel me a grape, Roscoe," or "pass the candied peacock's tongue."  If you looked in our refrigerator, you'd see how simply we live.  We have some prosciutto, brussels sprouts, asparagus, maybe some leftover pork roast, almond milk, tea, three or four kinds of cheese, bacon, avocados, and that's about it.  Oh, and sauces, pesto, bleu cheese dressing, ranch.  Frankly, I forget what all's in there.

Downstairs - oh, did I forget to mention we have a second refrigerator in the basement? - we have tangerines, grapefruit, apples, and mangoes.  Plus a chest freezer full of meat.  Oh, and I nearly forgot.  We have a mini-fridge just for soft drinks.  That about covers it.  Except for the food in the pantry, I forgot to mention that.  As you can see, I get along on very little.

It's not that I'm smug about it.  In fact, I'm incredibly humble.  But it just galls me to see all those other selfish people going on living lives of indecent excess and never giving it a second thought.

Making the Most of What's Left

A Boston Terrier, Shaved, Slicked with Vaseline,
and Painted Green, Could Make an Acceptable Frog SubstituteScientists have discovered that the biggest mass extinction on record, the Permian extinction, which occurred 250 million years ago, and wiped out 90% of lifeforms, had virtually no effect on the lifestyles on the ocean floor.  I know you're as relieved to hear this as I am.  To be clear, 90% of the marine species were gone for good, but the lifestyles they represented were filled by other organisms.  Only one lifestyle was lost: unattached and partly-buried in the sea floor, feeding on pieces of food that landed on the ocean bottom.  If you call that a lifestyle.

Anyway, the point is, even though nine out of ten species disappeared, it was business as usual on the ocean floor.

This is terrifically cheering news, people, and points out something the environmentalists never considered: the animals themselves don't notice when others die out.  An ostrich never looks at a turtle and asks, "You notice you haven't seen any dodos lately?"  Sure, some organisms are interdependent, so if, say, there's a mass extinction of bees due to insecticides, we may have a lot fewer flowers, but a daffodil's never going to think, "God, I'm so full of pollen I'm about to burst!  Where's that dang bee?"  And if frogs die out, which seems a possibility, mosquitoes aren't going to think, "Wow, life is sweet since all the frogs disappeared!  Now we can reproduce at will!  Buzzzz."

Granted, a wolf or coyote or something - assuming there's any left of those - might think, "I am so hungry I could eat a moose!  Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I saw a moose."  But then he'll either find something else to eat or else die, in which case none of the animals will miss him.

So the only ones who will actually miss extinct animals, think about them, feel regret - are humans.

Fortunately, this is easily remedied.  A can of white spray paint and voila, your ordinary brown bear is now a polar bear, or close enough.  Add some black touch-ups and presto!  A panda bear.  Basically any bear can be substituted for any other bear.  Some animals will be harder to replace, I know.  Frogs, which I mentioned earlier, the entire class, is under threat.  Not many people will miss them, I suppose, except when they wonder why there are so many more bugs, but again, this is why God gave us pesticide.  If you absolutely have to have a frog, get a Boston Terrier, one of those dogs with bug eyes, shave it, paint it green, and slaver it all over with Vaseline.  It will look nothing like a frog.  But you can pretend it looks like a frog, and when enough time elapses you've forgotten what frogs look like, it will look like a frog.

Problem solved.

How to Survive the Collapse of Civilization

The Look for an Insurrection is Comfortable-Casual
With Earth Tones PredominatingEveryone watching the news spilling out of the Ukraine is thinking the same thing, "How terrible, I wonder what I would do in a situation like that?"  What do you do if the rules of civilization break down, and the streets run with blood?  I've been through eight such situations myself, two of which I caused.  (Accident.  Long story.)  I can't tell you everything you might need to know, because anarchic breakdowns are like snowflakes, each one is unique.  Nevertheless, these simple tips will give you the self confidence to make the best of things when everything goes down the crapper.

WEAR COMFORTABLE SHOES: This is a must.  You know all those zombie movies when the beautiful chick trips at a crucial moment because she's wearing stilettos?  Not cool.  If there are zombies chasing us, there's a chance someone's going to go back and get you.  If the crowds all full of angry mobs calling for blood, you're on your own.

WEAR EARTH TONES: The look for an uprising is comfortable-casual; even if you're a "Spring" don't wear bright colors or pastels.  You want drab greens and browns.  Blend.  Remember Schindler's List and that one little girl you kept seeing in red?  Remember what happened to her?  Everyone else was dressed in gray and black, and some of them survived.

STAY INDOORS:  Basically a collapse of law and order is like ice on the roads, only with bullets.  Don't go out of the house unless you absolutely have to.

IF A BUNCH OF PEOPLE ARE DOING SOMETHING, DO IT WITH THEM: If everyone's tearing down a statue of Vladimir Lenin, do it with them.  If they're shouting and shaking their fists as news cameras, do the same.  This is not the time to say something like, "I see your point, but on the other hand..." or "Let's agree to disagree."