Mistakes Are Just Fine...

...Just don't make excuses.

Here's a thought; having recently had an altercation with a member of the local ski patrol I came to a realization. Nobody wants to hear excuses. Bitterly angry and bickering it struck me that the man in the red jacket before me did not care to hear WHY I had done what I had done, whether from ignorance or malice (It was from ignorance I assure you, dear reader. But, more on that later.), he was merely concerned with my immediate and ongoing cessation of said action.

There is something pure and wholesome about that desire. Personally, when something goes wrong I do not want to hear a litany of events and causes leading up to what went wrong, all I want to hear is a little remorse for the mistake and a genuine promise to not allow any recurrences of the problem. I think that is fair and just--not to mention a big time saver. Armed with that knowledge I want everyone to go out into the world and treat others as they would like to be treated. Everyone makes mistakes. Some are bigger than others, but they still happen. Be understanding. That cannot be too much to ask.

As for the above mention of ignorance-
While often bandied about as some sort of insult meant to make others feel intellectually inferior being ignorant is a horse of a different color. Stupidity is the result of having been educated and then having forgotten. On the other hand being ignorant is the state of never having known, which is a much more excusable offence. As this relates to my day on the slopes yesterday, obviously I have not been keeping abreast of the slow zones on my home mountain as they are multiplying like bunnies in the spring--or third grade math students, you choose whichever analogy you are more comfortable with--but the run that had been designated as "slow" was not in any way marked on the actual mountain. I was incredulous. I was lectured. I was made an example of. And finally, I was let go unscathed, but miffed. Miffed, because I am not a mind reader (also evidently not a trail map reader...) and did not know, somehow without being told, that I was in a slow zone and therefore expected to--get this--SLOW DOWN. I am over it now and have debated sociology, physics, and anatomy over a nice dinner at my father's house, but it did bring something odd to mind...

Awhile back I was watching the MTV and saw a gripping documentary on Brittany...britteny, britny, britain...whatever, that Spears girl. The film crew was following her through the rigors of her latest tour at the time, and let me tell you I was exhausted just watching it all. However, that is beside the point. The point is that young BS was defending her [presumably] friend Jessica Simpson's antics on the television by pointing out that if she was never told about the things in life that she is confused about--which seems to be just about everything at this point...why in one episode she was eating something that she thought to be chicken when in all reality it turned out to be a 1/4 scale model of the Edmund Fitzgerald--how could she be expected to know the difference. Although I have watched this "Newlyweds" program on several occasions and have yet to see any proudly displayed doctorate certificates the point being made is valid. Without prior knowledge how can she be expected to use sound judgment. After all it is fairly easy to confuse a tragically-lost-Great-Lakes-freighter for a bit of shredded chicken. We've all done it. They're both fairly nautical, right? All's I'm saying is that maybe we should be looking more at her father for the reason she's not so bright. The old "keep your attractive and somewhat talented young daughters dumb so you can manage them and live off of them forever" ploy. Seen it a thousand times and it never gets easier to take, let me tell you. Tragic.

So two lessons should be learned here today. 1: If it is your fault, cop to it. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I'll try not to let it happen again." Should suffice. If that doesn't cover it try throwing kitty litter in your assailant's face and fleeing through the nearby shrubs. That should work, because there are always kitty litter and shrubs near by...just keep an eye out. 2: Do not confuse ignorance for stupidity. You should gently inform/educate the ignorant, giving them the tools they will need to succeed in later life. You may soundly rap the stupid on the forehead with a framing hammer; they'll thank you for it later [if they get the chance].

Okay. Good talk. Read...BREAK!

High-Fives Are Out

Okay, this issue is almost the dead horse of the year, but everyone seems to want to keep fighting for the life of the barbaric ritual known as a high-five. There are numerous reasons that this activity should be curtailed immediately. First, it is silly. Nobody ever, EVER, looks cool (see also--"hip" "rad" "hott" "neat") when giving a high five. Near as I can tell it is something for drunk dudes to do when they want to show friendship without any of the mess of being possibly somehow in a round about way perceived as being desirous of one another. Which brings us to reason two to knock-it-off; association with meatheads. The high-five is so tough-guy-nineteen-eighty-five that it hurts. The only time when a H-F might not make you look like a total meathead is if there is a little jump involved AND both parties completely miss. Then it is kind of funny, and maybe cute in a corny way, but that is the only time. Finally the main reason that the high-five should garner immediate disfavor for participants is that it is over used, played out, far too common. Honestly, it has gotten to the point where people will give eachother the ol' high-five for just about anything. "Hey, you didn't wet your pants today, buddy, good job...how's about a high-five!?" or "Yeah, this pornographic moving picture that I have procured from my father's 'secret' collection is so awesome I'm going to watch it with my male friends, with no women within 3000 yards of us! Where's that five? Up high? You got it!!!" So, basically, the rule on this--as it should be on almost everything in life--is that if you can not imagine someone you want to be (really want to be, like a "role model", not kind of want to be like a celebrity who can get away with being a bonehead just because they are overpaid talking heads with a tan, you know?) doing said activity, then maybe you shouldn't be doing it either.

Another blight on society is the constant complaining by people with access to the internet without the offering of helpful solutions or alternatives. So here are a few of those:
Remember, High-Fives, BAD
Repeated Euro Kisses on the Cheeks, good
Hugs, good
Leaving Someone Alone for a While, good
Side Fives, 'til spring '05 tops
Plutonic Mouth Kissing, good
Random Slow Dance, good
Do-si-do, so rural-retro it can't be bad
Handshake, classic/classy
Longing Glances, better than average
Meaningful Double Hug, awesome
Knowing Glance w/Smile, exceptional
Wink AND Pistol Finger, great...but only when together, never separately.

Aaaaanyway, that is all there is to be said about the subject of high-fives for now. You may still do them if you so desire, but do not get all huffy if someone declines with a look of terror and a shake of the head, they have just moved on, and with their help you too may move on. Try something new and different, watch out for ruts. And come back later for a look at celebrities. Because they deserve it.

-A. R. Leith

spring break 2005; pants party woooo!!!

My friend mike just asked the definition of perverbial...which I assume is something referred to by perverts. Anb that's fine, because without those people the van-with-tinted-windows-and-a-bed in-the-back market would competely go into the toilet, and THAT would not be good for the economy. These people are similar to college kids in that they spend money when they ought not simply because they cannot help themselves. The economy in our modern day is largely based on the people that just cannot help but spend their money, even though it might not be the best decision that they could make. Which is good.

Okay, this IS the first blog (or whatever the kids are going to call this by the time tomorrow comes--speaking of which, there is a poigniant song lyric that has been haunting me lately that goes, "When tomorrow comes where will yesterday be?" I say haunts me, because it is a very good question; what is the point in bothering today becaue tomorrow our efforts might be moot...that is if tomorrow ever gets here. But I digress.) Aaaanyway, I'm writing this on a laptop, and I hate laptops, not because of the potential impotency, because that might be a welcome change from the junior high-esque state of my current crotchal affairs of getting a boner every two hours like clockwork, but because they are just uncomfortable for me to type on, so I promise to write more here when I have a proper keyboard in front of me, so please come back and we'll have good times together.

A. R. Leith