When will I learn?

There are things that we do that, after we have done them, we tell ourselves that we will never do them again. Yet, even though we are adamant when we tell ourselves that we will never do it again, soon enough we do it again, causing us much grief and consternation, and causing the whole process to begin anew.
Every time I go to any Wal-Mart, I tell myself I will never go again. They are always crowed. They are always messy and cluttery. There is never enough checkout checkers. It is never a fun experience. And yet, like the proverbial dog, I return. How foolish I am! How can I think that it is ever even minutely more convenient to go the Wal-Hell? Foolish, foolish man.
I pledge that I will never, under any circumstances (save eminent danger to the health of my family) go to any W-He on the face of the planet. The only reason for which I would recant is that W-H made some serious reforms.
Reform Number One: They must have at least 10 check-out checkers on duty at all times of the day. Whenever I go to W-H, there is never more than three open checkout lines. There is usually 20-30 people waiting in those lines. This doesn't make sense. Whenever I go to Target, there are almost always enough checkers. I don't have to wait in line very long. Target knows how to do things. When I went to W-H last night (which is what provoked this diatribe), there where around 3 lines open. Two of those lines were the "Self-checkout lines." There were several self-checkout lines that were unopened. I could not fathom why this was so. That brings up the next several reforms.
Reform Number Two: They must have an item limit for the self-checkout lines. In one of the self-checkout lines, the one at which I found myself, some lady was buying food for the Donner Party. Normally, there is a limit as to how many items you can have in such a line. There was no such limit at this store, and the fine lady took advantage of that. Thankfully, she had two small children with her to enable her to take even more time in the line. However, the number of items and the number of children was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem was her ineptitude.
Thus, Reform Number Three: There should be an entrance exam people must pass in order to use the self-checkout. I suggest a computer at the front of the line where people have to answer some questions before they can proceed. These could be basic questions. like "Which of these things is not the others?" or "How many apples can you buy for $1 if apples are $1 apiece?" Those that pass the exam can use the line. Those the can't will need to go to one of the old-fashioned lines.
These are three simple reforms that W-H could easily implement, should they be inclined to do so. Until they do, let it be known that I pull all my support from W-H. Furthermore, I will do everything in my power to make sure everyone that I know does the same. I hope to be the MLK of grocery store reform. Tell your friends. Tell your loved ones. Tell your loved ones' friends and your friends' loved ones to boycott that evil-eyed eater of existence, that tedious traitor of time, that devious destroyer of decency, that spurious slasher of sensibility, Wal-Mart.
That is all.

Must see me TV

Much to my utter chagrin, I missed last week's special "Oprah Winfrey presents Oprah's Prime Time Oscar Spectacular." Like most unsuspecting Americans and George Clooney, I cannot get enough of Oprah's self-inflating broadcast exposure. This week I will surely not miss "Oprah Winfrey presents The Prime Time Good-Things-Oprah-Has-Done-for-the-World-Today Special." I need to find a way to program my non-TiVo DVR to record anything and everything Oprah. As she constantly reminds us, she is such a gracious and beneficent person. I do believe next week is the premier of "Oprah Winfrey presents Oprah's Prime Time Gifts-from-my-Sponsors Event."

Ode to Oprah

O, Oprah, my Oprah!
How lovely are thy ways!
How good to the world you are!
How kind and generous you are!
Let you count for us the ways in which you bring community and peace to mankind.
Let you count for us the ways in which you do that which few Americans, especially those without a staff of hundreds and more sponsors than a NASCAR racing team, do for the forgotten and neglected.
O, Oprah, my Oprah!
You give us hope that anyone with a bankroll of millions, and unrestricted television access can truly appear to make a difference in this world.
You give us hope that all the problems of the world diminish when we gather together with dozens of our closest diva friends around a finely tailored couch with only a book and our naked feelings.
You give us hope, dear Oprah, that is not important what you do, but what you are able to tell a nationwide audience of millions of depressed and desperate housewives what you have done.
O, Oprah, my Oprah!
Without you weekday afternoons would have no meaning.
Without you we would not know what to read or wear or watch, or who to praise and who to shun. We would not know anything without you.
Without you we would not have Dr. Phil, the Professor of pop-psychobabel. We would never think how "it" is working for us. How could we ever loose weight or gain self-esteem?
Without you we would have no choice but to watch Judge Judy. What kind of life is that?
O, Oprah, my Oprah!
You feel good about you.
You help us to feel good about you.
Someday, you may help us to feel good about us.
Thank you, dearest Oprah.

On football

David Letterman says that Bill Belichick "for one reason or another, dresses like a sherpa."
I am amazed that the Saints lost. They had Drew Brees as their quaterback. Drew Brees had statistically the best season ever for a quaterback who moved to another team in another conference after suffering a shoulder injury in a playoff game at the end of the previous season. And no such quaterback had ever lost the NFC Championship game. They should have had a lock on the game.
I am glad that two good coaches, Tony Dungy (a Christian) and Lubby Smith, are taking their teams to the Super Bowl. I could care less that they are African-American. What difference does it make? How is this a significant event? We are so far from where MLK dreamed that we would one day be. Why do so many people, primarily civil rights people, have to continually make ethnicity an issue? Why do so many people have to point out that Dungy and Smith are black? It seems so silly to me. Why can't we all just get along?
That is all.

How to be a good teacher.

Teaching is a difficult profession. Some people might think that anyone can teach. Some people might think that teaching is as easy as getting out of bed in the morning. These people have never tried to get out of a bed that is resting on top of Mt. Everest. Some people have absolutely no clue.
Teaching is an art. Not just anyone can create a masterpiece. Not just anyone can be as much of a genius as John Cage or Jackson Pollack. It is a gift.
Teaching involves several rare qualities. To be a teacher you need to have a near clairvoyant insight into students. You need to understand what makes them unhappy and unexcited, for a teacher's primary function is to squelch every ounce of enjoyment out of school. You need to be able to squeeze all the juice of joy out of the lemon of laughter so that all that remains is flesh of funlessness. You are not a successful pedagogue if any of your students feel any inclining of enjoyment while at school.
A good teacher is entirely devoid of emotion. They possess a Spokian level of stoicism. The sorrowful and distressful pleas of the pupils bounce like fleas off the teacher. He doesn't care if they are happy or sad or perplexed or upset or ecstatic. He is completely nonplussed by their emotional state. This is not to say he hates his students. He thinks of them merely as pods who must listen intently and complete homework on time.
A good teacher has no life outside of school. Teachers should arrive at school directly from the pampas of Paraguay. They ought to have no clue about the culture that surrounds their students. This gives them all the more reason not to care about the culture that surrounds the students. Since the headmaster has no "real" life he will naturally assume that the students have no real life. This will help the teacher care nothing about any non-school related aspect of each student's life.
That is all, for now.

Where is talent to be found?

I did not watch "American Idol" last night. Those that know me will not be surprised. I do not watch AI. I have never watched AI for more than five minutes (cumulative total). Unless a completely unforeseen change takes place in my life, I will never watch AI. I find the show to be banal and boring. I do not care about the bad singers on the show. I do not care about Simon's carefully constructed and Britishly delivered insults. I have a more sophisticated sense of schadenfreude. I do not care about the people that get to go to Hollywood with the chance to make it big. I do not care that some girl who grew up singing in her church, or some boy who was taught to sing by his now diseased grandmother, will get the chance to see her dreams come true. I simply do not care about anything that happens on the show. I think there is more talent in mayonnaise than there is in the entire show. I find Ryan Seacrest to be nothing. I can not see anything about any part of the show that would give me any reason to watch it for any length of time.
I know people that love the show. Some of these people watch the show with an near Islamic dedication. Some of these people watch the show with a far diluted yet still sustained interest. Some of these people watch the show just to watch the show. They can watch the show. It is their choice. Their decision to watch the show says nothing about them. I will not look down on someone who watches the show I look down on. Life can get pretty lonely on this lofty perch. I do not want to completely alienate myself. I will, however, always wonder why anyone could watch this show, much like how these people will always wonder how I can watch 50-year-old Japanese films. To each his own.
It is amazing to me how much time Americans (I am drawing an enormously large stroke here) spend watching, and discussing, and fretting over AI. It is not enough to spend however many hours a week watching the show. Many people have many discussions over the contestants--their singing, their song choices, their clothes, their hair. They enter into endless debate over which contestants will proceed, which contestants should proceed, which will get axed, and which should get axed. They will discuss Simon, Randy, and Paula. They will discuss Ryan Seacrest and his amazing ability to exist. They will discuss everything there is to discuss about the show, and when they are done, they will invent new things about the show they can discuss. I suspect that if Americans spent half as much time thinking about other things, like cancer and poverty, as they do thinking about AI, we would have the other things, like cancer and poverty.
I will assume that these views will upset some people. Yet, I cannot but speak the truth. Feel free to comment as you would.
That is all.

She speaks

Sonya has began saying, "Dada," or, at least, something that I interpret to be "Dada." She could have unloose bowels for all I know (though she shouldn't since she eats more oatmeal than Wilford Brimley) and be in the process of passing a potato, but that doesn't matter. She is making more coherent noise than Rosie O'Donnell, so I am happy. As already noted, she knows how to scream and get her way. She will soon be like most Americans and can demand her way in a civilized manner. God bless us all.
That is all.