Hans Gruber, a Hooters Waitress, Patton, and Health

And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.  Benefits of a classical education.” –  Hans Gruber in Die Hard

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Alexander the Great loved chewing bubblegum and conquering Persians.  And he’s all out of Persians.  And bubblegum wasn’t invented until 2,251 years after he died.  Poor Alexander.

One thing that I think holds people back isn’t that they plan, it’s that they don’t plan big enough.  I’ve been fortunate enough in my life that I’ve made most of my goals come true.  That may sound like a good thing, but is it?

Of course it is.  It’s really cool to be able to be successful at achieving your goals, because losing sucks, and if you have great goals you end up with Cash and Prizes®.

But what would happen one day if I looked around and said . . . “I’ve done it.  I’ve accomplished everything I’ve set out to do.”  What purpose is left to drive me?  And if I did reach all of my dreams, what’s left to work for?

An example of exactly this happening is Buzz Aldrin.  At the age of 39, Buzz walked on the Moon.  The frikking Moon.  It’s so difficult and expensive to do, we can’t do it today.  Yet Buzz was the second guy to walk on the Moon.  As a goal it’s awesome.  But like the miniature schnauzer that catches a Humvee®, what do you do once you’ve won?  Buzz didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t have a problem asking Jack Daniels™ for assistance.

Another example is General George S. Patton.  Patton had been a highly competent general in World War II – daring, audacious, and cromulent.  Yet, he found himself in a position where the war that he knew how to fight was gone – it was over.  In his diary he wrote:  “Yet another war has come to an end, and with it my usefulness to the world.”

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Little known fact:  French tanks in World War II had rear view mirrors.  Those were so they could observe the front line.

But Patton and Aldrin aren’t alone with this conundrum of having their success be the source of their discontent – you see this behavior again and again.  It’s a common story in Hollywood:  nobody to somebody to discovered cocaine to dead.  Or, if the actor has a heart made of titanium, they become beloved actor Robert Downey, Jr.  The most interesting part of that is the cocaine, especially to Robert Downey, Jr.  Although you might think cocaine comes from Colombia, it really comes from the boredom of having everything you want.

It’s curious that one of the things that keeps us healthy and not developing a liver the size of Johnny Depp is the struggle to achieve a goal.  In the absence of meaningful goals, bad things happen to people.  They drink too much.  They vote for the Left.  They get depressed – why get out of bed when there’s nothing to work for?

Goals are important – and there are two ways that you can lose them:

  • Believe that they are impossible and give up, or
  • Achieve them all and run out of goals.

Essentially these are the opposite problems – one is believing you’ve got to play a football game against the 1985 Chicago Bears® using 11 toddlers.  The other is being on the 1985 Chicago Bears© and playing 11 toddlers.

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I know it’s a soccer ball in the trophy.  It’s not like the Cowboys® would recognize a real football.

Both are no-win outcomes.  Toddlers cannot run a receiving pattern at all.  And they cannot hold a block long enough for their toddler-quarterback to get a decent pass off.  And if you’re the 1985 Chicago Bears™, what’s the best thing that could happen?  You beat a bunch of toddlers.  I mean, it’s fun and all, but it’s hardly a greater achievement than defeating the Dallas Cowboys© or a school for ten-year-old girls that lisp.

A goal is required for good mental health.  The very best goals require that you work at your limits, pushing yourself to become better.  They’re goals that you believe you can achieve.  And they’re goals where you can see a path to make them become real.  And the best part of the goal is at the end, after you’ve achieved it, if you plan ahead you’ve got another goal waiting.

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One of the waitresses at Hooters® lost a leg in a car accident last week.  She now has a job at IHOP™.

As I mentioned in Wednesday’s post (Playing The Game, And Goals For Life) I had goals, just not work-related goals.  I’ve been working to create some, and I’m not there yet.  That’s okay.  The goals have to be meaningful.  And I’m not working without a net – I have sufficient goals out in front of me that even if I couldn’t work out a work goal, I have plenty of others.  Is having a cup of fresh, hot coffee a good goal?  Dangit.  Back to the drawing board.

So, what about these great men who had everything when they accomplished the goals of a lifetime?

Patton’s uncharacteristic self-pity in the quote from his diary was the result of his achievement – the war was won, and he contributed to the Allied victory on the Western Front.  He had fame.  Only 11 men had ever had a higher rank in the military.  From what I read about Patton, I’m willing to bet that he would have been able to channel himself into a post-war United States without too much difficulty.

Would he have been a politician?  Hard to say.  It’s unlikely that he would have the desire to speak pretty little lies just to get elected.  But you can bet one thing – if he hadn’t died, Patton would have done his level best to shake up the United States.  I wouldn’t bet against him.

And what about Buzz Aldrin?  Buzz crawled into a bottle and managed to skip most of the 1970’s.  Admittedly, that wasn’t a bad decade to skip since not having a memory of the Bee Gees® is something some people would pay for.  At some point I believe that he managed to come to a truce with the Moon.  He decided to instead focus on making money for himself and to be a spokesman for his cause:  “Get your ass to Mars®.”  Is being a celebrity spokesmodel as exciting as going to the frikking Moon?  Certainly not.  But you might as well be comfortable if you flew to the frikking Moon.

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Buzz Aldrin sadly got divorced in the 1970’s.  Apparently his wife needed space, too.

But Hans Gruber got it wrong.  Plutarch actually wrote:

Alexander wept when he heard from Anaxarchus that there was an infinite number of worlds; and his friends asking him if any accident had befallen him, he returns this answer:  “Do you not think it a matter worthy of lamentation that when there is such a vast multitude of them, we have not yet conquered one?”

In this case, Alexander is saying the exact opposite of the Hans Gruber quote – that he had a goal to conquer an entire world, but wept because his dream wasn’t yet complete.  The moral of the story?

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Maybe if Hans knew his Plutarch better he might have not fallen off the Nakatomi Plaza Tower.

Health Goals, Girls in Togas (and a Bikini)

“Trying is the first step toward failure.” – The Simpsons

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I want to get my face on a coin – that way I achieve my goal to help make change in the world.

One thing that I’ve decided to focus on even more in 2020 is my health.  Even if I followed all of Dr. Sinclair’s advice (Living Forever, The Uncomfortable Way), I’m still getting older although my immortality is working out so far.  In some respects I think that we might be in for some very interesting times in the next few years, so being in better shape than I am now would probably be a good idea.  Besides, as Pugsley gets older, taller, and stronger if I don’t do something he’ll wake up one morning and say, “I’m going to break you, little man.”

One way to do that is to keep my life under constant review.  This isn’t new, at all.  The Romans may be dead, but I contend that Roman philosophy dating from the first century A.D. is valid today.  Heck, current American civilization looks a lot like Roman life around that time.  In reading Seneca’s Letters, I saw a conversation where he described checking into a hotel, looking down from the room at the fitness gym next door.  A little later he described that the Romans had regulations on boat speeds in particular areas.  It was like California, but only 30% of the population in Rome were slaves.

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Romans on diets were happy when their togas went from L to XL. 

In particular, one of my favorite philosophers of the first century was Seneca.  Seneca was a stoic, but had managed to make a considerable fortune open a chain of all-night toga laundromats.  It was there that the togas were washed with water from the sea tides.  Occasionally, a batch of this water would get too stiff from the added starch used to flatten the togas so they weren’t wrinkled.  That’s where the Roman expression, “beware the tides of starch” comes from.

Okay, but what Seneca really said was:

“I will keep constant watch over myself and will put each day up for review.  For this is what makes us evil, that none of us looks back upon our own lives.  We reflect only upon what we are about to do.  Yet, our plans for the future descend from the past.”

– Seneca

Before I read that particular passage, I had bought a little Moleskine® notebook for just that purpose.  When I said, little, I mean it.  It’s really small – just a little larger than a 3×5 notecard.  It’s small enough I can fit it in my wallet.  I bought it for a very specific purpose:  to reflect on progress towards my goals, specifically my health related goals for 2020.

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Her parents even named her Annette.

Each day I write down several things:  how much and what I ate – if I ate anything (The Last Weight Loss Advice You’ll Ever Need, Plus a Girl in a Bikini Drinking Water), how much I exercised, what weights I lifted and how many repetitions, my morning and evening weight, and whether or not I felt that aliens had put pods near my house that would turn into an exact duplicate of me if I dared fall asleep.  Those are a few of the things that go into the book, though not all of the things I put down.  It doesn’t take particularly long to write it down – just two or three minutes.

I find, for me, the process of writing this data down makes it more real somehow.  And it makes me jump on the scale on days I’d rather not (like after Thanksgiving) so I can get the data.  And collecting that data and writing it down is important.  It makes me face the cold, hard objective truth and holds me accountable in an equally objective manner.

So, I record what I’ve done, and how I’ve lived as it relates to my goals.  When I’m fasting, I write about that progress.  I also record how much I’ve slept, because even though I know that sleep is no substitute for caffeine, I also know that I’m probably not sleeping enough – though I would say that the passengers in my car seem to get unreasonably angry when I try to take a short nap.  “Are you trying to kill us?” they ask.

Worrywarts.  The road is practically straight.

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Sometimes I wake up grumpy – other mornings I let her sleep in.

Writing those experiences and activities down also help me celebrate victories – and holds me accountable for lapses.  It also sets up a feedback loop.  Nothing makes the next lunchtime session on the treadmill more focused than seeing that I gained weight the last week.  But present me certainly doesn’t want to make life worse for future me by setting future me up for a failure.  Writing things down changes outcomes.  I certainly don’t want to write down failures.  I mean, one time someone told me I tended to blame others for my failures.  He was right.  I guess I get that from my mother.

But in reviewing the past, and in reviewing my failures, I don’t, and won’t use past failures as a club.  I don’t allow them to poison my future.  Instead, I use failure as a lever.  Since I caused the failure in the first place, more than likely I can solve it.  Unless it involves communism.  Then you’re on your own – you should have seen the red flags.

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I’m hoping Kim declares war on his real enemy:  Twinkies®.

I also use this time to reflect on the things I did to take me towards my goals, and the things I did that take me away from them.  It sounds overly simplistic, but most people would be far healthier if they just made several small changes each day about what they eat, how much they work out, how much sleep they get, and what is the appropriate amount to pay for a hooker in Tijuana*.  $3.50 is probably a little low.

Weakness is powerful, so having to write down every time I make an error is one way make me more powerful.  It also strengthens the cause and effect relationship between my action and the outcome.  This further makes me accountable.  Dangit.

In a sense, this is (sort of) a sequel or companion piece to Wednesday (Focus is a Key to Life and Look a Squirrel!), and ties to focus.  You can have a plan, but if you don’t collect data and don’t analyze it regularly, you’ll never focus on it – it’ll be like an objective your boss gives you and then never mentions again – it simply will never get done.

  • If you write about it, you will focus on it.
  • If you measure it, you will manage it.
  • If your ego is against it, you’ll never measure it.

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“I’m a failure – I can’t even fake the death of a stripper.” 

I heard an interview with Penn Gillette, the Penn part of the illusionist duo Penn and Teller.  He was talking about his recent weight loss.  He mentioned what he thought his starting weight was, but then added, “I really don’t know how much I weighed at my heaviest, no one does.”  What he was stating is that his ego wouldn’t let him step on the scale at that higher weight – he simply didn’t want to know that answer.  It wasn’t until he’d started losing weight that his ego allowed him to start measuring.

And start managing.  And start tracking.

And start winning.

*I have never been to Tijuana, but I saw a Cheech and Chong movie once where the plot involved them making a van out of marijuana in Tijuana, so I feel I have some expertise.

Living Forever, The Uncomfortable Way

“Cannibalism is one thing, but increasing longevity by eating human flesh….” – The X-Files

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I’m not going to tell an AARP® joke:  they’re all pretty old.

David Sinclair isn’t a medical doctor, but he’s got a laboratory at Harvard© Medical School.  That’s the real Harvard®, not the Haarvard™ School of Witchcraft and Legal Studies I started a few years ago.  It was accredited by Madame Kim’s Korean Restaurant (located under the Vance’s Bowl-a-Rama in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  One of my students turned me into a newt.

But I got better.  (R.I.P. Terry Jones)

Anyway, Sinclair actually teaches at the real Harvard© and not my scam internet school beloved privately held institution of learning.  Dr. Sinclair is not a medical doctor, but is instead a PhD, which is troubling to me now – there was no real reason he should have checked me for breast cancer.  And do most of those checks really take an hour?  But as I watched a video of him chatting about the future, it struck me:  he looks just like Christian Slater.

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He may look a lot like Christian Slater, but the good Doctor Sinclair looks sheltered.   I mean, who doesn’t have a three day cocaine, heroin, and tequila binge resulting in assault on a police officer and three months in the slammer?  Oh, only Christian?   

Anyway, Dr. Sinclair is mainly interested in longevity.  When I say mainly, he’s done research on longevity since the 1990’s.  Currently, he feels he has the reason that we age:  as we get older, our cells forget what it is that they should be doing.

What, a cell can forget?  How does that work?

DNA is a long strand in a cell.  How long?  If you stretched out a DNA strand, it would be (by most calculations I’ve seen on the Internet) over six feet long.  Obviously, just like Tom Cruise, your cells aren’t six feet long.  Therefore, the DNA has to be wound up to fit inside a cell.

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Remember, sharing DNA with those you share DNA with can have consequences.  Just ask the governor of Virginia!

In a really neat trick, it’s not the just the DNA that determines what a cell does, it’s the way that the DNA is wound up in little knots to fit in the cell.  Since every cell has the same DNA, it’s not the DNA that determines what a cell does:  it’s how the DNA is coiled in a cell that defines what that cell does.  That available information on the coiled up bits of DNA is what makes a cell a nerve cell.   Or a skin cell.  Or, for you lucky people, a hair follicle.

Wait, that’s not true.  I have hair.  It’s just in my ears.  What gives?

The answer is simple.  The skin cells had the DNA originally coiled up to be skin cells.  But after a while, the winding became . . . not as good in a few of them, so skin cells decided that they wanted to start a hobby:  making hair.  So places that didn’t have hair in my 20’s, now have hair.  Just not where I wanted it – sure I feel the wind blowing through my hair still, but now it’s my back hair.

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Fun Fact:  Lloyd’s of London® will not insure the Kardashian family against Velcro©.

Sinclair thinks that part of the key to having humans live to be 170 or longer is in resetting that mechanism so the DNA coils up correctly in the cell.  He suggests the reset might be possible, but it involves viruses, PEZ®, and painters scaffolding.  I kid.  Except for the viruses.  Dr. Sinclair has several theories on how this reset can be done, and, yes, one of them includes a virus.  Some of them involve drugs or supplements.  I’m not planning on selling supplements here (though I hear that can be lucrative if you’re in talk radio) but you can look up his advice on supplements.  Remember, he’s not a doctor, at least not the medical kind.

But he does have some advice that’s certainly (mostly) free to pursue, and probably harmless:

  • Be cold. Apparently The Mrs. is right that the air conditioning should be set at 54°F in the summer, since being cold appears to activate mechanisms that reduce inflammation.  We also keep Stately Wilder Manor cold in winter.  Sometimes when your author is writing in winter I actually rub two verbs together to keep warm.
  • Be hot. Not like supermodel hot, but actually physically warm.  If you’re both, you probably get bonus points.  Saunas have been documented to lower blood pressure and much lower death rates.  I don’t have a sauna, but I have a hot tub (I keep it warm by burning $100 bills) and I’m in it 4 or 5 times a week.  I can’t keep it at 175°F like the Finnish people do, but I imagine that 104°F is close enough.
  • Work out.   This isn’t news, since this has been done to get people healthy since at least the time of the Roman Empire.  But it appears that higher intensity workouts, stressing the body increases the body’s aging defenses.  Sinclair suggests high intensity interval training.
  • Fast. This actually saves you money, since you’re not spending money on food when you do it.  I wrote a bit about fasting here (The Last Weight Loss Advice You’ll Ever Need, Plus a Girl in a Bikini Drinking Water) and think it’s something that I think would benefit most people.  Fasting appears to lower blood pressure, blood sugar, cholesterol, and lower inflammation.  The downside?  You’re fasting.
  • Don’t eat so much protein. This is the tough one.  Sinclair noted that too much protein causes lower levels of NAD – heh hehe heh heh, he said “NAD” – and NAD is a nucleotide called “nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide” that decreases as you age.  NAD is one of Sinclair’s main keys to aging.  But I like steak.  I’m not sure that I want to live to 170 without steak.  Plus, if I’m not supposed to eat carbs, and now not supposed to eat protein, what’s left?  Sticks of butter covered in grass clippings?

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Not only do you have to set your cake on fire, you can’t eat it.

Again, those are (mostly) free to do, and in some cases put money back in your pocket.

Observationally, the things on the list are things that suck.  We want to be at comfortable temperatures, sitting on the couch with chocolate and steak smeared faces.  We want to live in malls, comfortable and cocooned against all discomfort.  But longer life appears to be triggered by being uncomfortable.  Since you’re not happy when you’re uncomfortable, that means time goes more slowly.  So not only do you live longer, it also feels like you’re living longer.  You might live to 170, but it feels like 1,700 years.

But what about the other things that kill you besides growing old?

In the past week, it looks like (fingers crossed) there’s a breakthrough against cancer.  Despite cancer being utterly curable in mice for, oh, decades, this particular cure uses the body’s own immune system to eat the cancer cells.  I’m betting this has about 1 chance in 10 of working, but that’s better news than any cancer news in recent memory.  Ruth Bader Ginsburg seems to not need this, though.

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Remember, the Supreme Court is just regular court with sour cream and tomato.

If we cure cancer and aging, we’re home free, right?

Well, there are still things like dementia, liver failure, kidney failure, diabetes, and heart disease.  Certainly following Dr. Sinclair’s suggestions will help with some of these, but it’s not likely it will help with all of them.  I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, but solving all of the body’s problems isn’t as easy as jumping in the hot tub with a supermodel or avoiding steak.

For a long life to be worth it, it should be one where I don’t live from year 70 to year 140 as a rambling, dementia cursed old man.  And Dr. Sinclair’s dad, who is now 80, has been following Sinclair’s advice and is still quite active.

Or was it Dr. Sinclair’s advice after all?  It could have been Christian Slater.  And always remember my motto:

Shoot now, ask Christian Slater.

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Here’s a video of Dr. Sinclair, if you want to check either my facts or the Christian Slater resemblance.

The Best News of 2019? No Excuses.

“No.  That’s not fair.  ‘Cause I’m a victim, too.  Was a victim first, before him.” – Fargo (TV)

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Columbus learned quickly that even discovering a new continent wasn’t enough to hide from the student loan debt collectors.

In a previous post Global Obesity, Axel Rose, and at Least One Orphan Joke I talked about how the world and Axl Rose were both getting fatter, and pointed out some of the reasons for it.  In the comments, Ricky correctly noted that perhaps I’d skipped the biggest reason people were getting fatter:  they had to control what was going down their throat.

Of course he was right.  If you’re overweight (and I include myself in that), it’s because PEBCAP.  PEBCAP means, of course, that the Problem Exists Between Chair And Plate.  And one rule I learned at my own expense is that there is no number of cookies that I can eat that will make me not want to have more cookies.

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Did Pavlov think about feeding his dogs every time he heard a bell?

Because although cookies are filled with enough sugar and carbohydrates to be banned by the United Nations as a poison illegal for use in modern warfare, they are tasty, tasty poison.

The intent of that post was to highlight some of the causes that were contributing to the global rise of obesity, plus make fun of Axl Rose.  In no way was it supposed to provide an excuse to give up and say, “Okay, that’s it.  I’m just going to live with being 500 pounds.  There’s absolutely nothing to be done about it.”  And if I choke to death on gummy bears, I hope that in my obituary it just reads, “John Wilder killed by bears.”

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What do you call bears without ears?  B.

It probably will surprise exactly zero regular readers when I say that in life, there are no excuses that are valid other than:

  • “I’m only five years old.”
  • “I’ve just been hit by an asteroid.”

And even if you are five years old, quit making excuses.  That mill isn’t going to run itself.

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The good news is that she just made foreman.

When it comes to nearly every circumstance you will ever face, your life will be better if you remember these four little words:

  • There are no excuses.

There are two corollary statements to that:

  • No one is coming to save you.
  • No one wants to hear you whine.*

Misery and blaming the world for your problems isn’t what anyone wants to hear.*  That’s not to say that people won’t help you.  They will help you.  And that’s not to say that people won’t listen to your problems.  They will listen.  But what people won’t put up with is you having the same problem for years at a time and you taking no action to fix it.  People won’t put up with you constantly blaming everything else but you for your problems.

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If you don’t like drama, don’t be executive producer of every episode.

Embedded in this is some great news.  Perhaps the best news that anyone will ever get:

You get to control your own life.  You get to make your choices.  You get to feel whatever you choose to feel.  You get to try your best.  And when you fail (not if, when) you get to try again.

And, you get to take credit it for it, and own it all.

*Except your ex.  They love hearing your pain.

Addictions – You Have Them. Now Laugh At Them.

“His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.” – Fight Club

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Every day is the wrong day to give up Wilder.

It was the first day of third grade.  I was new to the class, and was nervous.  As I walked through the rows of desks, I felt very shy, apprehensive.  One third grader approached me.  He pointed at a girl sitting in the desk next to his.

“That’s my girlfriend.”

So many emotions.  There was a fierce determination, an aggression in his eyes.  I felt threatened, and I’ll admit, I panicked.  I balled up my fist and hit him.

The rest was a whirlwind.  I can’t remember anything after that until I looked at the face of the school nurse, who stared back at me with a shocked expression on her face.

“What did you do?  His jaw is broken!”

I guess I’ll never teach at that school again.

Okay.  That never happened, except on 4chan.

But I was involved with an elite paramilitary organization mentioned in Red Dawn where we went camping on a regular basis.  One rule of the Troop was that no cell phones went on the trip – in a tent full of boys there is NOTHING GOOD that happens with a cell phone on a campout.  So we left them home.

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Pictured working on their merit badge in Escape and Evasion.

Little kids didn’t care.  But eighth graders?  Cell phones had become a part of their lives.  I saw one particular scout become despondent for a whole campout, all from missing the connections he normally got from his phone.

He was addicted to it.  After a day, he was better.  But he was also very happy to get back to his phone.

There are many things in life that we can become addicted to.  There are the obvious ones that everyone thinks about when they use the term:  Alcohol.  Drugs.  Gambling.  Tobacco.  PEZ®.

The prime addiction from the Boy Scout’s phone was social media.  Much has been written about social media and its addictive effects.  All of social media is designed to be addictive and features are tested on a regular basis to make sure that it engages us, that it maximizes user interaction.  That maximizing user action breeds addiction.  But how it is addictive isn’t the point – the fact that it is as addictive as Mel Gibson movies is.

So, what do I mean by addiction?  Everyone thinks of a junkie shooting marijuana in his eye, but that’s overly simplistic, not to mention probably not what junkies do.  By addiction, I have a broader definition:  the psychological need for a substance of set of conditions that aren’t required for life.

You’re not really addicted to oxygen.  It’s required.  The Mrs. is a type one diabetic, which means that without insulin injections, she will die.  I used to kid with her, “Honey, when are you gonna realize it’s a problem?  You’ve got to kick that stuff.  Just say no.”

While I thought it was clever, The Mrs. was less than amused.  So I punched her and broke her jaw.

Again, I kid – The Mrs. has reflexes like a cat.  She also has a deceptively low center of gravity – very hard to push over.  But are there things that are beyond what we normally think about when we think about addiction?

Certainly.

How about . . . air conditioning.  I lived in Houston, and it was easily the most awful climatological experience in my life.  It was heat plus humidity – and when the wind hit you, it felt like the devil was breathing on me.  Plus I wilt like lettuce in the heat.

Having moved to Houston from Alaska, we paid roughly $422,721 a month in bills for electricity to cool our house.  Was it required?  Well, probably not.  People live, have lived, and do live in places much hotter than Houston without air conditioning.  I have no idea what kind of people, but people.

Dare I say it?  We were addicted to air conditioning.  We could have kept the house far hotter, and saved roughly the total cost of an aircraft carrier plus escort vessels during the two years we were there, but not enough to also get the extended warranty, which is really overrated with aircraft carriers.

Likewise, when we moved to Fairbanks, Alaska, we kept the house about 55-60°F (239°C) in winter when we moved there.  Since Alaskans build without regards to things like, oh, building codes, our home inspection found substantial work that needed to be done to prevent our garage from collapsing.  Really.  The seller had a local contractor doing the work after we had moved in.

“Where you folks from?”

We told him.

“No wonder you keep the house so hot.”  Yes.  He considered 55-60°F hot.

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Including the hat.  Our contractor looked exactly like Red Green.  I learned later that Fairbanks hosted a summer event called the Red Green River Regatta, sadly now discontinued.

So, in his eyes, we were addicted to hot homes.

But let’s swap to food:

What today is considered the bare minimum level for life today is, in reality, a greater degree of luxury than we’ve seen in nearly the entire history of mankind for a greater number of people.  Ever.  Are there crappy places to live?  Yes.  But the scene of the “refugee” in Tijuana saying that the beans and tortillas given to her by local people trying to provide help to her was “food for pigs” and that she might starve to death.

Given her size, that might take, oh, a decade or so.  The bad news is that she’s been deported from the United States and is, “very thankful to be back in Honduras.”  It’s sad – we really need more people who will assault other people with deadly weapons like Frijoles Lady did.  She’ll do the attempted murders Americans won’t.

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I guess she’s a lot like that alien, E.T.  She finally went home.

But the fact remains – we have people going across international borders because of . . . comfort.

What was it like in the past?

I did some research for a post once, and tried to figure out what medieval French peasants (called villeins, which translates from metric French to “Dave”) did in the wintertime in the year 1315.  The links that I was able to find described them as living in their mom’s basement eating pizza rolls and playing Red Dead Redemption 2 on Playstation®.  Just kidding!  The winter as a time of great poverty, and the families would essentially huddle under blankets in bed most of the winter to reduce food consumption, conserve warmth, and not die.

When you view today’s world through medieval eyes, nearly every person in the world has better winters than that, at least outside of the Democratic People’s Republics of Korea and California.  The example of the French also shows that we’re addicted to eating regularly.

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Fasting was easy in the U.S.S.R.  Comrade Stalin was concerned about your health.

No.  You don’t need breakfast.  You don’t really need lunch.  The fact is, unless they have an unusual medical condition, lots of people voluntarily go for days without food with zero negative health consequences outside of a slightly looser waistband.  And the desire to tell everyone about it.

Are people who are fasting hungry?  Absolutely.  Is there a payoff?  Yes.  From personal experience, the first food you eat after four days without eating anything will be the best burger you had all year.

But the bigger point is this:  we live in a world of unparalleled luxury.

  • In the United States, we have the distinction of having our poorest people having access to so many calories that there seems to be a correlation (in some studies) that shows that poorer people are fatter. Whereas those French peasants had all the time in the world, and none of the food, poor in the United States have all of the time, and all of the food.  And Playstations®.
  • Virtually no one freezes to death, or dies from the heat. In fact, Pugsley sometimes walks around in workout shorts and a t-shirt (no socks!) and complain that the house is too cold.  He does this in winter and summer.  We keep our house ludicrously cold, like our hearts.
  • Most movies made in the last 40 years are available to you after a quick Internet search and a nominal fee. Nearly every book, ever (that we still have copies of), can be had instantly electronically.  Those in paper?  Might take two days.  I have a lot of books, and they’re everywhere around the house.  I guess you could say I have no shelf control.

I won’t say these things are dangerous luxuries.  But they are luxuries, luxuries that we often take for granted.  How long has it been since your power has been out?  How long since you huddled in a cold tent on a freezing winter’s night or sweating on a hot day with an endless noon Sun?

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But it’s okay, his butler will go get it.

How long since you went a single day without food?  How long since you went two days without it?

Our ancestors did all of these things, and more.  They called it “Tuesday.”  Well, not “Tuesday” since their language was a series of unintelligible grunts that sounded like tubas played by jabbering twits.

When we become addicted to and accustomed to luxury, it weakens us.  Constant luxury may weaken us physically, but addiction to it weakens us mentally.  Mental weakness screams that when we’re in a cold or dark house that it’s intolerable, even if it’s only mildly uncomfortable.

When we can meet adversity and understand that what won’t kill us, that being away from the Twitter®, Instagram™, and Facebook© might actually be good for us, and that sweating all day in a hot house without air conditioning is just tolerable discomfort?

Then we win.

Don’t Give Up Too Soon. And If You’re Breathing? It’s Too Soon.

“Will you relax?  You’ve got more paranoid fantasies than Stephen King on crack.” – News Radio

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See, I win.  I don’t read him once a year, and he doesn’t read me 150 times a year.

One of my favorite stories is about Stephen King.  When he was trying to get his novel Carrie published, he sent out the copy to quite a few publishers, and was rejected again and again.  Finally, one day he got the novel back, again.  Still, the novel was as rejected as Joe Biden application to teach at an ethics seminar.

He gave up.  Disgusted, King threw the novel into the trash and went to work.  His wife, Tabitha, pulled it out of the trash.  In one version of the story I read, spaghetti sauce from the garbage had gotten on the cover of the manuscript, so Tabitha typed a new one, and encouraged Stephen to submit it one more time.  He did.

This final publisher, Doubleday©, loved Carrie.  They sent King an advance of $2,500, which he spent on a Ford® Pinto™ because he liked scary things.  But then the paperback rights netted King $200,000.  The novel and movie became hits, and paid for him to quit his job so he could focus on novel writing.  When asked what fuels his imagination, King actually said, “I have the heart of a little boy.  And I keep it in my desk drawer.”  But the real story is that King was exceptionally close to giving up.

King didn’t give up, and managed to give us some pretty interesting stories.  He probably has a net worth of $400 million or so based on his writing – all because Tabitha King pulled a manuscript out of the trash, and they sent it out to a publisher.  One more time.

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I tried to donate blood the other day, but they wanted to know whose it was.

I personally feel that King’s writing quality began to diminish significantly in 1992 along with his reduction in cocaine and alcohol consumption.  I gave up on him around 2005.  He’s like your friend that’s really only interesting when he’s wasted, like Nancy Pelosi at a press conference.

Despite this, Stephen King is undoubtedly a success story even though at this point in his life his Twitter® account looks like Jack Torrance© from The Shining™ after all work and no play have made him a dull boy.  I’m not in favor of King returning to his addictions and having someone convince him that a Democrat is president, but, you know he is 72.  How much could it hurt?

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Now, watch Stephen imagine a microwave filled with cocaine? 

The dead Danish thinker dude, Søren Kierkegaard, (English translation of Søren Kierkegaard:  “delicious pastry” – which I believe is the translation all Danish words), coined one of my favorite quotes that’s appropriate to this post:

“It is perfectly true, as the philosophers say, that life must be understood backwards. But they forget the other proposition, that it must be lived forwards.”

Said in a different way, it makes sense looking backward to see how Stephen King’s success was built upon rejection.  Likely that rejection fueled him to get better, and by the time he “made it” he had been working for years to become an excellent writer.  It is also poetic that Stephen’s final success was made possible by someone who had more faith in him (Tabitha) than he did at that point.

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How much do you have to drink to imagine an alien clown in a sewer?

I first read the Kierkegaard quote in the mid-1990’s and began to understand:  the worst times in my life were the seeds for the best times in my life.  For instance:

I recall being in 8th grade at a wrestling tournament.  I weighed 145 pounds (14.5 kilograms – you just divide by 10 to convert), which in that time and place was heavyweight, or HWT.  The Mrs. and I refer to HWT as “hot water tank,” mainly because it’s amusing.  The wrestling tournament had been going all day that Saturday and on that cold February night it was dark outside – the windows that normally streamed light into the gym were pitch black, lending an air of importance.

There was a single match left:  the hot water tank championship.  It was me against (who else) another guy named John, in this case John Bishop.  Neither one of us was fat – we were both in pretty good shape.  And John Bishop was strong – very strong – he was 32 and in 8th grade.  But he slept well.

John and I went toe to toe for the entire match, each searching for an opening while being countered.  At the end of regulation, four and a half minutes of wrestling, the score was tied, 1-1.  Since this was a tournament, there would be no ties.

It was overtime.

In overtime, the three periods were short – 1 minute; 30 seconds; and 30 seconds. At the end of the second overtime period it was still 1-1, and the crowd was yelling, urging each of us on.  I had never felt such electricity at any sporting event, and here I was, caught up in the middle of it.  In that last period of overtime, in that last second before the match was done, John Bishop escaped.

I lost, 2-1.

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That was a tough match.  I still have the taste of Muppet® in my mouth.  Did you know they bleed blue?

The crowd actually came onto the mat afterwards, and there I was sitting on that same mat, exhausted.  I can still clearly recall sitting on the wrestling mat, surrounded by people congratulating John Bishop.

It was also the last match of the school year.  I had lost.  I had given it all I had, every fiber of my being, and I had lost.

My brother, John Wilder (yes, his real first name is John, just like mine) was there for the whole match.  He was in college and had spent the day in the gym watching me wrestle because he felt responsibility:  he’s the one that convinced me to try wrestling in the first place.

He sat down next to me on the pine bleachers as I unlaced my hand-me-down Adidas® wrestling shoes – his old shoes.  He put his arm around my shoulder.  He asked me to see the second place medal I had in my hand.  I gave it to him.  He looked at it, for what seemed like forever.

“You really earned this one.  John, I’ve never seen you wrestle better in my life.  I’m so proud of you.”

That moment could have been soul crushing.  It could have been a moment where I decided to give wrestling up.  Instead, that was a moment where I knew I could be better.  I knew deep inside of me, that I could do this, that this was part of who I was supposed to be.  I wasn’t crushed, I was filled with resolve.  Over the next four years I won a lot more wrestling matches than I lost, but that one loss in particular opened the door for all of the success that followed.

And the next time I wrestled John Bishop, less than a year later?  I pinned him inside of thirty seconds.

This has been a repeating pattern in my life when I look back.  Every time that I have been faced with adversity and failure, that failure was the seed for future success.  Losses in wrestling are, perhaps, among the most soul-crushing defeats a man can face.

On the mat there are only two men.  There is no place to hide.  There is no one else to blame if you lose.  It is you.  Only you.  I have seen grown men cry like they had spilled a beer when they lost a match.

As bad as losing a wrestling match is, a divorce is worse.  Even a divorce where both sides agree to part is a very difficult thing, and my divorce was no exception.  Divorces are hard.  They’re also expensive.  Why are they expensive?  They’re worth it.

But my divorce set the seed for eventually finding The Mrs., which led to The Boy and Pugsley.

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I enjoyed this movie.  It finally allowed Country Music to be complete – now the truck could leave the singer, too.

The second lesson is persistence.  In most cases, overnight success occurs after about ten years of diligent effort – thousands of hours of intense practice.  You’d assume that concert violinists, for instance, start with talent for the instrument.  You’d certainly be correct.  But what’s missing from the equation is practice.  The average world-class concert violinist practices more, not less than the average violin player.  A really good violinist still sounds like they’re strangling a cat, but maybe more slowly or something.

Talent gets you a ticket, but practice is a multiplier.  A necessary multiplier.  Einstein said his difficulties with math were much more than the average person – precisely because he was working at the far end of what was understood about mathematics at his time and place.

Finally, you still have to deal with reality.  At no point in my life would any amount of practice and study have made me a great basketball player – my skills aren’t there.  And that’s the point – when you’re going through life you’ll get clues that tell you which way to go.  The biggest clue?  Success.  Success is a guidepost – it tells you where you have relative skill.  Stephen King was continually published in pulp and nudie magazines at the time.  Not big money, but still an indication that he had ability, because everyone read Playboy© for the articles, right?

Find your successes.  Feed them.  Understand your failures and how you can use them.  Work harder than anyone else at becoming great.  And also keep in mind that one phone call, one text, one conversation in an elevator might bring it all together.

Then, in the end, you can look backward and understand.

Or just be a cranky old goat like Stephen King.

Sleep? That’s for the weak.

“All persons who die during this crisis from whatever cause will come back to life to seek human victims, unless their bodies are first disposed of by cremation.” – Night of the Living Dead

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Also, remember that sleep is no substitute for caffeine.

Sleep and I have always had a rocky relationship.  If I were married to Sleep, Sleep would have filed for divorce on grounds of abandonment.  For most people, this starts at an early age, but for me it started when I was a very young John Wilder, at around the age of five.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m adopted, but it’s the kind of adoption that involves family members.  The ones that were closest to me before the adoption were Grandma and Grandpa McWilder.  To me they seemed astonishingly old, even though they were in their late sixties when I toddled into their lives at the age of five.

All five year old children are difficult.  I think I was more difficult than most – I found where the electricity entered their house, above a window.  How difficult was I?  I grabbed the bare wires coming in with one hand.   After I got shocked, what did I do?  Grabbed it again.  I was a high maintenance.

But the benefit of being with a grandparent is the word “no” is generally a foreign word to their vocabulary.  I recall discovering that Star Trek® would be on after the news on Saturday.  So, I stayed up to watch it.  Grandma and Grandpa McWilder had already gone to bed, having watched the weather.

Now, I have no idea why they were so concerned about the weather.  They didn’t farm, they didn’t really do anything that would require them to be concerned about the weather, but they watched it every night.  Me?  For the most part (there are exceptions) I don’t worry much about the weather – you can’t change it after all, unless you’re a sixteen year old girl from Sweden.

After Captain Kirk® had finished gallivanting around the galaxy at 11:30pm, I still wasn’t tired.  What was next?  Creepy Creature Feature.  As soon as I discovered Creepy Creature Feature, I was hooked.

What was Creepy Creature Feature?  It was a pair of science fiction and/or horror movies, most of which were black and white.  These were generally not what anyone today would call good movies – the special effects in most of them involved foam rubber, chocolate syrup, and someone imagining what George Soros’ face would look like in 2020.

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This wasn’t the logo my local station used, but you get the idea.

Okay, why on Earth would such wonderful people have such poor judgement as to allow a five-year-old to watch horror movies deep into the night?

Let me explain how I was treated when I visited Grandma and Grandpa:

Grandma McWilder would cook me my favorite dinner, and give me money to buy comic books.  You’re thinking Archie® and Superman© and X-Men™, right?  Sure, I bought plenty of those.  But Grandma didn’t seem to care what a five-year-old bought, and the store didn’t seem to care, either.

This was a far different time and place than today.  If I went to the local drugstore and wanted to buy a carton of cigarettes they would have sold them to me.  Five year old me.  And they would have asked if I needed matches.  While at the drugstore I bought issues of National Lampoon® that had mostly naked women in them.  And while you may have thought that all people were fully clothed all the time before the Internet, I can assure you that it was not so.

They wouldn’t have sold me liquor, though.  You had to at least be in sixth grade for hard alcohol.  Beer?  Heck, that’s practically water.

So I bought magazines like this:

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Creepy® and Eerie™ Magazines – the best in 1970’s black and white cartoon gore.  Nothing unusual here, just a woman holding a disembodied hand close to her chest.  Happens every day, most normal thing in the world.

And the drugstore even sold off-brand magazines like Weird™.  These didn’t tell stories as polished as Creepy©, but made up for it with artwork that looked like it was done by crack addicted chihuahuas with an unlimited supply of crayons:

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No, that’s not “Wired©” it’s “Weird™.”  I’m pretty sure I had this issue, but sadly can’t remember a thing that went on in the comic – I’m sure there must be a reason purple-skull man and the werewolf are killing vampires.  Probably California zoning enforcement officers?

Anyway, given that I had Creepy® and Weird© magazines around the house, Grandma didn’t mind if I was up until 1:30 AM when the test pattern came on after the television station finished watching invisible atomic brain monsters in 1958’s Fiend Without a Face© get shot by a .45ACP and then dissolve.  When I was five, I thought it was really, really good.  When I reviewed it, I seem to recall that I gave it five blankets over the head.

Thankfully, most of those movies were 1950’s B-movies that were so absurd that even my five-year-old brain wasn’t scared because there was no way that these monsters were real.  Mostly, I’d just watch the giant radiation-enhanced spider fight the giant radiation-enhanced cow and then go to bed.

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Not a radiation enhanced cow.

But then one night they showed Night of the Living Dead.  Uncut.  Totally uncut – bare butts and all.  More importantly, all of the zombies eating uncooked (and cooked) humans was in the movie, too.  This was certainly the scariest movie I’d ever seen, and only one or two in the future would ever capture the utter dread that this movie brought, along with the certainty that Grandma’s house simply had too many windows to board up in the event of a Zombie apocalypse.  Plus, being five, the entire concept of zombies was new to me.  Dead people craving the first take-out food:  people.

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Zombies don’t eat brains with their fingers.  They eat fingers as an appetizer.

After the movie is over, it’s 1:30AM.  Time to go to bed, but I don’t want to walk on the floor because it creaks.  That would certainly draw the zombies my direction.  I finally get up, and go to the spare bed that’s in Grandma’s bedroom where I normally sleep.

After watching zombies eat living humans my five-year-old brain processed certain facts:

  • Dead people might become zombies.
  • Zombies develop an insatiable desire to eat human flesh.
  • Grandma was very old.
  • Old people sometimes die.
  • Therefore, Grandma might become a zombie in the middle of the night.

And:

  • I was made of human flesh.

So, if you’ve ever had difficulty sleeping because you thought your wonderful, kindly Grandma might become a zombie and eat you while you were still alive, raise your hand.

Only me?

I’m not sure that I slept at all that night.

Sleep and I have continued a dubious relationship, and during my life, whenever I could stay up late I certainly did.  But when I was younger, I would never sleep more than eight or so hours at a stretch and  I always avoided naps.  When I was in head start, I would throw blocks at the other kids who were actually good and attempting to sleep like I was supposed to do.  Heck, even before they kicked me out of head start I knew that naps weren’t for closers.

Eventually I got older and I discovered that I really liked naps.  What fun!  My sleep schedule became even more chaotic and drifted even farther from normal, first a little, then finally my sophomore year of college I had no classes that started before noon.  But after graduating from college, work happened. Work started at 7:00AM, and I had to see early morning sunlight.

The break of dawn.  Beautiful, you say?  Not to me – if I want to see a beautiful sunrise, I can look one up on the Internet.

At times my sleep pattern has provided four hours of sleep a day during the week, followed by 12 hour weekend crashes.  And, WebMD© says that weird sleep patterns are not really good for me unless you call heart disease, heart attack, heart failure, irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure, stroke and diabetes good things.  The Internet further states that not enough sleep can lower my testosterone, make my skin wrinkle, make me gain weight, and make me die earlier.

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I slept great last night!  I got a full 73 minutes!

That sounds negative, which makes me wonder how did Edison get by on a steady schedule of only four hours of sleep a night?  Well, apparently he did a lot of napping, which must not have counted.  But he really did get by on less sleep than 8 a night.  A lot less.  And a host of famous people have gotten by with less, even though WebMD™ says they’re all going to die next week.

So, if you’re up too late and can’t sleep, here’s a copy of Fiend Without a Face, courtesy of YouTube® – I hear a remake is coming, but you can enjoy the 1950’s era effects, especially about one hour and seven minutes into the movie.

Just make sure that you have a contingency plan in place to take care of Granny if she goes zombie on you . . .

This is a revamp of an earlier post from when the blog was just starting.  I like this newer version better.

Global Obesity, Axel Rose, and at Least One Orphan Joke

“Because when the aliens come down to earth, they come inside raindrops, making the rain chubby.  Chubby rain!” – Bowfinger

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Rumor has it that Axel Rose ate the rest of the members of Guns n’ Roses after their bus broke down while on tour and they were separated from food for several hours.

It’s the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it’s a time when people traditionally gain weight like Christian Bale getting ready to star in a movie about as your mom.  On an annual basis, this had been my norm.  Up until about four years ago, January started a (fairly) simple routine where I’d work out really hard, and lose the weight I’d gained in December in a few weeks, or maybe even into February.  As I get older, the techniques of youth begin to not work so I have resorted to hacking off unneeded limbs until I get to an acceptable weight.  I mean, who needs both a right arm and a left arm?

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Christian Bale lost weight down to 110 pounds (653 kilograms) to play the role on the right.  His diet was an apple and a can of tuna a day.  After a while, I’d probably include the label and the can for extra fiber. 

But it’s not just me that’s getting heavier over time.  Since it’s easier to think about why in a bigger picture manner than it is to think about the fasting (The Last Weight Loss Advice You’ll Ever Need, Plus a Girl in a Bikini Drinking Water) and treadmill time I’ll be spending in 2020, I thought I’d think about what’s going on, globally, since it appears that the individuals that comprise humanity seem to be more globe-shaped every year.

Despite the world stereotype that the United States is filled with fat Americans, it’s not just the United States.  The entire world is pretty chunky now.  As you can see from the (pretty neat) embedded video, in 1975, the world wasn’t particularly fat.

The video only lasts about 40 seconds, so if you have a couple of Snickers® bars, your mom should be able to make it through the video.

From the video it’s obvious that the Soviet Union and the United States were pretty good at feeding their people, maintaining and obesity rate of somewhere between 10%-15%.  I’ll maintain that a well-fed society is going to have some natural variation in weight, and in order not to have malnutrition, some portion of the population (including your mom) is going to be obese.

Of note, the places in Africa and Asia where you’d expect starvation back in 1975 show less than 2% obesity.  Yup, science is proven right again – people starving to death rarely get obese.

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If lifting weights was easy, it would be called “Your Mom.”

Fast forwarding to 1987, the very first country to increase to a greater than 20% obesity rate is Saudi Arabia.  At that point in time, Saudi Arabia was transforming into a very wealthy country based on oil money.  The next two countries to trip the 20% threshold were Libya (!) and the United States in 1992.

In 1998, Saudi Arabia jumped to 25% to 30% of population being obese.  In 2000, the United States joined the Saudis, and Canada, Mexico, Turkey, the Czech Republic, Argentina and Chile all joined the 20% club.

Getting to 2014 (when the video ends) with the exception of Africa, China, India, (for major regions) and some smaller places here and there, the rest of the nations of the world have a greater than 20% obesity rate.  The world is officially ranked:  Mostly Chubby.

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So, I’m officially not supposed to know that fat Bugs Bunny® is known to the Zoomers as Big Chungus.  Pugsley HATES it when I know something like that.  I even say “yeet” to really drive him nuts.

The title of the video is “How the World Became Obese”, and it’s a bad title.  The video shows where the world become obese, and it shows when the world became obese.  However, it never showed how the world became obese.  Heck, even how is a boring question.  How is just a matter of shoveling more Milky Way® candy bars into my body than my body needs for energy.  Thermodynamics is simple that way.

As a result, kids are objectively bigger now.  One kid on Pugsley’s 8th Grade FB team was over 260 pounds.  On my high school football team, the heaviest guy was 218, and he was 6’4”.

To me, the question is:  why?

I don’t think you can pin the increase in obesity to a single factor.  Here’s a (likely incomplete) list of reasons we’re fatter:

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Kidnapping is word that has such a bad connotation – my parents just called it a “surprise adoption.”

Wealth.  The world, as a whole, is wealthier now than at any time in history.  It’s no mistake that wealthy countries got fattest fastest.  Heck, we’re wealthy enough that Jupiter called and told Earth to get its own Netflix® subscription.

Inexpensive food.  While the world is getting wealthier, food is cheaper than at any time in history.  Farmers now have the ability to analyze in real time the missing nutrients for optimal plant growth, and apply the right amount of fertilizer to maximize profitability.  Just like nutrients are managed, moisture can be managed as well.  Finally, inexpensive herbicides and pesticides have kept bugs and weeds from getting fat instead of people.  Food costs for a family in the United States have dropped from about 17% of disposable income in 1960 to about 10% today.  Food is cheaper than your mother now.

Air conditioning and heating.  Yes, mankind has been heating shelters for warmth since at least 1973.  And that’s a long time.  But mankind also used to have to work for it, gathering and chopping up firewood, and that burns a lot of calories.  Air conditioning has been around at least since ancient Egypt (really), but it involved a lot of work, too.  Perfect temperatures all the time with little physical effort is certainly a new condition for humanity.  I don’t mean to brag, but I turned on my air conditioner before it was cool.

Improvements in transportation and logistics.  When I was a kid one winter day Ma Wilder asked me what fruit I’d like from the store to put on ice cream.  I answered, “Strawberries.”

Ma Wilder:  “Nope, not in season.”

Obviously, this led to a long discussion of what “in season” exactly meant.  Even when I was a kid, most things were available most of the time.  And, when I was a kid, that didn’t mean that you couldn’t get strawberries, merely that they’d be hugely expensive.  More often than not, Ma would just buy frozen strawberries instead.  That was okay with me, since they were packed in sugary syrup.  Just like blood is thicker than water, strawberry syrup is thicker than blood, so I have proof that ice cream is more important than family.  I apologize to those of you that were offended, that joke was just perpetuating a viscous cycle.

Today, most foods we eat don’t go “out of season.”  If it’s not the right time of the year in the United States for a food to grow, it’s the right time somewhere.  Perishable foods are produced year-round, and shipped with great speed to your supermarket.

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In an early example of international food trade, 10,000 cases of Hellman’s® mayonnaise were on the Titanic, headed for Mexico.  The Mexicans were so upset that their precious mayonnaise was lost that they commemorate the day every year – Sinko De Mayo.

Inexpensive fuel.  Increased production and fast transportation of refrigerated perishable food requires lots of fuel.  Moving people around in cars, buses, trucks, and airplanes requires lots of fuel.  Fuel is, even at $2.50 a gallon, historically cheap.  It’s so cheap, I’m thinking about filling my hot tub with kerosene instead of water, so I can get that freshly waxed smell all of the time.

The additional effect is that motorized travel is the standard.  Rather than walk to dinner, people drive, even for a few blocks in many cases.  Schedules become built around cheap transportation – rather than spend fifteen minutes walking, I’ll drive it in three – and the remaining twelve minutes I can do whatever I want to do.  Uber and other rideshare services probably add to, rather than subtract from this problem.

We walk less, bicycle less, and, in general, get less exercise walking around than at any time in history.

Infinite amusement exists.  When I was growing up, we had two televisions.  And they were small.  And there were only three channels – pretty much nobody counted PBS® as a channel.  When we said there was nothing on, there was (especially after they turned off the station for the night) really nothing on.

Now, when my entire immediate family is in the basement, (The Mrs., The Boy, Pugsley and I), there might be as many as 10 screens available to entertain us in the room.  I’ve been watching a television show and looked around the room to see The Boy checking his phone, me writing this blog, Pugsley on his computer, and The Mrs. on a tablet.

Available to us now instead of the three channels of my youth are hundreds of channels, thousands of movies on streaming services, and most of the knowledge of human existence along with pictures of billions of humans.  Some of these pictures even include clothed people, I have been told.

How could that not be the single most addictive thing in the history of mankind?  That’s far more interesting than learning how to skip a stone or catch a fish.  It’s certain that the Internet reduces physical activity in nearly every kid growing up today.

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Hey!  I have a crazy idea – let’s go stare at our phones somewhere interesting this weekend!

Types of food consumed is changing.  150 years ago, a typical diet would have had whole-wheat bread made from four ingredients, whole milk, butter, onions, cabbage, beets, apples, plums, actual meat, fish, corn and potatoes – food with virtually no artificial ingredients.  And sugar would have been rare.

You know what you eat now, and it’s nothing like this list, at least for most people.

Food itself is changing. A million years ago we invented cooking.  10,000 or more years ago, we invented beer and decided farming was a good idea so we could brew more beer (Beer, Technology, Beer, Tide Pods, Beer, Civilizational Stability, and Beer), which also added grains as a big staple food.  About 3,000 years ago, we began to change a single plant species, brassica oleracea, into over 21 different foods (LINK), and began to cultivate hundreds of other plants as well.  We were changing the food.

Five hundred years ago, Columbus took smallpox to the New World, but brought back syphilis, as well as corn and potatoes.  I guess it was a fair trade.  But our diet changed again.

In the 20th Century, however, all of that changed.  Doritos© have more than forty ingredients.  French bread?  Four.  I wrote a little bit more about that here: (Doritos, Obesity, Addiction, and Nic Cage).  Now with replacing sugar with high fructose corn syrup?  Certainly the same thing, right?  Oh, they’re metabolized differently?  Nah, that shouldn’t matter.

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Okay, I know I’d get in trouble if I didn’t include this one.

Work is changing.  As people innovate, jobs become less labor intensive.  Even small jobs have specialized mechanical tools to save labor.  Desk jobs are now more numerous, and they have changed, too.  Computers likely lower overall movement in an office – I haven’t seen a study to this effect, but I’m guessing that the average person sits twice as long at work in 2019 as compared to 1975.  I discussed that here (Sitting? Death. Get up. Neal Stephenson says so.)

Lower tobacco consumption.  Tobacco has the obvious negative issues, but it has some positive ones as well:  it helps keep weight down.  As tobacco consumption decreases, the stimulant/weight loss effect of tobacco disappears, and weight goes up.

None of these factors constitute an excuse – it’s an explanation for a global trend.  We actually live in the first time in human history when hunger is the exception, rather than the normal condition.  I certainly hope that’s a condition that we have for a long, long time.

If you are, like me, carrying more weight than you’d like – own it.  If you don’t own it, you’ll never do anything to change it.  Now where is that egg nog?

Black Friday, Cindy Crawford in a Swimsuit, and Karen

“We can stand here like the French, or we can do something about it.” – Marge Simpson

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Okay, I used this last year.  But, really, fizzy toots?  It’s a holiday classic.

Thanksgiving morning I was in bed, in that half-slumber that I slip into when there’s no danger that I have to go to work.  The Mrs. stirred next to me.

“When’s the turkey going to be done?”

John Wilder:  “Yeah, babe, when is the turkey going to be done?”

The Mrs.:  “No, I mean it.  I have some other things I need to cook.  When will the turkey be done?”

John Wilder:  “Ohhhhh, I haven’t put it in the oven yet.  I thought, as much as you were making six other dishes, that you were gonna do the turkey, too.”

This was, of course, a stupid idea.  I have cooked the turkey every year, ever, since we’ve been married.  Everything else (except pumpkin pies) has been The Mrs.  Why would I assume that The Mrs. was going to cook the turkey?

I have no idea.  But I did.

We Wilders are night owls, when allowed to go feral unconstrained by the tyranny of work, so having a dinner at supper time (or a supper at dinner time) would just be fine.  Since we bought everything we’d need for dinner yesterday, I knew we’d be fine – no last minute trips to stores for us, and that was good.

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Reprinted with permission, now 50% off!

Because I hate going to the store – especially anytime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I hate it so much, that when I was (much) younger, I’d do all of my shopping for presents during a two hour period on Christmas Eve.  But yet, there are people who look forward to Black Friday, which to me is the sort of hell I imagine that H.P. Lovecraft reserved for Beto O’Rourke, except Beto’s hair would be on fire and he would have surgically attached flippers instead of arms.

Black Friday is a day that some people look forward to.  While I don’t share in their enthusiasm, I can understand it.  There is something about shopping that makes people feel good, unlike the turkey tartare I tried to serve the family on Thanksgiving.  Who knew you had to thaw the turkey before sticking it in the oven?

Shopping is of vital importance to businesses – they want to capture as much of your money as possible.  They study ways to arrange merchandise so it is most attractive, to create advertisements that engage with your psychology to drive you to purchase, and purchase from them.  If you look at shopping as a science, shopping has been studied by economists, business majors, and psychologists more thoroughly than I studied Cindy Crawford’s, umm, charm, in my younger days.

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Remember, actresses are different than models – actresses can read.  Also, I don’t know if I can fit an actress in the basement freezer.

Again, I don’t begrudge people who are on a tight or fixed budget that are attempting to get a good deal – that would be heartless.  But yet, isn’t Black Friday based at least in part in . . . greed?

The idea of getting a 65” 4K Philips® television for $278 when it normally retails for $448 is the essence of Black Friday.   $10 Crock© pots with a $10 mail-in rebate are Black Friday.

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If you buy three Rose Tico™ figures, you’ll spike worldwide sales by 3000%, and give Disney® hope that Star Wars:  The Ruse of Soywalker© will be successful!

Why do we get such satisfaction over buying things?

  • It is wired into us – once upon a time, we were hunter/gatherers. This is similar – shopping is  Hunting is still hunting, which is good.  Work?  Work is where men go to avoid gathering and think about hunting.
  • Shopping distracts us from our problems. If we’re worried or sad?  “Retail therapy” can be cheap – if you have inexpensive tastes.  But when the shopping is done – if you have a real problem like having surgically attached flipper arms – they’re still there.
  • In today’s world, there are a lot of people that live lives that are marked by a nearly complete lack of control. They’re controlled by spouses at home, bosses at work, and the number of choices that the own are small.  Shopping gives them a sense of control.

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There was a hurricane this year named Karen.  Managers everywhere quaked with fear.

  • Instant satisfaction is built into shopping. Why wait for later, when you can have it now (or in 36 hours with Amazon© Primeâ„¢)?  Rather than wait for what your goal is, you can have some smaller thing now.  And it’s certain.  Who cares if it derails your longer term plans?
  • Shopping for neat things floods your brain with serotonin like an autistic clown with a firehose. Serotonin stabilizes mood, so if you’re depressed, shopping can make you feel better, and you don’t need a prescription for Xanax®.
  • Shopping resolves boredom. Kids doing well in school, job going well, no financial problems and relationship with spouse is fine?  So boring.  Hey, let’s spice life up by shopping for things we don’t need!
  • When we lived in Alaska, we would go to auctions because it was fun. Every so often some family would say, “That’s it!” and decide to move to the Lower 48.  Thus?    I bid $70 on a table saw that I could have bought for (drumroll) $70 – yes, it was a pretty crappy saw.  Why?  Scarcity.  People were bidding, and, well, I won.  And scarcity is the true key to Black Friday.  Only seven fruitcake-toasters at $92 off the retail price of $292?  I must have one!

Most vices, when kept in check, aren’t a problem.   But Black Friday seems like a drug that’s designed to take advantage of the various “satisfactions” listed in the bullet points above.  Thankfully, there are other cures.

We live in a society where most of the basic needs are easily met for most people, at least for now.  Yes, you might not have a 65” LED television that doubles as a tanning bed.  But nearly everyone has food.  Nearly everyone has power, heat, and access to a library.  How else could people spend those same hours and minutes that would otherwise be spent in a WWE®-level fight over an inexpensive radium-powered popcorn popper and a coal-powered flashlight?

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In breaking news:  Coroners report that Jeff Epstein was injured at a Black Friday sale.

They could write.  They could visit a sick family member.  They could face digestive difficulties because Dad put the frozen turkey in the oven.  They could play cards or board games and have family fun.

Oh, wait – that describes the Wilder family.  I really should have realized that putting a turkey filled with ice into the oven wasn’t my best idea . . . .

Axis and Allies®, anyone?  I have Pepto®.

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“Going to war without France is like going deer hunting without your accordion.” – Norman Schwarzkopf

Happy Thanksgiving 2019: Including Booze, Zombies, Joan Crawford, and George Washington

“Thanksgiving is falling on a Thursday this year?” – Home Improvement

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You can make more friends with six bottles of wine and a kind word than with just a kind word.  I think that is somewhere in the Bible?

Thanksgiving is, I think, my favorite holiday.  When done properly, it is a holiday devoted to, well, giving thanks.  It’s like a super easy quiz question – what you’re supposed to do is right in the label.

When I was growing up I certainly looked forward to getting presents at Christmas.  But the very presents that made Christmas so exciting when I was five or six somehow detracted from the holiday when I was eleven or twelve.  Getting presents was still nice, but when it came to serenity, nothing matched Thanksgiving.  At a younger age, presents were more important than serenity.  As I grew older?  Serenity took a lead.   Now?  Serenity is miles ahead of presents.

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Ma Wilder saved the tins.  I have no idea why.  Also?  Better if the sauce is not too blue.

I should point out, that when growing up, I lived in our mountain redoubt, Wilder’s Nest.  The nearest town that had a fast food restaurant was 45 miles away.  The nearest store that you could buy a cassette tape at was 45 miles away in that same town.  In a radius of 10 miles from my house, the total population was probably 200 people or less.  It was so rural that I thought laughing stock were amused cattle.

But Black Friday didn’t exist.  Shopping the day after Thanksgiving?  Nope – in fact if we left the property at all (besides driving 30 miles to pick up Grandma Wilder to bring her to Thanksgiving dinner and drop her off afterwards back at her place) it would be to see how deep the snow was up on the pass.  Not that we didn’t go outside – on Thanksgiving day my brother and I would often throw a football in the front yard, if it wasn’t too cold.  And as the youngest, it was my job to bring firewood from the pile to the house.

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You have to be very careful hanging coats at Joan’s house.  Apologies to Blue Oyster Cult®.

What we did do, however, was be together as a family.  We played cards.  We (minus Ma Wilder) watched football.  I read novels.  Pa Wilder might fiddle in the shop with something, especially if Ma Wilder was irritated about something.  It was past hunting season, but too soon for snowmachines.  The weekend was quiet.  And not quiet like hanging out in the bushes at the neighbor’s bedroom window quiet, I mean really quiet.

I can’t say that Christmas was quiet.  Heck, it’s not quiet now.  And while most Thanksgiving holidays looked the same, Christmas was often much more memorable – but memorable for the wrong reason.  My junior year left me as mad as I can remember after a Christmas, and not because I didn’t get what I wanted.  But I can’t remember a bad Thanksgiving.

Even now, Thanksgiving has always been a relaxing day for The Mrs. and I – we never let it be dictated by outside forces – Thanksgiving is a family holiday – our immediate family.  Since we’ve been in Mayberry, we certainly do have dinner often with my in-laws, but if we decided to go to Nepal to have tea with Liam Neeson so he can paint our toenails again, well, we’d do that.  On Christmas, we give into that pressure.  But not on Thanksgiving.

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I resent vegans.  They eat the food my food eats.  So inconsiderate.

But the name is Thanksgiving.  Being thankful, having gratitude for the things around you is very healthy.  People who are grateful are more healthy, have better relationships, sleep better, and have better self-esteem whether or not they get a participation trophy.

What am I thankful for?

  • My family.
  • The fact that my family puts up with me.
  • Canned corn.
  • The relative prosperity I live in and my economic situation.
  • The readers of this blog.
  • That the aliens from Tau Ceti no longer come at night and impregnate me.
  • That the aliens from Tau Ceti pay child support for the stupid alien babies.
  • That we have the freedom that we do have in our country today.
  • That The Mrs. uses a snow-globe instead of her glass eye during the holidays.
  • That the troubles I have had in life have made me better.
  • That I still see amazing things every day – a great sunrise, a tree silhouetted against the stars.
  • The health of my family.
  • People being kind when they have no reason to be.
  • That every week I get to learn something new, and make something new.

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Okay, the two of you that saw Firefly® are laughing.

George Washington tried to capture the essence of Thanksgiving in his first proclamation:

By the President of the United States of America, a Proclamation.

Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.

Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be.  That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks:

  • for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation
  • for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war
  • for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed
  • for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national one now lately instituted
  • for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge;
  • and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.

And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions:

  • to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually
  • to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed
  • to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shewn kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord
  • to promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and us
  • and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.

Given under my hand at the City of New York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789.

Geo. Washington

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George Washington spent about 10% of his presidential salary on whiskey.  He had more than one gun.  He grew tobacco.  So, is the ATF proof of British collusion?

I know that George isn’t universally loved:  Lord Bison, for instance, is not amused.  But Washington did do some things right, and set a precedent that more or less set the stage for retaining the freedoms we still have left, and has the best eggnog recipe (Washington: Musk, Patton, and Jack Daniels all Rolled into . . . the ONE).  And as to his proclamation of Thanksgiving:  I’m not sure that a similar document could be written today, especially since we have spellcheck.

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It’s well known that zombies will ignore Congress.  They want to eat brains, right?

Regardless of what you are thankful for, I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving!