Snoop Dogg –yes, Snoop Dogg the rapper and former murder defendant –just came onto my TV set and told me to vote. Yes, well, thanks, Snoop. After months of debates, news coverage, political ads, and moronic rhetoric (more on this soon), your thoughtful, well-articulated, and quite upbeat message about my American duty has convinced me that I should get my lazy butt off the couch, hop in my red, white, and blue truck, and vote in this upcoming presidential election. Yup, you, Dogg, have pushed me over the political edge. Congratulations –job well done.
Though I have to pause for a second, man. Something comes to mind…
Oh, yeah –I live in Utah. Well, Snoop, sorry. We’re not a battle ground state. I can pretty much tell you how it’s going to go. Bush has got it. In fact, it’s a lock. In this state, Mormon equals Republican and Democrat equals Evil. And this is Utah, man. Mormons abound.
I hear ya, Snoop. It’s not right to be generalizing a peoples. But that’s how it’s seen by the locals. And since it’s seen that way, well, that’s the way it is. Bush wins, even without my vote. Or even with my vote cast against the world’s favorite oil man.
So thanks anyway, Snoop. And feel free to visit my living room again the next time an election makes a great way to push your upcoming album release.
An analogy has been posed:
Fleas, it seems, can jump really, really far. Some scientists decided to try and train fleas -for fun, I suppose. The scientists placed these fleas in a jar with no lid. As expected, the fleas all jumped out. They then placed them in the jar with a lid secured tightly. The fleas jumped, hit the lid, and fell time and time again. Soon, they learned to jump just under the height of the lid, avoiding the pain, yet still jumping. (This is where I differ from the fleas; why jump at all?) After they were conditioned to this height, the scientists removed the lid. Now fully trained, no fleas managed to jump over the rim of the jar and escape.
The unspoken yet intended message of this analogy (or is it a metaphor?) is that we are the fleas that simply aren’t reaching our potential. Jump a little higher. Do a little more for the team. See and exceed the limits. Blah blah blah.
Hopefully one step smarter than your average simian, allow me to take a differing angle on this. Fleas are what they are; they jump high and far by nature. In fact, the only reason the fleas in this little anecdote began to fall short of their potential in the first place is because some meddling scientists put a cap on the damn jar. They fell victim to their masters. It was out of there control.
Just as the scientists can’t reasonably be surprised that the fleas failed to escape after the barrier was removed, leaders shouldn’t be surprised when the work environment they create causes a lack of motivation, unity, and effectiveness. Are followers better than fleas? Some are, yes. Higher thinking, free will, and personal choice all come into play in situations like this. But leaders have a responsibility to put their followers in situations where there are no lids to begins with, to remove barriers if they do exist, and to recognize when to simply turn the jar over and dump it out.
And I had rootbeer today. Swell.
Darkness All Around
I infiltrated a group of new-aged masochists. It was surprisingly simple to get the invite; the invite, it turns out, is the easy part. All one has to do is to actually infiltrate is awake at some unheard-of hour of the day (is it really day?) and follow these freaks as they run around a very, very nice neighborhood. These insidious people make nice chitchat about the weather, headlamps, their chosen profession, and the Superbowl of Masochism –the Marathon.
It’s 5:30 a.m. I’ve forgotten what this time of day looks like. I believe I forgot on purpose.
Here’s what I learns about this clandestine group:
- They enjoying breaking newbies
- There’s a perfectly good 2 mile loop, but they foolishly choose to take the 4 mile loop instead
- They train all year to run 26.2 miles in one morning and can still hardly move the next day (I find this particularly ironic/funny)
- Walking is severely poo-pooed
Good morning chafing
Why have I chosen to label this particular group of people “new-aged masochists”? The nineties are over. Flannel shirts and torn jeans have gone the way of the Pet Rock and Hypercolor shirt. This group of dedicated weirdos has traded the whips, chains, and mosh pits of yesterday for soft and supple running shoes, ultra short shorts, and the occasional tub of Vaseline. The result is the same, though –they love the pain. They revel in the sweat and the torture. And like Uncle Sam, they want YOU to suffer with them. Like women heading off to the bathroom, these people like to suffer in groups.
To you, my friends who are an abomination to us couch-sitters, I point a long and crooked finger in your general direction and shout loudly, “I will not join your ranks! I will not engage in such so-called healthy behavior. And I will certainly enjoy the extra sleep that you nutjobs are missing.”
