|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
What's Wrong with Hall & Oates?
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2003
I've come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter how old you are: your parents thought your music was crap and your kids will think it's boring. It's true for anyone. We hate our kids' music, our parents hated our music, and their parents hated their music.
Even teenagers who liked the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra in the 1920s would be hassled by their parents, who wondered why they couldn't listen to someone more respectable like Scott Joplin or Jelly Roll Morton.
Like any teenager in America, I experienced this first hand. When I was growing up in the '80s, I listened to bands like The Clash, The English Beat, and Devo. In fact, I was the only kid in my entire high school of 1100 who actually liked Devo, so I tended to attract some weird stares.
But I've been in '80s Heaven for the past year. Thanks to my satellite radio (I won't name any names, but its initials are X.M.), I can listen to '80s alternative music anytime I want. And I can start indoctrinating my children about the coolness of '80s music while they still believe everything I tell them.
Needless to say, my mom absolutely hated my music, so I was forced to listen to Barry Manilow and the Bee Gees whenever we rode in the car. And my dad had -- still has, in fact -- a deep abiding love for The Rolling Stones.
And with the exception of The Stones, I didn't like my parents' music. It was square and boring and I would plead with them to put on something more enjoyable to a 15-year-old. Like static.
I tried getting my parents to listen to my music once in a while, but they were shocked and horrified that I would listen "that crap," and I would hear things like, "Devo?! Those electronic freaks! Give me the Beatles and Elvis Presley any day!"
And it was the same for my parents. When they were in high school, their parents were scandalized that they would listen to "that crap." And they would say things like "Mozart?! That long-haired hippie! Give me Johann Sebastian Bach any day!"
No seriously, my parents grew up during the whole "Elvis the Pelvis" era when dungarees (that's "blue jeans" for you less hip people) and white t-shirts were just one short step away from causing total chaos in the schools. They were in college when those "damn long-hair" Beatles invaded the US , and the face of music was changed forever. And while I admit that Elvis and The Beatles were great artists, I still can't listen to them without rolling my eyes out of habit.
So what do today's teenagers think of their parents' music? And what do the parents think? I know that many people over 30 think today's music is "crap," and have said so to their kids.
"Blink 182?! Those talentless hacks! Give me Hall and Oates any day!" (This is an unfortunate thing to say, because even children of the '80s thought Hall and Oates music was crap.)
So their children will often respond, "Well, I scoff at your taste in music, and find it to be vapid and old-fashioned." (At least I think this is how teenagers talk. I try to avoid them whenever possible.)
This gives parents a chance to say something that no parent in history has ever been able to say: "Oh yeah? The bands I listened to had safety pins in their cheeks! What does Eminem do, wear a couple of earrings? Let him shove a safety pin through his face, then we'll talk."
Yes, thanks to punk rock pioneers like the Sex Pistols and The Misfits, shoving pieces of metal into one's face became the badge of teenage rebellion, and dungarees became as threatening as a hamster with a bad temper. This also made it possible for parents to actually hear, "Wow, that's cool!" in reference to the music of their youth -- something no parent in history has ever heard.
But all this makes me wonder, what will teenagers be listening to in 15 or 20 years? And what will their parents -- today's teens -- say about it?
"Gouged-out Eyeballs?! Those slugs couldn't play their way out of a paper bag. Back in my day, our bands spouted real rage, and facial disfigurement was more than just a whim. Give me Rage Against the Machine any day!"
At least that's what I think they'll say. I'll still be avoiding them whenever possible.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of October 3rd, 2003)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Parents' Curse
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2003
One of the greatest things about being a kid was the overwhelming sense of invulnerability. I was charmed. I was lucky. I was invincible. Nothing could happen to me, because I was ERIK DECKERS, SUPER KID!! And nothing bad ever happened to kids.
Even when I was riding my bike in a grocery store parking lot, and got hit by a car, I was still convinced of my invincibility. I figured that if I survived, my winning streak was still intact.
Of course, my parents had different feelings on the subject. To them, I was just another accident-prone kid whose short-term memory blotted out the time I broke my arm, broke my collarbone, lacerated my wrist, ran into a mailbox with my bike, or received countless scrapes and bruises. I never believed I could be seriously injured, even though these incidents -- and many others -- happened over many years.
My parents did though. Mothers and fathers are keenly aware of the dangers the world poses to their children. But they don't have the same fears kids do: there were no monsters in my closet, alligators under my bed, or sharks in hotel swimming pools.
Instead, parents were, and still are, afraid of scarier things like accidents, injuries, and kidnappers. But we never thought about those things when we were kids. We had our minds on more serious matters, like how far we could go if we jumped our bike off a ramp made from a log and some plywood.
But parents worry about their children's safety, especially when their children put themselves in mortal danger. Understandably, my parents would get angry when I did stupid things like crossing the busiest intersection in my hometown or go ramp jumping on a paved road. Of course, when you're an awkward, gangly 10-year-old, getting out of bed is usually the first step in a whole chain of trouble. The rest of the day would just go downhill from there.
So whenever I would report my latest wacky escapade to them, sparing no detail of how I narrowly escaped a gruesome death (again) they would lecture me endlessly on how I needed to be more careful. I assurred them that no harm would ever befall me -- I was a kid, so I was invincible -- and that they didn't need to worry. They didn't buy it.
Fast forward 26 years. I have two daughters, age seven and three, and I've been afflicted with the Parents' Curse ("I hope your children act just like you, so you can see what I went through!"). So, my daughters now believe they're as invincible as I did.
They run, jump, and climb with reckless abandon, not even thinking of the dangers that await them. They think nothing of racing up to a balcony railing, and my oldest wants to pet any dog she sees.
"Look, Daddy, a big dog. He has a lot of teeth. What's that foamy stuff coming out of his mouth? Can I pet him?"
Needless to say, I have serious nightmares involving injuries, dismemberment, or worst of all, dating.
And true to the Parents' Curse, my children don't believe me when I try to make them understand they're not as invincible as they think. So whenever I discuss personal safety, they just stare blankly at me, like I've grown a nose out of my forehead, and it's talking to them. My voice is just a low hum to them, and they only recognize certain words like "pizza" or "Disney movie."
A few weeks ago, my youngest daughter was standing on a milk crate in my office. I could tell by the gleam in her eye that she wanted to see if she could fly.
"Watch, Daddy. Watch me!"
"Be careful, honey. I don't want you to fall."
"I won't, Daddy."
While her optimism is adorable, how do I tell a three-year-old with visions of flight that not only can she not fly, but that I have a crippling fear that she'll be horribly injured on impact? Unfortunately, I can't. She has to figure these things out for herself. Besides, the room is carpeted, so it's not like she's jumping onto jagged rocks.
So while my youngest daughter chases her big sister down the slippery slope to imagined immortality, I'm following close behind, to kiss the boo-boos and chase away the alligators.
But if they want help with the sharks in swimming pools, they're on their own.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of October 10th, 2003)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Deckers Family, Inc.
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2003
To: All members of Deckers Family, Inc.
From: President Daddy
RE: Yearly Evaluation Report
Dear Employees of DFI:
We have been a little remiss in maintaining our yearly evaluation. So much so, that it has actually been four-and-a-half years since our last report. However, since I'm the president, I have declared that this will in no way affect my performance bonus, so I'll still be allowed to watch football all day on Sundays.
As you remember, the yearly evaluation allows us to assess your performance as a member of this organization, and to identify your strengths and weaknesses. This will help us utilize your overall efficiency within the organization.
Despite recent expansions, also known as Phase 2, there has not been a strain on the company budget, since the resources previously allocated were rolled over to the next phase. We are also predicting that the next phase of expansion -- Phase 3 -- should proceed as planned without any difficulties.
We have been able to handle the new additions because of previous logistical and facility upgrades undertaken in the last four years. President Daddy and our outside consultant, Father-In-Law Contracting, have spent the several months expanding the lower level facilities, making them safe for daily use.
And despite President Daddy's concerns that we were "going a little nutso" on the expansion, CEO Mommy, who also serves as DFI's Chief Financial Officer, assured him that there was no concern, and that he should just "put a sock in it and quit worrying."
President Daddy and CEO Mommy have also reorganized the company floor plan, combining certain departments in the same office, thus increasing valuable floor space.
Our Manager of Daughter Operations has been with DFI for over six years, while the Assistant Manager of Daughter Operations has been with the organization for two. We are also proud to note that the MDO's productivity is definitely on par with someone of her experience. Not only have her monthly operating costs decreased, her training and guidance of the AMDO has proved invaluable.
Because of the AMDO's increased productivity, we have been able to cut back on additional supplies for waste management, as well as specialized nutritional supplies and equipment. This has been an issue of concern, since the pending Manager of Son Operations will likely require similar considerations for the next two fiscal years.
Sadly, our previous K-9 Chief of Security, Millie, is no longer with us. However, she has been replaced with Chief Hannah and Deputy Chief Macy. And while the entire organization agrees that no one can ever take the place of former Chief Millie, everyone appreciates the new security department and the peace of mind they bring.
However, certain frictions between Chief Hannah and CEO Mommy have arisen, owing mostly to Chief Hannah's blatant disregard for the policy manual's section K-9-A, "Scratching the Walls/Chewing the Rug." As a result, an official reprimand has been placed in Chief Hannah's personnel file, and she is on probation for the next 90 days.
As always, exterior facilities management has remained an ongoing concern for DFI. And while President Daddy is more than willing to accept the help of outside consultants for interior facility upgrades, he refuses to hire any for exterior maintenance.
Unfortunately, other organizations in the immediate area have all begun using new automated maintenance tools (commonly known as "riding lawn mowers"). This has created concern with one-half of upper management that competition is becoming more fierce, and that we should expand in this area as well. However, the other half of upper management has stated that "you have a perfectly good mower. Besides, you could use the exercise."
As always, upper management are very appreciative of the invaluable efforts of our allied company, Grandparents, Inc., especially in the areas of after-hours supervision, and equipment procurement/uniform purchasing during seasonal celebrations.
As we approach the ten year anniversary of the formation of Deckers Family, Inc., we look back with great happiness at everything this company has accomplished, and we look to the future with great hope and optimism.
However, despite statements made by CEO Mommy during a recent business meeting that the MDO and AMDO will someday merge with another company to form their own companies, President Daddy continues to voice strong opposition.
He said in a recent statement in the company newsletter that ". . . anyone who wants to try to form a new company with any of my employees will be subject to a 'hostile takeover,' if you know what I mean."
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of October 17th, 2003)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
At Least It's Better Than Voices
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2003
(Note: According to an email I received from Dr. Kellaris, he did not "create" the term "earworm" as I mentioned in the original version of this column. Apparently the Associated Press got it wrong, and so did nearly every other newspaper in the world. But I got it right here, so neener neener neener!)
The earworm is a fascinating creature. It shows up unexpectedly and burrows its way into your brain, refusing to leave. No one knows how to get rid of it, or how it gets into your brain in the first place. It seems to feed -- even thrive -- on your annoyance at its repetitive mating cries.
"It's a world of laughter; A world of tears; It's a world of hope; And a world of fears; There's so much that we share; That it's time we're aware; It's a small world after all."
Before you run shrieking out of the room, desperately looking for a neurologist or pest control professional, don't worry. "Earworm" is a German word borrowed by Dr. James Kellaris, marketing professor at the University of Cincinnati. Also known as "Stuck Tune Syndrome" or "Dear God, Please Kill Me Now," it's that annoying song that gets stuck in your head and won't leave. So you're forced to hear it over and over and over and over and over.
And over.
"It's a small world after all; It's a small world after all; It's a small world after all; It's a small, small world."
Kellaris has been researching the phenomenon since 2000, conducting several surveys to see how many people are afflicted with earworm.
"I quickly learned that virtually everybody experiences earworms at one time or another," he told the Associated Press. "I think because it's experienced privately and not often a topic of conversation, maybe people really long for some social comparison. They want to know if other people experience what they experience."
So last year, Kellaris surveyed 500 students, faculty, and staff at the University of Cincinnati. He discovered that songs like "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," Chili's restaurant "baby back ribs" jingle and "Who Let the Dogs Out" are common earworm targets.
However, the number one choice was "Other," meaning most people picked a song not on the list. So Kellaris concluded that earworms are based on individual factors, like whether a person is a musician or music lover, if they're exposed to music on a regular basis, and even their level of neurosis.
"There is just one moon; And one golden sun; And a smile means friendship to everyone; Though the mountains divide; And the oceans are wide; It's a small world after all."
Kellaris actually proves the idiosyncrasy of the earworm occurrence. The former professional-Greek-Bouzouki-player-turned-professor says his own personal earworms are Byzantine chants, causing many of his colleagues to wonder, "So why couldn't Professor Hoity-Toity just hear 'Y.M.C.A.' like the rest of us?" However, Kellaris believes his own earworms may be a result of his wife's job as a church choir director, which then caused his colleagues to hang their heads in embarrassment and mumble an apology.
Several years ago, I had my own personal earworm -- a song I had heard from an African missionary -- that came and went for several months. The song was nothing more than the guy badly singing "God Bless Africa."
As I remember it, he just sang the line "God Bless Africa" dozens of times before topping it off with "Feed her children; Guide her leaders." And then he launched into a second, identical verse ("a little bit louder, a little bit worse"), and then a third that sounded just like the one before it.
I promised myself that if he launched into a fourth verse, I was either going to leave the room or tackle him right there at the pulpit.
My regular cure for an earworm is to mentally sing the chorus of a semi-dirty song from "The State" (an MTV sketch comedy show from the mid-90s). However, I felt guilty about using a PG-13 song to get rid of a religious earworm, so I had to use "Row Row Row Your Boat," which became an earworm in itself.
According to the AP story, Kellaris has received hundreds of emails from all over the world, asking for advice and providing personal stories. There have been several suggestions on how to cure earworm, including chewing on a cinnamon stick, passing the earworm to someone else, or singing the theme to "Gilligan's Island."
Unfortunately, there seems to be no cure for earworm. It strikes at any time, and can be any song, commercial jingle, or music from, say, a ride at a well-known theme park that certain members of my family visited without bringing me a souvenir, so I'm forcing them to relive their own personal earworm hell.
"It's a small world after all; It's a small world after all; It's a small world after all; It's a small, small world."
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of October 24th, 2003)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Just Imagine Them Naked
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2003
What is it about public speaking that scares the bejeezus out of some people?
Public speaking is considered such a horrible, terrible, awful ordeal that it frightens people more than snakes, spiders, or the words "President Pauly Shore."
According to the Book of Lists, more people cite public speaking as their worst fear, more than any other stressful event including death. Or as we speech teachers like to joke, people would rather die than give a speech.
Speech teachers have the sense of humor of a can of salmon.
So what's wrong with public speaking? Why can people talk to two friends about any topic for hours on end without the slightest nervous twitch, but they can't speak to more than five people without peeing their pants?
I teach public speaking at our area community college, and at the start of every semester, I ask my students what scares them about it. The most frequent answers are usually "I'm afraid I'll be laughed at" or "I don't want to look stupid." So I help them become desensitized to their fears by making them wear silly wigs while the rest of the class laughs uproariously at them.
No seriously, we spend the first class doing exercises to help them see how easy public speaking can be. The silly wigs and laughter are part of the final exam.
I'm actually one of those rare individuals who enjoys public speaking. I love being the center of attention, and having people hang on my every word. Short of running into a crowded restaurant and shouting, "Hey everyone, look at me!" public speaking is the best way to get this kind of attention. I'm what non-public speakers call "an outgoing personality," "an attention seeker," or "a jerk."
But you don't have to take a class to conquer this fear. I belong to an organization that helps people overcome their fears and improve their speaking skills. Toastmasters International is a worldwide organization dedicated to the fine art of lightly scorching bread and then describing it to fellow toast lovers. Other discussion topics range from the best brands of toasters, butter versus margarine, and whether to use pre-sliced bread or to slice your own.
Actually, Toastmasters speeches will cover a wide range of topics, and will almost never discuss burned bread.
"So what can public speaking do for me?" you're asking yourself quietly, because there are more than three people nearby.
Lots of things. It builds your self-confidence. It can help you advance in your career. It can enhance your communication skills. And it can help you shout "Fire!" in a burning building without stammering or blushing furiously.
And if you're so inclined, it can even make you world famous, like Masanam Venu from India. He is currently the world record holder for longest public speaker. He spoke for 51-and-a-half hours in January 2003 on the fundamentals of chemistry. By an amazing coincidence, everyone in attendance also shattered the world's record for longest boredom-induced slumber with an amazing 51-and-a-half hour performance.
The previous record was held by 15-year-old American high school student Bridget Garvey, who spoke for 47 hours and 39 minutes about how she heard from Stephanie that Alex broke up with Stacy and started going out with Heather and now Stacy is going out with some creep named Garrett but Stacy and Alex danced together at the dance last weekend and oh my God I think they may get back together but they say they're not and do you think I would look good with bangs?
But you don't have to be world-famous. You don't even have to try to make a career out of public speaking. You may only use the skill a few times in your life, but wouldn't it be nice to know how?
I know, you've got a variety of reasons to avoid it. Maybe you're one of those people who don't like feeling like they're being judged. Or you're afraid people won't like you. Or you may just be one of those people who don't like all those other people watching you. Staring at you. Studying you under their critical gaze. Finding every fault, every flaw, until the pressure becomes too much. Then you finally crack and -- sorry. That doesn't really happen. Much.
So if you ever find that you have to give a speech, presentation, or even just a toast to a friend, just relax. Remember, your audience wants you to succeed. They'll forgive your little flubs and verbal mixups. They understand your nervousness, because they've felt it too.
Besides, I'm sure no one even noticed your fly was open.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of October 31st, 2003)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Click here to see what I do for a living
|
|
|
|
|
 |
