AS WE CHEER/LAUGH/CRY TOGETHER

There are certain actions, particular habits, that humans all seem to be bound by (I'd use the expression 'universal', except that annoys me immensely - we are so humancentric).


We all smile when we are pleased - we all cry, unless trained otherwise (sorry, American males) - we laugh, giggle and even sometimes squeal like a pig.

But why do we all... well, push together?

Let me use an example.

I am not a huge sports fan anymore. There is a quote from a favorite book of mine by Haven Kimmel, which of course at this moment I cannot locate, so I will poorly paraphrase it; all sports involve a passionate desire for the location of a ball.

I do not have this desire.

I like basketball, but my husband flatly refuses to watch any semi-important game with, because I root for whoever has the ball at that particular instant.

I am alway for the offense - which drives any true sports fanatic totally insane... at least for half of the time.

But when there is that one moment - last quarter, final seconds, that one last agonizing throw/shot/put/whatever that hangs in the air for that unbearable extended second...


And everyone, even pathetic non-competitive people like me, holds their breath, and somehow...

connect in some cosmic, universal (there, I said it anyway) way.

Outside of sports - think about the last time you held your breath about something happening to someone else - maybe when they froze up trying to speak in public - a little child tripped and fell - a motor was trying to turn over....

And suddenly you were mentally trying to help them - help them up - push that gas pedal just a little bit more...



I am not making a good argument for this outside of sports, I can see, but I can't just leave it alone, either.

Partially because I'm not certain where it comes from.

Is it actually a spiritual unity, coming from the brotherhood of mankind? Is it karma? Some sort of psychic energy?

Or perhaps something we do bring with us from our pre-mortal existence with God?

Any thoughts? Or perhaps a paper someone much more articulate than me has already published?

Please?

MEN ARE FROM MARS, PART IXX

Let's just say that there is a word.

And how about we make these words be potato chip.

Now to you, and me, and most other English-speaking individuals (well, except the British with the whole chips/ fries/ crisps bit), a potato chip is a slice of potato, fried and salted.

Right? You and I agree on that, okay?

It's nothing more, and really nothing less.

It's just a potato chip.

So suddenly in through the front living room window crashes in this huge weirdly-marked extraterrestrial from some distant galaxy. Totally uninvited. Distinct odor. Like bad eggs and extremely full diapers. Maybe with a little mold tossed in.

But no politeness, right into your space.

And to HIM, and all of the aliens like him from his corner of the universe, the word potato chip is the equivalent of filming your mother sexually active on prime time television with Jerry Lewis (i.e. not good).

You explain to this alien that no, potato chip means, well, potato chip here on earth. You're sorry that the word offends him, but that isn't what you meant by it, you just meant to say, well, that bit of fried potato that is a potato chip.

The galactic visitor refused to accept your explanation, immediately contacts all his warships in space, threatens to leave the entire earth in nuclear annihilation, and leaves, slamming the bedroom door, in complete and utter disgust, and refuses to talk to you the rest of the night.

Anyone got a better explanation?