Are Museums Laughingstocks?

Every generation laughs at the old fashions,
but follows religiously the new.

― Thoreau

A new study by the American Association for State and Local History suggests public interest in museums might have hit a brick wall.

Museum attendance declined 70% last year, the study finds. 

Casual observers blame the pandemic, of course; but museum executives are worried. Last year's falloff caps 40 years of decline. (Museum-going had already fallen by 50% between 1980 and 2020.)

The pandemic simply could be the proverbial "last nail" in the coffin.

Just ask any teen: museums are out of fashion, laughingstocks among the new generations. (I'm not sure Boomers and their parents cared for them all that much, either.)

Museum is a 17th-century word borrowed directly from the Latin for "library." Latin borrowed museum from the Greek mouseion, literally a "temple of the Muses."

The decline in museum attendance might signal that the Muses have abandoned us; that today's Americans are content to be a stupid and sluggish herd—a mediocracy.

Or it could mean museums are simply no match for amusements (a 15th-century word borrowed from the Greek amousos, meaning "Muse-less" or "uneducated").

That's more likely the case. 

In the words of media critic Neil Postman, we're "amusing ourselves to death."

Thank goodness at least some museum executives are responding to the crisis.

My wife and I recently visited The Concord Museum in Massachusetts, only two weeks after it had finished a $16 million renovation.

From beginning to end, the experience was a marvel—as engaging as any Disney destination, but with the content unsanitized (as it should be).

Brand-new galleries in the museum feature artifacts from the Transcendentalists Emerson and Thoreau; from hometown writer Louisa May Alcott; from local Abolitionists like Mary Brooks; from the African Americans who lived in Concord since its founding in 1635: and from the Nipmuc tribe that lived there long before.

Topping these rooms is the gallery devoted to the Battle of Concord, the dustup that ignited the American Revolution. In addition to militaria (including Paul Revere's lantern), it features a remarkable digital display—for narrative drive and subtle drama, far and away the best animation of its kind you'll ever see.

The Concord Museum's grip on innovation is firm, and, for that institution, could be the magic bullet needed to reverse audience decline.

But there's a roadblock to innovation like this: politics.

Politics—as they do many Americans—stymy museum executives, because politics dictate what gets displayed and what doesn't. They also define which museums get funding, and which are starved. Politics even define what a museum is—either a "permanent institution" (the right's definition) or a "democratizing space" (the left's).

Museum executive Thomas Hoving once said, "It's hard to be a revolutionary in the deadly museum business."

He's right. 

It might be asking too much of hidebound museum executives to become revolutionaries, although that is what they need to be, if museums aren't to remain laughingstocks forever.

Above: Thoreau's Desk at The Concord Museum.

More

My life will be in your keeping, waking, sleeping,
laughing, weeping.

— Norman Newell

As a kid, I often watched "Million Dollar Movie," a nightly broadcast on New York's WOR-TV.

The show comprised mostly old B movies like The Crawling Eye, Cat People, Godzilla, Mighty Joe Young and Tarzan and the Mermaids.

My pal Mookie, also a fan, called the show "Hundred Dollar Movie."

One particularly arresting movie aired on "Million Dollar Movie" was a new one at the time, an Italian film called Mondo Cane.

Mondo Cane was a depressing Cold War-era "shockumentary," elevated above other nonfiction films of the day by virtue of its schmaltzy theme song, "More."

The most arresting segment of Mondo Cane depicted the nuclear nightmare America had recently visited upon the wildlife of Bikini, where in the 1940s and '50s the US Air Force had dropped a series of atom bombs—23 in all—to test their lethality. (Click here to watch this segment.)

Who would have thought in 1962 that industry, and not the American or Soviet nuclear stockpiles, would bring about Armageddon?

But it seems like industry will—unless checked by government.

Yesterday, President Biden proposed to spend $555 billion on climate programs designed to check industry, the largest sum ever proposed by any chief executive to address global warming.

He wants not only to cut carbon emissions, but to do more.

He wants to create more forests. More farms. More jobs. 

But a two-bit chiseler, Joe Manchin, stands in the way.

Without Republican support in the Senate, Manchin's vote is needed to pass Biden's proposal into law. 

That's unlikely. 

Manchin, a puppet of the nation's fossil fuel producers, plans to rip Biden's proposal to shreds.

Have no doubt that Manchin is a crook. 

He has not only received more political donations from fossil fuel producers than any other senator—more than twice the second largest recipient—but is becoming rich from coal. 

Disclosures show he earned over $5 million as a coal broker in the past 10 years.

If Biden's proposal fails to become law, we know precisely who to blame.

The skunk from West Virginia. 

Becoming Unamerican

Americanism in all its forms seems trashy
and wasteful and crude.

— Christopher Hitchens

Shockwaves coursed through the superhero universe this weekend following the announcement by DC Comics that the slogan of Superman, its 83-year-old Man of Steel, would be revised.

"Truth, Justice and A Better Tomorrow" will replace Superman's former slogan, "Truth, Justice and the American Way."

While Superman was unavailable for comment, Goodly reached seven other superheroes for their reaction to the news.

"Holy defamation!" said Robin, Boy Wonder and sidekick to Batman. "This upsets an 80-year tradition of honoring Superman's adopted country. It feels like Buddy Holly has died all over."

"Trump's chickens have come home"

Wonder Woman expressed no surprise at the announcement, citing various foreign-policy positions taken by former president Donald Trump. 

"All of Trump's chickens have come home to roost," she told Goodly. 

"America's image globally is in the toilet thanks to him. It's like facing Kryptonite to tell someone overseas you're an American. I can't fault DC Comics for its decision to distance Superman from this country."

Referring obscenely to the company's management, the Incredible Hulk asked, "What are they smoking over there? Sure, I support diversity and inclusivity as much as the next guy, but this takes things too far. It's not patriotic. Next, they'll announce Superman's gay."

DC Comics in fact announced that the "new" Superman, Jon Kent, introduced in July as the son of Clark Kent, is gay and will date a gay refugee reporter in a forthcoming issue of the comic book.

Jon Kent and BFF

The announcement of Clark Kent Superman's new slogan particularly offended the ears of Captain America. 

"I guess they'll have to change my name too now," he lamented. "I'll never get used to 'Captain Tomorrow.' Sounds like a brand of laxative. I'd rather just be called 'Steve.'"

But Supergirl was sanguine about her cousin Superman's new slogan.

"Does it really matter?" she asked philosophically. "People got upset when Avis dropped 'We Try Harder.' They're still in business, last time I checked."

Whether a rebranded Superman will remain in business another 80 years is anyone's guess, however.

"'A Better Tomorrow' isn't a slogan, it's an aspiration," said Ironman. "It sets a higher bar for the Man of Steel. All Americans can benefit from a higher bar."

"I think 'A Better Tomorrow' sounds quite timely, given the immanence of climate change," said Conan the Barbarian, adding, "We don't all agree about America's role on the world stage in the future, but we can all agree about one thing—that the day after today will be tomorrow."

UPDATE: Hyperallegic reports that several right-wing media outlets have lashed out at Jon Kent's sexual orientation. No superheroes were available for comment.

Sticks in the Mud

Let everyone be happy, we have no problem with that; but they must not be allowed to overshadow traditional family values.

— Vladmir Putin

If, as neocon Robert Kagan claims, a second Trump Administration is a fait accompli, I will find myself three years from now in the shoes of the millions of democrats who stood idly by while Hitler's minority party took control of Germany.

You, on the other hand, may find yourself celebrating Trump's triumphant return, because—deep down—you're a Conservative. 

You're sick of our institutions pandering to Blacks, Latinos, Native Americans, Muslims, atheists, women, queers, and the disabled; and sick of Liberals, who egg on these legions of malcontents.

One hundred eighty years ago, the philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson defined a Conservative as someone who believes that all change is deterioration. 

A Conservative, Emerson said, is the guy who's always always pleading for necessity; always apologizing for the way things are; always defending the castle; always stoning the prophets; always saying no. A Conservative is a Cassandra; a worrywart; a stick in the mud.  

A Conservative is also a fatalist, according to Emerson: he clutches to "facts," refusing to see there could be "better facts." To him, the world is a jungle, a shithole, a disease.

A Liberal, on the other hand, relishes change—and speaks and acts to bring change about. To her, the world is an experiment, an Eden, a dream.

And she doesn't care if her speech or acts offend or upset the applecart. 

She could give two shits.

A Conservative, Emerson said, is "neighborly, social and debonair;" a Liberal, "imperious, pretentious, and egotistical."

The Conservative minority of Americans today are sick of feather-brained Liberals, the "coastal elites" so happy and willing to upset the applecart, just so a handful of weaklings can feel good about themselves.

"Let everyone be happy," the minority says. "We have no problem with that—as long as you don't challenge family values."

The trouble lies not in Conservatives' views—many of which I share—but in their readiness to criminalize the speech and acts of antagonists.

That readiness leads to individual, mob, and police violence; to mass arrests and imprisonments; and to gulags, pogroms, work camps, and death camps—faster than you can shake a stick.

Even here, in the good old USA.

Monuments Men

I asked the captain what his name was and how come he
didn't drive a truck. He said his name was Columbus.
I just said, "Good luck."

— Bob Dylan

Monuments in the US are "overwhelmingly white and male," according to a new census by the Mellon Foundation.

Most of the white men depicted in our monuments, moreover, were vicious, according to the census. Columbus, the third-most depicted individual, is an example.

The census identified the Top 50 individuals depicted. 

Only a few of them were women or persons of color, and none were queer folks. Forty percent were born into wealth and fifty percent owned slaves. Omitted from depiction are individuals without wealth—our great artists, writers, nurses, teachers, and reformers.

The census concludes that, when it comes to US history, our monuments represent "monumental erasures and lies."

The Mellon Foundation plans to spend $250 million to correct the situation.

A Catholic Conundrum Cleared Up At Last

Faith may be defined as an illogical belief in
the occurrence of the improbable.

— H. L. Mencken

As Whole Woman's Health v. Austin Jackson proves, right-wing Catholics on the Supreme Court are a clear and present danger—to women. 

By recriminalizing abortion, they will increase women's misery beyond calculation.

Believe what you will about fetuses; that's your right.

But recognize the Roman Catholic Church, following Aristotle, for nearly two millennia held that a fetus had no soul until it was six months old—and therefore couldn't be murdered.

Early-stage abortions weren't sinful.  

Only a modern bit of dogmatic gymnastics changed the Church's position on abortion.

And the change came about ass-backwards.

Before 1854, Catholic canonists had struggled with a thorny riddle: how could Jesus have be born of a woman stained by Original Sin?

It's uncanny! 

To solve the riddle, Giovanni Mastai-Ferretti (Pope Pius IX) declared that Jesus' conception was "immaculate" because Mary was born without sin.

Problem solved!

But Mastai-Ferretti's solution also led him to declare all abortions a mortal sin.

Why? 

Because Mary's sin-free life began not at viability, but conception.

Logically speaking, it had to.

Or so said the infallible Mastai-Ferretti.

So we've arrived at the bottom line:

Because an Italian decided 150 years ago that a Jewish woman was born without sin 2,000 years ago, no 21st century Texan can have an abortion without exposing her accomplices to fines and criminal penalties.

Makes perfect sense to me.

Thanks Amy, Brett and Neil, for clearing that up!

We look forward to your future legal decisions.

NOTE: Just so you know, I single out Catholics and exclude Evangelicals from blame for recriminalizing abortion for a simple reason: no Evangelical is intelligent enough to receive a Supreme Court appointment.

UPDATE: Amy, Brett and Neil didn't dawdle. We learned in May 2022 that they plan to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Above: Judging Amy by Robert Francis James. Oil on canvas board. 10 x 8 inches. Not available in Texas. 

Going to Pieces

We all could use a little mercy now.

I know we don't deserve it, but we need it anyhow.

— Mary Gauthier

No surprise here: a Gallup poll shows our esteem for Internet providers has tanked.

In the relentless pursuit of profits, these companies have turned a modern miracle into the vilest of cesspools.

Lies, vulgarity and stupidity are the rule, rather than the exception.

In a civil war of words, brothers fight brothers; sisters, sisters; husbands, wives. 

And everyone goes to pieces.

But there is a way to keep it together: do some good.

“I was once a fortunate man, but at some point fortune abandoned me," the Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius wrote. "But true good fortune is what you make for yourself. Good fortune: good character, good intentions, and good actions.”

Don't just stand there: do something good. Today. Tomorrow. The next day. And the next. 

If you expect the trolls to surrender, don't hold your breath. 

If you hope to fix stupid, fuggedaboutit.

Just refuse to be implicated in the lies and the ugliness and do some good.

As the proverb says, "Let not mercy and truth forsake you; bind them about your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart, and so find favor and good understanding in the sight of God and man."

Let Go

Let go that which burdens you. Let go any acts of unkindness or brutality from or against you. Let go one breath into another.

— Joy Harjo

Known locally as "Massholes," they drive mostly black SUVs and oversize pickup trucks.

While driving in Massachusetts, I must remember Joy Harjo's poem. 

The Prickly Pump

 

The only cure for contempt is counter-contempt.

—H. L. Mencken

I had to gas up my car in Massachusetts yesterday and pulled into a Sunoco station. 

I removed my credit card from the pump's reader before answering all its dozen questions. 

A huge mistake.

The pump went full-scale ballistic, flashing READ! READ! READ!

I've never been verbally assaulted by a gas pump before.

My hunch: the pump has built-in AI.

Through machine learning its has acquired a wicked Boston attitude.

Lovely

We don’t need a little bit of lovely somewhere,
we need a lot of it everywhere.

— James Rebanks

On this mournful day, we need a lot of lovely everywhere.

It was medieval bloodlust that drove bin Laden's berserkers to attack the Twin Towers. Like impotent boys who realize they can't win the competition, they scattered all the blocks.

Who knows what symbol they'll knock down next? Probably the Internet. Impotence makes weak children rageful.

Today, put them aside.

Remember their victims and find a lot of lovely everywhere.

Leaving/Arriving

You only leave home when home won’t let you stay.

― Warsan Shire

In the past two weeks, over 14,000 Afghan refugees have arrived at Dulles Airport.

They represent one-half of one percent of all Afghan refugees, but differ from most because they're our allies. 

Their loyal service to our troops is now a death warrant at home.

I hope you'll take a moment to donate whatever you can, to help them resettle here.

I want to raise $911 by 9/11 and am using Facebook to do it

Your money will go directly to Lutheran Social Services of the National Capital Area, a nonprofit group doing effective work on the refugees' behalf.

Facebook pays all the processing fees, so 100% of your donation goes directly to the nonprofit.

Wring a little justice from an unjustified war. 

Donate now.

And thanks!

Alone. Unread. And Ready to Die.

Literacy is a bridge from misery to hope.

— Kofi Annan

This week, CNBC reporter Donie O'Sullivan conducted a brief interview with a Trump supporter—and a true American nihilist. 

O'Sullivan asked if the man whether he planned to get vaccinated.

"Our days are numbered," he said. "It don't matter."

A cohort of killjoys like this man walks among us.

Perhaps Covid-19 is a divine instrument that will rid us of all the nihilists like him; I often wonder.

In any event, I place the blame for rampant nihilism in America today not on globalization, urbanization, or declining church attendance, but on the source of so many social woes: illiteracy.

When people read, they take hope—hope in progress, hope in their fellows, hope in their leaders, hope in themselves. They "read to know they're not alone," as writer William Nicholson says.

Today there's a hope gap among America's illiterate. 

They're alone, unread, and ready to die.

"It don't matter" is their worldview, and on that ground they can justify anything: shooting their enemies; trafficking in drugs; swindling their customers; trafficking in teenage girls; spreading Covid-19; you name it. 

"It don't matter."

According to the National Center for Educational Statistics, one-fifth of the US population is functionally illiterate. And they're not all immigrant peasants, as conservatives insist. Among the 43 million illiterates in the US, 15.5 million are White (14.5 million are Latino; and 13 million are Black or "other").

Illiteracy affects our entire society:

• Illiterates are sickies. The Milken Institute reports that illiteracy results in $238 billion in excess healthcare costs every year, a dollar amount equaling the annual healthcare costs for 47 million Americans.
  
  
• Illiterates are sponges. The National Council for Adult Learning reports that illiteracy costs $225 billion in crime, joblessness, and loss of tax revenue due to joblessness, every year. Add that to the healthcare costs and we're wasting over half a trillion dollars annually on them.
  
  
• Illiterates are criminals. In addition, the US Department of Justice reports that 75% of prison inmates are illiterate. (Criminals can't read, so we throw the book at 'em.)

And then there's politics.

How many right-wing nihilists are nihilists because they're illiterate?

No study exists to answer the question. 

But studies do exist that show that right wing people are out of touch with factual reality:

• Four in 10 Republicans believe the flu is more deadly than Covid-19, although Covid-19 is over 11 times more deadly (Brookings).

• Six in 10 Republicans believe Biden "stole" the presidential election (Reuters).

• Three in 10 Republicans believe Qanon's conspiracy theories (Survey Center on American Life).

Are these right-wingers out of touch because they don't or won't or can't read? 

I think so. 

They're alone, unread and ready to die, because "it don't matter."

When people read, they find hope.

When they don't, they are hopeless—in both senses of the word.

NOTE: Embedded links in my posts lead to sources and other good stuff.

Monsters

If he is indeed a monster, we have created him.

— John D. MacDonald

A Santa Barbara surfing instructor drove his young son and infant daughter to a ranch in Baja California earlier this month and murdered both of them with a spearfishing gun. 

The children

He was arrested at the US border on the way home.

A QAnon follower, the surfing instructor told police he killed his kids because they were infected with serpent DNA inherited from his wife and would grow up to become "monsters." 

He had to save the world from them.

Friends and associates described the surfing instructor as a "loving family man," although he "believed some weird stuff."

There's no need to ask, who's the real monster?

But who's the monster's maker?

I'm reading John D. MacDonald's 1960 novel The End of the Night, a chilling tale of a crime spree that Stephen King once called "one of the greatest American novels of the twentieth century."

Part-way in, one of the narrators (there are several) ponders the reasons why an otherwise admirable man can kill in cold blood, often without a rational motive.

It's too easy to say he's a "monster."

"A monster?" the narrator asks. "If he is indeed a monster, we have created him.

"He is our son. We have been told by our educators and psychologists to be permissive with him, to let him express himself freely. If he throws all of the sand out of the nursery-school sandbox, he is releasing hidden tensions. We deprived him of the security of knowing know right and wrong. We debauched him with the half-chewed morsels of Freud, in whose teachings there is no right and wrong—only error and understanding. We let sleek men in high places go unpunished for amoral behavior, and the boy heard us snicker. We labeled the pursuit of pleasure a valid goal, and insisted that his teachers turn schooling into fun. We preached group adjustment, security rather than challenge, protection rather than effort. We discarded the social and sexual taboos of centuries, and mislabeled the result freedom rather than license. Finally, we poisoned his bone marrow with Strontium 90, told him to live it up while he had the chance, and sat back in ludicrous confidence expecting him to suddenly become a man. Why are we so shocked and horrified to find a child's emotions in a man's body—savage, selfish, cruel, compulsive and shallow?"

MacDonald wrote that 61 years ago, but could have done so yesterday.

The surfing instructor is currently being held without bond. 

A GoFundMe page asks for donations for his wife.

Let Your Discourse be Short and Comprehensive

To practice his penmanship, the 16-year-old George Washington copied the entirety of Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation, a 110-page book compiled by the Jesuits in 1595.

Rules contained the standards of morality and etiquette for Colonial America's elite—the class the impoverished Washington was anxious to enter.

Showing humility and respect—especially before superiors—was the keynote of Rules. Humility and respect formed the very pillars of civility.

Rule 35 applied that civility to writing and speaking: Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive.

Today, we'd do well to alter that rule: Let your communication with customers be short and comprehensive.

When your customer communications are long-winded, you show them they don't deserve your respect. You signal you think they're stupid. Not a formula for sales or retention.

Here's an example of silly verbosity from a large insurance company's website:

Property insurance is a type of insurance policy that can provide coverage for property owners or renters. Examples of property insurance include homeowners, renters, and flood insurance policies. These policies can provide coverage for damages caused by fire, flooding, theft, weather, and other risks. Let us help protect where you live and what you own with our different types of property insurance. Get a property insurance quote for your home, apartment, and more. We also make managing your policy easy with online access. You can make changes, request documents, and make payments.

The company asks you to suffer through nearly a hundred words, simply to tell you it will sell you property insurance. The same message could be stated in fewer than half the words:

Property insurance protects owners and renters from bearing the costs of damages caused by fire, flooding, theft, weather, and other risks. And managing a policy is easy: you can make changes, request documents, and make payments on line. Contact us for a quote.

By George, show customers a little respect! Sharpen your red pencil before you publish.

Let your discourse be short and comprehensive.

We're All Trash

Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

— Emma Lazarus

Twice daily, some news item triggers me and I fulminate against my fellow Americans. 

Nowadays, they're stories about the unvaccinated—and their loathsome cheerleaders.

How can these fools deny science, eschew common sense, and cling so adamantly to moronic beliefs? How can they be such trash?

But then the words on the base of Liberty remind me: we're all trash.

Some trash gather at motorcycle rallies; some, at country clubs; some, on street corners; some, on private islands; some, in megachurches; some, in art museums.

Some trash don't gather anywhere, but sit alone on the couch watching Fox News or The Bachelor or reruns of Barnaby Jones; some sit alone watching TikTok, reading Facebook, or writing blog posts.

But, all the same, we're all trash.

You're here because your forebears were refuse.

The quality folks—the gifted, good-mannered, powerful people—stayed in the old country.

Only the trash came—or were deported—here.

That's American exceptionalism.

Get your shots, trashy people, so the rest of the trash doesn't catch Delta Plus (or, as I like to call it, Covid with Cheese).

Character is Not for Sale: Why I Hate SUVs.

A man should give us a sense of mass.

— Emerson

When deciding whether to grant a security clearance to someone, our intelligence agencies take into account what they call the "whole person;" not merely the record of his or past behaviors, but their sum total—the sort of actor they represent.

We'd call that sum total character.

Bankers actually do call it that. Character to bankers is one of the "Five Cs," the five factors they consider when deciding whether to make a loan.

Character to a banker amounts to stability—how long you’ve lived at your current address, how long you’ve been in your current job, and how promptly you pay your bills. Bankers want to know you're steady, trustworthy, and likely to repay the loan.

Writer Tom Wolfe called character "the right stuff," an ineffable "it," a je ne sais quoi that blends combat-tested chutzpa with a self-effacing style. More than just a track-record of stability, the right stuff comprises the Hemingwayesque knack for demonstrating "grace under pressure." As astronaut Wally Schirra said of the right stuff, "it's something you can't buy."

Emerson called character the "genius by whose impulses a man is guided;" a genius, he said, as likely to rear its head in business as on the battlefield (Emerson didn't anticipate space flight).

"The face which character wears to me is self-sufficiency," the philosopher said. "A man should give us a sense of mass. Our action should rest mathematically on our substance."

Character as substance: I like that definition. I see it on quiet display every day—particularly among the many businesspeople I know who are struggling to emerge whole from the pandemic. Although they don't say it, they worry as much about their employees', suppliers', and customers' futures as their own; often more so.

They know character amounts to taking one right step after another, even when the path is rocky and uncertain. 

Now that's the right stuff.

Unfortunately, too many other Americans think the right stuff is for sale and that you can buy it—in the form of an SUV.

SUVs continue to push sedans out of the American automotive market, because they make their owners feel "important" and "safe," according to consumer research conducted automakers.

That research shows these Americans are, in the researchers' words, "self-oriented" and "crime-fearing." 

In other words, selfish and paranoid.

When behind the wheel, SUV drivers, according to the research, believe, "I'm in control of the people around me." And they show it by hogging the road; driving aggressively; lane-changing recklessly; parking thoughtlessly; and eyeing you with contempt at all times.

SUVs, in turn, are designed by Detroit to feed their drivers' warped, apocalyptic fantasies. Resembling the armored cars starring in Mad Max movies, SUVs are fierce, furious and overfed weapons of brutal destruction. 

I hate SUVs; and, by extension, their cowardly, hoggish and self-important drivers. 

And I have a message for them.

Character is not for sale.

Above: Bust by John Francis Murray.

Information Compulsion

Everything you say should be true,
but not everything true should be said.

— Voltaire

The late writer Tom Wolfe believed that everyone suffers from "information compulsion," that everyone is "dying to tell you something you don't know."

Wolfe relied on the compulsion to draw secrets out of the hundreds of people he interviewed during his career, including Ken Kesey, Chuck Yeager, John Glenn, Junior Johnson, Hugh Hefner, Phil Spector, and Leonard Bernstein.

We're taught as kids to be discreet, not to volunteer information or share "family business."

And we learn as young adults the numerous penalties attached to having loose lips, when we see peers chastised, ostracized, marginalized, demoted or fired for compulsive blabbery. 

We even take a formal oath of secrecy whenever we're forced to sign one of those sinister-sounding NDAs.

So why do we so readily cave to "information compulsion" when it comes to social media?

In the past 24 hours alone, I have learned through Facebook:

• Despite her need to, a painter I know cannot sell any of her artwork.
  
  
• Another painter I know has been "blocked" for more than a year.
  
  
• A student in a group I follow is clinically depressed.
  
  
• A publisher I know can't stop grieving over his father's death.
  
  
• An event planner I know can't find a job—or even get an interview.

I'm no Pollyanna. Like everyone else,  I too have my share of irksome troubles.

But sharing them on social media, as if it were one big recovery meeting, makes no sense to me.

Surrendering to information compulsion may reduce your anxiety, but it confers no honor upon you, and is sure to haunt you in the long run.

"The ideal man bears the accidents of life with grace and dignity," Aristotle said, "making the best of circumstances."

You want to be that man (or woman or neither).

Because dignity is non-negotiable.

When I'm Sixty-ur

It's 64 AD and the Stoic philosopher Seneca, by coincidence, is 64. 

He's been retired from his job as Nero's chief of staff two full years now, and has time on his hands. 

He likes to sit by the waterside near his villa outside Rome and people-watch.

Seneca sees the sail of an incoming mailboat one day, and studies the sudden stirring of the "rabble" on the docks.

"While everybody was bustling and hurrying to the waterfront," he writes to his friend Lucilius, "I felt great pleasure in my laziness, because, although I was soon to receive letters from my friends, I was in no hurry to know how affairs were progressing abroad."

Seneca's bemusement stems from the thought that he has "more travelling-money than journey;" in other words, that he won't outlive the wealth he's accumulated, because his remaining life will likely be short.

He can travel as much as he wants—or not at all.

A journey is frustrating, he tells Lucilius, if you quit half way before reaching your destination; but, as a metaphor for life, a journey need not be completed to be rewarding. 

"Life is not incomplete if it is honorable," Seneca writes. 

"At whatever point you leave off living, provided you leave off nobly, your life is a whole."

Leaving "nobly," Seneca says, is leaving "bravely" and "resolutely;" "gliding from life," no matter the reasons. 

Those reasons—the reasons for your death—"need not be momentous," he says; "for neither are the reasons momentous which hold us here."

The rabble on the docks awaiting the news amuses Seneca, because it never stops to ask, what bearing does the news have on the journey?

Why should I care that Jeff Bezos will blast into space? That Britney Spears refuses to tour? That the Queen remains disappointed with Meghan Markle? That Trump now hates McConnell?

Like Seneca, I'm in no hurry to know how affairs are progressing abroad. 

So please don't ping me, text me, tweet me, or IM me.

I hit yet another sexagenarian birthday yesterday and, in Stoic fashion, am content just to sit and watch the rabble rush to the mailboat.

If you have news to share, please, as the expression goes, tell me something I don't know.

How to leave here nobly would be a great start.

NOTE: You can read Seneca's whole letter to Lucilius here.