Tom

Many a man has found his place in the world because of having been forced to struggle for existence early in life.

— Napoleon Hill

Joining the 9-to-5 workforce as a rookie, as I did in the 1970s, can be unnerving.

You immediately learn that it's filled with people like Tom.

I remember encountering numerous Toms in my first 9-to-5 job. 

Jovial, assured and smug, middle-aged Tom glides through his job, the very model of self-confidence. 

Without enemies, Tom gets all the rewards, all the perks, all the bonuses and the big trip to Mexico.

Tom's in control of his destiny.

But within five minutes of getting to know Tom, you realize he's unoriginal and vapid and completely complacent. 

He's pleased by his place in the organization; works minimally; and remains only truly passionate about golf and that new blonde in accounting.

We wonder today, what's wrong with our economy? Why won't Gen Y'ers and Z'ers accept all the plentiful jobs available—and stick with them for more than a year?

We look all over the place for answers, when the answer's obvious.

Gen Y and Z weren't raised, as Boomers were, to tolerate—even celebrate—the Toms of the world.

Boomers were raised to put up with chronic bullshit; to accept that the workplace by nature was discriminatory and that "both cream and scum rise to the top;" and—most importantly—that the Toms earn their comfortable stature in the workplace by dint of tenure, obedience, and affability—and nothing more.

Boomers' parents, children of the Depression who came of age during World War II, taught them those beliefs.

They taught Boomers that struggle at a young age was the law of success; that, in the words of self-help pioneer Napoleon Hill, "far from being a disadvantage, struggle is a decided advantage."

Gen X'ers and Z'ers, on the other hand, were taught Trophy Communism. Struggle is anathema to them. 

As a result, they want it all, and they want it now. 

Gen X'ers and Z'ers are contemptuous of the Toms of the world and content to "sit out the economy" until all the Toms retire.

The Committee on Lunacy

In 1883, Pennsylvania formed the Committee on Lunacy to supervise the state's treatment of the the mentally ill.

The Committee was particularly focused on the way asylum-keepers were handling the "criminally insane," who in the 19th century were housed with the general population of lunatics.

The Committee, which succeeded in building separate institutions for the criminally insane, was eventually disbanded, but the time has come to reconvene the group—and give it national oversight.

I'm calling on you to volunteer your time and join the Committee on Lunacy 2.0.

Our mission is simple: to find ways to isolate the criminally insane from the rest of the population.

Although dangerous lunatics abound, under our committee's immediate consideration are four persons of particular interest:

• Republican Congressman Paul Gosar, who posted a video to social media that depicts him killing Democrat Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and attacking President Joe Biden with a sword.
  
  
• Teen vigilante Kyle Rittenhouse, who pleaded not guilty to six charges of first-degree homicide in the shooting deaths of two protestors in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Rittenhouse was armed with an AR-15.

• Rapper Travis Scott, who incited 50,000 fans to stampede the stage at a Houston concert last weekend, resulting in the deaths of eight people. The victims were trampled to death.
  
  
• Former President Donald Trump, who in the final year of his administration promoted his bellhop to run the Presidential Personnel Office (PPO), deputizing the 29-year-old to ferret out political enemies. Trump aides compared the PPO under the bellhop's control to the Gestapo. (Before his promotion, the bellhop had been fired from the White House for concealing large gambling wins from the FBI, but Trump promoted him anyway.) 

I you wish to join our committee, please send me an email. 

Please note, you must be able to silly-walk.

The Whiniest Generation

 

During World War II, Winston Churchill imposed "double British summer time" on the UK, adding an hour to the clock in winter and two in summer. His edict stayed in place for more than five years.

Erik Larsen describes the effects in The Splendid and the Vile:

"Winter mornings always were dark at this latitude, but a change in how Britain kept time during the war made the mornings darker than ever. The previous fall the government had invoked 'double British summer time' to save fuel and give people more time to get to their homes before the blackout began each day. The clocks had not been turned back in the fall, as per custom, and yet would still be turned forward again in the spring. This created two extra hours of usable daylight during the summer, rather than just one, but also ensured winter mornings would be long, black, and depressing, a condition that drew frequent complaints in civilian diaries."

Britain's Greatest Generation may have whined in their diaries, but they were no match for today's Americans, who I will dub the Whiniest Generation.

Yesterday, 322 million Americans gained an extra hour of daylight every morning and complained about it.

USA Today in fact reported last week that millions of us complain about the ill effects of the time-change. 

It seems the time-change messes with us big time.

The paper cited one scientific study linking the time-change to heart attacks; another linking it to strokes; and a third linking it to cancer.

Besides affecting their physical health, the switch from Daylight Savings to Standard Time hampers Americans' abilities to concentrate, evaluate risk, problem-solve, make decisions, operate machinery, take tests, keep appointments, and control their emotions.

But it has no effect on Americans' ability to whine—incessantly.

No power on earth can stop that.

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.

Monikers

Monikers have always fascinated me.

The Sultan of Swat. 

The Wizard of Menlo Park.

The Angel of the Battlefield. 

The Desert Fox. 

The Elephant Man.  

Moniker is a hobo's term meaning "nickname." It was borrowed directly from Shelta, the form of Gaelic spoken by Irish gypsies.

But not all monikers are alike.

Sobriquets are praiseworthy monikers. 

Epithets are derogatory ones.

A sobriquet—derived from the Old French word for jest—is bestowed out of fondness (the Old French word sobriquet literally meant a "chuck under the chin.") A sobriquet is also bestowed out of awe. The Man of Steel is an example.

An epithet—derived from the Greek word for added—is bestowed in order to disparage.* The Mutton-Eating Monarch is an example.

Grammarians would say sobriquets and epithets are adjectives (adjectival phrases). But onomasticians insist that, because they substitute for a person's proper name, sobriquets and epithets are in fact pronouns.

If that's the case, I might start insisting my pronoun of choice isn't he, she, or they, but "The Maven of Monikers."

Sadly, fanciful monikers are fast becoming extinct. But some are ageless. 

Among the hundreds of ageless sobriquets, my favorite include:

• The Bard (William Shakespeare)
• The Boss (Bruce Springsteen)
• The Duke (John Wayne)
• The Father of His Country (George Washington)
• The Godfather of Soul (James Brown)
• The Governator (Arnold Schwarzenneger) 
• The Great Emancipator (Abraham Lincoln)
• The King of Rock & Roll (Elvis Presley)
• The Lion of Round Top (Strong Vincent)
• The Man from Uncle (Napoleon Solo)
• The Prince of Peace (Jesus Christ)
• The Swamp Fox (Francis Marion)

Among the hundreds of ageless epithets, my favorite include:

• The Bastard of Bolton (Ramsay Bolton)
• The Boston Strangler (Albert DeSalvo)
• The Butcher of Lyon (Klaus Barbie)
• The Hick from French Lick (Larry Bird)
• The Iron Lady (Margaret Thatcher)
• The Kid (William Bonney)
• The Little Corporal (Napoleon Bonaparte)
• The Louisville Lip (Mohammed Ali)
• The Old Pretender (James Francis Edward Stuart)
• The Tangerine Tornado (Donald Trump)
• The Teflon Don (John Gotti)
• The Unabomber (Ted Kaczynski)

What are your favs?

*Nickname literally means "added name." The word derives from the Old English word ekename. Over time, English speakers garbled it. "Babe Ruth had an ekename" became "Babe Ruth had a nickname."