phool opinions

We'll be publishing philosophical musings, frustrated rantings, and social commentary on issues of interest to all (or none) of us. Don't expect to see opinions on issues so topical that they already have thousands of websites devoted just to them (like Zippergate.) Unless of course they happen to be something that really stirs up our publisher. Which is not much, these days. (We're getting mellow in our old age.)
Send your opinions to: opinions@phool.com. Or use the mailchute, if they're short.

IMPORTANT
MESSAGE phool does not publish opinions that are religious or political in nature.
It is not affiliated with any organizations or companies with the name phool; its editors are not affiliated with or in contact with any Pakistani groups or organizations.
Our purpose is to provoke serious thought on or humorous response to current events or topical issues. Please don't submit inflammatory rhetoric or long pontifications. Come to think of it, please don't submit short pontifications, either. While we may sympathize with your point of view (or not...), we will not publish material of that type.

If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:
There would be:

57 Asians; 21 Europeans; 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both North and South; 8 Africans

52 would be female; 48 would be male

70 would be nonwhite; 30 would be white

70 would be non-Christian; 30 would be Christian

89 would be heterosexual; 11 would be homosexual

6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States

80 would live in substandard housing

70 would be unable to read

50 would suffer from malnutrition

1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth

1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education

1 would own a computer

When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for both acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.

Attributed to Phillip M Harter, MD, FACEP, Stanford University, School of Medicine
(Attribution unsubstantiated)

Things they've learned ...

I've learned that you can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk. (Age 7)

I've learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what they are doing and wave back. (Age 9)

I've learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up. (Age 13)

I've learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice. (Age 24)

I've learned that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it. (Age 39)

I've learned that the greater a person's sense of guilt, the greater his need to cast blame on others. (Age 46)

I've learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone. (Age 50)

I've learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree
lights. (Age 52)

I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die. (Age 53)

I've learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life. (Age 58)

I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catchers mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back. (Age 64)

I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. (Age 82)

I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. (Age 92)

One of our readers cries "OUTRAGE!"

and phool's editors agree.

If you also agree with Holley, perhaps you'll pick up on her positive suggestion and support your local humane society. -ed
I am horrified about what happened to Leo, the Bichon Frise that was hurled into traffic after a fender bender in California, horrified on so many levels. As a devoted pet owner, I feel acutely the pain of having a pet, a loved member of the family, not only hurt, but destroyed in such a senseless, horrible, and malicious way. I am appalled that society has bred members who could so unthinkingly destroy life. I am agast at persons who are so little in control of themselves that they would let animal rage take over so completely. Just who was the animal here, and who the victim? HOWEVER, I just read an article that stated that the reward for news of the perpetrator has risen to almost $110,000. While I agree that this person should be hunted down (like the animal that he obviously lets himself become), THINK, people, of what $110,000 donated to local humane societies could do in the areas of pet spay/neuterization and animal welfare, just to begin with. Please, PLEASE! Let's show a little common sense and real concern.

Submitted by Holley W.

Thank you, Holley, for your articulate and caring response to this awful event. --the editors

Philosophy Alcove

Fifteen Minutes of Immortality

It seems that most journalists are spending a goodly part of their time speculating on the coming new millennium and the closing of the century. Not to be outspeculated, your editor has done more than her own fair share of ruminating on the Great Turning. Time Magazine put out a series of special issues on the Top 100 Whatevers of the Century. The issue on Artists and Entertainers received particular attention in this household. Mostly we wanted to see how our own favorites fared in the “official” view of posterity-worthiness.

Old Blue Eyes was there, and the King. (Of course, Elvis is everywhere, if the sightings are to be believed.) The Beatles. Check. Bob Dylan. Check. Joan Baez, though only in passing, and Madonna. Well, OK. But wait. Where was Bing? Willy Nelson? OK. Forget Willy, if you must, but how about Patsy Cline? And maybe even Edith Piaf? Of course, there just wasn’t room to include everyone of merit. After all, they had to cover other categories of artists, too.

As I ruminated longer on this, I realized it’s a very difficult job selecting the finitely best of a field for an entire century. Then it occurred to me that it’s infinitely more difficult to select the best for an entire millennium. When journalists sit down at the end of the next 1,000 years to pick the best entertainers, Frank may still be on the list, and probably Elvis or the Beatles, but not likely both. Now project out another thousand, and who knows?

So, where is all this heading, you may be wondering. Or maybe you’re still trying to decide between Patsy and Edith. It left me speculating on the true meaning of immortality, that’s where it’s heading. Who among us does NOT secretly aspire to some level of immortality? Many of us may seek it through our children and their children. Those of us who did not procreate must seek it elsewhere. And even those with children, well, 1,000 years from now will they really remember Great Great Great etc. Grandpa John. You know, the one who discovered the cure for Viagra-induced priapism…

Ah! The written word. What better way to assure one’s ideas are passed on? After all, I have some things registered with the Office of Copyrights in Washington, DC. But even if I were a superbly well-known author, my name would eventually fall off the “best of” list when enough millenniums were in play. The further out one looks, the less immortal even the so-called immortals will be. If we’re not going to be remembered forever, what difference does it make if we’re remembered for 100 years after we’re gone or 1,000? So who really CAN achieve immortality and HOW?

It occurs to me that, if the further out one goes the bigger the problem, the solution is obvious. One must telescope backward and inward. The closer one gets to today, the more one can truly be immortal in the way that really matters. For what is immortality, but being remembered by others for something special about oneself? And how better to do that than to make a difference in the many lives one touches on a daily basis? Perhaps Andy Warhol was onto something. If we can just focus on this very day, this very moment, doing things that make us special and remembered to those around us, can we not all have our 15 minutes of immortality?

Philosophy Nook

In last year's Holiday Newsletter, from my East Coast perch, I wrote of my brother’s move to Hawaii and my niece’s move to California. Readers may have thought, as I did when I wrote it, this sounds like“Go West, young folk, go West”. Now my nephew has taken a job in Europe (Barcelona, actually, for those who care) and it becomes clear that going West is not what’s happening. The relocations of those dear to me are more of a moving outward, like the concentric circles of water in a lake. What comes to mind, then, is a Randy Travis song. “And I feel like a stone that’s been picked up and thrown…”
Fortunately, not “to the hard, rock bottom of my heart”, but thrown nonetheless.

So I find myself wondering, as I get older, will my circle of family and friends be like an ever-widening concentric wake, with me more and more alone in the center, increasingly more removed from the lives of those I hold dear? And then, have I somehow caused this outward migration, or is this just the natural evolution of relationships in our society? There are so many friends with whom I have lost touch, more and more each year, it seems. Will I find myself in my golden years alone like a stone? How many will move on and how far away before I do, indeed, feel the hard, rock bottom of my heart?


We'll be publishing philosophical musings, frustrated rantings, and social commentary on issues of interest to all (or none) of us. Don't expect to see opinions on issues so topical that they already have thousands of websites devoted just to them (like Zippergate.) Unless of course they happen to be something that really stirs up our publisher. Which is not much, these days. (We're getting mellow in our old age.) Send your opinions to: opinions@phool.com. Or use the mailchute, if they're short.
IMPORTANT MESSAGE	phool does not publish opinions that are religious or political in nature. It is not affiliated with any organizations or companies with the name phool; its editors are not affiliated with or in contact with any Pakistani groups or organizations. Our purpose is to provoke serious thought on or humorous response to current events or topical issues. Please don't submit inflammatory rhetoric or long pontifications. Come to think of it, please don't submit short pontifications, either. While we may sympathize with your point of view (or not...), we will not publish material of that type.
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following: There would be: 57 Asians; 21 Europeans; 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both North and South; 8 Africans 52 would be female; 48 would be male 70 would be nonwhite; 30 would be white 70 would be non-Christian; 30 would be Christian 89 would be heterosexual; 11 would be homosexual 6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States 80 would live in substandard housing 70 would be unable to read 50 would suffer from malnutrition 1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth 1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education 1 would own a computer When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for both acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent. Attributed to Phillip M Harter, MD, FACEP, Stanford University, School of Medicine (Attribution unsubstantiated)
Things they've learned ... I've learned that you can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk. (Age 7) I've learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what they are doing and wave back. (Age 9) I've learned that just when I get my room the way I like it, Mom makes me clean it up. (Age 13) I've learned that silent company is often more healing than words of advice. (Age 24) I've learned that if someone says something unkind about me, I must live so that no one will believe it. (Age 39) I've learned that the greater a person's sense of guilt, the greater his need to cast blame on others. (Age 46) I've learned that motel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone. (Age 50) I've learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. (Age 52) I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die. (Age 53) I've learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a life. (Age 58) I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catchers mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back. (Age 64) I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. (Age 82) I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. (Age 92)
One of our readers cries "OUTRAGE!" and phool's editors agree. If you also agree with Holley, perhaps you'll pick up on her positive suggestion and support your local humane society. -ed	I am horrified about what happened to Leo, the Bichon Frise that was hurled into traffic after a fender bender in California, horrified on so many levels. As a devoted pet owner, I feel acutely the pain of having a pet, a loved member of the family, not only hurt, but destroyed in such a senseless, horrible, and malicious way. I am appalled that society has bred members who could so unthinkingly destroy life. I am agast at persons who are so little in control of themselves that they would let animal rage take over so completely. Just who was the animal here, and who the victim? HOWEVER, I just read an article that stated that the reward for news of the perpetrator has risen to almost $110,000. While I agree that this person should be hunted down (like the animal that he obviously lets himself become), THINK, people, of what $110,000 donated to local humane societies could do in the areas of pet spay/neuterization and animal welfare, just to begin with. Please, PLEASE! Let's show a little common sense and real concern. Submitted by Holley W. Thank you, Holley, for your articulate and caring response to this awful event. --the editors
*Philosophy Alcove*
Fifteen Minutes of Immortality It seems that most journalists are spending a goodly part of their time speculating on the coming new millennium and the closing of the century. Not to be outspeculated, your editor has done more than her own fair share of ruminating on the Great Turning. Time Magazine put out a series of special issues on the Top 100 Whatevers of the Century. The issue on Artists and Entertainers received particular attention in this household. Mostly we wanted to see how our own favorites fared in the “official” view of posterity-worthiness. Old Blue Eyes was there, and the King. (Of course, Elvis is everywhere, if the sightings are to be believed.) The Beatles. Check. Bob Dylan. Check. Joan Baez, though only in passing, and Madonna. Well, OK. But wait. Where was Bing? Willy Nelson? OK. Forget Willy, if you must, but how about Patsy Cline? And maybe even Edith Piaf? Of course, there just wasn’t room to include everyone of merit. After all, they had to cover other categories of artists, too. As I ruminated longer on this, I realized it’s a very difficult job selecting the finitely best of a field for an entire century. Then it occurred to me that it’s infinitely more difficult to select the best for an entire millennium. When journalists sit down at the end of the next 1,000 years to pick the best entertainers, Frank may still be on the list, and probably Elvis or the Beatles, but not likely both. Now project out another thousand, and who knows? So, where is all this heading, you may be wondering. Or maybe you’re still trying to decide between Patsy and Edith. It left me speculating on the true meaning of immortality, that’s where it’s heading. Who among us does NOT secretly aspire to some level of immortality? Many of us may seek it through our children and their children. Those of us who did not procreate must seek it elsewhere. And even those with children, well, 1,000 years from now will they really remember Great Great Great etc. Grandpa John. You know, the one who discovered the cure for Viagra-induced priapism… Ah! The written word. What better way to assure one’s ideas are passed on? After all, I have some things registered with the Office of Copyrights in Washington, DC. But even if I were a superbly well-known author, my name would eventually fall off the “best of” list when enough millenniums were in play. The further out one looks, the less immortal even the so-called immortals will be. If we’re not going to be remembered forever, what difference does it make if we’re remembered for 100 years after we’re gone or 1,000? So who really CAN achieve immortality and HOW? It occurs to me that, if the further out one goes the bigger the problem, the solution is obvious. One must telescope backward and inward. The closer one gets to today, the more one can truly be immortal in the way that really matters. For what is immortality, but being remembered by others for something special about oneself? And how better to do that than to make a difference in the many lives one touches on a daily basis? Perhaps Andy Warhol was onto something. If we can just focus on this very day, this very moment, doing things that make us special and remembered to those around us, can we not all have our 15 minutes of immortality?
Philosophy Nook In last year's Holiday Newsletter, from my East Coast perch, I wrote of my brother’s move to Hawaii and my niece’s move to California. Readers may have thought, as I did when I wrote it, this sounds like“Go West, young folk, go West”. Now my nephew has taken a job in Europe (Barcelona, actually, for those who care) and it becomes clear that going West is not what’s happening. The relocations of those dear to me are more of a moving outward, like the concentric circles of water in a lake. What comes to mind, then, is a Randy Travis song. “And I feel like a stone that’s been picked up and thrown…” Fortunately, not “to the hard, rock bottom of my heart”, but thrown nonetheless. So I find myself wondering, as I get older, will my circle of family and friends be like an ever-widening concentric wake, with me more and more alone in the center, increasingly more removed from the lives of those I hold dear? And then, have I somehow caused this outward migration, or is this just the natural evolution of relationships in our society? There are so many friends with whom I have lost touch, more and more each year, it seems. Will I find myself in my golden years alone like a stone? How many will move on and how far away before I do, indeed, feel the hard, rock bottom of my heart?