Are We All Crazy?

Part 28 of 30 -- Psycho Squad

Are we all crazy? Who’s asking? If we're all crazy is there someone sane enough to ask? Sounds like a thought puzzle, like we had in college, talking in some guy's dorm room. The weird philosophical discussions we had! Then an orgy would break out and the time for talk had passed. Boys and girls, girls and girls, boys and boys, an occasional priest. Completely carnal except for the intellectual talk and a dash of spirituality.

A few of the discussions centered on interests like this, How do we know what we know? Where do we independently stand to know the truth? This stuff usually came out of philosophy, which I still don’t get entirely. Except it's meant to tie you up in knots and get you flunked. Technically it's the love of wisdom, but since it’s so hard to state the terms and definitions describing reality (which is a mystery), it’s every person, object, or concept for itself. That’s what I got out of it, and it’s helped me immensely with the Psycho Squad. “Screw the rules. The rules are ‘Battle stations, entities of every stripe!'”

I can simplify things: Clinically speaking, we’re divided into two basic groups, the much smaller group, normal people like me. Then the vaster group, those who are abnormal in one respect or another. They may have eaten one too many TV dinners or maybe they were born with it, but they’re decidedly different, confirmed wacko. One problem with me, and I don’t admit anything bad very often, is I only have one Psycho Squad ambulance. If I really applied myself I could have a thousand ambulances and a million employees! But the few employees I have now pilfer me almost to death, so if I were any more successful I'd be completely broke.

Think of the dilemma from this angle: With that many people lost in their mental problems and essentially incapacitated — except for their strange unerring ability to act as criminals — I couldn’t afford to screen a staff with the percentages; they themselves would be 80% psychotic! Just keeping track of who’s nuts enough to be semi-normal would be too much. The only solution would be to have a vast facility and an unlimited number of holding cells for when they acted out. But getting staff who aren't sadists, sheesh!

Anyway, I guess I'm happy enough with operations the way they are. Small enough to be flexible and big enough to keep myself neatly dressed. Plus, it does allow me enough free time to chart out how massive my problems are. I keep a blackboard in the garage and update it daily depending on the previous day’s experience. My PQ rating (psycho quotient) goes up and down, which is my take on the social environment. I buckle down when it’s high and loosen up when it’s low. It's about even now, so I'm simultaneously buckled and loose.

But it's all good. I get a few days rest, the PQ goes up, we work like dogs, then enjoy a few days downtime. It’s a great job. Although I'm stuck with the sneaky feeling that I may wake up someday and discover the real truth, that I've been locked up and sedated my whole life.

I'm Very Persuasive -- Thanks For Agreeing

To all the opinions I've expressed on this blog I've gotten very little feedback, positive or negative. There could be various reasons for that, but I've fairly well settled on the obvious conclusion that it's because everyone agrees with me. I used to have a friend who said, "If we always agree, one of us is unnecessary." Which is true, I guess. Meaning, apparently, and I don't say this in a mean way, if everyone agrees with me, they must be unnecessary. Certainly I lived without them before, I can probably manage from here on out.

But that's not the tone I want to take, of course. Because there's arguably plenty of reasons for the continual existence of those who agree with me, if nothing more than their own happiness when we're apart. Plus, frankly, I don't want to live in a world with no one but those who disagree with me. That'd make me some kind of permanent martyr. So it all comes back to my own self interest. You may exist!

But to bring us back around on topic -- hoping for and trying to assure the continual existence of my friends, and the possible demise of my enemies -- what makes me so persuasive? That's something to analyze. I tend to know myself pretty well, but when I try to enumerate my good qualities, one of which would be my persuasiveness, I normally veer off into humility: "Who, me? Little ole me?" That kind of thing. I shrug my shoulders. It's very tough for me to be absolutely honest with myself: "Surely you're talking about someone else ... No?"

Then I turn analytical, as I am now, and pull out all the stops. I go for the proverbial scalpel, and yield myself to the surgery, whatever it takes, however much cutting there'd be, to get to the heart of the matter. And when I'm in that mindset, a lot of the humility falls away, and I'm able to see with a clarity normally reserved for laser beams and binoculars. It's like I'm simultaneously under the microscope and the one staring intently into the eyepiece.

It looks like my persuasiveness has to be based in these reasons:

My Clarity of Thought
I'm absolutely clear in my thought. I'm very good at compartmentalizing data, then bringing it forth as the occasion demands. The clarity is such that very little, if anything, is missed. Therefore, I'm covering all the bases.

My Incisiveness of Understanding
Going along with clarity of thought has to be one's incisiveness of understanding. This is another area where I shine. Data is brought forth, as above, then I work with it. I've always liked the phrase "massaging the data," mostly because I know the therapeutic benefits of a good massage. And that's exactly what I do.

My Ability to Think Clearly
As the data is massaged, it leads to new insights, knowledge, and truth, things coming forth on the fly, as it were. See, I'm not resting on my laurels, the original thoughts I had; I'm progressing, augmenting, and ever going forth, all the while thinking clearly. Clarity of thought is undoubtedly good.

An Understanding Unmatched Elsewhere
This is the kind of thing that could overwhelm some, but not me. After the new data has been thoroughly massaged, we're in the realm of wisdom. Wisdom is such that there are flashes of understanding. These could easily be missed by a lesser mind, such as someone who watches sitcoms on TV.

Unrivaled Thought, Thought, and More Thought
Wisdom alone all by itself withers on the vine. With wisdom comes additional thought, as the whole point of wisdom is to consolidate it for practical purposes, for it to inform thinking and hence behavior. It's when we get to this realm that we've gone beyond the average person. Sitcoms be damned, this person doesn't even have cable. (Which I do, but I'm above average.)

Understanding Like You Wouldn't Believe
Finally, wisdom in action, wisdom practiced, brings us to understanding like you wouldn't believe. It's here, a very rarefied place, where one's understanding is like the light of God, not prone to shadows. You go out on a dark night and the birds wake up. They're completely tired but convinced it's morning!

Thank you, then, dear readers, to one and all, for your agreement with my opinions and views. I look forward to many more years at this blog of teaching and leading you toward all truth, ever to be done with the same masterful persuasiveness you've come to know and trust. Please show your assent to this post by not responding with any sort of comment of your own. I'm already pretty sure I know what you would say ... so again, in all humility, I thank you.

Bearded Men Never Get Them Wet

You've probably noticed this, you've never seen a bearded man when it's raining.

It took me a while to realize it, but I've never personally had a beard so I haven't been privy to this information. But the more I looked around, the more suspicious I became.

And I can think back, like to college. Anytime there was the slightest chance of rain, guess who'd be absent? The one or two guys with beards. And ask yourself, have you ever been to a wedding where the groom fails to show up, and you know he has a beard and it's raining? Maybe the bride doesn't even know what's going on. There she was, all packed up and ready to go, a fresh set of sheets in the trunk, and the Bearded Wonder stood her up!

The more popular my blog becomes, the more connections I'm been able to make. And in this case, one day I put the word out, all very hush hush, that I wanted to do a story on the subject. At first, it was like I trying to get the combination to Fort Knox; everyone darted their eyes, people left the room, and an especially devout barista crossed herself. The hush was deafening, I had to leave.

But a friend followed me and motioned me into an alley, whispering to meet him later at such and such a place at the fire escape in back, to bundle up in a coat so I was disguised, and to come alone. He knew a guy with a beard who might be open to talking -- he had a terminal illness and nothing left to lose -- and since we were expecting rain that afternoon, he'd have to be home. Of course I was nervous, but I went. Up the stairs we climbed. He knocked a coded knock and we were escorted in. They frisked me for any water I might've had on me, then led me to an inner chamber. A bearded man with an IV sat wasting away.

He was actually eager to talk, and quickly spilled the truth that water is lethal to a beard of any length. If you go wet/dry, wet/dry, wet/dry, you've only got a limited number of times you can do it. There's no guarantees and there's no do-overs. Keeping a beard dry never hurts it, but if goes from wet to dry, there's something about the whiskers that makes them constrict. Then, without air being able to circulate through them, they mat and tighten up around the throat, often suffocating the wearer. Even a shorter beard can constrict so tightly that the face pulls in and shrivels up to about the size and texture of a walnut.

I asked, "What about taking a shower?" He waved it off as an impossibility. "What about taking a bath?" He said, yes, they can bathe, if -- and this is a big IF -- if they use strict precautions. Such as, naturally, keeping the water shallow and their beards as far from it as possible. Obviously, they can't wash their hair, etc. I started putting two and two together and asked if they could go swimming. He said that was a big NO, because the same principle was at work: Getting the beard wet in a swimming pool would present the same identical problem as a bathtub, rain, water balloon fights, and squirt guns. I nodded, as if to say, "Just as I suspected, but thank you for clarifying."

With the interview essentially over -- I got what I came for -- I asked my source why it was all such a big secret? The fire escape, the disguises, etc. The answer was it came down to pride. Beard wearers like to think they're hot stuff. The beard gives them that professorial look. They tend to drink wine, smoke pipes, read books with footnotes, and wear outdated, baggier suits, all very intellectual. I know I for one hate getting into an argument with a guy wearing a beard, because I know he's going to show me up in front of everyone. So it's pride. But, like Samson, their power's in their beard, but their beard is so vulnerable, their supposed superiority is all a sham!

We bid each other a respectful goodbye. I went forth knowing that now I could even the playing field with all these Bearded Wonders. Who knows -- who really knows? -- when I might just be in a restaurant and get clumsy with a pitcher of water when one walks by? "Oh, sorry!" I'll say, as he goes running for the shears!

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THE PICTURE is of Vol Tapley in 1897, whose beard was 9 foot, 2 inches long. Some sources say 11 foot. I'd love to go back in time and give him a good dousing and watch him shrivel up to nothing!