The Social Dilemma....gulp

For the past four days I have woken up at 4:30 in the morning. The first time, I was able eventually to fall back asleep. Since then, no such luck. I guess its part of the readjustment back into the real world after a month in Maine. Maybe it’s the stress that comes with the business I’m in, the World Series, or something I’m eating. Regardless, 4:30 AM is  remarkable for one thing, it is an unsuitable hour for human beings to be wide awake.

So, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. I have suspected, deep within my soul, that the benefits of social media (which are considerable), are not worth its corrosive effects on the mind. Last night, Pam and I watched the new documentary on Netflix called The Social Dilemma, which should probably be reclassified as a horror movie, because the premise as well as the testimony of its many former tech insiders is as terrifying a thing as I have watched in a very long time. You spend the hour and a half it takes to get through The Social Dilemma and the first thing you want to do is cancel every social media account with your name on it...right now. But, I am not the sort of person who goes in for knee jerk reactions. I prefer to be calm when making big decisions, not under the sway of inflamed emotions. So, this morning I’m thinking clearly, having had time to digest what I learned. So, what’s my dilemma? 

I used to be on Twitter. It didn’t take long for me to realize what a cesspool of ignorance it is so I cancelled it a year and a half ago. I do have an Instagram account but don’t really know how it works. I’m not on Snapchat, Whatsup, TikTok or Pinterest. But I have been on Facebook since about 2007 or so and as it happens, Facebook is the primary villain of The Social Dilemma. I won’t get into the weeds of the algorithms at play here and the accusations of skullduggery behind them except to say that I fully acknowledge that I have been victimized, consciously and unconsciously. If you want to understand more about how your entire worldview, your understanding of “reality” is being manipulated by the weaponization of information on your newsfeed, watch The Social Dilemma. If you would rather remain willfully ignorant, I get it. Don’t bother.

My problem is that there are things about Facebook that I like and enjoy. It allows me to stay connected to an awful lot of people that otherwise I would have lost touch with completely. Having said that, I must confess that I enjoyed it more at the beginning when it was largely populated by much younger people, kids I had taught in Sunday School and the College class I used to teach at church. In recent years it has become overrun with boring older people...like me. Nevertheless, I check it out every single day. For one thing, it’s the place where I post this blog. Probably 75% of the people who read The Tempest find it on Facebook. If it weren’t for that, I would probably go ahead and pull the plug right now. Actually, if one of my super bright readers could clue me in on how I could post this blog using something besides Facebook without losing hundreds of readers, I’m all ears. For now, I’m reevaluating my use of social media. Just in case you guys wake up one morning and realize that its been a while since Dunnevant posted anything, You’ll have to actually visit http://doug-thetempest.blogspot.com/ to find me.

Cheaper Than Therapy...

Sometimes jokes do a better job of expressing truth than practically any other form of communication. For example:

How many Republicans does it take to change a lightbulb?

86. 12 to investigate Hillary Clinton’s involvement in the failure of the old bulb, 23 to deregulate the lightbulb business, and 51 to pass a tax credit for lightbulb changes.

Two. One to mix the martinis and one to call the electrician.

How many Democrats does it take to change a lightbulb?

17. One to change the bulb, six to talk about how wonderful it’s going to be when the new bulb is screwed in, and ten to demand increased funding for solar lighting research.

Five. One to screw it in, and the other four to screw it up.

What do you call someone in Congress who is honest, caring, and well-read?

A tourist.

My Other Life

Recess is apparently over. Since my parents did not leave me a sizable fortune when they passed, and since I didn’t marry a rich girl, and since I have not already accumulated a vast personal fortune (probably because I keep going to Maine for months at a time), today I head back to the office. Once there I will endure a gauntlet of trash talk from my friends. The air will be thick with invective, and mock-vitriol. I will be called lots of unflattering things. Comments will be made about my abysmal work ethic, how awesome the work environment has been since I left, the amount of weight I have put on, along with pleading entreaties begging me to return for a winter adventure in Maine! “Great, Dunnevant’s back. That means the average IQ of this office just took a hit.”

Actually, that’s something I would say. None of them are nearly as clever. But, I have taught all of them everything I know about trash talk, and every time I return from Maine, I feel an odd sense of pride. They all get better every year. I guess I’m just a natural teacher!

As I return to my other life, I must re-engineer my mind back to Business-mode. I must start thinking about business-y things again. I am helped in this regard by reading through the Wall Street Journal for an hour or so at the crack of dawn. It gets me caught up on all the latest information in the marketplace. Yesterday, I went in to an empty office to clear the detritus that had accumulated in my absence. Fortunately, my crack assistant had already cleared most of it away, leaving my desk clear and ready for action. While I have been away, she has been busy cleaning out and organizing my filing system. I have sensed a great disturbance in the force as she has been so engaged, even from a safe distance of 800 miles. My fast and loose organizational skills have been a constant source of irritation to her over the years. I fear that my name was used in vain on many occasions over these past four weeks. 

But I’m ready. For the most part I like what I do for a living. I enjoy the people I work with. Plus, our offices have heat, air conditioning and working toilets. What’s not to like?

Finally, in preparation for getting back to the grind, I had to consult my life-coach...Gary Larson:

Now I’m ready.

Amateurs

Ok, I know what’s coming soon to Facebook pages all across the fruited plain...adorable pictures of kids dressed up for Halloween. Well just because my own kids are now both in their 30’s and neither of them have seen fit to provide me with grandchildren, I have been forced to delve into the archives. I figure that I should get on this early to beat the late October rush. So....you think your kids are cute, do ya? You think that your little ghosts and goblins are the cutest that have even been, am I right? Sorry to burst your bubble...

Puhleeze!! You guys are a bunch of amateurs. Nobody topped the Dunnevant Pups in the cuteness department!

One more thing. What in the Sam Hill is going on, Short Pumpians? I go away for 3 weeks and when I return discover that there are literally at least a million freaking acorns everywhere!!! If we could just figure out a way to get rich in the acorn business, we’ve got enough inventory to last us ten years. Seriously, does anyone remember this many acorns falling before? My Dad used to say that a heavy acorn crop meant a long and hard winter. If he’s right, we’ll be shoveling snow in July this year. It is 2020...

A Package From My Aunt

Our 15.5 hour trip home is over, we are largely unpacked, and Lucy was ecstatic upon our arrival. All is well. Slipping under the covers of our glorious king sized bed was a nearly divine experience after three weeks sleeping in a not at all King sized bed at Loon Landing. When I step into my shower later today it will feel like walking into a conference room, and when I turn on the water the force of it will feel like a fire hose by comparison! There’s no place like home, I’m told.

One of the first things I do after returning from Maine is going through the pile of mail that has accumulated in my absence. During an election year, the pile is enormous and much more banal and toxic than the usual fare of Bed Bath & Beyond sale flyers and replacement window ads. But, you have to wade through every single item because there’s always the chance you might unknowingly throw away a commission check hidden between the pages of that Valpak circular.  In the midst of the pile I saw that my Aunt Sylvia, who lives in Florida, had mailed me a package. She never mails me a package. It was an old book. It came with this note:

Hi Doug,

I found this little joke book that your Uncle Fred had sent to Jim back in 1963 on his birthday. Enjoy.

Love to you and your sweet family,

Aunt Sylvia

September 17, 2020

Introductions are in order. Aunt Sylvia is my beautiful Aunt, the one who married my mother’s little brother Jim Dixon, on the very week of my birth in 1958. Uncle Jim was about the coolest dude in the world when I was a kid. He was a State Trooper, and an officer in the National Guard. Uncle Fred was my mysterious and endlessly fascinating Uncle, he of the multiple doctorates and vast learning, the exotic Yugoslavian wife and Michigan address. When he was home for visits I remember the way he talked, the words he used, his accent...all strange to me. But he had the warmest smile and it never left his face. Unfortunately, Uncle Jim passed away a few years ago, so Sylvia lives in Florida by herself where she is close to her son and his family. This unexpected package from her warmed my heart. 

I flipped through it expecting a bunch of really corny, dated jokes...and there were a few, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised at its content. I’m thinking that this book will be a source of material for me for years to come. Here’s a few one-liners that were deemed funny enough for inclusion back in the early 60’s...

The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live.

Always remember to pillage BEFORE you burn.

Incontinence Hotline...Can you hold, please?

When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will accidentally shoot their kids.

A clear conscience is the sign of a bad memory.

My wife went to a self-help group for compulsive talkers. It’s called On & On Anon.

Not bad. Not bad at all!

Another Beautiful Morning

On the morning of our last full day in Maine for 2020, its 38 degrees outside, pink and still...

I’m writing in front of this...

Pam, made of far sterner stuff, is heading out for another paddle...

We will cram all the fun we can into this day. We are heading into yet another little coastal town that we have ignored all these years—Northport—for brunch at one of the few restaurants that remain open after Columbus Day, a place called The Hoot. I have agreed to this adventure despite the fact that the first item on their breakfast menu is the accursed red flannel hash!! After I survive that the plan is to revisit the cabin on Pitcher Pond to see what it looks like in bright sunshine. Once we arrive back at Loon landing it will be time to start packing up. Apparently, the weather promises a rainy departure Friday morning.

Its been another great year in Maine. We have had a blast. It will be many months before you guys have to endure another onslaught of pictures of lakes and mountains and lobster rolls. But, here’s one last fall foliage shot...

Dreaming Again

Yesterday rain poured down from noon to midnight in torrential buckets, exactly what this drought-stricken state desperately needed. The sound that rain makes on the tin roof over the bedroom is a glorious thing. But, despite the rain, our day was not wasted. We viewed the fourth and final property of our stay in Maine, a cabin on nearby Pitcher Pond. Like every other place we have seen, its complicated. The owners are considering selling, but may decide to rent instead. Our realtor will feel them out on this crucial point shortly, but wanted us to take a look at the place before we left. So, in a driving rainstorm, we did just that. It was charming, quirky, and campy. There was a lot to like. It had the illusive magic that we both require before we can contemplate buying a place. Work needs to be done to parts of the inside and some landscaping work would also be needed, but both Pam and I could picture the family there. The owner hasn’t suggested a selling price. It may end up being beyond our budget, so there’s no point in getting too excited about the place. But, it was fun walking through its rooms and imagining all of us there. Here are a couple of pictures Pam took to give you images to go along with my descriptions...

We have two more days here. We leave Friday morning. The weather looks lovely, sunny and low 60’s both days. Our seven weeks in Maine this year have done both of us a world of good. I can’t speak for Pam, but it has cleared my head, provided much needed perspective, and energized me for whatever follows. Now, if I can just catch a few more bass...