A few days ago while walking Major in his favorite park, I observed an incident that made me wonder about the subject of Intelligence and why some people are still allowed to breed. A woman walking her daughter who looked to be about 8 years old and the child is walking toward a stand of beautiful trees in the park. Suddenly a small branch falls from the tree and the child picks it up to examine it like curious children do. The mother immediately runs over, snatches the the branch from the child’s hand and flings it away with a screech saying, “Don’t play with that! You don’t know where its been!!!” She grabs the child and moves on, leaving me wondering how many years of therapy and medication this kid is in for.

I’m actually stunned by the hold incident and begin to wonder about the subject of human intelligence (or lack thereof). Like you I get these emails or ads that ask you to take IQ Test or on Social sites, the ones that say “So and So took the IQ test which was 160…whats your?” I have avoided these test…mainly because I hate being pigeonholed. Plus they really are not a good indication of being “smart”. As the above example shows, intelligence doesn’t mean you are smart.

This got me to thinking about collapse of the world. Most people agree that the cockroaches would probably be the main survivors. But how about humans. Can human intelligence save us? Doubtful, since human intelligence got us in this pickle in the first place. Which is sad. We go around from day to day flaunting our so-call intelligence. I’m sure you been a party to hazing of some people that don’t seem to have a clue. If not you’ve laughed at movies or sitcoms ensemble cast where one of the member is some hick from the backwoods or farmland. And just like everything else we are brainwashed to believe this person lacks intelligence just because they talk funny or not from the centers of intelligent discourse. So consider this. We are so fond of hearing that most of us are one paycheck away from poverty. How about being one disaster away from being placed back into the stone age. Yep, if you are one of those that take a simple thing like electricity for granted, what would happen if it was suddenly discountinued? No phone, computers, no TV, no gas for your car cause the pumps run on electricity, no refrigerator, no stoves and no food because the trucks that bring your food to the market can’t get the gas it need. And in all this chaos who survives? You guessed it (providing you are intelligent enough to figure it out). its the hick farmer that we turned our noses up as being unintelligent or stupid…and of course his wife and his kids Kids (I might add) that were allowed to play in the dirt and pick up branches from trees and who are not allergic to anything!

Food for thought…food for though! But wash your hands first, please.

A few days ago I slipped in the mud while walking Major. It was the kind of fall that knocks the wind out of you and you see stars for a while. When I came to my senses, I found my dog Major loaming over me and pulling me by my jacket nearly three to four feet toward the sidewalk. Once I regained my feet and we started walking again, he kept looking at me like he was making sure I was ok. Frankly I was amazed. I have friends that have pets and they are always talking about them…constantly. I have to say now…I get it!

I never had a pet growing up. My brothers and sisters did, but I had other agendas and only was aware of them when they crossed my path as a nuisance. During most of my adult life I have avoided owning pets. Mainly because I traveled so much, but partly i secretly didn’t want to end up like a few of my friends that talked endless of their pets…with photos! “Oh my cat did this or that and my dog was so cute when he/she…”, gag! Fast forward to a couple of years ago when we moved back to the US from Finland. We adopted a stray cat…or to be correct, the cat adopted us. I was left alone with Musta for a couple of months while H returned to Finland to finish her Masters. First couple of weeks, we tried to come to some accommodations but eventually we came to some agreement. I like to say Musta was my first dog…mainly because he follows me around like a puppy. But he was great company while H was away. When we move into our townhouse and Musta was not allowed out, we decided to adopt another cat as a companion. We got a rescued Siamese cat we named Asia. A dainty and really funny little lady, with an appetite like a Sumo wrestler. Its been a great fit for us.

H grew up with a dog and for years she has talked about getting a dog…mostly wanting a German Shepard. I was pretty cool to the idea because after all we had two cats, why a dog? We had the room, so I was steam-rolled into getting a dog. So we got Major from a breeder. Again, it was the animal that chose the human. He was the only one of the pack that looked cool to my eyes. While the other puppies froliced around us, little Major just sat and observed. Its pretty disconcerting to have a small puppy fixate on you like that. And he was so tiny…how hard could it be to take care of him??? Nine months later and after many battles there is a real friendship between me and this 105 pound animal. Oh, no mistake,,,he can try my patience to the boiling point, but the payoff is when you fall and hurt yourself and have him totally want to help. Think about that. If you fell in the big city (or some of them) chances are no one would help. Plus after being diagnosed with Diabetes and told I had to exercise a bit more, walking Major has cause me to quit smoking and I have lost 19lbs! And you know how there is always one dog in the neighborhood that everyone know? Thats our Major…he is his own ambassador for owing a dog…friendly, loves kids and it seems that everyone knows his name and wants to pet him. When the kids from the local Montessori school see him they go nuts and line the fence of the playground just so he can sniff their little hands. He’s learn to sit politely for any child.

Now I’m more aware of the pets around me and find that generally pet owners are nicer people. Pets do add something to our lives. I’m also appalled but the lack of disregard some people have for animals. Like most people, you see the cruelty to animals on the TV news, but are disconnected from it because its “not your pet.” Now I find my blood boiling when I see these reports of cruelty. Cesar Milan, The Dog Whisper says that the problem is not with the animal, but with the people. I tend to believe that statement.

So these days I’m more than happy to trade pet stories with my friends. Thanks Major.

Most men that I know don’t have a huge shoe collection. Men in general would happily have only two pair if they could get away with it…a pair of sneakers like Chick Taylor and perhaps a pair of black or brown dress shoes with the hope that they could be buried in a comfortable pair. Of course this rule is likely to go out of the window if they have a spouse or significant other, who will brow-beat them into purchasing shoes they would use infrequently.

A recently married friend asked why women need sooo many shoes. After all they can only wear one pair at a time? This question has perplexed men for some time since the burden of giving up valuable closet and storage space falls heavily on our shoulders. My guess it was the man who came up with the phase “barefoot and pregnant” to come to terms with his wife’s shoe “problem”. Now, I won’t pretend I understand this shoe thing most women are affected with, although I do have some theories. I won’t divulge them here cause I like breathing.

My advice to men is to stay well away from trying to understand this strange behavior that turns otherwise normal functioning humans into raging manics when they see the sign “Shoe Sale” or the ones that get touchy when you ask “Honey, why do you need to so many shoes?” The latter is usually answered with a raised eyebrow and a look that makes you feel like the leavings of a single cell animal. Frankly I don’t think most women can answer that question, but of course I won’t wager my manhood on being right.

Somethings don’t make sense. My friend and neighbor Yee, an otherwise quite intelligent and highly capable profession women, who decorates like she lives in a college dorm but whose shoe collection is immaculately displayed…all nice and neat. Or my own wife whose tiny feet have a huge collection of footwear to choose from…in fact she can still wear the same shoes she had when she was ten! Whatever the reason, it will forever remain a mystery to the male of the species. From the poor caveman idiot who nearly killed himself to bring down a dinosaur just to give his mate a new pair of shoes or the confused, put-upon modern man who can only shake his head after being asked to build more shelves for his wife shoes, the problems still remains the same.

My advice to my friend is to suck it up, smile and say ‘yes dear’. I’ve found that zoning out by thinking of white sunny beaches with nubile young ladies prancing about works. At least they are barefoot!

This was the headline from CNN,Com on Saturday. Wishful thinking perhaps or just spoilsports? You be the judge.

Some years ago when I lived in DC and worked for the Washington Post, I had a friend that I met frequently for lunch a few time a month. We’d haunt the bookstops and other shops and each time I made a purchase he would always ask me why I took a bag for my purchase even if was just one magazine or even one bag of chips and soda. Each time my answer was the same…”its a black thing!” I never bothered to explain this and even Hannamari had asked me once in a while as well as others. “Save a tree” they’d say. Or, “Do know that plastic bag would take a hundred years to biodegrade?” I still took the bag.

A few days ago, my friend contacts me and says, “I get why you take the bag!” The story he told vindicated me. It seems that while he was home in Arizona he had gone to a mall to a store and observed a young black man make a purchase of an item. When asked if he wanted a bag by the cashier, the young man declined. Purchase in hand he left the store only to be confronted by a rent-a-cop just outside the door. He was asked to return to the cashier to verify his purchase and responded that he would do no such thing and stated that he HAD purchased the items. However the  rent-a-cop didn’t wait for the young man to finish his explanation, but tried to phyiscally force him back into the store using a arm-lock and other tactics, whereupon the young man suffered a broken arm in the process.

Onlookers tried to tell the rent-a-cop that they had seen the youth pay for the item but their pleas fell on deaf ears. The youth was force into a back corner of the store and was forced to wait in agony while the police arrived. The cashier was informed of the actions later and rushed to tell the police that the young man had paid of the item, whereupon the police released him and called for medical assistance. The cashier also called the manager, who had been absent from the store at the store at the time of the incident. My friend was motified by the whole thing.

The moral of this tale is that I ALWAYS get the bag! Its nice that we have a black president and that maybe things are getting better on the race level, but until I am no longer racially profiled in neighborhoods where I can afford to live, or am followed around a store from the minute I step in the door, or have someone actually cross the street when they see me coming, then the BAG is my only recourse.