Common Nonsense

The populist rebellion is in full swing these days. The gap between the educated and non-educated factions of Americans appears to broaden daily as partisan politicians, retail marketers and thought leaders try to capitalize on our socioeconomic prejudices for their own benefit. The poor blame the rich for the economic collapse, the rich blame for the poor for ever-increasing tax obligations. The poor popularize the scandals and salacious habits of celebrities in order to point out how undeserving the rich are (e.g. TMZ, gossip magazines and E! TV), while the rich point to isolated, fame-seeking members of the poor whose shameless academic failures have become the stuff of viral videos and television the world over (e.g. Ms. Teen South Carolina, Jay Leno’s “Jay-Walking” and Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader).

Despite the fact that the internet has made the sum total of the worlds knowledge nearly ubiquitous, the latest generation is less knowledgeable than any that has preceded it since single-room schoolhouses on the prairie. The value and quality of American higher education continues to plummet, while the price of it continues to rise. The dilution of the value of a college degree has become obvious as the school business has become big business. Who isn’t offering a degree these days? Yet, those same degrees have become less and less accessible as the prices of college continue to reflect the desperation of current economic times rather than the reality. The chasm between the educated and the uneducated is becoming more of the gap between the well-educated and the poorly educated. But a plague as foul smelling as by any other name. We’re not just losing the financial middle-class, we’re losing its intellectual counterpart.

The refrain most often heard from the populist crowd is that the educated elite in this country lack “common sense” - as though the nation’s academic elites have all been educated in cloistered and hallowed halls so far removed from the “real world” that they can scarcely be relied upon to tie their own shoes. C’mon people, put down the Grisham novel and step slowly away. Colleges haven’t looked like that for a hundred years, if ever. Most college campuses look like Abercrombie & Fitch commercials with less attractive people and more hand-painted signs. And the fraternities and sororities are no more powerbrokering secret societies than your local Elks Lodge is.

So what exactly is this “common sense” anyways? Most proponents of the theory employ the Justice Potter Stewart method of defining it; not attempting to list all the things that are included, but rather by just saying that they’ll know it when they see it. If this sounds like shaky ground upon which to indict a large portion of the population, it should. The idea that there is a special subset of knowledge available exclusively to folks who shun traditional education is just as absurd as the notion that the knowledge held by the educated or financially elite is unavailable to the population at large. It’s a farce either way.

And yet, we feel a special connection to the notion of “common sense”. We should. After all, it was Thomas Paine’s famous pamphlet of the same name, published in 1776, which became the most widely published and read writing in American history. Credited as a catalyst for the American revolution, it plainly and eloquently warned of the dangers of government and monarchy. It may be one of the most recognizable pieces of populist literature ever printed. But despite these storied roots, more recently common sense has come to mean “street smarts” or “life skills”; the knowledge of which parts of town to avoid, or how to successfully accomplish your own laundry. I’ve even heard it used to refer to skills as varied as interpersonal relationship prowess and fashion sense. What’s so “common” about all of that? And when’s the last time you took fashion or relationship advice from someone without an education?

What the new “common sense” is really, is intellectual segregation, born of the populists’ dissatisfaction with the current distribution of wealth and influence. What else would you call the concept that there are separate, yet equal spheres of knowledge and understanding that are divided along the same lines that dictate what part of town you live in and what job you have? I would hope that we learned a long time ago that there’s nothing equitable about this kind of exclusivity, and there’s nothing equal in “separate, but equal.”

“Common sense” is a pacification in the face of long odds; the exact opposite of the American “bootstrapping” ideal. As the socioeconomic gaps become wider and wider, they become more perilous and daunting to try and cross; and yet, it is precisely that challenge that has always given us our greatest leaders. The satisfaction crusade sweeping the nation, eager to tell us that being a little bit fat, overextended financially, or emotionally unstable is completely o.k., wants nothing more than for you buy into the fact that you’ve already got all the knowledge you’ll ever need, and that anyone who has more is trying to put one over on you. The real truth about the value of education is something Sir Francis Bacon knew over 400 years ago: knowledge is still power.

So, where do we go from here? Perhaps a good place to start are some things we can all agree on, no matter our education level or station in life:

1. Having a college education doesn’t make you smart and not having one doesn’t make you street savvy;
2. There isn’t a “better” way to learn. Where or how your get your information doesn’t have any impact on the knowledge or your command of it; and
3. The knowledge you do have does not dictate the knowledge you can get.

When we’re criticizing someone for not having any so-called “common sense”, we ought to take a good look at what we’re actually saying. One one hand, if we’re indicting their lack of intelligence on relatively pedestrian matter (e.g. unable to work a parking meter, confused by basic traffic patterns, etc.) we can just go ahead and call them stupid. After all, there are no special kinds of stupid. In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, stupid is as stupid does. On the other hand, if we’re challenging their lack of perspective, perhaps we should take the occasion to either give them some, or try and understand where they’re coming from. Either way, putting a finer point on your criticism both increases the chances you’ll be listened or responded to, and makes your own sense seem a whole lot less common.

To be certain, a decision not to educate yourself is a personal one, but it’s also one upon which you should, and ought to be, judged and it doesn’t make you privy to some special kind of knowledge. The idea that it does is both foolish and dangerous. In this Information Age it’s never been easier to learn, and there’s never been a time when it’s needed more. In fact, it seems the only people who lack any sense, common or otherwise, are those fail to do so.

The Write Stuff

Today I found out that I didn’t win a short fiction contest that I entered this summer. In fairness, I didn’t really expect to win, nor did I have much of a chance. I’m not a fiction writer, and it was a national contest run by a magazine that features some of the best authors and writers of our time. But motivated by my girlfriend (an actual fiction author who entered and also didn’t win) and a fair number of cliches that are designed to keep me from allowing the statistical impossibility of things from paralyzing me into inactivity (e.g. “he who will not risk cannot win”, “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take” and something about the “road less travelled” that I should be able to recall but cant), I entered anyway. It was a difficult but enjoyable project, and in my secret heart, where I keep my dreams of winning the lottery, making out with Carmen Electra and playing electric guitar for AC/DC, I hoped to see my name and my story printed in my favorite magazine. And in the most inglorious way possible, by opening the latest issue delivered to my house and flipping through, happening upon the winning entry a full three months before I thought a winner would be announced, I found out that it wasn’t mine and it wasn’t me.

So, instead of waxing poetic about the latest invasive public behavioral trend that makes me simultaneously loathe traveling, big cities and the public in general, I thought I’d take a moment to reflect on why it is that I write. For the record, had I not come upon this epiphanic moment, I’d be writing about the gentlemen in the row ahead of me, who is the latest in a string of middle-aged men who seem bent on attempting their strained and painful version of flirting with the poor women who made their travel plans too late to avoid getting stuck in a middle seat next to them. Invariably, whether a function of the pervasive and palpable awkwardness or simply a general lack of concern for collateral impact, these men lose control of the volume of their voice and I am bombarded by a stumbling and desperate monologue whose volume, consistent lack of humor, and intensity is impossible to ignore (despite my noise canceling headphones and the rumble of a jet aircraft). In addition to desperately hoping that they’ll find a reason to shut the hell up, or possibly be stricken mute by some sort of biological miracle, I’m left to wonder when the point is reached where communication with the opposite sex regresses to the same level it was at when I was 14 - because it seems to, thus far, be getting easier every year, and these guys can’t be much more than 10 years older than I am. Is like some sort of “flirting stroke” where I’ll suddenly start to slur my speech, not be able to feel half of my face and end up recycling tired social commentary to every strange girl unfortunate enough to get stuck in a seat next to me? But I digress. This is about writing, and I’m sure he’ll shut up soon.

So, I’m not winning contests, my book hasn’t generated any interest amongst literary agents, and I haven’t been published in a major periodical since law school. And yet, I still write. Why? For now, I’m lumped into the same category as the midwestern women who write short stories about the adventures their cats have in their dreams and demented home social scientists who are writing manifestos about the dangers of processed foods and the radiation from cell phones. If it were any other endeavor, I would have long ago cast my implements into the same storage area that holds my long-unused rollerblades, golf clubs and Rock Band drums. But I don’t write because I want it to make me rich or pretty and I don’t write because I want it to make me famous. In the simplest terms, I write because I’ve got something to say, and I want people to listen.

Writing is a special form of catharsis. Writing is the best version of my voice. In its measured phrases, sentences and paragraphs, I speak as efficiently and exactly as I’d like to speak in person. You know that feeling you get after you’ve had a discussion and you think of the perfect thing to have said? Or in a verbal confrontation when you come up with the perfect comeback but it’s too late to fire it? That’s what writing can give you. A chance to say it just right. And for a child who had a serious speech impediment growing up, the kind that required countless hours of humiliating speech therapy to correct, the ability to say something that right means ever so much more. Imagine knowing what you’d like to say and then being physically unable to say it. Imagine everyone around you looking at you with pity and disdain because you’ve been stricken dumb by your own mind. And then imagine what you might say when you finally found your voice. Imagine how you might never want to stop saying things at all.

Writing is a chance to inspire and entertain; each purpose with equal value. Writing is permanent and tangible. Writing endures. Writing is a snapshot of your mind, much like a portrait is of your body, and I’m sure you’ll agree that each can be equally embarrassing if you look far back enough. I try to hide my first stabs at writing as far away as I do pictures from high school and college. But the essays I write are the very first thing that I have ever done of which I am truly proud. I can look back, read some of the things I’ve written and be in complete and utter disbelief that I wrote them. I don’t want to change or improve them. I’m happy with them just the way they are. And contentment, for me, has always been in short supply.

I can finally understand the minds of those countless souls who trek out to Los Angeles, in the face of impossible odds, and an impossibly dirty and horrible business, to try and make it as an actor or actress or is some other creative art, because they truly believe their stuff is good enough. We’ve taken a special interest in watching the dreams of these intrepid souls get crushed, as the “open audition” episodes of our favorite TV talent shows draw astronomical ratings, inspire dozens of viral videos and become the stuff of entertainment commentary for weeks. But, it is the precious few of those starry eyed artists who actually do have the right stuff that go on to inspire us all. Without them, we’d simply have our 9-5 jobs, our overpriced lattes and our network news, and everything would be a fine shade of gray.

And so I keep writing; for the kid that wanted a steady sure voice more than anything, and for all the kids that still do. I keep writing for chance to write just one great thing, or a library full of them; to inspire the world, or just one person. I write to make sure that I was here, and for everyone else who did the same. I write funny things to keep from crying and heavy things to keep from, well, more crying. I write to keep you from reading Us magazine, watching the Tyra Banks Show and listening to Miley Cyrus. I write to make you laugh and I write to make you think. I write because I’m a writer, and because you’ll never know how much it means to me that you read.

Oh, and in case you'd like to read the ill-fated short story... you can find it here.

Driving Down Crime

Racial profiling is a volatile and hot-button issue, which pits our ever-increasing desire for personal safety in an era of terror and violence against the desperate defense of our civil rights as their systemic erosion seems more and more inevitable. We all like to think we know what criminals look like, but then realize that not everyone that looks like our stereotypical criminal is one nor does every criminal fit such a description. Bernie Madoff looks about has harmless as your accountant, yet perpetrated the world’s greatest fraud; while Chad Ochocinco (of Cincinnati Bengals fame) looks straight from a gangster rap video, gold teeth and bad fashion sense included, and has never had anything more than a speeding ticket. There isn’t really any easy way to resolve this matter, and I won’t presume to do so here. But there is a type of profiling that is not only non-discriminatory, but also appears to be wildly effective; a way for law enforcement officials to locate criminals without ever seeing the color of their skin or the way they’re dressed. And that is: vehicle profiling.

It’s certainly no violation of civil rights. You can look and look in the Constitution (Bill of Rights included), the Federalist Papers, the Declaration of Independence or even Locke’s Social Contract theory and never find a mention of a right or relegation to a certain kind of vehicle. The car you drive is not an immutable trait, and is not culturally exclusive. What you drive and the way you drive are some of the most American freedoms that we have. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a more universal example of our freedom of expression than our vehicles. And therein lies the genius of this new science. Because our cars say something about us that we’ve chosen to say out loud and to the world at-large.

Reckless Drivers

As the world, and consequently, traffic moves ever faster, reckless driving has never been more dangerous. And I know how to spot it before it happens. If you see a compact car that is painted some obscene color or has rims that appear to cost more than the vehicle or, and this one is essential, has a bolt on exhaust device that makes the otherwise-economy car sound like a jet-powered leaf blower, that car will engage in some sort of reckless driving within five minutes, guaranteed. It doesn’t matter who’s driving; their race, gender or socio-economic background are meaningless. If you follow that car, they will break the speed limit, engage in street racing, accelerate in a reckless manner, or any other number of traffic violations that endanger other drivers, pedestrians and bystanders. And they will do it quickly. Who needs speed traps? These cars are easier to spot than Waldo on a page with only two people. In a world of champagne colored Lexus SUV’s, red Mustangs and silver sedans, how hard can it be to locate the lime green Mitsubishi?

Don’t believe me? Then try it for yourself. Follow one of these cars around for the requested five minutes and see if you don’t see something stupid. I’ll bet you a metallic purple Honda civic with an airfoil that you do.

Proximity Alarms

Of course, it’s not just the type of cars that can be profiled, it’s also the condition. Want to know which car has a habit of following too closely in traffic? It’s the one with enough dents in the front to make the bumper look like your ex’s teeth. Want to know which car is prone to sudden and dangerous stops? It’s not the service truck with that actual warning on the back of it. Nope. It’s the car whose rear end has more pock marks in it than the kid who serves me my fries at McDonald’s. That’s the most effective way to say “keep your distance” since the hippy hatchback covered in bumper stickers. The fact that these vehicles haven’t been fixed after multiple accidents is also telling - the driver knows there’s no point in spending good money on fixing something they’re bound to break in the near future.

Why not keep a closer eye on these folks before that add another notch to their belt (or their bumper)?

Minivans

Listen. I get it. It’s not like you can ferry around a good-sized family in a standard vehicle, but if I had to pick out the most consistent type of vehicle that I see involved in dangerously bad driving, it wouldn’t be the aforementioned “sport imports”, the dent brigade or any of the other vehicles here, it would unquestionably be the mini-van. Aside from its abject emasculation and uncoolness so pervasive that it actually makes the cars around it start to suck, it appears to be the last bastion for the driver whose awareness bubble extends no further than their front and rear bumpers. And unless you drive one (and, for some of you, even if you do) you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Of course, we can’t say anything or do anything about it. There’s probably a family in there, which is the most inviolate thing in America next to the flag itself. No matter how badly a family acts, you can’t really say a thing about it (including the Kardashians, the Gosselins and even the Gottis). Which is why I’m certain this would be the most difficult part of my profiling plan to implement. But I’m absolutely confident that you can follow a minivan (especially on the highway) for less than five miles and see some manner of public endangerment: impeding the flow of traffic, signal-less lane changes, and general highway dumbassery, just to name a few. Seeing a minivan in the left lane of a highway is like seeing Kevin Federline in a music studio: technically they’re allowed to be there, but it’s probably going to end in disaster, or at least a lot of angry and frustrated people.

Cargo Vans; Big, Dark, SUVs, and Toyota Trucks

Windowless cargo vans were the best thing to happen to perverts, kidnappers and burglars since the car itself. If you see an unmarked cargo van anywhere near a residential area or any non-industrial area after business hours, you don’t need to wonder whether it will be involved in something nefarious - you can just know it. It should constitute probable cause just to see one of these things.

Additionally, if you see an oversized SUV (e.g. Cadillac Escalade, GMC Yukon or Chevy Suburban) that is dark enough to not actually see into any place except the windshield, there is something in that vehicle that they don’t want you to see. And it’s usually not the driver or passengers.

Finally, if there is an early model Toyota truck driving around (i.e. late 80’s, early 90’s vintage) with tires balder than Dr. Phil and a suspension that looks more worn out than the springs on Paris Hilton’s bed, during rush hour please, please, please pull this car over. You want to know what causes accidents? Cars that stall in the middle lanes of the highway, or on busy interchanges and on ramps because they should have been fixed or taken out of service years ago. Listen, there’s something wrong with that car that you can give a ticket for (broken light, emissions, uninsured, etc.) and you’ll prevent more accidents than you ever could by pulling over the college student who’s texting in stop-and-go traffic.

* * *

In the end, it both is and isn’t true that you are what you drive. A cool car won’t make you cool if you’re not, and an expensive car won’t make you attractive (it may, however, get you a hot date). A hybrid car doesn’t make you a better citizen and truck that can pull a house doesn’t make you more manly (however, pulling a house with your truck does). But the new-found glamor of behaving badly, or at least selfishly to the point of endangering others has enabled those mostly likely amongst us to engage in such behaviors to advertise it with their means of personal transportation.

People that buy red cars know that they’re three times more likely to get pulled over for speeding - and yet they still buy, and there’s no outcry over red car discrimination, because hey, red cars do tend to speed (though they’re not the only ones). So why not expand this vehicular profiling past hot-colored sports cars and onto the ones detailed above, and many more that I’ve certainly overlooked (suggestions, anyone?)? You never know, all those cops on the street might finally actually make them safer ... or at least more likely to use traffic stops to stop actual criminals instead of those of us just trying to get where we’re going or simply most likely to pay the fine.