20160131 (armchair science)

Armchair theorizing by any other name would be BS

Without doing the cheap and

Shoddy research associated with

Wikipedia-supported speculation

I’m going to unload my ideas

About overpopulation derived

From cursory familiarity with

The work of Thomas Robert

Malthus (ca. 1798, English)

And John B. Calhoun (ca. 1947,

American). As a learned person

(Who else would be reading 

This stuff?) you may know of

These two already. Malthus

Emphasized more the economic

Factors of food supply and

Population growth and concluded

That as more food was produced

It did not serve to reduce human

Misery as the population grew

More quickly to reduce the 

Supply of food per person again

To subsistence levels. Malthus’s

Subsistence levels were nothing

To write home about—desperation,

Hunger, crime, and vice plagued

The lowest on the ladder of

Human gradations. He became,

Therefore, an advocate of 

Improving the human condition

Through attention to positive

Checks which increased the death

Rates—war, disease—and 

Preventive checks—birth control,

Abortion, postponing marriage,

Celibacy—which decreased the 

Birth rate. As nobody really liked

Diseases or more fatal warfare he

Was left with birth control as the

Only realistic and practical way 

Of advancing the quality of life

Among the lower classes when

Productivity increased food supply.*

Calhoun’s work observed the

Behavior of rats and mice in

Defined-space cages while

Researchers varied food supply.

Roughly, when there was food

Enough for all, life in the cages

Was middle-class enjoyable in

A ratty/mousey sort of way. But

When the crowding got to be too

Much the subjects misbehaved

Radically. The aggressive ones

Fought each other and ate the

Newborn; mothers cannibalized

Their young. Scientists of every

Stripe joined in the jubilation

That they had uncovered the 

Causes of urban misery—

Crowding, not desperation.

In later years Calhoun redesigned

His cages to reduce the perceived

Crowding by creating high rise

Apartments which alleviated

Some of the stress. Well, as you

Can guess bio-students of all

Types went nuts with charges

Of anthropomorphism and

Zoomorphism zinging past

Each other to reduce C’s

Observations to nothing 

Applicable to urban life 

While others claimed them 

The key to understanding

Slum life, violence, and crime.

I’m not saying I’d eat my 

Young were I penned in a

Closet with farters and others

Who didn’t bathe, but I’d be

Damned sure I’d not be the

Pleasant, rational hermit I

Am today, no?

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

* In Monty Python's History of the World there is a hugely satirical
depiction of precisely this outcome.

20160130 (resemblance)

As I begin writing the current

World population is 7,398,540,166.

What exactly is the point of there

Being so many of us? There’s only

So many combinations and

Permutations of twenty-three

Pairs of human chromosomes.

We’ve probably reached the

Limit already. In fact the 

Last three new people I’ve

Met are surprisingly alike—

Triplets is what they called

Them. Makes you kind of glad

We’re spread all over the earth

And not bumping up against

Each other all day long. I’d 

Really get tired of apologizing

To other people for looking

Like them so much. Although

We could always play games

Like telling our Doppelgänger,

“Hey, I just killed somebody

While dressed like you. So when

The cops pick you up, don’t

Try to deny it. There were 

Eyewitnesses.” Really it is

A problem. A woman came

After me in the supermarket

Shouting, “Michael! Michael.”

I stopped when I realized she 

Must have been calling to me,

So as she approached I said,

“Ma’am, I’m not Michael.”

“Oh you so look like him,”

She replied. Unable to let go

Of a good thing, I countered,

“Handsome devil, isn’t he?”

“Why, yes, he is, very.” This 

Kind of thing is all very good

Unless you unluckily bear a 

Resemblance to Rickey the 

Spliff, who hasn’t paid Uncle

Vito for the last four months,

And there’s a contract out on his 

Ass—the payments or his knees,

Whichever come first after

You convince him you’re 

Serious by chopping off a

Pinkie—ring and all and 

Having him swallow both.

That’s really why I favor a

National identification card.

Not so much to prove who

I am as to prove I’m not the

Guy you’re looking for.

By now the World Population

Clock is reading 7,398,747,605

A mere increment of 207,439

Enough to fill a city the size

Of Akron with babies—who’d

Feed ‘em or drive them to 

Soccer practice? Just to be

Fair I started last night.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160129 (chick-flicks)

Amy Adams--and she sings, too

I became enamored of Amy Adams

From American Hustle in which she

Played a softer version of the smart,

Tough as nails, con artist Annette 

Bening portrayed in The Grifters.

Then when I saw her again as 

An idealistic young nun in Doubt 

Opposite Meryl Streep, I became

Something of a fan, convinced of

Her acting versatility. I remained

By every measure the same dirty 

Old man who cannot turn

Away from a beautiful face—

Euphemism for her entrancing

Beauty—euphemism for, well,

You know what. Which is how

I came to see her again in Julie

& Julia, the first film from my

List of holds at the local library.

Had I realized it was a product of

Nora Ephron, Queen of Chick-

Flickerdom, I would have been

Forewarned. Ms. Ephron is 

Famous for When Harry met

Sally, Sleepless in Seattle,

You’ve Got Mail, and many

Other romantic comedies.

In J&J, unlike Doubt, Adams

And Streep are never on the

Screen together because the

Stories occur fifty years apart.

Only days earlier I had learned

Of the Bechdel-Wallace Test for

Feminist portrayal of women in

Art—movies, novels, stories.

First, there must be two women

Characters sufficiently integral

To the story as to be “named”

In the cast. Second, they must

Have a significant conversation

Vital to the storyline which—third,

Is NOT about men. B-WT is not a

Reliable indicator. In Doubt

Streep and Adams have a lot of

Dialog but little of it is apart from

The guilt or innocence of the priest.

In J&J Streep and Adams never

Meet although each has separately

Significant dialog with other 

Women characters. Thankfully

Neither film has the reliable

Tear-jerking grief of other

Famed fem-flicks as Terms of

Endearment, or Beaches. Just

As thankfully the women are

Independent, gifted, intelligent,

Admirable characters on their 

Own who grow and develop. 

That their men are distinctly 

In the back seat in J&J is 

Mitigated by their strong support

Of their respective beloveds. 

Included in the film list, however,

Was 1999’s Drop Dead Gorgeous,

In which Adams peripherally 

Played a brainless bimbo par

Excellence. She did her job

In this hopefully forgettable

Black comedy by woman

Writer-director Lona Williams.

Roger Ebert said of it at the time

“It sounds much better on paper

Than it looks on film.” Adams,

Only 25 at the time, was still

Building her portfolio and

Appeared with other names—

Barkin, Janney, Dunst. It can be 

Excused if not forgiven.

Everybody needs the money. If

Chick-flicks occlude the male

Intellect DDG obliterates it. 

Tim Burton’s Big Eyes with

Adams as Margaret Keane

Saved the day.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160128 (cultural relevance)

Fred Newman (sound effects), Tim Russell, Sue Scott, and Garrison Keillor. GK is retiring shortly
having become "culturally irrelevant" to the "18-45 demographic. It's like a practice death for me.

Garrison Keillor explained his

Decision to retire as based on

His failing to keep up with the

Factor of “cultural relevance” 

As determined by authorities

Of NPR. He may be exercising

His gift for irony in that or he

May be perfectly right. I don’t

Encounter many young people

Who recognize the name and

Encounter many who give me

Odd looks when I tell them

Who he is and what he’s done.

That may be my problem of

Limited survey choices. Still

I raise the topic because I feel

The same. Were you to consider

My interests and those of the 

Eighteen to forty-five demographic

The picture would be something

Very like those cartoons of a

May-December union of a perky

Twenty-something sitting at an

Elegant breakfast table with an

Accomplished eighty-year-old

Commercial wizard who asks

Her deferentially, “What would

You like this morning, my dear, 

Women’s pages, comics, or

The ‘Teen Beat’ I saw you reading

Last night?” I sense this fault in

The generational landscape every

Time I ask the clerks at the 

Supermarket to tell me what

Group was singing on the PA.

First they remove their ear buds,

Ask me, “Wha?” and when I 

Restate the query they shake

Their head replying, “Don’

Know, man, before my time.”

Dave’s plays a mix of oldies

But goodies and more recent

Music. Apparently the “more

Recent” is what they mean by

“Before my time,” so I figure

Anytime soon the Johnny Cash

And Conway Twitty will cease

To feature and be replaced by

Other stuff I overlooked in the ‘80s.

I felt so out of it during the 

Mourning of David Bowie 

Recently when I realized that

The song I only knew as “Major

Tom” is actually titled “Space

Oddity” and I was pressed to

Name another Bowie classic.

Press all I might, my command

Of pop music titles was as bereft

Of content as an empty pimple.

“Got to stay current,” I vowed

To no one in particular. I’ll have

To make it on charm. All my buzz

Has long since faded to silence

And I still haven’t read all of

Shakespeare’s plays.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016