I knew it

Scientists find that people who are cheerful and optimistic tend to die younger.

Researchers in the Longevity Project studied 1,500 bright children who were around 10 years old when the study began in 1921. They found, over the subjects' lifetimes, that happy-go-lucky types took more risks with their health, trusting that everything would turn out fine.

Prudent, persistent types tended to live longer and be healthier, the researchers found.

Full story here.

(Thanks to Bill Crider for the link.)

Screwed by the holidays

Grumpy dads everywhere dread the approach of the holidays. To us, the gift-giving season means one thing: "ready-to-assemble."

We'll spend the waning days of the year hunched over a random collection of parts that don't fit together so well, trying to assemble them into something useful. We'll try to decipher instructions written in a secret code by someone with only a rudimentary grasp of English, while we simultaneously keep one eye on televised bowl games.

Things will go wrong.

Nothing terrible. It won't be the end of the world, for Pete's sake. But it will be frustrating, enough to edge us dads one inch closer to our inevitable heart attacks, and to make us say "bad words" in front of the children.

Even if you avoid "ready-to-assemble" your whole life, you'll still face minor repair jobs that will challenge your sanity. Things break. You've got to fix them. It won't always go smoothly.

Here's why: The recalcitrant screw. The screw that won't turn properly, no matter what. The rusted nut. The missing gizmo. The broken whatsit.

It's not the overall job that's so daunting, it's the minor complication. That's the part that drives us nuts. So much so, that we dread these jobs. So much so, that it ruins the experience for us. We can't revel in the fact that we successfully fixed Aunt Mabel's lamp. Instead, every time we pass that lamp, we think: "I remember that (mutter, sputter) stripped bolt. That was a dark day."

I got to thinking about the recalcitrant screw recently while helping my wife with a home repair project. Rather, while watching my wife accomplish a home repair project. My contribution was to hold the flashlight, some distance away.

In our kitchen, a fluorescent light fixture had buzzed and winked for, oh, two years. It was annoying, but we'd all sort of grown accustomed it because we were too lazy or ignorant or unmotivated or scared to try to fix it. Mostly lazy.

I have a good excuse for ignoring the problem. As the man of the house, I am terrified of electric shock. The reasons behind my phobia -- why I can barely stand to walk on carpet and touch a doorknob -- are deep and complicated, but let's cut to the chase: Me big sissy.

My wife fears nothing. She looked up some instructions in a book and took the fixture apart and repaired a shorted wire and put it all back together again with a new bulb, and it works like a new one. I witnessed the whole thing. For this feat, she will always be my hero.

However, there was a moment when it didn't look so rosy. When she reached the recalcitrant screw. It was the final one, of course, that last little business before declaring "mission accomplished." The screw went in crooked and stuck there. She had to work it out of the hole, then try it again. Crooked. She started over.

It went on like this for a while, and she never once lost her patience or shouted curses. She just quietly noodled that recalcitrant screw until it fit where it belonged.

Not the way I would've handled it at all, and she wasn't trying to watch football at the same time, but whatever. I'm happy the buzzing is gone.

I've learned one thing from this experience. Come Christmas, my wife's in charge of assembling everything.

I've got to look after my heart.
　
　

Give me rewrite

When I was an enthusiastic young journalist in the post-Watergate 1970s, a T-shirt was popular with us ink-stained wretches. It showed an old-time reporter -- sleeves rolled up, press card in the band of his fedora -- shouting into a phone: “Hello, sweetheart, give me rewrite!”

That was the way it worked, kids, back in the days before cell phones and laptops. A reporter on deadline called a “rewrite man,” typically a grizzled, cigar-chomping veteran who could type faster than the wind. The reporter “fed” the rewrite desk all the information on the hot story, and the rewrite man fashioned it into a proper newspaper article, on the fly.

Filing a story through rewrite was a sort of magic, and I fear it’s lost forever. These days, reporters can write their own stories, wherever they are, and zip them into the mothership electronically. But some of us remember when a rewrite man could make a reporter look great, recasting excited gibberish into cool prose.

Yes, I am a dinosaur. Thank you for noticing.

Wouldn’t it be great if life had a rewrite man? Someone who could smooth over rough spots, remove awkward moments and recast our everyday babbling into concise, intelligent language. It would be the ultimate do-over, the end to regret. If we filtered our lives through a rewrite desk, we’d always hit our deadlines, make the right choices, impress our friends.

An example: You’re in traffic and another motorist does something exceedingly stupid right in front of you. You lean on your horn, shout curses and make an obscene gesture. Then you recognize the other driver. Worse, he recognizes you. Ouch.

Wouldn’t you love a rewrite man about then? He could change “curses” to “warnings” and “obscene gesture” to “friendly wave.” A potentially dangerous road rage incident becomes a neighborly encounter. And you wouldn’t feel so bad when you bump into that other motorist at church.

A rewrite man could fix a lot of things in the workplace. Let’s say you’re standing around the watercooler with your coworkers, talking about your boss, and you use the term “sniveling jerk” just as said boss comes around the corner. Hello, rewrite? Can you change that to “model citizen?” Or, um, “an inspiration to us all?” Thanks.

Certainly, a rewrite man could help one’s financial situation. Your life story could say you were always careful with your money as you amassed a fortune that you later gave to charity. That sounds so much better than “gambled on the stock market” or “wasted every nickel on liquor and lotteries.”

I could use a rewrite when it comes to parenting. I’d like to be known as “stern but fair” rather than “overprotective lunatic.” But I guess that’s a story that’ll be written by my kids.

A rewrite man could portray me as a “handy do-it-yourselfer type.” Just once I’d like someone to believe I could fix something around the house. Even if the statement required a correction later.

I want my friends to remember me as a witty raconteur who was always “the life of the party.” Think I can get that past the rewrite desk? That would be better than “last time I saw him, he was yarking into a flowerbed.” Friends’ memories can be so selective and cruel.

Your extended warranty

Thank you for buying your new Appliance or Other Product from Nameless Store That Sells Appliances and Other Products! We’re sure your life will be much improved by this purchase.

This product comes with full warranties from its manufacturer, and that should be good enough, but you never know. We’re not saying it’s going to break or anything, but you might want an Extended Warranty from Nameless Store. Just in case.

For only (a shockingly high sum of money) per year, our Extended Warranty protects your Appliance or Other Product against all malfunction, damage or negligence. If it breaks, we’ll fix it. Guaranteed!

The following restrictions apply:

You must bring your Appliance or Other Product to us for repair. We can’t be driving all over the state, picking up appliances and other products all day. We’ve got a Nameless Store to run here! Ha-ha! But no, really, you’d better rent a truck.

This contract does not cover the costs of labor or parts, beyond certain levels to be determined later by Nameless Store. Haul it in here. Then we’ll tell you what it’ll really cost.

When we say “fix it,” we mean we’ll TRY to fix it. Some things can’t be repaired. Throw your plugged-in Appliance or Other Product into the shower (not that we’d ever recommend that!), and we probably can’t bring it back to life. Or, you, either.

Our repairs follow a certain protocol:

You wait your turn. Yes, you do. We’ll get to you between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. on Tuesday. Or is that a week from Tuesday? I forget.

Your Appliance or Other Product is examined in our Triage Center by an experienced technician named Earl, who’s had the same toothpick in the corner of his mouth for 23 years. Earl will shake his head and pronounce the Appliance or Other Product “fried.”

Sighing and shrugging, he’ll pass it on to Level Two of our Extended Warranty Service Center, where qualified technician Doyle will drink coffee and talk about fishing while his apprentice Skippy screws around with the insides of your Appliance or Other Product, making the problem much, much worse.

A period of four to six weeks will pass. During this period, we will forget you ever existed. Guaranteed!

Eventually, you’ll call and complain. This will snap us to attention, and your Appliance or Other Product will be located and transferred to Level Three, which is over there in the corner with those other losers.

Another period passes. Usually only two to three weeks this time. We’ll await your call.

Once you simmer down a little, sir, we will repair your Appliance or Other Product. Or we will sell you another piece of junk with its own Extended Warranty.

Your repaired/replacement Appliance or Other Product will be delivered to your home and installed by Certified Installation Team members Itchy Bob and Ralph the Recent Parolee.

We guarantee that this repaired/replaced Appliance or Other Product will then work for a short time. Hopefully, for the life of this Agreement. We’ll see.

If the Appliance or Other Product continues to give you trouble, you should contact us immediately, and we’ll send Earl over to look at it. Guaranteed!

Escape clause: Nameless Store is not responsible for anything, ever. Not your broken whats-it. Not for any injury or illness that might result from its use or misuse. Nor small fires, nor anything like that. Nada. We didn’t do it. You can’t prove it. Don’t even think about suing us. Ralph the Recent Parolee remembers where you live.

Guaranteed!

How to redeem your rebate

Thank you for purchasing the new Widget 4000. You'll find the Widget 4000 is a super product that meets all your widget needs. Best of all, you save $100 with this simple mail-in rebate!

To redeem, you'll need the original sales receipt, your credit card receipt and the UPC bar code from the product. The UPC code is printed on a label attached to the product box with Super Glue. Cut the label off, cardboard and all, with a razor blade. (For safety reasons, we cannot process rebate requests that have blood on them.)

To fulfill your request, we'll need the following: Your name, address, age, phone number, credit card number, ATM number, driver's license number, Social Security number, vehicle identification number, library card number, computer password, childhood nickname, blood type and the names of any prescription medications you're currently taking.

We'll also need the same information from your spouse, if any. If you have a firstborn male child, we'll need his information, too. If you do not have a firstborn male child, please enclose a written explanation.

Please include the following information as well: Where you purchased your Widget 4000, how much you paid for it, why you chose that store and how much commission the salesman made. This information must be accompanied by a short essay explaining why you chose the Widget 4000 over similar products.

(Rebate requests that do not include the essay will be considered null and void. The Widget 4000 Corp. retains rights to all written material and may use your testimonial in advertisements without seeking your permission first.)

All your information should be hand-printed on an unlined sheet of legal-sized typing paper. (Lined paper, indecipherable handwriting or crooked margins will result in disqualification.)
Accompanying artwork will not be returned.

Use of profane language will make the request null and void. This is to protect our workers.
If you have retained a lawyer to help you seek your rebate, please include the lawyer's name, address and whether s/he is allergic to peanuts. If you are a lawyer yourself, we require that all the above steps be accomplished while performing a handstand.

Since our fulfillment center is in Thessalonika, all requested information should be written in Greek. (If you actually speak Greek, then we meant Malay.)

All items must be placed in a plain white envelope exactly 3.5 by 27 inches. Using the wrong sized envelope will void your request.

The front of the envelope must bear ONLY the address listed below. Write your return address on the back in a simple alphabet-replacement code where A equals 1, B equals 2, etc. Write the numbers upside-down and left-handed.

Correct postage must be attached. Postage should be paid in Algerian dinars. No exceptions will be allowed.

The envelope must be mailed to our fulfillment center by midnight of the date 30 days after your purchase. Make that exactly at midnight. Yeah, we like that better.

Processing takes about 90 days. If you do not hear from our fulfillment center within 120 days, you should stand on your head and hum "Mammy's Lil Baby Loves Shortnin' Bread" until someone slaps you.

Good luck!

Starving artist

I got my twice-a-year royalty statement this week and -- ahem -- y'all need to go buy some books. Really. I know times are hard, but I've got teen-aged boys to feed and everyone needs to pitch in.

In particular, you ought to check out "Whipsaw" and "Cutthroat." These recent books aren't comic crime novels, like so many of mine, but fast-paced thrillers set in San Francisco. "Whipsaw" centers on a stolen video game program that's ransomed back to the company that developed it. "Cutthroat" is about a corporate troubleshooter who uncovers a bloody plot to overthrow an African nation.

Just the sort of escapist fare that'll take your mind off the stock market. Cover art and further description can be found at http://www.stevebrewerbooks.com/.

Life lessons from poker

Poker has taken the country by storm. Americans of all ages are gathering around kitchen tables to pass cards and money back and forth, just as they see the professionals do on TV.

Whoever thought poker would become a spectator sport? But it's caught on, big-time. TV ratings are so good, a dozen cable channels now feature poker tournaments as regular programming. Most anytime, day or night, you can watch the pros playing in the World Series of Poker or famous idiots playing Celebrity Poker.

I watched for a while, until I realized that the only thing lazier than sitting around and playing cards was sitting around, watching other people play cards. At least, when you're in a game yourself, there's a chance you can get your heart rate up with a winning hand.

I've played poker for years and find that it’s a fine hobby for those of us who work at home. Poker gets us out of house, forces us to interact with others, and gives us a chance to lose our paltry "incomes" in pulse-pounding ways.

I'm at best a mediocre player, so I wouldn't dream of giving advice on how to play winning poker. But I have learned some lessons I'd like to share with you amateurs.

(Even if you don't play poker, you might learn from what follows. Most of these lessons apply to everyday life in the business world.)

--There's no such thing as a "friendly" poker game. Sure, you can play with your friends. You can be friends before the game and friends again after the game. But during the game? Not so much. In fact, your very best friend is the one who'll most enjoy taking your money.

--Avoid drinking alcohol while playing poker. It makes you stupid and reckless. Plus, you'll have a hangover the next morning, so your head will pound while you try to remember where all your money went.

--Any beverage at the poker table is ill-advised. Knock over your drink and get the cards wet and you'll hear about it for weeks to come.

--Beware of players with nicknames. I've played with many Richards over the years, and have lost to all the ones known as "Dick." If you run into a player named Ace or Tiny or Curly, look out. And if you face one named Red, you might as well just give him all your money and go home early.

--No children should be allowed on the premises during a kitchen game. Not only are kids noisy distractions, but they're likely to overhear many "bad words."

--Know when to fold 'em. If you don't have the "lock" hand, the one that's unbeatable given the cards on the table, then you should fold. More than a vowel separates "lock" and "luck."

--Be careful about "tells" that tip your fellow players to whether you're holding good cards or just bluffing. Sweating, twitching, snorting, tapping, smiling, frowning, whooping or bending the cards in the Death Grip of Imminent Defeat all can reveal your intentions. Watch the pros. They show as much emotion as your average lizard.

--Never gamble with more than you can afford to lose. If you find yourself going out to the car to get the title out of the glove compartment, it's time to get behind the wheel and drive home.

--Finally, avoid playing poker in casinos. You're not ready. No, you're not. Go look at the guys who play casino poker. They're a serious bunch of lizards. They're gambling with their Social Security money. They play for keeps.

Better to give all your money to your friends. That way, you at least can go visit it later.

Holy communication

Ask any marriage counselor the secret to a happy union and the answer will be "communication."

To keep relationships healthy and lively, couples simply must communicate their needs and desires. Unfortunately, many people (that is to say, "guys") aren't that good at um, you know, communicating.

The main obstacle to communication is the way the two genders think. Women can entertain many thoughts and feelings simultaneously, while men tend to be linear thinkers, considering one item at a time.

If a man asks a woman, "What are you thinking?" (it could happen!), she may answer with a convoluted string of connections and relationships, totally losing the man, who probably isn't listening anyway. When a woman asks the same of a man, truthful replies tend to consist of one word: "Beer" or "trucks" or "football." If the man is a deep thinker, the answer may be as complicated as "the infield fly rule." But the answer is unlikely to center on feelings or a thorough diagnosis of the relationship.

This puts men at a disadvantage. When a woman inquires about a man's thoughts, she doesn't want to hear "beer." She wants something meaningful. Put on the spot, the man scrambles around, trying to come up with a sensitive, diplomatic answer, and usually says exactly the wrong thing. Sometimes, he's so caught up in his linear thinking (see "football" above), he doesn't realize he's made a mistake until a saucepan bounces off his head.

What follows is a quick quiz to help men who are faced with traditional relationship situations. The quiz is for guys, but there's a note for women at the end.

Question: Your wife says, "Are you happy?" What do you say?

A. "I'm always happy when I'm with you."
B. "I'd be happier if my team made the playoffs."
C. "I'd be happier if you didn't stand in front of the TV."
D. "Compared to what?"

Q: Your wife says, "You're awfully quiet tonight. Is something wrong?" How do you answer?

A. "Not at all. I was just thinking about how happy you make me."
B. "I can't find the remote."
C. "We're out of beer."
D. "Gas pains."

Q. Your wife bursts into tears for no apparent reason. How do you respond?

A. "Aw, honey, what's wrong? How can I help?"
B. "Now what?"
C. "Got something in your eye?"
D. "Where did you hide the remote?"

Q. At a restaurant, she asks, "Do you think that waitress is attractive?"

A. "What waitress?"
B. "That skinny thing? Nah, I like a woman with some meat on her bones."
C. "Hubba-hubba."
D. "I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers."

Q. Your wife trots out that old favorite: "Does this dress make my butt look big?" How do you answer?

A. "You look beautiful."
B. "I like a woman with some meat on her bones."
C. "No bigger than usual."
D. "No, your butt makes that dress look big."

Q. When your wife reveals her innermost thoughts, you're thinking about:

A. The right thing to say to show you care.
B. Baseball.
C. Fishing.
D. An attractive waitress.

Scoring: The correct answers are labeled "A." If you picked anything else, you might as well start packing. And call a good lawyer.

(Note to women: It's probably clear by now, but you're better off if you never surprise your man with any of the above situations. For example, if you want a serious discussion of the relationship, sit him down, make sure you have his undivided attention and say: "We're going to discuss our relationship now." Give him a few minutes to align his linear thinking before you begin. Also, you might want to hide the remote first.)

The war at home

If the conflict in the Middle East sometimes resembles a bickering family, that's because of our frame of reference: Most of us have more experience with bickering families than we do with international diplomacy and suicide bombers.

Every family has its emotional ups and downs, its times of tension or outright war or uneasy détente. Skirmishes flare between siblings. Generational warfare erupts. Relations grow tense between busy spouses, requiring third-party mediation and eventual property settlements.

Even happy families have moments when the stars are crossed or the biorhythms are off or everybody just gets fed up with everybody else. Sharp words are exchanged. Voices rise. Feelings are hurt. The survivors are forced to draw up a new clause for the ongoing treaty negotiation that is Family Life, one more item for the list: "Stuff We Shouldn't Have Said in the First Place and Will Never Bring Up Again."

Resentment over such exchanges can grow with passing years until family members become like international neighbors -- suspicious and fractious and quick to react. Family life can become a "cold war" with long periods of silence interrupted by sudden fighting in which all old wounds are avenged.

It's hard to be analytical during such periods of stress and pain, so why not take a moment now, while presumably you're not in the middle of an argument, to take an objective look at your family's emotional health:

How would you rate the overall happiness of your family? Do you often find yourself blindsided by your spouse's mood swings, especially those that occur during playoff games? Do your neighbors complain about all the screaming at your house? Are there one or more sullen teen-agers on the premises?

If you answered "huh?" to any of the above questions, then you should pay better attention. Your family relations already may be so strained that it's too late to salvage a workable peace.
First, examine the causes of strife. You'll find they resemble the issues that lead nations to square off against each other.

--Territorial encroachment. Part of being the American nuclear family is that we're all stuck under the same roof. We claim certain territory as our own and defend it against all intrusion. Does the phrase "stay out of my room" ring a bell?

--Outside agitators. In-laws. Need we say more?

--History. If they can still fight reruns of the Crusades in the Middle East after nearly a thousand years, then why should you expect everyone to forget the way you acted like a jerk at Uncle Joe's wedding?

--Inattention. As happens with stewing international feuds, Americans can be taken off-guard by flare-ups of emotional upheaval. Family members can get so caught up in domestic issues, such as playoff games, that they ignore the simmering tensions until it is too late for anything but all-out war.

We propose, then, that families adopt a warning system similar to one developed by the Homeland Security Advisory System to alert Americans to terrorist threats. Different colors -- green, blue, yellow, orange, red -- could be posted around the house to indicate the overall mood and the risk of firefights.

(This is not to make light of the terrorism threat or of the important work of the Homeland Security Office, which consists of scaring the bejeebers out of us every few days. But let's face it: Most of us are in far less danger from terrorists than we are from our own spouses, particularly if we can't remember to put the cap back on the toothpaste.)

A color-coded warning system could make sure the whole family is at the same stage of readiness. Say the wife in a particular household posted an orange alert. The kids would know to tiptoe around until the warning lifted, and the husband could say to himself, "I don't know what I've done, but this appears to be a credible threat. Maybe it's time to turn off the TV and go sit at the negotiating table."

This way, evasive action can be taken before the household goes to full red alert. This is an advisable course of action. Those red alerts can scare the bejeebers out of you.

Executive privilege

MEMORANDUM from:
N. Ron Andersen
President and CEO
Upuhrs Industries, Inc.

Dear trusted employees:

It has come to our attention here at headquarters that some of you are dissatisfied with recent developments in the company's economic condition.

Let me be honest. Yes, our great ship of industry has hit the rocks. Yes, our stock, which topped out at nearly $100 a share, now is so worthless that even panhandlers won't take it. And yes, all of your retirement benefits were tied up in that same stock.

But this is no time to despair. You should look at this financial cataclysm as a learning opportunity. As our government officials have declared, the falling fortunes of Upuhrs Industries prove a valuable lesson in the vagaries of capitalism, the economic system that made this country great.

Capitalism, a word derived from the ancient Greek for "every man for himself," gives every American the opportunity to ascend the corporate ladder and amass immense riches. Sure, it helps if you're a white male with friends in powerful places. But the very founders of this country were white males with powerful friends, and where would we be today if it hadn't been for those slave-owning white males? To question our great corporate culture is simply unpatriotic.

(To those churlish employees who spray-painted "Eat the Rich" on our $300 million corporate headquarters, I can only say: You are un-American. By the way, we know who the culprits are, and they can expect a late-night knock on the door of the cheap motel room where they've been staying since the company's fortunes went kablooey.)

As I was saying, capitalism allows every American the chance at great wealth. Need proof? Then look at the corporate board of Upuhrs Industries. Each of the suits who sits on our board made hundreds of millions of dollars by selling off his Upuhrs stock before the "crash." They remain what's commonly known as "filthy rich," even though our company has tanked and all the employees are now broke. If that's not filthy, I don't know what is.

But to resent the good fortune of our corporate leaders is to take the short-sighted view. We worked hard to reach the top of the ladder, climbing and striving and pushing competitors off the rungs. Sure, we had the advantages of Ivy League educations and inherited fortunes and friends in the White House. But, otherwise, we're no different from you lowly employees. We struggled, believe you me. I myself still bear the scars from injuries suffered in a college lacrosse match. And I know each of our board members has, at some time in his life, suffered a wicked hangover.

But why, you might ask, has this suffering made us wealthy, while you regular employees are off to the poorhouse? It's for the greater good of society.

Republicans have argued for years that we at the top should get all the juicy tax cuts because we'll use our money to benefit mankind, and that same philosophy applies here. What would you employees do if you still had money? You'd use it to retire, send your kids to college, buy a new boat, make mortgage payments. These are all selfish reasons. We, on the other hand, will use our vast gains for the greater good, such as buying a new yacht. By doing so, we'll keep this country's yacht builders at full employment. And that benefits the American economy.

To those who believe we lied, stole and "cooked" the books to get rich while you got nothing, I can only feel pity. I would gladly dispute those contentions, but our corporate attorney, H.R. "Stonewall" Jaxon, has advised that I should not go into specifics here.

Instead, I would ask you to look at the bigger picture. You've all worked hard for years to make Upuhrs Industries a great company. We at the top appreciate those efforts, and we've profited greatly from them. Thanks to you, we can afford congressmen and teams of lawyers that will keep us from being prosecuted for our alleged misdeeds. While you're pacing the floor all night, worrying, we will enjoy untroubled sleep as the waves gently lap at our yachts.

And that, my friends, is the true meaning of "executive privilege."