Doesn't feel much like an Irish morning

Jacob slept until 7:25 this morning, which both comforted me and had me on edge. He's usually up by 5, or at most 5:30, and he went to bed at the usual time last night, so that was quite a departure for him. I know he was okay, because I'd gone in and checked on him, plus we've got the video baby monitor, even though I consider the use of it a form of wiretapping. (Joke shamelessly stolen from Steven Wright.) So, while I enjoyed the extra quiet time, I was also jumpier than Sylvester in "Scaredy Cat," wondering if every coo or grunt was indicative of impending consciousness.

I'm not one that gets all het up over St. Patrick's Day, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to combine my progeny with a plastic, green derby.


Which brings me to today's post, which I've recycled and reworked a couple of times. If you've already read it, I apologize for the repetition, and I'll also point out that I've added a few things, so maybe it'll be worth your time. Years ago, for some completely unknown but in retrospect prescient reason, I attempted to set down on paper, or at least pixels, the wisdom I’ve accumulated in my years on Earth. Don’t laugh. I haven't made it this many years without learning a few things. Not many, I’ll grant you that. But some odds and sods have managed to cling to my neurons and synapses, although they had quite a battle, what with having to fight off all those idiotic bits of useless arcana like the words to “The Andy Griffith Show” theme song, verbatim Dennis Miller quips, and the “Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start” Nintendo cheat code. (That's the old Nintendo, not this newfangled Wii thing. In my day, we had blocky graphics and clunky controllers and limited action and when you changed the view in your golf game it took an hour to re-render the scene and we loved it! We couldn't get enough of it!)

One quick caveat: These are just some tidbits that have the teensiest scintilla of value. It’s not like I make decisions solely on them. Other people, much smarter than I, have already written down my real playbook. Now, onward, in no particular order.

Hollywood isn’t real. Whatever you see, hear, or read about that comes from Hollywood, you should view it as coming from a mental institution, and I say that meaning no disrespect to mental institutions, which actually serve a purpose. Sure, there will be a few tidbits worth paying attention to, but for the most part, you should just watch from a distance and be glad you’re not in there.

Anybody who’ll gossip around you will gossip about you.

Look over your shoulder. There’s nobody watching, so it’s okay to fail.

Nobody has to like you. Do what's right and they will like you, but that's an offshoot, not the goal.

In the same vein, happiness isn't the goal of life, it's a byproduct.

Crunchy, not creamy, peanut butter. Coke, not Pepsi. And “unsweet tea” is an oxymoron.

Baser things are no more “real” than higher things. Violence and foul language might be applauded as being “real,” but that’s because it’s easier to write them into a script or song than love or loyalty.

Dogs soften life. Keep them around you. Pet them often.

Things are rarely as bad, or as good, as they seem. So patience is precious to have, painstaking to learn, indispensable in maintaining your sanity, and goes hand-in-hand with perspective.

Never go to a movie labeled “critically acclaimed.” What this means is that some self-important pseudo-intellectuals got together and decided that we peons would have our lives brightened by seeing something that’s not funny, not moving, not understandable, and not interesting. If we could go back in time and whomp the guy who first called abstract art “critically acclaimed,” we’d still have paintings that actually looked like something.

For all intents and purposes, Honda cars last forever. Change the oil and rotate the tires semi-regularly, and they’ll never desert you. (Not really that literary, I know, but it’s the truth.)

Any time you hear the phrase, “It’s not the money, it’s the principle,” it’s the money.

Anything or anyone described in ads as “wacky” or “zany” isn’t either. Certain qualities should just stand out. For instance, we don’t have to say “Crazy” Charles Manson.

The Beatles broke more ground, The Rolling Stones were a better band, but Lynyrd Skynyrd could blow both them off the stage.

An actor/singer usually isn't much of either.

Every single generation believes that their music is better than the next generation’s. Unfortunately, around 1990 or so, this belief became real. Sorry, but except for some standouts that you won’t find on regular radio, good music went underground about then. You’re gonna need to dig to find the good stuff. I’ll help.

Creative types (and your male parental unit is one of them) are vociferous in their defense of their work because they don’t want to work a real job. They may talk about the sanctity of their art, their poetry or prose, or-—this is the worst-—their “craft,” but what they’re really saying is, “Keep believing this fiction. I really don’t want to go back to working at Wal-Mart.”

There’s nothing wrong with working at Wal-Mart.

Practice makes perfect, like it or not. In other words, what you do over and over will become easier and easier, whether that thing is good or bad.

We’re all one stupid mistake from ruining our lives. Don’t let that scare you, because you’re going to mess up, and you’ll learn from those mistakes. Just know that nobody who ever lost a job, or a marriage, or anything else good, started out with the intention of suffering that loss. Nobody ever thinks, “Hey, I know. I’ll linger too long on Youtube and get fired over it.”

If your self-esteem is elevated or lowered one iota because of a sporting event, you’re doing it wrong. As Jerry Seinfeld once said, when fans leaving a game say, “We won!” what they really mean is, “They won!” All the fans did was watch. If you are too high or low after a game, find the nearest children’s hospital and visit it. Five minutes of introspection in those halls and you won’t be able to remember the score of the game, much less the quarterback’s game-losing fumble.

The last item shouldn’t dissuade you from enjoying sports. Just keep them in perspective. And while you’re keeping them in perspective, remember that college football is the only important sport. Everything else is just a game. Especially golf.

If you’re back is hairy enough to poke out over your t-shirt collar, you can never go shirtless.

Don’t ever look down on anybody’s accent, including your own. A Southern accent is no more indicative of a low intellect than a Brooklyn one, and Southern colloquialisms are just as valid as Northern ones. Say “y’all” with pride. As Jason Isbell put it, "Don't worry about losing your accent. A Southern man tells better jokes."

That being said, there is no R in “Washington.”

When you're tempted to lose your cool over something, apply Dunn's Third-World Rule, which states: "You're not allowed to get torqued about a situation unless a third-world resident would." Here are some examples of DTWR in use:

Your Internet connection just winked out in the middle of your posting something to Facebook. You're mad enough to stomp bunnies, but if the same thing happened to Djibouti's version of Joe Citizen, he'd be deliriously happy that he had a computer, electricity, literacy, non-leprous fingers to type, and a lack of dysentery that allowed him to sit in one place and opine on how much he loved crispy-edged pancakes. Ergo, you must remain cool.

On the other hand, if your child is sick, or you see grave injustice being perpetrated, Djibouti's Joe Citizen would be upset right along with you, and upset clearance has been granted.

And finally, everybody you meet on the highway is an idiot.