CSotD: Heroes and Villains and Monkeys
Skip to comments
We’ll lead off today’s revue with Sunday’s Candorville (WPWG), in part because I have a one-week rule for how long I can hold a piece and in part because it made me cast back in my memory.
I remember, back when I was maybe three or four, watching my mother paint her nails and asking her to paint mine. She’d paint one nail and I’d marvel over it until it had chipped and washed away, by which time I’d moved on to other interests anyway. It had nothing to do with my sexuality.
I think a lot of kids would ask and, as in this cartoon, it’s up to parents to either shrug or freak out.
Which is also their choice if one of their kids does turn out to be differently-sexual. From what I hear, people often come out to their families only to find that it wasn’t much of a surprise to anybody, though, of course, the times parents freak out are the times worth writing about.
And speaking of who cares about what, this Non Sequitur (AMS) touches on the park where my dog and I go twice a day.
What the dogs there care about is who is a soft touch, and they’ve got us each scoped out on that level. They flock to the people they know have cookies and there are times the place seems more like a petting zoo than a place for them to exercise.
Specific to this strip, my dog has always gotten a cookie when she returns from going out or when we come back from a car ride, and she’s cool about it, but her predecessor would, indeed, sometimes ask to go out simply so he could get a cookie for coming back in.
That sort of manipulation is endearing coming from someone with four legs and fur.
Otherwise, perhaps not so much.
BC (Creators) brings up something that is definitely not endearing, which is how certain features on the Internet seem entirely based on catering to the booboisie.
Actually, everything on the Internet seems based on catering to the booboisie, but this thing of flowing emojis is, as the cartoon suggests, really annoying, though you can usually turn them off if what you’re watching is worth the effort.
And “Don’t read the comments” remains a good rule whether the feed is live or not.
And what you’re watching live-streamed is very rarely worth the effort.
You have to accept that, on social media, the advertisers are the clientele and the users are the product, and the point of the enterprise is to gather the largest possible numbers.
Are you not entertained? Plenty of other people are, so who cares?
I am, at the moment, becoming fed up with Facebook, which seems governed by Artificial Unintelligence, to the point where I’m thinking of dumping my page. Unlike the hapless fellow in this Real Life Adventures (AMS), I can’t even get the runaround from this crew.
Facebook won’t leave you waiting for an answer on the phone or pass you around from pillar to post, because they don’t condescend to talk to you at all. They only recognize a very limited number of possible complaints, and offer you an on-line place to stick them — and I use that phrase intentionally — while, if you have an issue that isn’t on the list, that’s your problem, not theirs.
I’ll spare you the personal details, point being that, if we’re the monkeys and the advertisers are the people who pay to visit the zoo, Facebook is like one of those sad roadside places where the monkeys are all scabby and malnourished because taking care of them would cut into profits.
On a more pleasant note, Wallace the Brave (AMS) brought two things to mind from my days dealing with schools.
The first is a thing called “Wait Time,” with which the teacher here is struggling. The idea is that you ask the question, then wait a few seconds before calling on anyone, so that the entire class contemplates an answer in case they’re the one you select. Without wait time, they’ll just let Rose handle it.
Effective teaching should produce a few volunteers, or, at least, a few people who look as though they might have a guess. In this case, however, she has missed the boat, since Rose probably knew the answer in the first place.
I’ve had flop sweat playing in bars, and I’ve had flop sweat in front of a class. At least in the bar you can drown it in beer.
The other semi-related part is that kids like Rose will draw your attention, not by raising their hands but simply by focusing on what you’re saying, which is fine in private conversation but really draws you off-task when you’re supposed to be addressing 25 or 30 kids. It’s the ones who aren’t gazing at you intently whose attention and comprehension you need to engage.
BTW, the best Teacher Tip I ever got was to go stand by the desk of the kid who is disengaged. Since I’m a pacer when I lecture, it seemed natural rather than a form of discipline.
Meanwhile, you can’t ignore Rose: She deserves some praise.
Just not all of it.
Returning to the subject of dogs, First Dog on the Moon proves that he is not only a sharp observer of politics and culture, but a good person hisownself and, I am 100% sure, a true hero to Roy and Jock.
You are, of course, a hero to your dogs and to your kids as well, but it’s nice when you can actually do something to merit their devotion.
Good on ya, mate.
I’m pretty sure Scott Hilburn wasn’t trying to touch off any Deep Thoughts with this Argyle Sweater (AMS), but, while I was familiar with the tequila brand name “Patrón,” I’d never thought much about it.
However, as I suspected, the term refers to the rich pendejos who kept the bulk of Chicanos in peonage and the Indians in slavery.
Might as well have called it “Massa.”
Conquistador a vulture sits
Upon your silver shield
Comments 2
Comments are closed.