I recently discovered that some people had fallen prey to a monster. Those people are friends whom I have known and respected for several years; the monster is an attitude that has existed since, oh, before you were born. It has been called many names, but rarely has it been mocked in alliterative irony, so here goes—I hereby dub it the Mania of the Moment.Maniacs of the Moment are usually referred to as “experts.” I’m sure you’ve heard of them before (if, in fact, there is a “you” out there reading this to whom I may refer). In addition to answering phone calls from desperate journalists who need a molehill to make a mountain out of, experts also teach classes at universities. Generally their goal in teaching lies not in imparting bales of information, but in teaching a mindset to their students. That mindset is: “Check your preconceived notions at the door, young people. You were raised with certain assumptions and prejudices, but in college we will nurture in you an open mind; and to accomplish this we will tell you the way we think the world is, and teach you not to question our assumptions and prejudices.” And thus, the world is remade in the image of the experts. Or as I like to call them, the Maniacs of the Moment.
The victims of the Maniacs who I referred to above was describing to me an almost absurdly unreasonable modern theory that tried to explain the phenomenon of “transgendered” individuals on a genetic basis:
Pared down to the essentials, it says that a boy as young as nine months old will display an affinity for women’s accessories, be they her shoes, her coat, her perfume…despite parental objections, these children may sometimes grow up to identify as the opposite gender. The cause of this is likely a blend of genetic predisposition and prenatal hormones.
Yes. I wish I had made that up, but no—that happens to be material apparently taught in a Psychology class at a world-class university in the Midwest. I call it absurdly unreasonable because it contends that a nine month old boy, who is just getting used to walking and talking, somehow recognizes the cultural and sociological significance of physical objects like shoes and purses. Cultural and sociological information is not innate; it is taught. Any fool, scientific or not, can comprehend and state this simple fact (one just did).
But the saddest fact was not that they considered this doctrine credible. No, the saddest fact was that they proved themselves unwilling to “take what they teach you with a grain of salt,” as I suggested (and I’d say that a grain of salt is not much to ask against the previous poppycock I just described)!Is critical thinking really out of vogue? The answer is a resounding YES, and it has always been out of vogue. Centuries ago, the leading experts of the day propounded that the entire universe revolved around our planet earth…our flat planet earth. Now I know that my history is a bit fuzzy, the Greeks knew the earth was round for centuries, and yada-yada-yada. That’s not important. And I’m being completely serious here. It’s not important, because the principle is true, namely that most people cannot see past their own generation’s myopic line of sight.
That’s a sad thing, and it hurt to see my friends falling for this cheap and passing parlor trick based on spin and false authority. They are intelligent people, good-hearted, far more intelligent than I, in terms of scientific and mathematic smarts. But there is more to intelligence than being able to comprehend abstract concepts or being able to store data.
The key to true intelligence, I say, is common sense and critical thinking. Anyone who wants to be smart needs only these tools, along with a workable and willing intellect, in order to excel. I honestly believe that. Albert Einstein himself said that “imagination is more important than knowledge.” Being able to fairly evaluate the concepts one is taught—rather than just accepting them as unassailable fact—and proposing creative solutions to the problems that indubitably arise, is a prerequisite for any truly intelligent person, not least any scientist.
The key to true intelligence, I say, is common sense and critical thinking. Anyone who wants to be smart needs only these tools, along with a workable and willing intellect, in order to excel. I honestly believe that. Albert Einstein himself said that “imagination is more important than knowledge.” Being able to fairly evaluate the concepts one is taught—rather than just accepting them as unassailable fact—and proposing creative solutions to the problems that indubitably arise, is a prerequisite for any truly intelligent person, not least any scientist.
I desperately hope that critical thinking makes a comeback, because until it does little boys will retain their genetic affinity for women’s high-heels, just as the earth remained flat for so many long and ignorant centuries.
To close: Why, you may query perturbedly, have I concluded with this picture? Because it's hilarious. Enjoy.
Stay strong (I mean it),
Joezilla
Phil’s is a unique tale; he goes to wintry Punxatawney, Pennsylvania to cover the annual Groundhog Day festivities, dutifully does his drudgery, then goes to sleep. He wakes up the next morning to a cold Punxatawney morning…a cold and familiar Punxatawney morning. Yes, as you probably already know (unless you have not seen the film, in which case you are seriously missing out), Phil is forced by the powers-that-be (in this case, it’s writer-director Harold Ramis) to relive the same day, over, and over, and over again.
Do you have any weaknesses? Something that makes you uncomfortable or uncertain, that freezes your better self in its tracks and calls you with a siren’s song to a disappointing mediocrity? Of course you do. So do I. We all have them. It’s just a matter of figuring out what it is. Take Superman, for example. He can fly around downtown (if I may borrow Matchbox 20’s verbiage), leap over buildings in a single bound, and yada yada yada--but put him in front of a green Kryptonite stone and he’s about as strong as Sammy Sosa without his steroids. That poor sap, Superman--he has a glaring weakness, and he can’t get rid of it. Luckily for us, we are nothing like Superman. We can fix our weaknesses.
On one hand, we have the societal (and in some ways religious) push toward simple acts of charity, which is often represented as giving money to the poor folks in the streets. Although this is a shallow characterization (more on that later), it is nonetheless the message we often see in movies and hear in sermons. People like to think of giving monetary handouts as a righteous act.
No, it wasn’t the panhandler. That’s how it usually gets shown in movies, I grant you (and Hebrews 13:2 should by no means be taken lightly), but in real life it was the exact reverse for me--the angel took the form of a blond-haired female passerby of about 35, who brazenly addressed him after my comment by saying “And I also hope you find somewhere to work, because you come here to beg every day!” I got into the car and processed what I’d just seen. First, I couldn’t believe that woman’s guts--I didn’t know they made people that confident anymore. I admired that. It was also at that moment when I realized the thinness of the hobo’s request, and the absurdity of the shame I’d felt. To have the man’s chicanery exposed with such blunt words of witness was like a blow to the head--except it felt great. My illusions were gone!
Most important of all, it should be realized that the only proper attitude of a panhandler ought to be one of the sincerest and humblest entreaty. Money, after all, is not easily earned in this world, and to receive it as a free gift from a stranger is not only a rare, but almost a miraculous occurrence. Shaking a cup, or halfheartedly muttering “God bless you” just doesn’t cut it for me. A panhandler ought to realize the flabbergasting fortune of his situation, notwithstanding his dire straits--he is alive, and (in most cases) possesses the opportunity to interact with the wider world (an opportunity widely sought-after in lonely nursing home rooms and hospital beds across the world). Seriously. They have no place asking someone else for a handout, so they ought to be amazed and overjoyed at the mere fact that anyone even responds to them. At presstime, such behavior has not yet been observed in any hobo. And as for me: Shame? Are you kidding me? Well, I know one thing: I wasn’t kidding when I acted like a fool in that parking lot.
From now on, if I am accosted by a panhandler, I will not give them money, and will be proud of it. If I respond to them, it will be to say, quite simply, “No.” I simply will not. If I am ill-judged at the end of time for adopting this stance, I will hang my head in remorse before my Lord--and without a doubt, my shame will be justified. But I’m betting against that ending. I think a weakness has been obliterated--and that’s good enough for me!