Men Fight to Protect Their Emotions – David Pascoe

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

Men Fight to Protect Their Emotions – David Pascoe

Sarah dropped this little gem in a conversation last night (edit: timing unclear. may have been a comment), and I’m not even sure she was aware of it. A further conversation just a few moments ago (yes, I’m under the wire. All of the them. why are they attached to a funny little box that says, “This side toward enemy”?) just proved it, but I’ll let her tell you about that tomorrow. When she’s less likely to physically remove anybody’s limbs. No, really.

Himself is doing well. Growing, growling, and generally making life difficult for me and Mrs. Dave. He’s showing sparks of personality (I tell half a lie (it’s Arthur the Half a Lie (more caffeine!))(wheee! nested partheses!) )he’s been showing signs of personality all along) and doing much better at maintaining eye contact. He’s still not effectively using his words. Communicating, yes, but I want him to tell me why he’s distraught. Fortunately, he still has a fairly simple input/output flow chart. Of course, it is right that this should be so. After all, I am the simplest of men. Should not my son be likewise?

Short aside, aside (yeah: really need some coffee) men fight to protect their emotions. This is a self-evident phenomenon, and one that – depending on your theological bent – is a result of some truly heinous choices by choice forebears of ours. As my sainted *snort* father, the Irreverend, has said, “the Fall was worse than we thought.” Without getting into the theology (do that gingerly, as it treads on well-mined ground. so: probably not here) use that as a metaphor for whatever makes you comfortable. The end result is that we’re broken, and fractally. Notable is how we get defensive. At pretty much everything that even seems to threaten our comfort. See: vileprogs getting mildly tetchy when confronted with facts. Or when we refuse to step into their kafkatraps. See also: when they arrive full of bluster and contumely, sending broadside after broadside of noxious wind.

This is a human pattern as far back as Cain getting his feelings hurt when he brought a sacrifice for the wrong reason. Alternately, when Mog clunked Ogg over the head for looking at his girl (she had such a fine, downy pelt, after all). I’d argue that it’s been a significant factor in conflicts ever since. Before you think I’m suggesting that Great Harry cut off Anne’s brainpan just because he was wroth, or the 20th Century War kicked off because somebody flipped Austria the bird, that’s not -exactly- where I’m going with this. We all do this, but we don’t do solely this.

We’ve also been given an amazing intellect, clouded by levels of not-thinking-ness (which is a word, and I’ll swear a blood oath to it. what? not with my blood; don’t be silly) we’ve barely begun to penetrate. This is what gives rise to such joys as confirmation bias, and survivorship bias, and the sunken cost fallacy. All of this is the source of some delightful verses and aphorisms. Things like, “the heart is deceitful above all else,” and “love is blind,” (don’t let it lead you on trust exercises, per Mrs. Dave) and even, “throwing good money after bad.” This is why the Placeholder-in-Chief is heading to Texas, not to tour the border, but to throw fundraising parties for Democratic candidates (speaking of good money after bad *rimshot).

Welcome to being human, oh Lightbringer. Yeah, I only occasionally like it, myself.

Why bring up such a self-evidently self-evident factor of human existence? Mostly for reminder. We’re good at forgetting things. We’re especially good at ignoring and forgetting things that make us uncomfortable. Witness the electorate’s treatment of just about anything outside of business-as-usual. We need to be reminded – and forcefully so – of how apt we are to settle into our own little worlds where we don’t have to think very hard about how neither Amazon nor Hatchette is a hero in their negotiations. How life is always chaotic and tumultuous and we’d do well to learn to surf. The flip side of that is gaining just an ounce more of perspective.

I’ve read a few comment threads in my day (getoffmylawn,kid) and I’m passingly familiar with the way we’re likely to get our dander up over something someone else has said. Or worse, written on the internet. We do it here on a regular basis, though I fancy we’re a skosh better about it than other communities. Goodness, if you want an education in it, get a Twitter account. I don’t suggest it, as I’m fairly certain it’s the most puerile of social media, but you can learn a lot by watching what people think is worth wasting 140 characters on.

Ultimately, this is a lesson about human nature, and how and why we’ve gotten ourselves to the place we are. As individuals, as a community, and as a species. Most people don’t “think” at all. Ever. They “reason” with their emotions, and react accordingly. I’m not one for rationality uber alles, but a better understanding – and better ways of thinking – among the vast majority of humanity would, no doubt, benefit everyone.

So take a moment before you say something. Before you hit that button to broadcast your thoughts to the world, think about the impact thereof. I’m not saying you shouldn’t drop that bomb; I’m just saying you should be thinking a few steps ahead of the other guys when you do. When you threaten the comfortable place of another person, they’re more than likely to attack, just like any other beast.

210 thoughts on “Men Fight to Protect Their Emotions – David Pascoe”

  1. But Dave, I’m always rational. It’s the other people who are irrational. [Very Very Big Kidding Grin]

    Oh, have fun with Wee Dave. [Smile]

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      1. *looks over at their first boy* Apparently at about age one, you should invest in either running shoes or a set of hobbles. Even compared to the speed with which they can crawl and/or climb before walking……

        They are very fun when they are fun!

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        1. Definitely running shoes. That way they can tire themselves out. Although, adding a harness and a log to drag around, the way I’ve been given to understand they do for sled dogs, may help that process.

          My oldest spent a LOT of time in one of the “Johnny Jump-ups”, that you hang over the door frame to let them bounce up and down. Not sure what we would have done without one of those to let him wear himself out with.

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          1. About the time I was three we lived on (or near a busy street). When Mom was outside hanging out clothes, she attached a rope to a post and the other end was around my waist.

            Can’t imagine why she felt she needed to do that. [Very Very Big Grin]

            Oh, I’ve seen parents, in malls, having young children on a long leash. [Grin]

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            2. The Spouse and I call toddlerhood the innocent suicidal years. They don’t mean it; they don’t know better. A curious child can be out in traffic or over a ledge in less time than a blink of an eye. So, as we loved the child and wished to see no harm came to her, we got a harness and leash for The Daughter shortly before going to the mountains when she was two.

              An older lady who lived down the block gave me what-for for treating The Daughter as if she were a dog. I suggested she try spending a half hour or more walking with one arm held straight up in the air and see how that felt. She glared at me a moment but never said another word about it.

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              2. Yup. My brother was “down for a nap” once. I said, “It’s quiet. TOO quiet.” That phase takes on new import when it’s a toddler. At any rate, I go in to check on him and find an empty bed and an open window. I follow the trail of destruction out to the freeway in front of my house, and there is my brother, standing on the twin yellow line, waving his arms at traffic going 70. You get very good at tackling short people with flailing arms. I fireman carried him home. Fortunately, he didn’t have a scratch on him, but I still have nightmares about what would have happened if I’d been any later.

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                1. …there is my brother, standing on the twin yellow line, waving his arms at traffic going 70…

                  OMG

                  Yeah, there is something about quiet, particularly too quiet.

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            3. I SWORE I’d never put my child on a leash. And then I had Marshall. Not only was he a natural sprinter, but he could untie himself from the leash in nothing flat. I remember a French airport and putting the leash on his ankle, under socks and pants and turned around to sit down. No shoe, untied boy was running hell for leather across the airport.
              I was thinner then…

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              1. Oh yea – I see a couple of little boys like that in our apartment complex. I hold in the giggles as I see overweight women yelling and sometimes running after these boys.

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                    1. I can envision a gym program designed around that idea. Some sort of a cross between jungle gym and habitrail with mums chasing after the kids. Major cardiovascular workout!

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              2. Well, The Daughter was not necessarily easy to keep contained, but there was an incident when she was about eighteen months that led to her cooperation in matters of her safety seats and safety harnesses. Our little family of three had been to visit part of my family in south Georgia, giving my Grandma Gertie a chance to meet her great-grandchild and all these relatives I had never met a chance to meet us.

                I was driving homeward through the night looking for a sign that would indicate we were approaching the South Carolina border. The Spouse was solidly asleep in the seat beside me. I had mistakenly assumed that The Daughter was likewise, safe in her car seat in the back. Next thing I knew the overhead light came on and she was standing there on the back hump smiling happy as a clam.

                I made a noise. Such a noise that The Spouse and The Daughter were figuratively plastered to the roof of the car. The Spouse, sheet white, asked what was wrong as I pulled to the side of the highway. Somehow I managed to bring the car to a stop and, putting The Daughter back in her seat we explained that it was for her safety. Daddy cannot play with a squished little girl, and that would make him very sad. She was never ever to do that again. And she didn’t.

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                1. I’ve horrified some of my family by not doing the “animals on the side of the road are sleeping” thing, but explaining that they were out on the road and didn’t notice the car….

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                  1. When I was in school in Tennessee I was introduced to a strange creature called a scrud, which took all sorts of appearances, but always stayed very very still and lived near or on roads.

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            4. I used that on the youngest; because unlike his elder sister at that age, he liked being able to dart off to explore something, but know Mum was on the other end of the leash, hauled along behind him. I took it off once because someone made comments about how mean it was to treat the toddler like a puppy, and he ran off to look at something. I lost track of him in the crowd in the grocery, and only located him because he started crying because when he turned around to show Mummy the wonderful thing he saw, I wasn’t there, dragged along behind him.

              I put the leash back on his wrist when I got him calmed down. Five minutes later, another mother saw it and asked me where to get them. She had twin boys under each arm. I directed her to the local department store, and she was relieved to know they were cheap.

              I remember reading somewhere that for a certain age range, children feel more confident and adventurous if allowed to play within set boundaries, and the mommyleash seems to work on the same principle. Tug and Mum’s there.

              There’s a version that is worn like a harness by the baby and that saved him from a few trip-faceplant into cement accidents. My brother saw that and said “Ooooh, that’s why you use those. Makes sense.”

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              2. There was a documentary (I think on children) that had a video tape of a crawling child in a fairly empty mall. It shows the child crawling every which way but periodically the child stops to see where IIRC daddy was. Once the child saw that daddy was still there, the child kept on exploring. [Smile]

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                2. Unfortunately, my oldest kept crawling when he looked back to see where we were, so he fell off the bench he was on and smacked his forehead on the floor in the Mall. This created one of the injuries that led my mother-in-law to call CPS. The other two came from tripping on a cut corn stalk in my dad’s garden, and tripping onto the barbed wire gate to dad’s garden. And all because he was simply too fast to keep up with all the time.

                  At the hearing, the “Children’s Advocate” tried pretty hard to keep us from getting him back.

                  You can see why I hated that woman.

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                  1. As bad as it can be in the States, the London Telegraph’s Christopher Booker has … well, see for yourself from these representative sample headlines:

                    Judge slams council over shocking family case
                    Haringey went ‘behind my back’, says judge over forced break-up of family, says Christopher Booker
                    05 Jul 2014

                    A disturbing case of child removal that you can’t read about
                    scales of justice above the Old Bailey in London
                    One of the most bizarre examples of over-reacting social workers imaginable in Scotland has finally come to court but now I can’t report any further details, says. Christopher Booker
                    28 Jun 2014

                    The mothers jailed after waving to their children in the street
                    Judges and social workers are acting in an utterly inhuman way, says Christopher Booker
                    14 Jun 2014

                    Why the explosion in child-snatching is big business
                    When fostering excites venture capitalists, the number of children taken into care rises, says Christopher Booker
                    07 Jun 2014

                    The real story of the ‘baby with no name’
                    A stressed father had to leave his £90k job after his son was sent for adoption, writes Christopher Booker
                    31 May 2014

                    http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/columnists/christopherbooker/

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                    1. The fictional British lawyer Rumpole has a pretty amusing (albeit scary) case involving British CPS.

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              3. The leash we found had one that had a harness, kind of like a vest, that fastened in the back at the waist and between the shoulder blades, where you attached the lead. (Yeah, thinking back it was mindful of the harness used on service dogs.) I am not sure they make them like that anymore.

                I know that both The Daughter and I were a great deal happier once we had that harness.

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                  1. Oh my. That must have been something. And he is still alive today, see mother love really does win out.

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                    1. I confess I’m a little shocked he made it to nineteen and MIGHT make it to twenty.
                      I figure it’s because he was either born to hang or be president, and given his issues with speech hanging is most likely.

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                2. They attached a stuffed animal “backpack” to it, but they still make them. (my kids insisted… really need to get one for their brother.)

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                  1. “I think it is terrible, putting a child on a leash like a dog!”

                    “We agree – that’s why we replaced the choke collar.”

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                    2. My mom said much the same to me. Then she saw how much fun mechanically inclined #2 genius could be. Like disassembling the clothes rotating (to show all the styles) mechanism at a store while I was trying on a dress. Mom thought “They won’t let him out the door. How much trouble can he be in two minutes.” Yeah… she found out.

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                    4. For a child’s harness I think I’d want a weak link, maybe calibrated at something less less than the child’s weight. Some folks use a poundage rated fishing line with the right knot.

                      This can be a life saver for dogs in the field and even my pistol lanyard is designed as a breakaway rather than hangup.

                      Panic snaps are handy with horses and rumor says they have other uses in the home.

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                    6. That’s some toddler and I wonder where the child gets traction to pull 4-5 G’s on the shoe soles? Mostly I was riffing on the (choke) collar but it’s still true that any animal including a child or a parachutist can die hanging up on the harness.

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                    8. While it may be true that the harness could prove dangerous in very rare circumstances, it proves a life saver in many many more. A harness should never be a substitute for an actively engaged parent.

                      As to the potential strength of a toddler? We had no idea until we lived with one. Example: We had a pair of overstuffed chairs in the living room, each of which had greater weight and mass than The Daughter. This did not stop her from moving them. She simply concentrated all her effort and, we guess that shbecause e didn’t know better, she did it. If those chairs were built to scale to us I doubt we could have.

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                    3. Very simple stuffed animal body with the “legs” as the harness, the “tail” is the leash and there are big plastic clips that are too hard to open for little kids on the front.

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          2. Unfortunately, we have two older kids, and I know from history that physics lessons result when the big sisters want to help their brother jump. *grin*

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            1. Well, I know from personal experience that medical lessons arise from a younger cousin badgering the older cousin to lift him over the barbed wire fence.

              Barbed wire to the privates. I have to assume it hurt, because I was young enough I don’t remember it, though my aunt used to gleefully tell about how the doctor asked, “Heh. Got him in the balls, huh?”

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          3. Oh, yes. Mommy-in-law reports that Mrs. Dave L-O-V-E-D her Johnny Jump-Up when she was a wee bairn, and we’ve got one just waiting for Wee Dave to be able to hold his head up. I suspect it’s going to be responsible for Daddy being able to write anything at all once Mrs. Dave goes back to work.

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            1. Have you been checking yard sales for megablocks yet?

              I got a tub the size of a toddler bed for the price of one bag of basic blocks.

              Secure those to a board. (I used a glue gun, and a scrap flat of plywood my sister used a screwdriver and pine.)

              Makes them a lot easier for kids to play with… and easier to store…..

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              1. I’ve got my Lego collection from growing up, though they’re not toddler sized. Still, I got my first set when I was three, so there’s some hope, there. We haven’t, but we haven’t done much out of the house, yet. Beyond LibertyCon, at least. I’ll keep an eye out, though.

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                1. They’ll probably show up at Christmas time– good basic kid toy, still fun when they’re nine or so but work for anybody who can grab and gum.

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  3. I find myself responding more and more often to foolishness I see on the internet. (Yes, of COURSE if we unilaterally disarm and disband the Army, Navy, Marines and Air Force we will totally end up with peace on Earth and a lush, growing economy… for anyone who wants to take us over militarily. Imagine what Haiti could do if we just let them take over the continental US! Oh, and we Totally need to stop using oil because Global Warming, it’s a good five degrees warmer now at noon than it was at midnight! I can walk fifteen miles to the nearest bus stop twice a day, no problem! And it’s only a half-mile from where I work! Win-win!)

    And then I dump the page before posting. Gets my aggravation out, doesn’t give the idiot on the other end the righteous joy of having an unbeliever to confirm his holy beliefs by questioning them, because only heretics would do such a thing and they’re damned anyway. First against the wall when the revolution comes, for sure!

    Occasionally I’ll give ’em a tiny nudge – just to try to get them to maybe think – but I’m not going to whack ’em with a clue-bat. It just strengthens their shell.

    Better to use vinegar, and try to get through it without them noticing…

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  4. My wife got a book about toddlers and tantrums and it basically said children are little Cavemen. They have very rudimentary communication skills and don’t have much impulse control. As they grow up, communication expands as does impulse control but when something goes wrong, they go right back to being little cavemen, wanting to smash whatever is causing them issues. The author also implied that the only difference between adults and children is how much it takes us to go back to being cavemen who want to smash our problems. Once we’re threatened and the stress and fear hormones kick in our high brain functions give way to more primitive instincts. I know my biggest problem when I get mad is even knowing that I’m angry and that I need to take a step back and think.

    On a slightly different note, IMAO most people want tomorrow to be exactly like yesterday and will go out of their way to make this so. I know I’m no different.

    Enjoy Wee Dave. It’s amazing watching their little personalities come out. :)

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    1. Civilizations is the method by which we tame the beast in us, and channel our energies into projects that benefit many, rather than vendetta that benefit only us. We can see this in gang behavior rather easily. Are you disrespecting me? Why does it matter? Because if I let you disrespect me in front of my people, I’ll be shamed. I’ll have lost face and my social rank will fall. If, on the other hand, I pull out my nine and cap your sorry backside, then my reputation, and hence rank, will grow. It doesn’t matter that you weren’t disrespecting me at all, and that it wouldn’t hurt me at all if you had.

      And yes, we are all cavemen. It doesn’t take a great deal to push us to the “Hulk SMASH” point. Screaming infants are choice.

      Of any age, really…

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      1. Back when I was in high school, the most obnoxious jerk (O.J.) in my homeroom class dropped out after his older brother (and some “friends”) murdered a guy (the “friends” wanted to rob another person to get drug money and got the wrong address, so they killed the elderly homeowner anyway.) O.J. promptly dropped out because he was now “muy hombre” with a family reputation to maintain, now that his brother had killed someone.

        I recommend Lee Harris’s extended essay “Civilization and Its Enemies” for an intriguing look at how, perhaps, clans became gangs became teams (he gives Sparta more credit than Athens). http://www.amazon.com/Civilization-Its-Enemies-Stage-History/dp/1451655339

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        1. First Law of Child Rearing; Anyone who maintains that children should be allowed to “act naturally” must enjoy being surrounded by savages.

          It is noteworthy that the most notorious proponent of “act naturally” (Rousseau) farmed HIS children out to an orphanage.

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          1. Yeah, I was given that advice by another parent in Cub Scouts, when I told my son to stop running around shrieking like the others in the den.

            Didn’t take that advice… and seeing my son is now planning for college and (perhaps) pharmacy school afterwards, I have obviously warped his little psyche for life.

            I’m so ashamed. (Well, not really…)

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      2. Read somewhere that during the 60’s-70’s youth movement a history professor, upon hearing “let it all hang out”, was heard to say “Why!. It took us centuries to learn how to keep it tucked in.”

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    2. The biggest difference between a boy-child and a man is that the boy-child will smash with his fists.

      I have everything from a hammer to a semi-auto magazine fed rifle.

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  5. Half a bee, philosophically,
    Must, ipso facto, half not be.
    But half the bee has got to be
    Vis a vis, its entity. D’you see?

    But can a bee be said to be
    Or not to be an entire bee
    When half the bee is not a bee
    Due to some ancient injury?

    La dee dee, one two three,
    EricArthur the half a bee.
    A B C D E F G,
    Eric the half a bee.

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  6. There are unfortunately some today that think we are beyond crude responses and they can do or say anything in safety. I’ve had some problems because I was never trained to do a tooth baring chest thumping display. I’ve tell you calmly to get out of my way and if you don’t listen you wake up staring at florescent lights in the ER.
    The people who are divorced from reality that way leak out past the edges of the hard core stereotypical liberal. Disney bless his heart taught the last couple generations that Grizzly bears are lovable clowns just waiting for you to come in the woods and play. Such philosophies can be untaught but it is a very hard lesson.

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    1. Yeah, that’s my issue. Most people read me “nice” and perhaps “patsy” and there’s no indication you’re about to push me past the “endurance point” because even I don’t know where that is. But once you’ve blown it, you’ve blown it. I think I should give more warning and gosh, I’d love to.

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      1. Nah. No need to work/hope for more warning. Those who would presume upon someone’s patience in order to push buttons and activate the warning posture deserve a surprise now and again.

        The more surprising the better the lesson.

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      2. Ah, crap! Are you saying if I screw up you’ll never forgive me? Ever?! Like, I’ve blown it forever forever, or just for a wee while? Surely we’re allowed one or two ill-timed emotional overreactions and/or nuance-heavy whines.

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            1. Not only can I do it without trying, but I can do it fairly easily without trying; so when I try I can usually get ‘good’ results. :)

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              2. While there are many who fail to note the twinkling eyes with which I enter battle, I can say with confidence that there is no one living who has seen me truly pissed off.

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                1. That’s because we don’t say (on the Wednesday before the end of the fiscal quarter), “Look over my accounts and see what’s wrong. I think there’s an error in here somewhere,” while shoving two shoe boxes of papers and a mis-written business checkbook across your desk.

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                  2. That is not a reason for me to get pissed off, that is a reason for me to say, “My, you do have a problem, don’t you.”

                    It ain’t as if it is my business that is about to fail.

                    Customers never piss me off — I have very low expectations of them and they rarely exceed them.

                    I long ago learned there are two kinds of problems in this world and the secret of happiness is learning to distinguish between them: my problems and your problems. Ever since that insight, I never get stressed over other people’s problems.

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        3. It wouldn’t be a screw-up… it would have to be a targeted stupidity over a period of time. In my case I dealt with four years of stupidity from a man and his family until I finally took legal recourse. Let’s say he was told to stay away from me and mine by the police, my landlady, and the leasing agency. I go full nuclear — when I am pushed to that point. I believe Sarah is the same way from her stories.

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      3. Most people read me “nice” and perhaps “patsy” and there’s no indication you’re about to push me past the “endurance point” because even I don’t know where that is.

        Most folks don’t.

        Being “nice” is just being polite and trying not to cause friction. The problem is that some folks take that courtesy as saying “this is a suitable place to cause friction, because there will not be any resistance to my demands on others.”

        Then they get upset because, eventually, they go too far. The person who objects if of course wrong for rejecting the demand on their time….

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      4. Hear! Hear! I also come across as mild-mannered until I let loose curses. Then my brothers run for cover. I can count on one hand the times it has happened in my life and I am one year older than you Sarah. (Not counting when I was ill and hallucinating)

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      5. You couldn’t see the look in your eye when you instructed me, ‘Don’t try, do.’ There is something of great strength there even when your berserker mode is not engaged. ;-)

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  7. Craig Ferguson has a routine that I have taken to heart. There are three questions one might do well to ask oneself before inserting yourself in a situation:

    Blockquote> Does this need to be said?
    Does this need to be said by me?
    Does this need to be said by me now?

    Mind you, being human, I often forget to ask myself these questions when I ought to have.

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    1. Dang, I thought I had that properly formatted. Only the questings should be in blockquote… The end statement is mine. Sigh

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      1. Arg. Questions. … slink away, get more coffee… yes, need more coffee… that must be it …

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          1. “Ah, percolated Folgers,” the Genie said, contentedly. “People normally aren’t this nice, it’s all ‘Three Wishes’ and then you’re gone.” He frowned. “Seriously, enjoy this. What they’re going to do to coffee starting in the ’80s is unspeakable.”

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            1. Never ever ever trust a Djinn. Even when they tell you not to trust them – don’t trust that.

              This has been your standard Genie/Djinn Quote Public Service Announcement. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

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              1. Yep, it’s dangerous enough to trust a free Djinn but it’s even worse when the Djinn is a slave of the lamp/ring you possess.

                With a free Djinn, you may just be dealing with a non-hostile Trickster but with an enslaved Djinn you’re dealing with a being who absolutely hates being a slave.

                If there is any way they can cause you harm while apparently obeying you, they’ll find it.

                Also, if you think the Djinn is a “free agent”, he may be enslaved by somebody else.

                So any advice the Djinn gives you could be tainted by his “ownership” by somebody who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.

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                1. Now, see… Here’s a point I think worth making, in reference to all these tales of djinn and the granting of wishes. I think it’s highly revelatory of the cultural background from whence these tales come, when you listen to them really carefully.

                  Not one that I’ve ever read, or heard told, shows the protagonist of the tale having the slightest bit of empathy or sympathy towards the djinn in question: Their first thought is to selfishly exploit the slave status of the djinn, and make that poor bastard do what the protagonist does. Never have I read a story or heard of one where the protagonist is horrified at the prospect of exploiting another being’s servitude, and who refuses to take advantage of the condition he found the djinn in. It’s all about forcing the djinn to the protagonists will, and demanding services of him, services that the protagonist has done nothing to earn by fair means or foul.

                  This, I believe, is something that shows a very negative side of the culture that tells these tales. What should you do, when you encounter some poor bastard who’s been enslaved? Should you take advantage of that fact, and abuse them? Apparently, that’s the lesson you’re supposed to take: How to properly abuse a slave, and take advantage of their servitude. Whether it’s a Western culture or an Arabic one, the way these tales are always told tells us a good deal about the cultural baggage of the teller. Just as with the old adage that you can’t con an honest man, you also can’t play trickster with someone who cares not one whit to take advantage of your servitude. A truly decent human being would seek to ease the conditions of servitude, if possible, and seek not to take advantage of the situation.

                  I’d prefer to live in a culture where the point of these cautionary tales is not how best to take advantage of someone who’s been enslaved by someone else, but how best to go about determining if that entity ought to be freed, and if so, how best to do it so that they’re no longer enslaved and won’t be a threat to someone else if they’re made free. I’ve never heard one of these tales told like that, though–It’s all about how best to screw over the enslaved djinn, and get what you want from him. Is that how you want your children to pattern their conduct and behavior?

                  Hell, is that how you want to behave, when you encounter a djinn? Me, I hope I have the decency to try to free the poor bastard from their servitude, while making sure they won’t harm someone else later on. That’s how one ought to be patterning ones behavior, instead of thinking how best to swindle the disadvantaged.

                  It may seem a trivial thing, but I think the way these tales are framed and told provides a very deep insight into the true inner nature of the tale-teller and their culture.

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                  1. I vaguely remember some Christian influenced ones that explain the Djinn are pretty much ax-crazy, and they’re enslaved because it’s about the only way to keep them from destroying everything around them. Vaguely remember it had to do with the Seal of Solomon on lead stoppers and something about building something?

                    That said– yeah. Like the Leprechaun’s Gold stories. I much prefer the Rose Red and Snow White story where the kind little girls keep helping those they find who are in trouble, and end up rescuing a prince and driving the evil dwarf batty…..

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                    1. It’s patterning, and very telling about the surrounding cultural matrix.
                      The tales we tell are little indicators, and what we fall back on when we find ourselves in analogous situations which we’ve never personally experienced, before. A kid brought up on the tales about the djinn is not going to behave similarly to a kid who has never heard those stories, when they both encounter someone in bonded servitude. The kid who has sopped up the idea of people being deservedly enslaved is going to accept and exploit the man or woman in servitude, while the kid who has never heard these tales of djinn is going to react quite differently to finding out that they are being served by someone who is doing so involuntarily.

                      In cultural terms, it’s kind of like those key indicators when you’re getting to know someone–See them abuse the waitstaff at a restaurant? See them behave badly towards retail clerks? That tells you a great deal about them, does it not? Do they treat their elders with respect, or with disdain and harsh language?

                      The stories told within a culture are similarly indicative of how that culture views the world and its place within it. You can learn a great deal about things by simply listening to the storytellers, and reading the books they write.

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                    2. Problem:
                      The stuff you “tell” about them is formed by what you accept; you don’t seem to accept even a theoretical possibility of a literal walking force of nature– no free will and dangerous if free.

                      You’re applying the “pattern” in a context of “Djinn are a type of people,” rather than “Djinn are a type of spirit.”

                      Think like the trope in horror movies where one of the minor characters tries to treat zombies as humans and/or people, in spite of all evidence against it.

                      I dislike the “slave of the ring” stories because, in our culture, genies are people; we shouldn’t mistake the original spirits for the same thing, though.

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                    3. True, some of the old stories about the Djinn made it clear that they weren’t human.

                      On the subject of how “culture” affects “reactions”, Jack Chalker in his Changewinds series had two girls from our world taken to a world of magic.

                      One of the girls was given a “magic ring” which was to aid them to reach the Good Wizard.

                      The girl assumed that the being in the ring was similar to a computer program.

                      Well the girls, through carelessness on their part, got themselves in a trap without realizing it.

                      It turns out that the being in the ring was a demon and its freedom depended on it getting the girls to the Good Wizard.

                      It was very very angry at the girl it thought was responsible for getting both girls trapped.

                      It put a nasty curse on the girl and warned her that there was a lot it could do to her without making it impossible for her and her friend to reach the Good Wizard. [Very Big Evil Grin]

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                  2. Land of Mist and Snow by Debra Doyle and James MacDonald deals with that. who knows? It might even be a genie, not called by name.

                    I note that the idea that there is something intrinsically wrong with slavery is very new. Slavery was known in every civilization, a good many barbarian cultures, and even some hunters and gatherers.

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                    1. Diana Wynne Jones addresses this issue in Castle in the Air her sequel to Howl’s Moving Castle. More I ought not say.

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                  3. That’s an interesting concept. If you’re right, I’m warped indeed.

                    I’ve got 6 short stories (almost 7) an editorial, and some letters to the editor towards a ’50s style SF pulp. “The Squirrels Of D-Day” that I wrote a while back and expanded out is one of them, and the Genie story’s another.

                    Couple of weeks and a cover, and I’m pretty much ready to put it up on Amazon. Got one more story that won’t quite gel, though.

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                  1. IRRC Solomon was said to have imprisoned, for good reasons, many Djinn. I don’t know that he was said to enslave them.

                    As for “why him”, I think that it was a matter that in the Arab world wisdom = knowledge = knowledge of magic. Since Solomon was said to have been wise, he was believed to have been a great worker or magic.

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                    2. That seems to me a misinterpretation of events.– I believe Solomon would imprison djinn but what would be the point of enslaving them and then distributing the containers where any dang fool could find ’em? That would be like leaving primed and cocked IEDs about. The one thing you of which could be reasonably confident was that whoever released the djinn wouldn’t use it wisely.

                      I have this sudden vision of a third century BCE redneck camel jockey grabbing a djinn bottle and announcing, “Hey, y’all — watch this!”

                      Perhaps Solly had them stored in his armory, they got misfiled and accidentally disbursed after his death …

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                    3. A few comments.

                      Apparently Solomon enslaved Djinn to do jobs for him. Building the Temple was one of the jobs.

                      Most of the stories about Solomon imprisoning Djinn have Solomon putting the jars deep in the sea or otherwise putting the jars where a bunch of “red-neck” Arabs could not easily find them.

                      For all the stories about finding jars containing Djinn or even stories about un-enslaved Djinn, there are no reliable stories confirming the existence of Djinn. So if Solomon did imprison most/all of the Djinn, he did a good job of hiding the jars. [Very Big Grin]

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                    4. That’s just silly — djinn building THE Temple would be trayf in so very many ways. This is an obvious and blatant Philistinian slur.

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                  4. “Would a Djinn be grateful if you freed it? ”

                    In “The Fisherman and the Djinn”, the Djinn recounts how at first, it would grant a wish to whoever freed it, then two, then three, and finally (over the ages), death.

                    (The fisherman expressed disbelief that it was trapped in the jar, and when it proved it, popped the cork back in.)

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            1. That’s the one problem with Tea, it doesn’t go nearly as well with whiskey as coffee does.

              Oh well, probably for the better.

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            3. If you want your imagination lose (shudder– I wouldn’t recommend it to my worse enemy), then you could be on high dosage of prednisone for a six months or longer. Let me tell you from experience that the creature in the depths is NOT kind. I am happier dabbling my toes on the shoreline.

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          3. If we’re passing out cups, probably oughta grab a tray…

            It’s late in the day to still be clearing the fog, but here I am.

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            1. To adequately provide for us all I think that we would need more than one of those great big coffee urns used in the food service industry when catering banquets…

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              1. Doesn’t the Army have a coffee version of the Water Buffalo trailer? I know the Navy always designs in various redundant Coffee Bunkers in any ship design to maintain underway efficiency; I assume the Army is similarly foresightful…

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                1. The Army’s solution is powdered. :|

                  So folks pack their own mini camp stoves and brew their own.

                  To be fair, when hot rations are delivered, they send lots of coffee.

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                  1. Powdered? Ugh.

                    I have a history of food in the American military titled Chow. I gather that once they got past serving weavely hard tack on ships the Navy has generally outstripped the other branches of the service in their rations.

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                    1. Haven’t much experience with Navy chow, but the Air Force? Those folks eat like royalty, at least in garrison. There may have been some grumbling observations along those lines while I was in Kentucky.

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                    2. They tend to look at the Chief’s Mess for those contests, or at least the officers. The shore side places are really good, most of the time.

                      Enlisted aboard ship is not so very good, although it’s several steps above, say, school lunches.

                      Air Force had slightly better quality, but worse selection and much smaller for the price that I saw.

                      Haven’t had Army that wasn’t on a base run by another service.

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                    3. Conversation I actually heard during my deployment in points sandy.

                      From a Brit (presumably to one of the new guys): “Drink the Coffee. The tea is undrinkable.”

                      From an American (also presumably to one of the new guys): “Drink the Tea, don’t touch the coffee. It’s undrinkable.”

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                    8. Food in the Navy can be a real variable – FREX the American Cancer Society used to and may still do such things as work with the Navy to match two ships for controlled studies on cruciferous vegetables.

                      Friend of mine was in charge of everything else on the last pig boat out of Pearl – training anti submarine warfare of course not patrols and he figured Hawaii was a great place to buy fresh fruits and vegetables which would last for at least a few days at sea. He was greatly disappointed to get pushback asking for comfort food like pizza.

                      I suspect but will never know the Air Force anti jet bloat diet spills over and improves food for everybody. Launch crews used to get some don’t everybody get food poisoning at once coddling – I heard a story of a new cook who decided to use up all the best by, scratch and dent that had been shuffled to the back of the pantry and did make everybody sick first few days.

                      David Drake (who calls slavery an unspeakable evil) describes the place of slaves and the lower classes in his Roman analog of Carce accurately ( as author he tends to spray and sprinkle good karma – slaves may be sold down the river but disappear from the story first). He does promote some demons – especially noticeable in connection with a ring in Monsters of the Earth to parity with some of his upper class people – but then again of course some of his more or less human characters are on a par with demons too.

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                    9. My information on food on Army bases is over a decade old. I have eaten at enlisted and officer clubs. The food in the officer clubs are better– but the food is overall pretty good. As for the messes, it has been twenty years. High calories mostly and good comfort food. Of course, they were pretty active compared to many of the other services on the base (this one was an Army base btw).

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                    10. Last night, Housemate discovered that Australian Army ration packs include rolls of Werther’s caramel hard candy. He also saw on the counter several little tubes and cans I’d schnaffled from Rhys’ last trip out field. This prompted Housemate to relate a story from one of the American former enlisted in the clan, saying “When the Aussies came to the exercise, I was tempted to ask them if I could have the cardboard from their rat packs to eat. It would have tasted better.”

                      Rhys: Not if he had been at Aubrey Woodonga. They put plastic wrap over the food to make sure it didn’t get a hint of food taste in the mess. I tell you now, it tasted very corrugated, the cardboard.

                      Found this amusing site:
                      http://www.mreinfo.com/international/australia/australian-rations.html

                      Those rations are out of date though; they no longer issue M&Ms in the new ration packs, but an unbranded packet of Smarties, and the Werther’s is new.

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                    2. Imagine one of those mid air refuelings except coffee in the tanker not avgas. I’m not allowed any caffeine or even chocolate. Shouldn’t drink juice. It raises my blood sugar. I’m down to diet lemonade or flavored still or sparkling water.

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                    5. If you have a Harris Teeter near by you might try their house brand lime seltzer. I gave up sugar sodas and get head aches from most artificial sweeteners, so I took the seltzer up for when I want some bubbles, some flavor and no caffine. (It may be sacriledge to say that here, but there are times when I want no more caffine.)

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              2. Can I just put my name on one of those?

                It’s trying really hard to be a Monday around here.

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                1. My Monday has gone too well. On the other hand, I had two and a half Mondays last week, so maybe it’s averaging out. *knocks firmly on real wood*

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                  1. I’ll knock on some wood, as well, because lurking late-week Monday’s — they’re wrong and an affront to the natural order of the universe.

                    Plus, I don’t like ’em.

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                    1. Sneaky apostrophes! On with the rest of ya! Back in your little box… Come on, move it.

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          4. A friend who has been teaching in central Asia is going to be in Colorado Springs area shortly. I could send some coffee with her. It would probably be rather tepid and stale by the time it got there, and I am rather sure we should not let you wait that long. ;-)

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            2. Enjoy the Wee Dave while he’s little! It’s a truly magical time that goes away far too quickly. (Yeah, sometimes, I wish I could have my kiddlywinks back as babies for a day… I miss their being small… and now they’re so tall…)

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  8. Preaching to the choir and arguing with idiots both being a waste of breathe, I fear our remaining options are few.

    Congratulations Dave, on the wee bairn. Now there’s the fun!!

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    1. Prepare, and share. I’m not sure what to do past that. Oh, and outbreed the bastards.

      Thank you. He’s a character, though given his genetics (both inherited and adoptive) he’s doomed to it. We’re enjoying him enough to plan a second. Though I firmly expect #2 to be nothing like Wee Dave. Still, we’ll call him (or her, really) Wee-er than Wee Dave, Dave, nonetheless.

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      1. Out of kindness to the young man, when and if a sibling comes along it might be better to give him a promotion in title from ‘Wee.’

        The thing about youngsters is that they grow, and sometimes they will outstrip their elders in height/size. The Spouse’s youngest sibling is the tallest person in the entire family by several inches. There is always a bit of humor involved in referring to him as the ‘little’ brother.

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        1. Tell me about it. Sib hit a major growth spurt during my first semester in college. I came home and looked up, and up, and up . . . I believe my first thought was “oh sheet.”

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          1. *sigh* My seven year old son is now past my shoulders in height. But since I’m rather small (4’8″) I’m glad he’s going to be taller than me. I’m hoping for his sake that he’ll be closer to his father in height. Eldest daughter’s taller than myself already…

            And sometimes… sometimes… I find myself wishing they were the little babies I used to curl around while they slept…

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            1. Well, it took my boys until they were 15 to get taller than me. But since I’m slightly over 6′, they had farther to go.

              But hey – I was probably 12 before I was taller than you. I didn’t break 5′ until I was 14. :-)

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              1. The Daughter reached 5’81/2″ in fifth grade. This made her the tallest in the class. I would sit outside the classroom and watch these children who were all born over a bit over a year’s span. Some were barely nearing 4′. I would think, ‘Yeah, try and tell me they all progress at the same rate! My eye!’

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      2. Considering that in the long run the ones who breed most are the ones who will inherit the Earth you should consider that your sacred duty. Many siblings for the wee one, the more the better.

        Okay, once we have reliable ways to get off the rock who will inherit what may change, but first we need to make sure we will get off the rock, and that again comes back to taking over. So… :)

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      3. There is a Bill Cosby routine, titled “Two Daughters” that covers the issue of infant sequels. The only web version I could find suffered terrible audio, and every other of his bits with that title proved to be not the one I sought.

        Happily, somebody has it transcribed:

        “Now the first one, Erica, she was beautiful. She came out and said >ding!ding!<

        I looked at my wife and said "Look, this is great! Like, we gotta have another one right away. Before we lose whatever we've got going for us." So we did.

        Now this second one…Beelzebub…she came outta the chute a month early, champagne in one hand, cigarette in the other, "All right, who's in charge here? You, the ugly guy, what are you doing here?" "I'm your father." "Get rid of him, Momzie!…Time you been gettin up in the morning?" "Oh, eight-thirty…." "Well would you believe – THREE THIRTY! For no particular reason. And this is the way I cry: WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! How's that shake up your spinal cord?"

        Found at http://www.barefootkitchenwitch.com/the_barefoot_kitchen_witc/2010/09/as-different-as.html

        Until manufacturing solves the consistent quality control issue all siblings come with the advice: Past Performance is Not Indicative of Future Results.

        In some instances, the one who gives nightmares as a child proves to be the one who grows up while the delightful child merely gets big.

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        1. My first niece was the sweetest little girl in the world. Her younger brother was a whirlwind who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Her little sister was/is The Center of the Universe and gets mad when ANYONE attempts to disabuse her of this notion (still, to this day and she’s in her mid 20’s). I’ve seen this over and over again. It’s natures way of fooling us into having more than one. :)

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  9. I’m not good at verbal warfare so when I lose my temper, I go straight for physical violence. It’s very frustrating and I hate losing my temper.

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    1. Lemme just jot this down:

      Don’t make Arwen mad — she doesn’t like it when she’s mad. And you probably won’t remember the experience, what with the head injuries and all…

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      1. I blame my Viking ancestry. :D Seriously, though, I don’t lose my temper very much anymore despite my brother’s best efforts.

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        1. Sisters are known to test tempers as well, says this brother. *grin*

          There are things worth getting mad about, and things that frustrate, aggravate, annoy, pester, and fulminate… but aren’t worth getting angry about. I tend to blame inanimate objects, Mad Murphy, and E. Mong for most of my foibles, though. My sister and I put our respective talents for mayhem to other uses than each other, now that we’re grown and respectable. Mostly.

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          2. Family members are sent to try us. :D I have four sisters and two brothers and when we’re all together, we tend to regress a little bit.

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          3. My sister REALLY cheated when they were younger. My brother was not allowed in her room, so she would go do something to him, then run to her room and loudly state, “You’re not allowed in here!”

            Of course, my mother let her get away with that, because she knew that my brother did mean things to her at other times.

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    2. It usually takes a lot to get me to the point where I completely lose it and when I do I usually hold a grudge with the person who caused it. I have been told I’m an easy person to read so I wonder why people decide to just keep going.

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        1. One nice thing about being a natural redhead: most people believe the old stories about redheads’ tempers and treat us a bit like, oh, *bats eyelashes, smiles sweetly* pissed-off rattlesnakes.

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          1. My mother being a natural redhead, I can safely say most people believe those old stories because the truth reinforces itself.

            Not that I would cast aspersions, see above, about my mother. I would celebrate, with great joy, the passion and personality of redheads.

            Because, my mother, and I’m not an idiot.

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          2. I’m told I was born with reddish hair, which happens on rare occasion with Asians… shame it didn’t stay auburn, which I would have liked to keep to go along with my temper. I’d have liked it a lot if people treated me more like a pissed off rattlesnake instead of ‘oh hey, let’s see if she REALLY IS as dangerous as reputation…”

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            3. I was born a blonde. So were my sisters. For a long time you can tell which one is which, not only by our relative heights but by how dark our hair was.

              When we hit our teens, my hair suddenly shot much darker than my older sister’s, and our little sister suddenly put on the inches to tower over us.

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          3. My grandmother was a natural redhead. (I don’t need to say more). I am blonde with redhead skin so sun, burn, blister, white, and repeat. As for temper, she had a quick one and a quick tongue, but she was joyful. (before she started with dementia)

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          4. Before chemo, my hair was gold – really. I have a piece I kept from when I was much younger. My hair has darkened some (blonde over it) and I have silver in my hairline. And the pic I have here is when I was on imuran. Since I changed my chemo, the hair has lightened up and the tones have started to come back.

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        2. *nod* They use those signals as threats, not real warnings– and mistake “control” for “weakness.”

          I believe we had this discussion a few days ago, re: word that is translated as “meek” and why the middle east won’t believe us until we get brutal…..

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    3. Most not work to well within the net … here I thought the spewed coffee was the cause for lost keyboards in these circles…

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      1. Must, not most.

        Yeah, it’s Monday. There is apparently not enough coffee to solve that.

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        1. We need to get our hands on one of those insulated tanker trucks. I’m sure we could fit some spigots on the outlets…

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        2. Hubby suggests that if coffee has stopped working on me, I should move on to caffeinated sports drinks. Except I can’t stand how they taste…

          Housemate suggested a caffeine IV drip. They started ratcheting up the ideas from there, since the former is a mechanical engineer/armorer, and the latter is a network security/ IT guy.

          When they got to the point of caffeine to the brain, I suggested they figure out how to DOWNLOAD the stuff my brain comes up with instead, so I could create while asleep.

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          1. Hydrive caffeine water is pretty good. Basically various formulas including a lot of ginger or yerba mate, and caffeine, and very little sugar.

            Of course, yerba mate isn’t bad if you like a sort of green grassy taste, but it can be an acquired taste. Which is why it is often a covered up ingredient.

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          2. Try cold brew coffee. Like 3 times the caffeine. Cheap to make too. Just introduce your french press to your fridge and leave them alone for the night.

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    4. Same. Haven’t done it much after childhood, but part of the reason is that I can scare myself. And I’d prefer not to gain a criminal record. So I walk, or sometimes run, away from confrontations once they start to get more heated. I would probably not even get the pleasure of beating the other person up, unless they were really seriously out of shape since I am nowadays pretty out of shape myself. So I’d lose verbally, I would probably also lose physically, but I might end with a criminal record anyway since I might very well start the physical part. Bad combination. :)

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  10. “Each new generation born is in effect an invasion of civilization by little barbarians, who must be civilized before it is too late.” – Thomas Sowell

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  11. Madame Hostess,

    Tangential to the topic, but I have acquired Darkship Thieves via Amazon in eBook format. It is now in my reading queue. This sale would not have occurred if this work was still bound by stone age publishing practices. Take that for what its worth

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      1. By the way, I was noticing you haven’t set up an author page on Amazon. (I noticed because when looking at the “Also Boughts” some autors have their name as a link, like Larry, and others do not (like you and John C. Wright).

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        1. I have two author’s pages on Amazon. Unfortunately Baen lists me in the description as Sarah Hoyt, and everyone else as Sarah A. Hoyt. I need to yell at Amazon to unite them. If they will.

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          1. Hmmm, well, in this case, the listing for Witchfinder was without the A, and no link to any profile.

            I think you can “Claim” your books with the Author Central page.

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