Social Skills Bite the Dust

DATELINE: Curmudgeon’s Perspective

Role Model: Heidi’s Grandfather

Leave it to the New York Times to write up a report that one hideous side-effect of the coronavirus is that social skills are biting the dust.

Yes, apparently people are not using their social skills and are losing the edge in dealing with other people in a variety of ways. They are cranky, depressed, short-tempered, and in fact are becoming Heidi’s grandfather, that old isolated reprobate who hated kids. The new paranoia mistrusts everyone.

As an old curmudgeon who has been bilious for years, this is amusing to no end.

Meeting new people has never been high on this writer’s list, but apparently many in society thrive on socializing. We can offer a few tidbits of advice to those who are snappy at stay-at-home children and grandparents: try to use good manners.

It’s a concept in short supply in the new century and has been endangered for decades. Intolerant, impatient, people have shrugged off etiquette in the 21stcentury like toilet paper they cannot find in proper quantities.

Your good manners may be more important than toilet paper or hand sanitizer.

According to expert psychologists, this is a biological problem because the species is a social animal. We think that rats trapped on Antarctica might also turn on each other. Psychologists have learned these lessons from studying hermits, like this author, and from isolated people in various self-imposed quarantine.

The world had better learn how to deal with fewer social skills if you plan to fly to Mars and live in an enclosed environment with a few colleagues for years on end.

We may, in fact, be preparing for the next stage of anti-civilization: when we are schizoid, alone with our thoughts, and must come to grips with philosophy concepts you avoided in college classes and Phil 101.

 

 

 

Richard Sherman: the New Snidely Whiplash

DATELINE: HUMOR

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Richard Sherman Tries to Charm the Pants off Tom Brady!

Richard Sherman: the New Snidely Whiplash

We have heretofore avoided Richard Sherman like a virus.

Yet, after his Lost Weekend of insults, tirades, delusional interviews, and schizoid behavior, we feel that he has entered into the Comedy Zone.

Rod Serling would have to create a new dimension for the world of Seattle Seahawks cornerback Richard ‘Don’t Call Me Dick’ Sherman.

If Dudley Do-Right ever needed a foil, Richard Sherman can play Snidely Whiplash. We will always think of Sherman as Mr. Peabody’s boy.

The player’s behavior makes the cornered rat seem rational when its back is a cornerback.

Sherman would be a fourth Stooge, but they already had Shemp. Perhaps Sherman would be at home in an Adam Sandler sports comedy.

In an unfunny vein, the Seahawk bird of an odd feather has now played the race card, as Sarah Palin would demure, claiming all criticism emanated from the blowback on Martin Luther King Day.

We think the emanations are coming directly from Sherman himself. We can smell a rat a mile away. This one is much closer.

As Sherman will tell you, he went to Stanford, the Harvard of the West. He has even begun a Master’s degree program in communications. It’s hard to believe he knows anything about the subtleties of communication with others in his species.

Though he later gave a half-baked and half-hearted apology for his meltdown at an oft-disrespected sideline reporter, if Erin Andrews had been a man, Sherman likely would have backed down sooner.

It’s hard to believe Stanford gave a degree in communication to someone with a profanity-laced vocabulary who cannot speak grammatically.

Recruiters of students to Stanford now have a problem with the quality of education standard.