Ask Mr. Culture

Contraception and The Origin of Species

Mr. Culture — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 00:54:32 +0000

Dear Mr. Culture,
I’m confused over the recent discussions concerning contraception. Tell me if I’m totally out in left field, but it sounds like some people are arguing that there’s no legitimate need for contraceptives? Am I missing something?
~ Accidental Time Traveler

Dear Accidental Time Traveler,
Nay – thou hast most rightly comprehendedeth the present discourse-ing that is takething placeth in the public square, concerning itself-ish over pubic matters of preventative baby-ing.

So it is no wonder you are confused. It is as if we are all visiting some historic site, where people walk around in period dress and act out the lives of our less-enlightened ancestors. Over the past couple of weeks, we have been accosted by “ye ole stout Limbaugh”, giving a tongue-lashing to a woman who dared to testify in support of health insurers being required to cover the cost of women’s reproductive healthcare. Health insurers paying healthcare expenses – how absurdly rational have we become? Then there is the devoutly “holier than thou” Santorum, who is not speaking from a sanitorium but from a presidential campaign podium, asking us to take pity on religious institutions that find contraception offensive and evil. Next he’ll be wanting to reinstitute witch trials and stake burnings for women who are caught using such “devilish perversions”.

Now, to be fair, let us take a moment to try and understand where these thinkers of ancient opinion are coming from. For some, contraception is basically seen as a means to prevent God from doing his job. You see, God has this master plan for the universe, and has already ordained which sperm and egg are destined to “meet-up” in the love canal. So, imagine the chosen sperm, battling all the other sperm to fulfill his manifest destiny; he successfully surges ahead of all the others, when, suddenly, his holy quest is thwarted and he slams headlong into a diaphragm. He is left dazed and confused; he questions his faith in God. The other sperm laugh, some even jeer that they saw it coming, which is why they didn’t put up much of a fight. And where does this leave God and his master plan? Perhaps he has to go to plan ‘B’ – immaculate conception.

Other passengers, on the same train of thought, are simply upset over people having sex. They fear that if the threat of an unwanted pregnancy is, well, no longer a threat, that people will be enjoying sex whenever and wherever they want. For all of the passengers on this train to antiquity, sex is not considered a casual leisure activity. The only time they engage in sexual intercourse is when they are trying to make a baby, and they do not enjoy it – period.

Evolution, which is also considered to be an abomination by anti-contraceptionists, brings us a counterview of human sexual activity that actually supports the importance of baby making. Very early on, having babies, to increase the size of the tribe, was an integral part of species survival. This primitive prodigious propensity to procreate did not promote strictly monogamistic conjugal relationships. And while today we are not worried about our extinction, most males still have the inclination to spread their seed, and many women still have the instinctual desire to give birth. I’m not suggesting that these base instincts are an excuse to devolve into an orgasmic heap of mass copulation. While that might be an interesting exercise, my real intent in bringing up our less sexually inhibited ancestors, is to point out that we, by nature, are wired to have sex; that people are going to engage in this activity, whether we deem it appropriate or not. We can no more keep people from copulating than we can stop the sun from rising. So isn’t it better, for all of us, to provide a safe means for people to be sexually active? Is not, as people in period costume would say, “an ounce of prevention worth a pound of cure?” And doesn’t it sound ridiculous that I even have to ask such questions?

So, while no one seems to have an issue with health insurers covering the cost of erectile dysfunction medication, the war still rages as to whether those same insurers should provide women with a means to protect themselves from those drug enhanced erections.

Methinks I hear the town crier calling.

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

Got Culture?

Mr. Culture — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 15:47:50 +0000

Dear Mr. Culture,
In the health-conscious low-fat exercise crazed I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter world we live in, I was wondering – is Culture good for ones health?
~ Health Junkie

Dear Health Junkie,
An excellent question that deserves a thorough succinct response – Yes.

Well, maybe that is too succinct, and, I must admit, thoroughly lacking in thoroughness, but before I delve further into your question, I would ask you to ponder – what, exactly, is your definition of the word “Culture”?

Chances are, if you are like most people, you hold to a narrow view of culture, painting it into the abstract expressionistic corner of “high minded art”. To you the word “Culture” probably conjures up visions of symphony orchestras, Shakespeare in the Park, ballets, and stuffy galleries filled with pretentious art patrons who hold their cocktails with their pinkies extended. While all of these can certainly provide a rich cultural experience, they are only the tip of the iceberg: which, unfortunately, is too often transformed into a pedestal of the unattainable, where only those with the prerequisite “acquired tastes” dare to approach the altars of elite “culture”. This limited, limiting, view only serves to divide us into two camps – those who can see the emperor’s new clothes and those who buy elaborate velvet renderings of the King – Elvis.

Well, pardon me, but my definition refuses to be constrained within the neatly typed columns found in most dictionaries. Instead, it spills out into the pristine one-inch margins, tumbling down the page in a torrent of expansive inclusiveness. Maybe it’s because I prefer to use the Webster Children’s Dictionary, first edition; I find the illustrations more interesting, but whatever the reason – I see “Culture” as a force for unification, not Balkanization (occasionally I use a big people’s thesaurus). I know, call me crazy – given all the usual discussions of this culture vs. that culture, we generally tend to focus on the differences. But I prefer to peal away the outward unique shell and focus, instead, on the underlying commonalities expressed by various cultures.

Even within one’s own sphere of influence you will find various pockets of cultural expression. These include civic groups, schools, churches, performers, government, sports leagues, farms, artists, politics, athletes, marching bands, mom and pop enterprises, open space, large commercial chains, dance studios, parks, theatre groups, historical societies, video gaming conferences… the list goes on and on and varies from region to region, but when sewn together, like a home spun patchwork quilt, they all create the unique fabric that gives a community its own special character.

I’ll admit, I could go on for some time, continuing to crack open the ivory tower view of what it means to “get culture”. But if I were to stick to my initial attempt to offer a succinct answer, one that could possibly be distilled down to a catchy phrase that you might find on the side of a coffee mug, I would have to say that, ‘Culture is the cumulative result of the individual pursuit of happiness’. Actually, that would look rather nice on an individual hot beverage container.

So, my prescription for a healthy life – eat your vegetables, exercise, and, by all means, pursue some happiness to get your daily dose of needed culture.

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

P.S. If you happen to be one of those pretentious arts patrons, I would suggest having your extended pinkie condition looked at by a doctor.

Add Some Excitement to Your New Year’s Eve Party

Mr. Culture — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 02:18:36 +0000

Dear Flustered Hostess,

This is what I love about this time of year – the strains of kwanzaa folk melodies, sung while we gathered around the hanukkah-menorah-christmas-tree, still linger in the air as we come together to celebrate another digit change on the calendar. The one becomes a two – remarkable. And as the spirit of happy-making flows from one gathering to the other, we must also be alert to the kinds of perils you have raised in your query.

It is clear from your question that you are a considerate individual who worries about making a scene or ruffling some feathers. The most telling sign of your good nature is your use of the oxymoronic label, “uninvited guests”. Already you have conceded that, while these people were not formally invited, you are still willing to grant them, at you own peril, the title of “guest”. But once you have observed the situation through my cultural microcosmic-scope you will know I’m not exaggerating or blowing things out of proportion when I use the word peril.

First, I want you to face yourself in a mirror, look yourself squarely in the eye, and say, “It’s my party, I can bounce who I want to.” Resist the urge to repeat the “I can bounce who I want to” phrase three times. It just makes it sound like you’re whining and are about to cry. You need to keep repeating the whole sentence over and over till you mean it. I always find it helpful to add a Schwarzenegger accent while doing these exercises.

Now that we have toughened your resolve, let’s think about a situation where your inner bouncer might need to spring into decisive action. Imagine your house filled with New Year’s Eve revelers, and across the room you spot them. Your mind is suddenly racing and you have to quickly decide – guest or interloper? Remember, they can’t be both. Like Jason Bourne you mentally go through all the facebook images of your guests that you’ve committed to memory and the face of the person standing in your living room does not appear. You have successfully identified your first party crasher and, regretfully, there is no tactful way to neutralize the threat.

Yes, there are those who would advise the coddling approach: taking the individual aside and kindly asking them to leave, thus allowing the person to quietly slip away and crash another party, or, worse yet, sneak back into yours when you aren’t looking.

Don’t ask me how, but I know exactly what makes these party parasites tick. You have to see them for who they truly are – strangers. We tell our children not to talk to strangers, and you should follow the same advice. Party crashers may seem innocent enough, while they steal your food and make idle chitchat with the real guests, but if confronted they could maliciously spill their Cabernet Sauvignon on your freshly cleaned blanc carpet. (Just for fun, read the last sentence aloud with an exaggerated French accent – go ahead – I’ll wait.) You must understand that these social pariahs are counting on your good nature, which makes it all the more imperative you treat the intruders to some shock and awe.

So, once you’ve identified an invader, don’t assume he/she is the only one. Do a quick analysis of all the “guests” and compile a mental checklist of those you’ve identified as a party home invasion force. Next, notify the police to inform them of the situation and be prepared to add a few embellishments to warrant having a S.W.A.T. unit dispatched to the scene. Finally, you need to quickly mingle among the guests to let them know what is happening so they aren’t totally taken by surprise when members of the tactical assault team come crashing through the doors and windows.

Trust me, you will be grateful for this advice. And, if you respond to the problem early enough in the evening, it is highly likely you will be the breaking news at eleven – “Party Hostages Freed from Terrorist Gunmen.”

Now if it turns out that, by some fluke of human nature, a profile photo or two aren’t exactly an accurate depiction (like that would ever happen), there is no need to worry. I’m sure everyone will have a good laugh about the silly misunderstanding, at least everyone who wasn’t dragged away in handcuffs, and your party will gain even more notoriety. No matter what, it’s a win-win solution.

Happiest of New Years to all, and to all, be Happy!

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

How long should I wait for the best holiday deals?

Mr. Culture — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 10:17:29 +0000

Dear Playing Hard to Get,
This annual dalliance between holiday bargain hunters and retailers is truly a tricky affair. Each year we tell ourselves,

“This time it will be different. This time I won’t be so easily seduced by trifling trinkets that sparkle with holiday mood lighting. I’ll refuse to let the swell of festive music cause me to lose my inhibitions and allow my wallet to lie prostrate across the checkout counter – spending well beyond its means.”

And while those may not be your exact thoughts, it is clear you are doing your best to resist the pervasively persistent suitor’s siren songs of special deals and offers you can’t refuse. You are waiting for them to come begging on their knees; driven to desperate measures that have them serenading you at your window; that is when you’ll know the time is right to let them in to grovel for your indulgences – and again, sadly, they will have won. We can alter the tune as much as we like, but the dance remains the same; the story plays out in predictable fashion and we are left staring at our broken bank statement thinking, “Holy Mistletoe! They did it to me again.”

How do we get here? What leads us to this inevitable ending? Perhaps if we retrace our steps we can discover clues as to where we went astray.

For most, it all starts with our thankful feasting when we eat and drink to overflowing. With our bellies more than full we turn to wondering what other appetites we might indulge to excess. And like a lover being lured by a mysterious phantom to a forbidden lair, we are enticed to venture into the Black Friday forest of retail mania; driven mad by ridiculously low prices for mythical material items that never seem to materialize. We wander home, dejected and unfulfilled, and anxiously await the equally hyped Cyber Monday when we can scour the Internet for that perfectly priced gift with free shipping. From then on we are hooked – waiting for that next big shopping event to coax us back to the mall for Super Santalicious Saturday, Midnight Madness Monday, Tsunami Tuesday, Wacky Wednesday, and Thermal-Nuclear-Meltdown Thursday.

Like most roads to hell, our intentions are well meaning. We are, after all, shopping to bring joy to others by showering them with lavish gifts we hope will thrill and amaze. Our only reward is to witness that glow of exuberant surprise that is sure to appear on the recipient’s face after they have peeled away the gift wrap to reveal the extent of our generous heart. But our generous hearts often lead us into an unspoken gift giving arms race; feeling the need to outdo others or even ourselves. And so, with only a few days remaining, you find yourself trying to play it cool; hoping you can score those last minute deals that might keep you from overextending yourself – again.

Have we learned nothing from Cindy Lou Who who was no more than two? If I may quote one of my cultural mentors, Theodor Seuss Geisel, who wrote,

“It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, or bags!”

Certainly if one has the means, by all means – be generous. But if your generosity is dependent on lower prices, I’d advise taking a moment for some sober reflection on how you can enjoy the season with fewer packages, boxes, or bags. The holidays will come and go and be back again next year and the year after that and… and long after all the gifts have been opened and the paper and packaging have been discarded – what we will mostly remember are the people with whom we have shared it.

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

Holiday Office Party ~ Snub or Go?

Mr. Culture — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 12:47:05 +0000

Dear, Snub-or-Go,
As a cultural advisor, I spend a good bit of time meditating on the questions I receive, looking into my crystal ball of culture, and, basically, reading between the lines to figure out the questions behind the question. In your case it is clear that you are looking for an excuse not to attend your company’s annual festive event – maybe because it lacks in festiveness. If you wanted to attend you wouldn’t need to ask this question – you would simply make the scene and probably make a scene by ending up with your head in the punch bowl.

The first stop on our analytical journey is to examine the quantitative ledger sheet of the pros and cons of your decision. On the pro side of the scales is the potential for large quantities of free food and possibly liquid libations with which to clear one’s palette for more of the holiday treats. On the con side is the nagging feeling that you have already gained a couple pounds from your Thanksgiving feast. And drinking with one’s boss can often lead to abrupt career changes.

If Mr. Fezziwig has gone out of his way to rent a function hall and have the event catered, then he is clearly trying to demonstrate his appreciation for his worker bees. This could also be Fezzi’s way of letting you know how well the company is doing – or it could be his swan song before the creditors swoop in. Either way, I would highly suggest attending the event to show your gratitude and, if things aren’t going as well as the lavish gathering may have implied, you’ll appreciate having a few extra pounds to get you through leaner times.

But I’m guessing you are more than capable of running this mental ropes course of theoretical tangents and that there is something deeper, more troubling, that demands more than a simple balance sheet analysis.

You’re not married, otherwise you would have posed this question to your spouse. And you probably haven’t been working for Fezziwig for very long because, if you had, you would know the office culture well enough to make up your own mind. Perhaps old Fezzi has come onto you – though if that were the case you probably wouldn’t have passed up the chance to mention something that salacious in your query. Maybe you don’t get along with your co-workers (boring). No, it must be something more sinister than that – or perhaps not – perhaps, yes, just perhaps – you’re a person with a tragic romantic disposition.

Possibly, months ago, your paths first crossed in the break room where furtive glances were exchanged. You both reached for the coffee pot and your hands, inadvertently, touched and you shared your first knowing smiles. After that first encounter you found yourself making more trips to the break room and, occasionally, your efforts were rewarded with another chance meet-up. You’d engage in light conversation, but always making sure not to linger too long; being careful not to drift past the tipping point of awkwardness.

Then came the holiday office party. Your first instinct was to not attend because you feared, and rightly so, that you would likely find yourself staring into the punch bowl wishing you could punch your brain for not being able to come up with anything, even something stupid, to say to your break room infatuation. You needed more time to let things develop naturally and you knew the party would prove to be more than your budding relationship could bear. So it was settled. You would make an excuse and all would be well – except you happened to draw their name in the secret Santa pool.

While a secret Santa is, by its very definition, secret, everyone generally knows, or can guess, the true identity of their surreptitious St. Nick. Besides, you couldn’t stand the thought of being the schmuck who left your inamorata un-gifted. And this is when things quickly started to unravel; when you no longer thought of this as a problem, but, rather, an opportunity for a bold gesture – visions of diamonds danced in your head.

Flights of grandeur can be wonderfully intoxicating, making us feel invincible, but reality has a way of bringing us back to earth – hard cold earth.

So there you sit, your romantically-heroic-heart stuffed in a box, carefully gift wrapped, calling out to you in Poe’ish fashion, saying – “WHAT THE BLITZEN WERE YOU THINKING?” The only possible escape from total disaster was to ask Mr. Culture and hope he would advise you to stay home. You made your question explicitly terse, thinking I would let you off the hook with a perfunctory answer. But, sadly, you, like many before you, have underestimated the incredible deductive powers of Mr. Culture.

Given the magnitude of your situation, I might advise you to find a way to get yourself checked into the hospital for an ironclad excuse. It’s even likely you could be admitted to the mental ward if you explained the situation to the admittance nurse. But I truly believe you should seize the moment. This is the season, more than any other season, to be a little crazy and, dare I say, idealistic. Yes, your co-workers will think you’re totally insane, but it is the season of hope and joy and new birth that has brought you to this precipice and you either jump or slink back to your comfort zone of idle break room chit-chat.

So there you have it. The choice is yours. You can either go and be the hero or snub and be forever known as Mr. Fizzle-wig.

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

Welcome to askMrCulture

Mr. Culture — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 00:43:58 +0000

Hello and welcome to askMrCulture. Things are still in the early stages of development, but soon this site will be teaming with frequent postings of cultural advice-toids to help everyone navigate the murky waters of modern, and not so modern, culture.

And for those who may be wondering – “What, exactly, is this thing called culture?” – the answer is simple. Whether it be high, low, work, sports, religion, art, social media, theater, etc. – it is all part of some form of cultural experience. And while it can often be baffling, Mr. Culture is here to un-baffle the baffled.

Please join us on facebook, twitter, and submit your questions for Mr. Culture. Look forward to hearing from you.

In the meantime, enjoy the following somewhat true tale of my early years as a man cub.

Sincerely,
Mr. Culture

Personal Inspiring Life Stories

Raised from infancy by a feral pack of wolves, Mr. Culture was discovered by the intrepid explorer (and part time sanitation engineer), Sir Hillman Hillary 3rd, while investigating a problem caused by marauding wolves upsetting trash receptacles at a national park.

One day, while following up on a reported incident, Sir Hillary discovered our young future cultural advisor with his head buried deep within a discarded McDonald’s bag – that still conatined a few stray french fries at the bottom. Though he was completely naked, Sir Hillary simply thought the lad had wandered off from some family staying at a near by camp ground. He approached the youth to ask him his name and was quickly met with a snarl and a good bite on the leg.

Once in protective custody, it became all too apparent that the young boy thought he was a wolf; lapping water from a bowl, demonstrating a strong desire to sniff people in inappropriate places and refusing to use the proper facilities for bodily discharge. Things were a mess and it only got messier when the wolves filed a custody suit. Their lawyer argued that the family’s cubs were suffering from mental anguish from the loss of their man cub companion. The tearful mother wolf took the stand and showed the court a video, recorded on a abandoned smart phone, that showed the cubs playing together and then racing toward the camera. But their case soon fell apart when it was discovered that the wolves had been capitalizing on the cub’s unique ability to stand on his hind legs and use his opposable thumbs to foil the protection mechanisms the park had employed to keep animals out of the trash cans. The judge denounced the wolves, saying, “Not since Oliver Twist has there been such a clear case of child exploitation.”

So at the age of five, Mr. Culture was brought back into the fold of human kind and Sir Hillary’s waste management problem was instantly solved. As for the wolves, they returned to the forest without their man cub and took up residence in a house formerly owned by a granny, whose whereabouts is currently unknown.