Short-term decency - a research proposal

From the researchers of The Department of Social Studies at College State University

Abstract

Cramped, tight, and uncomfortable seating arrangements with strangers are inevitable on a busy airline flight. The average chances of sitting next to a complete stranger on such a flight, as pivotal field research has shown, is as high as 95 percent. As our dependency on technology to carry on basic conversations - even with loved ones - continues to increase, we then find ourselves stricken with long stretches of self-induced awkward silence. That is, however, until all are notified of the final descent of the aircraft by the captain. Suddenly, we experience chatty-Cathiness. Our pioneering research demonstrates that in the final 5% of any given temporary social arena (such as on an airline flight), humans transform from apathetic, anti-social creatures to spirited but artificially-engaged people. In our study, in conjunction with established literature on depleting face-to-face social competence, we show a dramatic spike of pseudo-positive social behavior in flight passengers seated next to complete strangers. Groups of participants who were arranged in 12 social arenas of varying lengths of time demonstrated traits of feigned sympathy, empty well-wishes, second-hand or third-handed travel recommendations, and/or socially-safe political consensus making. It appears that our participants jumped to engage in petty conversations only when the end of the temporarily fixed social arena was in sight. We are calling this behavior short-term decency. In the discussion section of this article, we predict that participants demonstrate short-term decency in the final 5% of the social arena time-lapse because the window for constructing obligations, expressing free-thinking opinions, or exposing one's lack of cultural engagement will soon close.

 *Our research methods and literature were inspired by and drawn from the influentials papers titled "I ain't one to cheat, said the adulterer: Going out of your way to say what you are not when you are in fact that way (2009) and Though I knew you had a need, if you would have explicitly asked me for help, I would have helped, but now the time has passed so I am morally off the hook: Offering assistance when the timeframe to do so has expired (J. ver Bose - 2011).

Challenge flag for the ruling of flag etiquette

If you ask me (which no one has, but I've gone ahead and asked myself in the off-chance that someone would ask me) I would stand for the flag amidst the recent string of hoopla taking place in the NFL. The flag doesn't represent the problems in America, it represents America and the people that can overcome said problems.

Athletes can kneel before the flag if they wish (kneeling is the ultimate sign of respect, right?). Like Colin Cowherd has said many times, it doesn't give you a good look, but it's your right to do so.

Has anyone cringed about the cameramen for not respecting the flag when filming the protesting NFLers? Does everyone stand for the anthem when they see it on television?

If the anthem is such a big deal, shouldn't the entire stadium cease functioning and collectively pay homage? We should only be seeing closeups of the turf because the camera crew had to put down their equipment.

Many years ago, I was assigned a back-page brief for the Idaho State Journal, a filler article written before Independence Day about proper flag etiquette. The intention was to inform people on how to properly unfurl, raise, hang, lower, and fold the American flag.

I spoke with a local Army reserve representative and asked him questions about properly handling the flag. He answered, sourcing the Farmer's Almanac, which is sourced by the US Code itself. I learned a few things (the perks of an internship at a local newspaper).

While we are on a roll of demonising the folks earning us consecutive Fantasy Football league office victories, let's witch hunt other flag haters:

Fire her.

Do not eat.

Do not cheer for them.

Antifa movement.

Boycott your local parade.

We have a cool flag (not as cool as Albania's or Montenegro's) and it took a lot of sacrifice, thought, trial and error, and perseverance to make it represent a pretty cool country.

Brief Tour of Wrocław, Poland - Part 1

I am quite awful at sharing my experiences with my family and friends via photos and videos.

The 2017 football season is over for my team, Outlaws Wrocław, which is now a defunct club. This leaves me as a homeless athlete for the time being.

After our last match, I was left with our club's video camera. I decided to take advantage of it.

On Sunday, 28 May, after a fine Sunday service at the International Church of Wrocław, I went for a stroll. I retraced my daily steps to my office in Opera Software, and I then continued onward towards the Market Square, or Rynek, in Polish. I finished at Ostrów Tumski, Cathedral Island.

Below are snippets of my walk - yet tinier morsels of this beautiful, diverse, and growing European city.

(The author of this entry would like to apologise for the poor quality of the films.)

1. The first landmark of my walk starts from the backside of the National Forum of Music (NFM), its completion done in the same year of my arrival to Poland - 2015. An arm of the Odra River runs by.

2. Now I stand in front of the NFM, where many outdoor concerts and exhibitions take place in the summer.

3. Continuing on towards my place of work, we pass by Hotel Monopol. Built in 1892 in was then Breslau, Germany, this luxurious hotel once housed Pablo Picasso.

4. You can now see the front door of Opera Software, my wonderful working station for the last six months. From where I sit, I have a wonderful view of the Opera House (coincidence is likely). It was built in 1841 and, up until 1945, was called Breslau Opera.

5. Around the corner is Świdnicka St. which leads to the Rynek. Massive churches tower of the popular street with a delicious donut bakery, kebab restaurant, and, of course, pubs.

6. After crossing Kazimierza Wielkiego Street, named after one of the greatest kings you have never heard of, we come closer to Rynek. This is the end of Świdnicka Street, and the summer market has just opened. Here, I point out where Ashleigh and I's new flat will be when we return as a married couple, and you will see a bit of summer life in the market square of Wrocław.

7. And now, Rynek. Sit back and enjoy the sites, smells, and tastes (you can imagine the smoked Polish sausages and the beer which flows freely) of Rynek. Ratusz, or Town Hall, was built in the 13th century. Below it lies, so they say, the oldest restaurant in Europe.

8. We have moved on past the Rynek, heading northeast toward Ostrów Tumski (Cathedral Island), the oldest area of Wrocław. Here is a quick view of the Odra River with Ostrów Tumski in the background.

9. A placard shows how Ostrów Tumski and the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist of Wrocław, the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Wrocław, looked then, and now.

10. Finally, we are on Ostrów Tumski and under St. John the Baptist's Cathedral. Many other churches are planted on this island, as well as housing for the bishops, seminary and religious schools, and restaurants.

This has been but a glimpse of Wrocław, "The Meeting Place." This summer it will be the home of the World Games. Last year, it was co-European Capital of Culture.

A cliche, but, Wrocław really is a hidden gem.

Evil manifested in bombers and bloggers

This week, my blood was chilled, my soul ached, and my heart pained from two separate acts of evil.

The first evil act is known by everyone: the bombing in Manchester at an Ariana Grande concert. Scores of innocent concert goers looking for a good time with their favourite artist instead found fear and death. Twenty-two people are dead, with many, many more injured.

The suspected bomber is a 22-year old UK native of Libyan descent who, according to a family friend, distanced himself from others and was "lonely."

There is tragedy on both sides, for the victims and the perpetrator. Innocent lives were taken by a once innocent life perhaps warped with lies and hate. Evil corrupted a young man, who then enacted evil on others.

The second act of evil is less-known. On 22 May, 2017, it was reported that a South African hunter was crushed to death by a shot elephant. The killed elephant was unseen by the hunter when it fell on top of him.

There is tragedy on both sides, for the victim and the hunter. For me, the second act of evil was not the hunt, but the reaction to the hunter.

Putting aside the debate on the morals of hunting, I was appalled by social media's reaction to the death of a father of five children.

In a single glance, I was able to gauge the reaction of the readers:

12,000 likes, smiles, and hearts for a killed father.

I then read on:

Human families don't forget tragedies, either. 

And:

If in the moment, would you have helped? Or laughed?

Once more, of many:

ISIS has had bad news as they lose grips on Mosul. They're thankful for 22-less Westerners in the world.

It seems to me that in both instances of a bomber and some bloggers, the same cloth of evil and hatred is stitched into all of us.

Lost in the wastes of heartlessness was at least one message of decency:

A bomber wanted to inflict terror and death on innocent life. Meanwhile, some Facebookers wanted the most severe pain and agony inflicted on a man.

We all have a tinge of hate and bloodlust in us.

Proverbs 24:17-18: Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice, 18 or the Lord will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from him. 

Ezekiel 18:23: Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the Sovereign Lord. Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?

Repent, anti-Star Wars Prequel-ers, For Darkness Looms

I grow weary of oft-repeated opinions and claims lacking sufficient support. It is common to see the riot mentality propel a loose-footed idea into the public sphere with the intention of making it a universal truth. Some are designed as pre-packaged quips for one to utter in order to feel accepted and credible in the standing of their relevant society. Cheap tricks, I say!

Here is a list of such cheap tricks, in no particular order:

- Nickelback is a terrible, awful musical group.
- Nintendo is dead and irrelevant in the video game industry.
- The National Basketball Association lacks true defensive play.
- Cheaters. That is who the New England Patriots are.
- The Star Wars prequel trilogy was forgettable.

The last item strikes drives me anger; the second comes in a close second-place but will not be discussed here.

Star Wars Episodes I, II, and III indeed were lesser of films compared to their original counterparts, but who is to say that each of these films hold no value? Truly, there are issues and shames abound in them. Uncomfortably stilted dialogue, lethargic pacing, and an over-abundance of CGI mar the movies. I hold these complaints suitable regarding the filmmaking aspect. However, these hold no merit when it comes to the story building and the lore of Star Wars.

My annoyance with people scoffing and dismissing the Prequels with ease has been compounded with the equal of ease people have accepted Episode VII. Suddenly, planet Earth is a Star Wars enthusiast again! While this should be a joyous moment, I curmudgeonly grit against this.

I cry, "Where were you when times were difficult for Star Wars? What had you said when the Prequels were easy targets? How flimsy is your loyalty to Star Wars?"

I will cease digressing after this: those who joined in the stoning and mocking of the Prequels but now lavish in the thrills of The Force Awakens are not true Star Wars fans.

There, it is done; what was just said and written is therapeutic for me.

I understand how Trekkies must feel today. Patrons of Star Trek have the rights to a bigger gripe than mine. For years, even decades, Star Trek was derided as dorky, boring, campy and wrought with peculiarities. All of these were washed away when JJ Abrams revived the series with a shiny, fast, and mass-appealing movie entry.

Suddenly, Trekkies were cool, at least tolerated; in a flash, Star Trek was relevant. (Perhaps Abrams is to blame for all this. He is the necessary evil Star Wars and Star Trek needed?)

Admittedly, I was one such viewer gushed by the bells and whistles of the 2007 Star Trek film and its follow-ups. I saw the light of what Star Trek was, is, and could yet become. Since then, I have gone back to the source of the light and indulged in the original series. Well, mostly The Next Generation.

I am not here to cast a force field around the Prequels. It would be un-American to disallow any sort of criticism lobbed towards it. Freedom of speech is a beautiful, wonderful thing. Say what you want and hold to it, be that what you say is defensible and reasoned.

If you are to embrace Star Wars, embrace it all. Cherish what has been given to us. Like salt to a wound, endure the pain of its failures. Lo, I foresee a shroud of darkness over the future of Star Wars.

In the beginning, each Marvel film was an event, a spectacle. Now, we are bombarded with sequels, spin-offs, reboots and crossovers. A superhero movie comes and goes.

I caution against a yearly - or worse, a bi-yearly - entry into the Star Wars franchise. First was Rogue One: exciting, gritty, but misfired on human emotion. Will the Han Solo film do the same? And what of the next spinoff? When we wanted to dive deeper in the expanses of the galaxy far, far away, literature and video games assisted our Star Wars hunger. That canon has been shredded.

They will come, and they will go - an over-saturation of the greatness of Star Wars.

Less is more. More will not make the Prequels go away. Each of them served a purpose. I fear Disney dishing out new Star Wars films every year will diminish its wonder.

The video game which defined my musical tastes

I recently told someone that my only access to what is current and relevant within the music industry is what Weird Al Yankovic parodies. His albums are time capsules of the previous three to five years between his latest releases. Whenever the original song begins to play somewhere, I immediately think they are playing Weird Al’s version. Without Al, I would not have the slightest clue of who’s who and what’s coo(l).

Classical, minimalism, and video game and movie soundtracks are roughly seventy-five percent of my music collection. What fills in between the remaining 25-percent are classic rock, German metal, and lesser-known folk rock groups. 

Playing through what “regular” songs I do have a few days ago, I noticed a connection between them. Between Rollins Band, Motörhead, Del the Funky Homosapien, The Ramones, and a few others, it occurred to me that most of my favourite bands all appeared in one collection: Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3. To this day, I continue to jam with Motörhead; Del, and his alternative performance moniker Deltron 3030, remains one of the three rap artists I enjoy; and Henry Rollins belongs to a list of people I would like to meet.

A few other songs and artists were sprinkled into the THPS3’s soundtrack have stuck with me. In my rare dark and angry moments, CKY’s ’96 QuiteBitter Beings’ alleviates the aggression.

Red Hot Chili Peppers are famed for a number of their funk rock hits, but ‘Fight Like a Brave’ is my favourite. In fact, it is the only Chilli Peppers song in my collection.

Rollins Band

'What's the Matter Man' propelled my fandom of Rollins Band and further piqued my appreciation for the 90s grunge music scene. Understanding that Rollins Band was not a grunge group, their repository of hard-hitting rock songs led me to find Alice in Chains. 

The first time I heard Motörhead’s 'Ace of Spades' welcome me to the next stage, I was mesmerised; I had never heard an opening guitar riff like that. My Dad overheard the track while I was playing. “Hey, I remember those guys,” he said.

“You do?” I asked, thinking how could he know of such a new and hardcore rock group?

“Yeah, Motörhead. They were big in the 70s.” Shortly thereafter, I went to my local Hastings (may you rest in peace) and bought 'Aces.' Lemmy Kilmister (may you also rest in peace) remains my only rock and roll icon.

Thanks to my cousins, I knew about The Ramones during camping trips. Being older, they were more astute and in-tune to what was cool. The Ramones was a top pick of theirs, making 'Blitzkrieg Bop' the only song I knew before playing THPS3 for the first time.

Del the Funky Homosapien

The biggest wildcard of the track list was Del’s ‘If YouMust.’ This song proved to me that hip-hop and rap was not always as it’s generally portrayed. Rap could be funny and amusing, albeit often bizarre. Del opened the door to a very small room of rap artists whom I enjoy. Mos Def shares the couch with the Del here.


While THPS3 was fun, it was not the game itself that impacted me. There are plenty of other video game titles which made a stronger impact in that department. Rather, the skateboarding title's song list defined my musical tastes for the years to come.

Di-brine Intervention - A Poem

They were hunted down, taken, and sent asunder.

When unwanted was there placed ignominy.

Long had their presence, their aura, their existence disgusted me.

An abhorrence, a detestation were both to them a moniker.

 The cries of thousands of their brothers I left in a brown paper cemetery

would go unheard, unregistered in my ears and soul.

I would never need them, I would say, they will fulfill no goal.

Ever silent, ever patient, they stood unitary.

 Whether maturing together in small glass homes filled with life-inducing water,

or commissioned individually along with a feast,

they tried to win my favour without cease.

They followed me to the ends of the earth, attesting their devoir.

 Then, under the heat of foreign sunshine

they saved me: this man.

I was betrayed by one from our clan.

Lo, I could consider him one in our line.

 For in my native land, his kind were sturdy, dusty orbs of starch.

By them, notoriety and honour were bestowed on my people.

Yet adored and savoured, these sub-earth dwellers are deceitful.

Bathed in the riches of oils, they hasten your death march.

 Distilled into a fluid state, they exchange confidence with your salubrity.

The latter of tricks on me they often inveigle.

Afar, I had imbibed too much of their crystal clear fettle.

When tongue and soul thirst, they entered my body.

 It was my own fault; I willingly invited them in.

I trusted them to make me less phlegmatic.

Instead, they threatened my stomach to become erratic.

Direly, I needed help; urgently, I needed restitution.

 The one who came to save me from self-induced sickness,

was the same one I had rejected for so long.

Innocently laid upon a bland quilt of white, our paths had crossed anon.

It cast no judgments on me, as I had done for such lastingness.

 I made no bargain with the spokesperson.

Delusion and disease forced me to accept their charity

No apology issued, their aid I needed urgently.

Their zest of life saved me from destruction.

 Time had passed; I thought no more of that day

until I had seen them again presenting their service without menace.

They saw me and casted not a single glance of sourness.

A quarter of a century later, their worth revealed to me right away.

 Now, when asked if I desire their presence at meals -

they accepted a submissive apology of mine

while stewing in their domes of vinegar and brine -

"Yes, please,” I say with a grin, “and with extra pickles."