Harry Potter and the Theory of Humor

In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy learn to deal with their fears by facing a boggart, a shape-shifting creature that will take the shape of whatever frightens them the most.

Ron Weasley fears giant spiders, in the language of Potterdom, an acromantula, a large talking spider. Professor Remus Lupin, a werewolf in professor's clothing, tells the students to wave their wands and say the incantation, "Riddikulus", while imagining something silly happening to the sources of their terror. Ron does as told and the giant arachnid suddenly has roller skates on each of his eight feet and can't find firm footing and slides awkwardly while the students roar. And each student in turn reduces his or her fears to objects of derisive laughter, (except for Harry, but that's another story.)

There is a basic insight here about just what humor is, and that's a subject about which a lot has been written and little concluded. Yet isn't this the basis of much of our laughter? We laugh at the things we are fearful of, at the things we are angry at (fear turned outward of course).

Ultimately, what author J.K. Rowling has grasped is reduction of fear by making it absurd and the tribal nature of the process. Humor is how we join hands, call the demons before the campfire, name them and steal their power. We join in community with those who share our transformation of fear to laughter.

And in this, we are strong.

Orphans with a Chip on their Shoulder

When the movie "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Price" reveals that Voldemart, who started life as a preppy kid named Tom Riddle, was an orphan, it set the fight of good and evil on a different stage--one between characters whose parents died.

What is it about orphans? Kal-El lost a planet and became Clark Kent and Superman, a force for good. Bruce Wayne's parents were murdered and he trod the virtuous path as Batman, while Robin was orphaned in an act of circus sabotage. Orphaned Peter Parker transformed a spider bite into a war on crime. That's a lot of Superheroes who were brought up outside the biological nuclear family.

On the other side, Magneto in X-Men was orphaned as a boy by the Holocaust and turned to seeking revenge on the world of humankind, a hatred similar to that expressed in Voldemart, who was institutionalized because of his status, and it clearly hadn't gone well.

Do orphans have a different motivation from those with parents? Should we assume the evil lord, Sauron, from Lord of the Rings was an orphan because if he had parents going, "He's got a big eye. Yes him does, He's got a big bright eyes-wisey. Yes him does" he would have been easier on Middle Earth and spent less time in the company of the United Brotherhood of Orcs? Would Esther, the child of evil in "The Orphan" have been better if someone had taken her out for ice cream so often?

Orphans touch on two primal fears: The fear of abandonment, which is strong in children, largely fear of abandonment by parents, while in adults it is more fear of abandonment by friends or spouses. And then there is the fear that we don't know who we are, that perhaps we really were left on the stoop and our parents covered this up.

And these characters tap into the power of these fears. Harry is supported by love, but as the choosing hat declares in the first movie, he has a desire to prove himself. All of us do. But this seems deeper seated. Both Magneto and Voldemort suggest that while this power can be turned to good, some seek to hurt the world to make up for the hurt they have suffered.

Thus is born a battle between love and hate.

Going Postal

The assertion by the postmaster general that mail delivery may need to be cut one day a week to bail out the service's budget underscores just what government needs. It's time to run the post office just like a business.

Certainly, it's time to abandon the silly idea that it costs the same to mail a stamp 1,000 miles as it does across town. And why should the post office be forced to serve markets where it can't possibly make money.

We can cut back service to costly states likely Montana, Idaho and most of Oregon. Nobody much lives there and why should the rest of us be subsidizing those lifestyles. Hey, they wanted to live in the woods next to nature. Live next to nature. Did you ever see a bear den getting daily mail delivery?

And what an opportunity for the entrepreneurial spirit. Companies will go into business to serve these markets. They'll be able to charge a premium offering a vital service for pick up and delivery--a dollar for a first-class letter. You want your Social Security check, that will be extra? You want to make sure your payment gets to the phone company? Another premium.

Now some argue this will simply encourage more email and online bill payment? Sure, nobody writes letters anymore. But out in the wide open spaces, who can afford the bandwidth, even if you can get it.

Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat ... you know the drill. Get serious. If people want their mail in inclement weather, they can pay for it. Snow boots and rain ponchos cost money.

And who can overlook one of the real benefits to this--nobody in delivering this mail is going to bring a submachine gun to work to deal with grudges. These people will be making good money. No one wants to throw that away.

2009: Celebrating Failure

It was clear that 2009 was going to be a bad year when the display at Barnes and Noble had, among the multiplicitous calendars of cats, flowers, famous courtesans, and body builders, one labeled “2009: the Year in Financial Failures.”

Each month featured the picture of a powerful financial institution going down the tubes.

Washington Mutual, Merrill Lynch and Wachovia left the market too soon for the final edition. But the publishers assured buyers’ there would be alternate versions, depending on which bank failed.

Then came the notice that California needed a $7 billion loan to make ends meet, and it was quickly arranged to have Alaska take over the trouble state, while Texas was eyed as a potential take over candidate if Michigan failed.

There was some opposition to the California bail out among the gay community, which preferred Texas because of the possibility of widely available cowboy apparel. But they were quickly won over by the argument that Alaska’s lumberjack clothing line would be just as good, and would be better suited for the San Francisco weather.

As Michigan slid down with the auto industry, Texas was a no-brainer. It would be like having a line between the oil field and the gas tank, one politician quibbled. And those loyal to the Michigan name were mollified when the entity was officially labeled “Michigan, a State of Texas company.”

It was remarked that none of this reflected on the justice of any ideal, just that some areas were lucky to have swamps that decayed in petroleum products millions of years ago, and others ended up with a pile of fossilized sponges instead.

The last logical move, which met was universal approval, was to replace Santa Clause as the spirit of Christmas with Warren Buffett.We finally got it right.

Fund Raising Ideas for the Air Lines

The airline industry has been hit hard by rapidly rising fuel prices. And the recent decision of some carriers to charge $25 for the first checked piece of baggage reminds us that we need to contribute to this economy. Here are some suggestions.

Pay toilets. Certainly this is a missed opportunity. Flight attendants could sell tokens for the bathrooms. Coin slots would be installed for toilet paper, paper towels, soap and water. The biggest fundraiser would likely be the Pay-to-Flush feature. It probably wouldn’t sell well to the most recent user. But the next occupants would probably pay any price.

Oxygen. We all know the routine that announces that in case of an emergency oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling. It would be a simple retrofit to charge 50 cents for the first 15 minutes and 10 cents for each succeeding 15-minute period of use. (The change machine at the front of the plane will provide change at service charge of ten cents on each dollar. An extra dime will be charge for each dollar exchanged by the attendants).

Air sickness bags. These would be distributed to passengers at no charge. However, there will be a $5 fee to dispose of them during flight.

Movies. Broadcast movies such as Ishtar and Heaven’s Gate to the passengers. The fee would be $6 per headset not to have to listen to these.

Tips. Labor costs would plummet if passengers were expected to provide a 10-percent tip to pilots and 5 percent to flight attendants. Anyone who doesn’t pay up must stay on the plane.

Life Jackets. There will be a $20 fee to have the one under your seat activated for use in case of an emergency.

Arm rests: These are the property of the first passenger in each row to ante up $10. Center seat occupants are expected to be a great market.

Information: Flight attendants will charge each person with a connecting flight two dollars to provide information on the gate and departure status.

Pet survival insurance: Passengers will be charged $25 each for transportation of pets. The fee will be another $25 to make sure they land alive.

Personal services. The highlight of this innovate new offering will be the new Mile-high Club lounges. Convention prices will be available.ere are many more

Certainly, there are many more innovative methods available. But this is a good start.

All About Witch Control

Fundamentalists have spent a great deal of time dealing with the issue of evolution. But they are missing one of the key issues in the Bible—the existence of witches.

There needs to be renewed attention paid to this pressing issue. After all, the scripture declares with complete certainty that “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” (Exodus 22:18) Now, many are conscientious in attacking pagans and other modern fans of the black arts.

But where is the insistence on teaching our children about these dangers? What good is it to have texts that support creationism if they aren’t exposed to this critical message? Clearly, we need to counter those who claim that the word “witch” was a mistranslation. A witch is a witch is a witch—the translator’s hand was divinely guided.

And clearly, this failing extends into other areas.

Remember how Jesus cast out the legion of demons out of a man who was possessed into a herd of swine (which may indicate that the savior was either keeping kosher or was a vegetarian.) It’s clear that demons are an everyday occurrence, although only the savior had the ability to serve as an instant demon exterminator.

It’s obvious that we need lessons about the existence and dangers of demons in our classrooms. Perhaps we could have “Demons—Seven Warning signs.” Or there could be the “Witch and Demon Field Guide.”

After all, how many of us can quickly identify the difference between the northern Ruby-throated demon and the southern Gray-clad demon. Of even know their calls and mating habits. And what kinds of pigs serve as the best hosts for displaced demons?

And who says the demons died with the plague. Perhaps they are still with us. The demon who said “We are legion.” If we encountered him in the United States would they say, “We are American Legion.”?

And are our farmers being carefully trained to raise enough pigs as hosts. We cannot be unprepared. Too much is at stake. And witches? Whether we are descended from monkeys or not, we're here and the apes aren't attacking us. But a witch or too in the wrong place can do a lot of damage.

My mom--the chicken killer

On the farm, a chicken dinner started a bit differently than it does in suburban homes, whether with a bird from the local supermarket or a prefab from KFC. Chicken meant the live squawking things, run down in the barnyard, feet tied and dumped ungracefully in a burlap sack that was dropped into the back of our truck.

Of course, this meant a certain amount of preparation was required, more than say traveled by the potatoes on their way to the gloriousness of being blended with milk and butter.

The job fell to my mother, who never winced at the first step, which involved her walking to the back of one of the smaller farm buildings, ax in one hand and chicken in another, to an awaiting block of wood—one that would probably be split later for use in the stove.

If you’ve hear the phrase, “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”? They do. It was always a brief source of amusement.

From there, the feathers were plucked, and then the pinfeathers addressed. Invariably, this meant a small dish with rubbing alcohol, which was ignited, with the naked body of the foul rotated as the pinfeathers were singed off.

Somehow, I didn’t usually hang around for the ritual removal of the innards. Nor did I inquire what happened to them. I don’t remember anyone in the family with a taste for chicken liver. I do remember examinations of gizzards and somewhat clinical discussions of the gravel inside and how it got there. A woman’s place, I presumed, was in the kitchen disemboweling small animals.

It is the same way that I remember my father’s grimmer activities—hobby is not a good word. Farmers who also had jobs outside the home did not have hobbies. They had part-time activities like fishing, that brought enjoyment, but also brought a meal into the household.

In this case, his activity was very unpolitically correct. He, like most of the men of his generation and like my grandfather, and the men of his generation, trapped. They used those noxious leghold traps, snaring mostly muskrat, along with the occasional mink, raccoon and dog. It was because of the last two that he always carried a single-shot .22-caliber pistol when he ran the trap line.

I joined him. Once. I didn’t mind his dispatching the glaring raccoon that day. I saw no point in walking around in freezing water in the morning.

From there, the departed had to be separated from those unnecessary parts of the earthly remains—which provided a tasty feast for the family dog.

To be turned into usable pelts, the hides were turned inside out, like a glove, and stretched over boards that were rectangular for most of their length, but came to a point end to accommodate the heads.

He hung those from the ceiling of a shed and when I went in to get tools, I would have to swat the flesh white skins and the boards out of the way.

These were the things people did—that men did, that women did. It defined them. It defined me just as our memories of our parents define any of us who can remember them.

It is this transforms something as bland as potato pancakes for one into a favorite food of others or makes the favorite restaurant where burgers are made just right a test that others endure for the sake of friendship.

Beyond dead foul and skinned rodents, it is our recollection of people that brings back the sounds, sounds and aromas. It is connection to the most everyday of everyday things that comes to mind and we are there again and we know who we are.

And that we are loved.

The Starbucks Recession

As it turned out, an economic downturn was the thing that proved most effective in ending illegal immigration as Hispanics by the thousands fled to jobs south of the Rio Grande, jobs in the factories enabled by NAFTA.

Rather than trying to stop them from heading south across the Rio Grande River, the border patrol was given the duty of handing out discount booklets with offers on housing, food and clothing. Soon, Republicans and Democrats were clamoring for a new “bracero” program to bring workers back and prop up the American manufacturing, farm, restaurant and domestic help industries.

Small towns every erected signs announcing they were “Mexican friendly” and ramped up Spanish language classes in public schools and adult schools. A nationwide program, whose slogan was “Amigos del Norte, Amigos del Sur, Amigos Siempres,” showed up in signs in fast food chains and supermarkets everywhere.

When gasoline hit six dollars a gallon, drive-through facilities became a thing of the past and highways were littered with SUVs, abandoned by drivers who didn’t have enough cash to buy another tank of fuel. Several interstate highways had median strips parceled out for gardens for town and city dwellers.

Then, the mandate for all residents to switch to HDTV was postponed when surveys showed a significant portion of the population would stick with VCRS and DVDs rather than shell out for a new television.

It became a shock to a generation of young Americans, baffled by the inability to buy the next generation of iPods, cell phones, computers and new jeans. They lined up plaintively outside of shuttered Apple stores and cell phone kiosks in malls nationwide. blank looks strewn across their faces.

Wal-Mart cut prices and cut prices, and cut employee wages even more. Somebody suggested replacing the enormous bronze bull in New York’s Wall Street district with a bronze statue of a flattened armadillo lying over a yellow stripe.

Perhaps the greatest indignity was the purchase of Starbucks remaining assets by the McDonald Corp. After all, who could afford to pay $5.05 for a venti cup of mocha or latte. There was at least some hope of being able to scrape together coins for the new McMocha and McLatte and the golden arches.

And thus, it became clear that things would just never be the same.

The United States of English

In the end, it turned out the committee’s only easy job was its first motion. Out went the names of all states that weren’t English names.

That took care of all the Spanish names, like California and Florida, and a swarm of Indian names, like Illinois, Michigan and Arkansas. The one French name, Vermont, went too, along with Hawaii, the only name of Polynesian origin. That left New York, New Hampshire, Maine, Washington, and Maryland. Rhode Island was admitted to the English origin group grudgingly while New Jersey, excluded for a quasi-French origin, was quickly dubbed “Meadowland.” And it was finally decided to leave Indiana alone. “Let’ em have one,” was the unpublished reasoning.

But following the provisions of the new “English as an Official Language Law” were more difficult when it came to coming up with replacements for the rest of the union.

Finding substitutes for the Latin names were relatively simple: Pennsylvania became Penn’s Woods, the original meaning. North and South Carolina quickly were designed North and South Caroline. Georgia was likewise renamed the state of George. It got trickier for Virginia and West Virginia when the thought of “Entering the State of Virgin” as a sign on bridges across the Potomac, were a bit to humorous. In the end, a promise of state aid for schools persuaded other regions of Virginia to go for Tidewater. West Virginia opted for the Mountain State, over the protests of the former Colorado (which shunned the idea of a straight translation to “The Colored State” and picked “Vail-Aspen.”)

Commercial interests converted Michigan to the grand “State of Ford.” But more states took an environmental route so that Arizona became Canyon; Montana was Glacier; Utah, Salt Lake; and Kentucky, Blue Grass. New Mexico became Desert and when California was split into two, while the northern part was now the state of Freeway, the lower part was renamed New Mexico (that proposal was to be worked out in the final amendment to the law, along with the Indiana decision), which seemed to better reflect the area’s population.

Towns had to change too—particularly in California, whose map sported names such as the Angels, St. James, and St. Francis. “It was fortunate the state at least had Oakland and Bakersfield,” was one comment. Other major towns needed work.

Translation didn’t work for Chicago, whose name originally meant something like a place with skunks. “The Loop” was adopted and few residents noticed the difference.

New England fared well, with towns like Boston, Quincy, Chatham and the like, in no need of new maps.

All and all, the committee noted in its final minutes, it was a prodigious efforts, but highly satisfying in complying with wishes of the people of the United States of English.

Oh, yes. In its final meeting, it was noted that America stemmed from “Americus Vespucci.”

“We don’t want to be named for some damned Italian,” said one resident of Plains (formerly Kansas), in a sentiment that carried the day.

The Electronic Small Town

“Over the river and through the woods to grandfather’s house we go.”

Yes, despite the fact that most people substitute grandmother for the elder of the original poem, there’s still a bucolic setting to the image of our ancestors, whether it’s a return to the parents or grandparents’ abode.

Look at the television ads and the number of times the person returning from the army, buying a new truck or coming home for the holidays ends up at a farm. Considering that 2 percent of the American population lives on a farm, it’s a less and less likely scenario with each passing year.

For many baby boomers, the image holds. Their parents or grandparents were often farmers. But for the generations that follows, this image is more and more a “Founding Myth,” representing cherished values than a vision of modern American life.

It’s more likely “Over the turnpike and through the toll booth, to grandfather’s retirement condo we go.”

Will succeeding generations adopt suburbia as their myth? Will there be nostalgic pictures of grandma and granddad in their Cape Cod? Instead of pictures of dad hard at work in the barn yard, will we see him on his riding mower? To some extent, we do see him hard at work over the backyard grill.

And grandma, instead of lovingly delivering that home-cooked meal, calls out “There’s some frozen dinners in the freezer. Careful, the microwave door is tricky,” as she heads off to the senior citizen center.”?

Cool Hand Oedipus?

“’Cool Hand Luke’ is a Greek tragedy.”

My girl friend at the time didn’t make much of a reaction, other than the usual, he-must-be-out-of-his–head look. But the thought has persisted that one in a very basic sense, “Cool Hand Luke,” one of Paul Newman’s greatest movies is as much a tragedy as anything the Greeks wrote, or at least since Oedy R. got a jolt when he found out where he should really be sending his Mother’s Day cards.

Now, the movie does not have a Greek chorus (unless you want to count the inmates at the prison camp. Nor does it have a legend with roots in the Olympian religion, or perhaps in the more primitive aspects such as Bacchus and Pan. But in its overall development, it is very much a tragedy in the classical sense.

The tragedy is the struggle of the prisoner, Luke, against his fate. As with Oedipus and ever other card-carrying Greek hero, he cannot escape it. Rex killed his dad and married his mom, despite every effort to avoid it. Achilles showed too much heel to survive the Trojan War, while Jason defied every mother’s warning about marrying bad girls.

Luke struggles against the environment in much the same way Jack Nicholson’s character does in “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” Both eventually succumb to the system they are forced to live in, which is inexorable in defending itself.

And Luke’s efforts are particularly senseless. In his fist fight against George C. Scott’s character, he refuses to stay down—the sign of submission—and receives a more and more devastating pounding from his physically superior opponent. He turns a typical slug fest into something so distasteful that no one derives pleasure from it. In a sense, he wins.

However, his struggle for individuality, for respect, for freedom moves relentlessly to his being serious wounded by a gunshot. And the movie ends with a near certainty he will die as his transport takes its time to take him to treatment. In the modern movie world, this would be an open signal for a sequel.

It is this appeal to individualism that attracts us to Luke and to Nicholson’s character, Randle Patrick McMurphy. The difference, of course, is that McMurphy tries to rally the inmates of the mental hospital to band together while Luke makes no effort to make his cause a general one.

Why 1984 Didn't Happen.

The assignment was simple--discuss George Orwell's penetrating novel "1984."

It was an assignment I told my 16-year-old daughter that reminded me that I had the same task when 1984 was a long distance in the future, and seemed likely to happen. But the year came and went, and Orwell's vision was not the one we have lived in since the target year.
Why didn't Orwell's world of three superpowers in ever-changing alliances, of carefully controlled language and the ability to rewrite the past at will come about, no matter how inevitable those developments may have once seemed?

Two unforeseen trends derailed that movement--The development of individual control over data and religious and national ferment.

Orwell's world relied on controlled data and the mainframe centered world that existed before 1984 was ideal for creating the belief we were headed towards a truly effective Big Brother. But as the pictures from the repression in Mynamar shows, controlling information has gotten tougher. The move toward democratization of data started with the PC and then continued with the development of the Internet and steamrolled along with hand-held voice and data devices.

The other development was the power of two older movements--religion and nationalism--to challenge the regime in the Soviet Union that was founded on economic theory--Communism.
The power of religion resonates with radical Islam in the Middle East and, in some sense, it simmers with those in the United States who would be happier with religion as part of day-to-day government. It is embodied in the fact that Israel exists and is opposed. It gave the worker's movement in Poland a base to challenge the Soviet system. It threatens to shake the generals in Myanmar.

The spread of nationalism has been part of the last 200 years, although it was seriously sidetracked by the Russian Revolution and the spread of Communism. But the fact that countries that have often not been independent, such as Poland, Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania once again exist and Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia split apart, and the arrival of so many new nations across the globe, is a tribute to the power of nationalism.

Big Brother may be watching. But he's not always in control.