Which is pro amendment minded
WHO AM I? Or The Great Identity Crisis
“That’s an interesting article,” said the Cat, dropping the magazine section of the Sunday paper in an untidy heap by his chair. “It says a psychologist conducted an experiment by sitting in at parties and noting down how people introduced themselves. The older ones almost always gave their name and added their profession, such as doctor, mother of twins, accountant. The young, on the other hand, were more likely to give only a name, not always their own, but one they preferred or which symbolized their outlook, such as Astra or Peace. Some would simply say ‘I am Me’ or ‘I am Myself.’”
“And what did the psychologist conclude?” asked the Mouse. “At least I assume he concluded something to prove he wasn’t just there for a drink and a watercress sandwich.”
“He said it proved older people had lost their identity. They could think of themselves only in terms of some job. The young are the free, independent spirits.”
“Then why,” retorted the Mouse, “are young people always saying they have to find out who they are? If being a free spirit is so great, why do they wander around like Socrates junior grade, murmuring ‘Know thyself?’ They dress alike, talk alike, listen only to each other, and call it ‘FREEDOM.’ They opt for the ‘new morality’ which is nothing more than the old immorality, publicized. They ‘identify’ happily enough with some ‘Cause’ Peace, the End of Poverty, Universal Love or anything so vague it can be protested about without the need of doing anything about it. They blame society in general and their families in particular for handing them a rotten world. What generation has ever liked its inheritance? When Adam and Eve received the Garden of Eden, they did not care for the way God Himself had set it up. The young may call all this finding themselves, but I call it messing round while someone else foots the bills.”
“But young people must be given time to find themselves,” the Cat insisted.
“Certainly,” the Mouse agreed. “But why do they have to make such a big deal of it? We used to ask kids, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ If all they said was ‘I dunno,’ we thought they were retarded. We were not surprised if they changed their minds. As long as they had some goal they might drift through several changes. Eventually most of them became something, and some even made it to somebody. It’s still about the same.”
“But you are arguing for just what the psychologist deplored; submerging ego into identity with an occupation,” the Cat protested.
“certainly am,” the Mouse agreed. “Only I don’t classify it as submerging. When the ego begins to identify itself with some achievement in which it can take sufficient pride to want to advertise the link, it is boasting, not drowning in tears. All the ‘I am Me’ line says is ‘I’m the standard mixture of flesh, bones and blood with nothing to set me apart from all other like mixtures.’ ‘I am a clerk,’ proclaims ‘I have a skill, the training, the initiative to expose myself to a competitive world and gain a place in it.’”
“Are you trying to tell me,” the Cat demanded, “that psychologists are not always right?”
“You might put it that way,” the Mouse replied. “And I would add, neither is anyone else, myself included, who indulges in sweeping generalities about anything as highly individual as people. On that basis, I am not saying all cats are sloppy. I am simply asking you, man-to-man, to pick up that paper before I wrap you up in it and toss you out with the trash.”
Moral: The Establishment is always subject to change, but never to elimination.
The Department of Utter Nonsense Presents
The Battle of the Sexes – Two Views of Creation
When God created people types
The man was first devised.
Then out of bits and pieces left
A woman was comprised.
And as everyone knows, leftovers are definitely inferior to original composition.
When God had finished making man
He scrutinized His work.
Then tried again, and woman stood
Without a flaw or quirk,
For everyone knows, the new, improved model is always superior to the prototype.
Published by Louise Lincoln and A. Walrus,
Tuscon, Arizona 85710
Printed by that 70 year old printer, Alf Babcock