WHAT IN THE WORLD - good stuff to know

Back in 1820 we had about 1 billion people here on this globe. Today that is approximately how many personal friends Mark Zuckerberg has on Facebook. 92 years later (this coming July), we’ll go beyond 7 billion. That’s a lot of bodies and that was fast; just some stuff I didn’t know and now you do.

The following is some odd sox info about where we live. For the most we fiddle about, exist and survive on this planet, not really knowing where and what, when and why. We take way too much stuff for granted and some with a tad of ignorance. So we might appear oblivious, but we also know that is not true. We are busy with a lot of stuff in our daily lives and that’s one of the reasons we forget Greenland is the largest island on earth and that it spans 2 million square miles of snow-balls and ice-cubes. We also forget that Greenland is melting, and I’m not sure if I like that, but it’s a good thing to know anyway; don’t you think? Running out of ice-cubes is serious business, so we should be worried.

Other stimulating “what in the world” stuff to know: We have 238 nations with China feeding the most at 1,3 billion, USA with a grand mix of 313 million, Germany with 81,3 million, the UK 63 million, Sweden with 9,1 million and Hans Christian Andersen’s Denmark weighs in at 5,5 million - just to name a few. Another interesting fact is that this blog has now readers from over 40 of those 238 nations and counting. To me that is such an awesome statistic, so thank you.

The smallest country is located in the South Pacific Ocean, east of Australia. It’s the Pitcairn Islands. They listed the peak of their population at 233 in 1937. Today that number is 48, with only one phone, but 17 party-lines (bring out the balloons). Total land-mass is slightly bigger than our living-room at 50 square miles and Pitcairn Islands is a leftover speck of the British Empire and has a zero growth rate (birth-control at its best).

The world is about 4,55 billion years old, so why am I whining about my upcoming 66. birthday? The highest point is Mount Everest at 8,598 meters or 5.4 miles. Greatest ocean depth is 10,924 meters or 7 miles and called the Mariana Trench located in the Pacific Ocean.

Did you know that 95 countries are islands with no borders to other nations? See, we don’t know stuff like this, but in a perverse kind of way, isn’t it fascinating? I mean we live here, but how much do we really know about where we live? Not a heck of a lot – so I’m here to fill you in; service at its best.

Though known as The Magic Kingdom, Disneyland is not represented in the United Nations – where’s the fairness in that? When did the UN become anti-rodents? Racism at its lowest level.

We live around 1,500 potentially active volcanoes, where 500 (nice even numbers) have erupted in historical time; that would be from the day I was born, but a bit longer. Approximately 500 million brave (silly?) people live within these volcanoes' striking distance; I can only assume they have at least two Lava Lamps each.

12% of the world’s population speaks Mandarin Chinese. 4.85% hablar Española or something close. Only 4.83% have English as their main tongue, and I found only six individuals who still speak Pig-Latin (a language that has nothing to do with communication between swine). Foul language is not even on the list – and I checked several *&^%$# times.

33.35% are Christians, Catholics, etc., 22.43% Muslims, 13.78% are Hindu and .21% is of the Jewish faith – just to name a few. Can we assume that the rest are atheists and Buddhists and that Hara Krishna finally got tired of the airport thing or ran out of tambourines?

Worldwide 252 babies are born every minute – that’s a lot and a bit scary, when compared to only 107 deaths every minute. Seems like one has to slow down and the other has to speed up. I mean, aren’t we running out of room soon?

Not including transvestites and cross-dressers, there are more women than men, and I’m fine with that. It really surprised me that the median age worldwide is 28.4. Life expectancy is 69.73 years for women and 65.59 for men. So with that in mind, this might be the last blog-post from me as I am only minutes away from the end of my expected lifespan. It has been nice, it really has - stupid stat.

I really don’t know why Jytte Knudsen turned my advances down six times before she finally agreed to be my girl-friend. Then I found out that she was only after my lunch money, so I ended it 3 days later, sad and financially broke. Very confusing and devastating; something a 7 year old shouldn’t have to go through. Yeah, I know, not a world thing, but still weighing heavy on my mind, even after all these years. But I feel much better now.

We have a known oil-reserve of about 1,468 trillion barrels of crude. We use about 85 million barrels daily, so you figure it out yourself. 1,2 billion land-line phones are in use, and some of them are always busy. Cell or mobile phones, as some calls them, are reaching 5.4 billion and Internet users are up around 2.1 billion.

See, this is all really cool stuff to bring up in any decent bar. You tell me if this is not the most original pick-up line: “Did you know that worldwide we have 43,983 airports? And even more fascinating: Atlanta, USA, is the busiest airport ever, with over 89 million passengers sifting through annually – hey where are you going? I got a bunch of other fascinating stuff to tell you – hey, stop, don’t leave so soon!”

Besides that we have approximately 64 million miles of roadway (for the fans of metric, that’s about 100 million kilometers, which is also a long way), there are so much about the world we live in that we do not pay attention to. But after a few hours with the nose on the monitor and checking out CIA’s World Factbook on-line, it’s amazing how refreshing that really is; “perspective” comes to mind.

And that is just about the world around us. Not to make you uncomfortable, but how well do we know our own bodies? Do you know how they function, what some of all those thousands of organs are called, what they do and how we should take good care of them? If fairly normal, we really don’t know and isn’t that weird in a giggling kind of way? Maybe someday I’ll blog stuff I don’t know about the body; not my body, of course - somebody else’s body. Any volunteers? Raise your hand, either one of them – or both if you can...

See you next Monday, if I beat that "life-expectancy" - thing.

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KNOW THY NEIGHBORS – love is optional

How well do you know thy neighbors? Are you on first-name basis? Are you sure those are their real names? When you hold a glass against the wall, do you hear abnormal things going on next door? Are you using the night-vision camcorder when darkness sets in, just in case? Do they grow stuff in the living room that you will not let your children smoke? You see, maybe you really don't know thy neighbors as well as you think you do; scary thought, huh?

Moses wobbled down from the mountain hacking away on the tablets, and this whole neighbor bit got eternalized in the process. (In that deep Moses voice): thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's. That's what it says. Essentially Moses wanted you to know that it's a no-no to make-out with the neighbor’s wife and especially not covet, meaning desire, thy neighbor’s ass. I sincerely hope he was referring to a certain brand of horse; but even then, that is still an extremely disturbing image.

Of course Moses thought of all people around us to be our neighbors and I think that is nice. Though he made up some basic rules, he trusted we would all get along and I think overall that we do. But it is also peculiar how we in many cases can live in close proximity of each other without really connecting and communicating; not getting to know thy neighbor. Sure we go HI and GREAT DAY and borrow all kinds of tools and equipment that we don’t return for years. We borrow a few eggs here and there, a bit of milk and a few ounces of that stuff they grow in the living room; and then we return the favors and all is grand – or is it?

A neighbor dude who lived across from us pretty much kept to himself. We never acknowledged each other in passing, because he didn’t respond to some of my initial: “we-just-moved-in” greetings some 20 years ago; yes, 20 years of two-way ignoring. I have absolutely no idea what his name was (he moved last year), what he did legally or illegally – no clue. And that is a sad statement because I’m outgoing and friendly to the point of being annoying (but in such a charming way). So instead, I let my imagination run wild; he went from being a secret agent, sex-offender, drug dealer (though he didn’t look the part and drove a VW – diesel), to the casual cross-dresser; all based on assumptions - and then he moved.

We had another neighbor on the west-side of our house; she moved a while back. We always chatted across the fence, so-to-speak and she came over with one of her daughters for dinner ONCE in 18 years. I had a drink at her house ONCE in 18 years. But we loved each other and still do, and we do have a lot of fun the few times we run into each other. Isn’t that weird in a sad kind of good way?

We simply adore our neighbor on the east-side of our house. We have been friends since we moved in. Love her dearly and can always count on her helping out, as she can count on us. We don’t overload each other by “stopping by” often, but once in a while its dinner, some bottles of wine, good food and really great times – and then nothing for months; but that’s also okay, it really is. In case you are wondering, I do believe she is using her real name. But perhaps I should Google her (instead of keep goggling her from behind closed curtains – I really gotta stop doing that).

In the perfect world (there’s an idea) we should socialize more with the people on the street where we live, interact with the kids and pets; get together with the other tenants in the apartment complex, etc. I truly believe that is where it all starts, that thing about accepting and respecting diversities and coexist more harmoniously. Many people tell me that’s how they do things where they live, that they actually co-mingle with people in the neighborhood - and isn’t that awesome?

And then there are neighbors who had a spat in the past and do not talk, greet or borrow stuff from each other for years on end. When we consider how simple it is to make up (not make-out, because Moses will come after you and smack you over the head with one of the tablets), it’s sad that we can’t act like mature adults, as the fumes of spat add daily stress where no stress is warranted. Don’t you agree?

My wife and I are fairly private people. We don’t have loads of friends (remember from a previous post, I have 14 Facebook friends and I only know 4 of them) and our life is full as is and very pleasant. But I wouldn’t mind a Fourth of July get-together of our street’s neighbors; just assemble for a few moments, some good BBQ ribs, some cold beer and lively chats. But I also realize it will never happen, because I’m not doing a thing about it either – and that is kind of sad.

I think we should at least know our neighbors beyond HI and GREAT DAY. I’m not asking you to love thy neighbor, just get to know them if you don’t know them already. Some you’ll like and some you won’t, but that’s just the chance we take trying – I think it’s certainly worth it. I will make an effort – I really will.

There are some good stuff on those tablets Moses brought down the mountain side. But that thing about thy neighbor’s ass still bothers me. As ass is literally etched in stone, I’m sure Mo has been teased a bunch about that one through the years. Next time he will no doubt be more careful in his choice of words and perhaps check with Webster’s Dictionary before he starts hammering away; he’ll find that donkey or small horse with long ears, might work better. But whatever the ass is called, that picture is still very disturbing - don’t you agree?

Have a grand week and check back next Monday – please.

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LEGO – pastel bricks helping with equality

Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia have arrived in Stephanie’s cool convertible. After coffee at the City Park Café, they are off to the Butterfly Beauty Shop. They are new citizens of Heartlake City and they are here to stay. But why the heck did it take them some 78 years to get there?

My take on Lego is bias to some extent (being Danish), but I'm not looking at it blindly. As a toy it has the full scale of what toys should be: creative, imaginative in scope, educational, endless in possibilities and last but not least FUN. The way Lego has sustained its popularity and why hundreds of copy-cats have failed, underline the consistent development of newness to the product and the constant level of high quality.

And then somebody is getting bend out of shape about this new addition to Lego that now caters to girls; meet Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia - and they are so cute and pretty – really. I'm a bit miffed why somebody would complain about positive progress; especially since it has taken such a long time to materialize.

From the first Lego brick popped out of the Danish factory in 1932 (factory still owned by the same family and has over 10,000 employees / 3rd largest educational toy manufacture in the world, by the way) it has been very popular. For any product of any kind to sustain time and constantly grow in popularity year after year is not an easy task. Most business’ rely on past year’s success to carry any future possibilities of profit - but not Lego. As effective merchants, Danes are in the top three worldwide - just so you know; so to me it’s not a miracle that they have done so well with much more to come.

When we look back on the first 70+ years of this "toy"-line, educational or not, who has it been catering to? Boys. Who has played with the cars, the space-ships, the forts, the pirates and so forth? Boys. Have girls been involved? To some extent, but it has dominantly been a "boy-toy". Did anybody ever complain about that? So now somebody feels it should stay that way? In hindsight (and I'm very good at that), why did it take Lego this long to figure it out, considering the huge market called "girls"?

As if nobody has noticed, the two major genders here on this globe-thing are rather different. We dress differently, we talk, walk, think and function differently and for the most we play with different toys. If you hold up blue and pink, boys will take blue (okay some boys will opt for pink, but that's another story) and girls will for the most choose pink - and there is nothing wrong with that at all, no matter how "influenced" by society and parents in all their shapes and forms. Is that really news to anybody out there?

Lego has been catering to the male oriented market and it has worked big time. Luckily they finally saw the pink light at the end of the tunnel and girls can now whole-heartily participate. The full meaning of a universal/unigender educational toy has materialized - just as it should have many years ago - seriously.

When we look at the overall "toy" market, educational or not, how many brands and ideas cater to both genders? Not a heck of a lot. But will some liberals or conservatives scream HOLY TUNA at Mattel when they come out with a Barbie line catering to boys? Barbie is a designated girl-toy, that’s why – it’s that gender thing again. Bringing Ken and other male figures to life is not going to change the minds and taste in play-toys for many boys, is it? It was solely to give Barbie somebody to play with and get married to… But it was still girls playing with dolls – for the most, boys still stay out of that, instead comforting themselves with action-figures. Lego is different now; they finally caught on.

Back in the bra-burning days, which I fully embraced by supplying gallons of lighter-fluid to speed up the process, women wanted equality. On so many levels I fully support that ongoing effort, but there are certain things I cannot understand are still forcefully being stuffed down our collective throats. My point is that by nature we cannot be equal on all levels. When we try to bend Mother Nature, she'll get pissed, since certain gender issues cannot bend because when we try, they will break and nobody would like that to happen. Don’t get me wrong, I like equality for all on all levels possible, and Lego has finally stepped to the plate and helped us along a little bit with that. If that is by bringing us pastel colored bricks and beauty shops, I’m there to cheer (6 new colors, only pastels; no pink, can you believe that?)

To me this is not all about Lego and a few people not agreeing with their new product-line. It’s about the togetherness of the genders we need so much more of. When our boys and girls can play together with the same toys early on, they will learn to understand each other much better and be better prepared to coexist in the future. They will learn to acknowledge and respect our wonderful differences and great sameness which we are all about and will more so understand, accept and respect nature’s awesome diversities that will never go away; and we should all embrace that - really.

I know it’s a slow process, but we are on the right track and I am so convinced we will get there; we have come very far already and we keep picking up speed. Lego have now done their share and hoorah for that – finally.

Now go get that old box of Legos out of the closet and built a castle or something and why not invite the girls over. I hear that Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia are great at parties; perhaps Stephanie will even let you ride in her convertible - I mean, how cool would that be?

Till next Monday – have fun, brick by brick.

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PLASTIC SURGERY- should I get one?

“One word: plastics.” That was yet another career advice Benjamin Braddock received from a well-meaning adult in the 1967 movie “The Graduate”. Was this a “new product” with a huge future potential? Yes and no; the fact is, that plastic is not that new when we look at the true meaning of the word. But Benjamin could care less at the time, as he was busy being seduced by Mrs. Robinson – at least he had his priorities straight – (only kidding…)

Plastic, an adjective from around 1632, meaning “capable of being molded or modeled”, and we all go: “yeah, of course…” But we are still a bit surprised because we transmit that word to so many daily applications, not truly knowing what it really means; but now you do and you are welcome…

The surgical use of plastic, at the time consisting of synthetic or semi-synthetic organic solids that could be molded, was more or less initiated and performed by Alexander Parkes in London, 1862. Bigheaded Parkes named the product Parkesine, but luckily it evolved to plastic - I like plastic surgery, not Parkesine Surgery; doesn’t sound right. And in super-markets they would ask if you want your groceries bagged in Paper or Parkesine? Nah, doesn’t do it for me – but thanks for asking.

In the USA alone, millions of plastic surgeries are performed annually; Europe is the second biggest market. The vast majority of these surgeries are necessary to correct and/or restore form and functionality, but we easily forget these very important procedures. To most of us plastic surgery is spelled cosmetic improvement (well, improvement in most cases…) and there are about 60,000 in the mix of doctors, specialists, surgeons, etc. to help you out.

The world of cosmetic surgery is wild and crazy. We have Breast augmentation meaning boob-job; liposuction that will relieve you of excess fat really fast; rhinoplasty or nose-jobs; blepharoplasty is eyelid adjustments, abdominoplasty are for tummy tucks and a whole bunch of other tongue twisting names.

To be green and ecological, how about breast implants made from recycled plastic milk-containers. Imagine the irony when breast-feeding, huh? The use of whoopee cushions in buttock implants? Entertainment at its best. And the plastic jokes: After the boob-job she asked the surgeon if her scars would show. He calmly answered: “Only if you remove your clothes…” etc. You see, we do have a tendency to make fun, giggle and point fingers concerning all this “plastic surgery” stuff because we don’t know any better; we haven’t bothered. But for many it’s a rather serious situation beyond just trying to enhance appearance by aiming for that “perfect” look, whatever that is.

Body Dysmorphic Disorder is a type of mental illness dealing with an extreme obsession of one’s body image. I’m not stating that everybody who gets under the knife suffers from this, but it is unfortunately common to some degree or another. Now, you tell me where I fit in concerning this Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I’m seriously not looking to get a boob-job or that whoopee cushion implant (however tempting), but I have contemplated having the several layers of Turkey-Chins removed (self-made word; feel free to use it), as they are flapping in the wind even when it’s not windy. At times, when I’m standing in front of the mirror, I pull these layers of excess chin-skin back, and it does improve my looks. I am not searching for “younger”, as I have no interest in that (been there – done that), just a nicer look and mostly for myself – really; and how lame is that again?

Back in life as it really is, I recognize that those thousands of Turkey-Chin dollars can be used for something more exciting – like a new roof, food or a trip to Australia. I’m actually okay with the way I look, and though I can certainly see where adjustments would make me look more pleasing, I’m fine the way I am. So instead of going under the knife, I exercise 4-5 times weekly, walk the dog twice daily, bike and try to eat healthy (lots of ice cream is an important food group, isn’t it? If not, it should be). Maybe it doesn’t make me look any better, but it surely makes me feel great; I can rest my case and will keep my face.

But I do respect people who want to enhance their looks by the way of cosmetic surgery. If a new set of boobs will make them happier, more self-confident without any side-effects, that be emotionally, mentally or physically, I’m all for it; but what a big decision it is to cut or not to cut. There must be tough moments of doubt and indecision. As an innocent bystander I wonder what else might be going on, why this dramatic move as any surgery is, correctional as well as cosmetically; the first being a necessity, the second not - in most cases.

We are consistently bombarded with images of perfection; the perfect body, the whitest teeth, correct muscle tone and the list is long. We are told what is beautiful and handsome through TV (TeleVision, not TransVestites), movies, magazines, etc. So we mold what we conceive to be perfection and compare that with what we see in the mirror and then we, to some extent, apply what can be applied without the plastic, because we all want to look our best – we really do.

As long as we remember where this extreme image perfection comes from, we can more clearly see our bigger picture, and then hopefully giggle a bit in the process; and maybe we will opt for cosmetic surgery to make us real happy; the options are there - it’s deciding “yes” or “no” that's the tough one.

I like looking at people everywhere. As far as I know, it’s not related to any form of perversion; it’s basic human curiosity. So if you can do it without drooling excessively, you will not be arrested. I think all people are great looking, because when we really look, we see that we all have some superb sides, that being a smile, laughter, or the way we walk, talk or simply how we overall project ourselves; don’t you agree?

So when people are seeking cosmetic enhancement for no medical reasons, I am still a bit confused. Sure it’s nice to look (near) perfect, but if that perfection comes with risks of imperfections in mental or emotional side-effects, that is a very high price to pay.

We make fun, giggle and point fingers because we lack information about what is emotionally invested in deciding the use of plastic surgery as a tool to enhance appearance; but we really shouldn’t. Being more respectful would be nicer, as it is a tough choice to make for the persons who want to go down that road. They certainly have my respect.

The Turkey-Chins will stay in place and no doubt grow bigger as I grow older, and I will probably never do anything about it. But I must admit that the whoopee cushion butt implants sounds fun (get it?) and therefor rather tempting – I’ll think about it and let you know…

 Until next Monday: be good

(I wonder if Benjamin ended up as a plastic surgeon – does anybody know?)

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SINGING – but do we really have to?

I get goose bumps when I listen to Mirella Frenti and Pavarotti sing “O Soaver Fanciulla” from Puccini’s La Boheme; when Mariah Carey belts out “Hero”; more bumps to Whitney Houston’s magical rendition of “I Will Always Love You”; teary eyes from John Lennon’s “Imagine”; dancing feet while Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga swing “The Lady is a Tramp”. Their voices are so controlled and full of soul; and these are just a few of extraordinary singers and songs. Of course I get real happy goose bumps when my wife is singing; but that’s for other reasons.

Singing is based on musical sounds we create with our voices; okay, some can obviously do it much better than others. We use tonality and in some cases rhythm. The deal is that if you can speak you can sing, though the quality of either can of course be questioned in some cases; especially the singing bit.

When you are in the shower doing your rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”, you are using parts of your body you don’t even know you have. Using parts other than fingers (snapping) and toes (tapping), you are engaging your lungs, your larynx where you keep your vocal cords, to reed and vibrate; your chest and head cavities (sounds nasty that way, huh?) your tongue, teeth and luscious lips to get those consonants and vowels out in the correct order, mixed with other non-defined noises or “sounds”, if you are really good at it. So you see, singing is not that simple – really.

There are a lot of things going on while you are making the shower-stall vibrate to the tune of The Hills Are Alive from The Sound of Music pretending to be Julie Andrews racing down the mountain. Of course you can also do it the easy way by singing with your mouth closed, which of course is called humming; and in most cases, I fully support that.

I was pushed into an audition for the Danish Radio’s Boys Choir when I was around 11. My older brother had been singing with them for a few years till his voice broke (and out you go). I can’t remember if I really wanted to do that singing thing, but when I saw the hundreds of boys waiting in line to be auditioned and only 8 were going to be picked, I felt assured I was not going to be one of the chosen; I was terribly wrong.

I have never fancied myself a good singer, not even mediocre. One thing we were constantly told to do was articulating, as in open mouth wide and high and clearly sing every word – kind of acting up a bit much, as well as I thought it looked stupid. But I became the best articulator around, no contest. I articulated, but I didn’t sing, because I didn’t think I was any good at it. Sure, during solos I couldn’t just stand there articulating, but those were the only times I actually sang – for the most.

One time at practice the director who was always in a crappy mood told us that we did not sing very well by screaming: “YOU MUST ARTICULATE. YOU ARE NOT ARTICULATING”, and then he pointed at me, hiding in the back row as usual. “PETER IS THE ONLY ONE WHO ARTICULATES; AND HE IS VERY GOOD AT IT.” I thought that was so cool, until he asked me to step up in front of everybody and sing the first 16 bars of the piece we were practicing – which I had mimed and had therefor not picked up the melody from. I didn’t know the song, so I articulated as if possessed by the Devil and nearly broke my face in the process; I was pretty much doomed – I sang a lot more after that, with continued perfect articulation.

My wife sings at times; she is not big on articulation, but doesn’t have to be. She is not the greatest singer around and she knows it, but she forges ahead anyway and to me, that makes her the best singer ever – giving me goose bumps and all. You see, I know she is utterly happy when she sings. And that’s what we do when we are happy; we break out in song, just like Julie Andrews on the mountainside in Austria. When somebody tells us Fluffy was flattened by an eighteen wheeler, singing is not something we rush into, is it? But we should rush into song, as it has a calming and relaxing effect on us; unfortunately in this case, Fluffy couldn't care less, of course.

Do we really have to sing? Yes we do. I think that overall we enjoy singing – it seriously makes us feel better, no matter how bad or good we are at it. Just so you know, I do not do “Like a Virgin” in the shower, so get that image out of your mind - at once. I depend on the old Pat Boone song “Love Letters in the Sand”. If you are really nice and can suppress any form of giggling during this performance, I will sing it for you; so listen up and watch me articulate:

On a day like today

We passed the time away

Writing love letters in the sand

(Now where the heck did I put that soap-on-a-rope?)

Until next Monday - tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

(I know you are counting the la’s, but they are all there…)

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