FURTHER THOUGHTS ON DEMING and A DIMINISHING AFFECT

FURTHER THOUGHTS ON DEMING and A DIMINISHING AFFECT

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
© July 14, 2008

“We are culturally conditioned from birth, programmed to value, believe and behave in a prescribed manner, a manner dictated by society. Conditioning is a powerful force with which few of us stop to wonder. Generations subjected to a particular style of cultural inculcation establish behavioral patterns, patterns, which stubbornly refuse to desist when they are no longer appropriate. Why are there no Catholic priests who are women? Why no American popes? Why has the United States never had a woman or African American president? Why are there no great female philosophers? Why has work gotten a bad name?”

James R. Fisher, Jr., “The Worker, Alone! Going Against the Grain” (Delta Group 1995), p. 86.


WRITER’S COMMENT:

Jim,

I think you will find this interesting: a new element has been discovered.

Recent hurricanes and gasoline issues are proof of the existence of a new chemical element. Research has led to the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

Forces called morons, who are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons, hold these 312 particles together. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected, because it impedes, slowing down or actually stopping, every action with which it comes into contact.

A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second to anytime from days to years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of two-six years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration.

This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass. When catalysed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium, since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.

DR. FISHER RESPONDS:

Manfred,

As usual, you're too funny. Your humor is always engaging and right on mark, as this surely is. Thank you for sharing. This is so true, unfortunately, but for cause.

Incidentally, the reason I had "DIMINISHING AFFECT" in the title falls right in line with what you have said, only I was speaking more directly to my fellow Americans.

By "affect," I mean "feelings" in the psychological sense, or awareness of what is happening, and making appropriate adjustments, as well as what is missing, and why. Our collective weak affect has dire consequences.

You know the story about the donkey, blocking traffic in the middle of the road. A farmer comes up and hits the donkey with a broad board on the bridge of its nose, and the donkey moves slowly out of the way. When asked to explain his actions, the farmer said, "First you have to get the donkey's attention, then the rest is easy. "

That is my American rubric. You have to get our attention before we act. It seems true in war and peace, or the economics of our health and welfare.

Bad as things appear today, for instance, most Americans don't feel the crunch except psychologically. Yes, we are driving less; eating out less, paying more for food and everything else, but that is perhaps for the better in any case. Self-indulgence has never shown our best side. Wall Street is not a good barometer of our collective awareness. Wall Street panics about once a week. It rides on frayed nerves, and most of us pay it little attention.

Bread lines, however, speak. I was four-years-old when I saw soup kitchens and bread lines in my hometown, and I've never forgotten them. It was the Great Depression. God help us if we don't wake up soon.

It isn't only the government that has played quick and dirty with us. It is mainstream America. We conveniently forget, "We are the government!" If so, we also are the isodopes.

American novelist Sinclair Lewis published a novel "MAIN STREET" in 1920, nine years before the crash on Wall Street in October 1929.

He wrote the novel to puncture the smug egos of Americans, their self-satisfied hubris considering their hometowns flawless, and most importantly, safe from the inane fluctuations around them.

Lewis didn't attack the government, but spoke bluntly about the inadequacies of small-town American life where the center is ripped out, as if the heart, and anything goes because it’s the Jazz Age, and life is beautiful.

This book was published two years after W.W.I, or at a time of great euphoria and celebration. What is different now is that small-town America is tired. Its central role in American life has been ripped out, its economic base depleted, its stability threatened.

At first glance, its seemingly innocuous retreat into diversions has raised little concern. Huge casinos are turning up on the outskirts of small-town America sucking its core wealth and identity from its "main street" center. It has happened in my hometown. It has probably happened in yours.

I have also dwelled on the implicit dangers of our collective preoccupation with electronic wonders, which valuable as they may be in one sense, generate little more than escape toys from self and others in another. People using them are constantly playing games of distraction or talking to someone from a distance. I say this knowing no one is listening or taking this old codger seriously.

The Great Depression was a heart attack brought on by wild speculation. It was like the farmer hitting us with a two-by-four.

Today is different. We are killing ourselves with silent invasions. Much has been written about the recipe for disaster that eating, drinking, smoking, and debauching can be. These hiccup invasions, though dangerous, are still peripheral to the more telling ones. I'm talking about what I wrote in "The Worker, Alone! Going Against the Grain" (1995):

"We live in a world of invasions. Countries invade other countries without provocation. Governments invade our bedrooms as they attempt to legislate morality. Men invade women as if it is their right. Television invades our homes and minds to create a wasteland of purpose. Obscenity as art invades our culture forsaking its role of promoting the nobility of man. Information invades all aspects of our private lives so that everything once sacred is now profane.

Conceivably, to invade each other's privacy is the basic way, perhaps the only way workers can relate to each other. There is little intimacy. The void created by its lack is now replaced by licentious gossip.

Humans think and dream. They love. Love requires intimacy. Without love, there is no intimacy. Intimacy is quite possible without being sexual, but intimacy is absolutely a disaster when sexual without being intimate.

Love is the sinew missing from the muscle of today's society: love of work, life, friendship, and being useful. Lust, greed and pleasure are the void fillers for those afraid to love." (The Worker, Alone, pp. 9 - 10)

Be always well,

Jim