Uncategorized – Joseph S. Davis

And the 46^th president of the United States is…

A toss-up. Undecided. Too close to call. Red. No, blue. Purple? Well gee, what do the pollsters say?

The one thing we can all count on is the inability of any mainstream media to provide an accurate prediction. Many polls foresaw a blue wave in 2020. However, the U.S. Senate will likely remain red. The House of Representatives will remain blue, but the GOP added seats. The presidential race looks to be one of the tightest elections of my lifetime.

Blue wave?

We all thought that 2016 was an anomaly. The polls predicted Clinton would easily defeat Trump. Wrong! Biden went into the election with a seemingly insurmountable lead, according to the polls. Even if Biden wins, the polls were woefully inaccurate, once again. How do the prognosticators get it so wrong in consecutive presidential elections? Why are all media outlets so flawed in their ability to correct these apparent errors and learn from their electoral coverage mistakes?

Oh, wait. It’s those darn shy voters, isn’t it?

Of course that must be the answer. People were just too shy to admit a Trump preference. They would rather have dodged the question or outwardly lied when queried concerning their political preference. They probably feared open, free speech would result in a backlash of anger, ridicule, and attack. In other words, shyness repressed their capacity to exercise their 1^st amendment rights.

Shyness can be weird. I knew a guy who once told me that he had a shy bladder. As his personal confession concluded, I anxiously awaited the punch line. Alas, there was not a drop of laughter to share. He was as serious as a full bladder on a 500-mile road trip.

He urinated without issue when completely alone. But place him in the company of another human being, and he couldn’t eke out a teeny drip of pee. More than once I witnessed this phenomenon. I’d stroll into a public restroom while he stood inside a bathroom stall.

“Oh, I can’t go now,” he’d stammer, while quickly departing the toilet and heading back into the hallway.

If you were in eyesight, his bladder refused to function, no matter how high the urinary levels. That damn organ was just “too shy” to perform if there was an audience. A psychosomatic reaction I’m sure, but the physical results, or lack thereof, were indisputable. Truth be told, he couldn’t piss on his feet if they were on fire when somebody stood next to him.

The truth and the media are on divergent paths.

When I was a kid, there were only a few media outlets, with finite broadcast times. These journalists and reporters delivered news stories while the audience determined how they felt about the facts. This was mostly an evening event.

Now multitudes of media outlets pump out news stories 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Today’s audience is told how to feel about the reports and later must determine if it’s the truth.

Truth be told again, the American people don’t know what to believe from the media during election seasons. The media has clearly lost their ability or desire to report unbiased, non-sensationalized journalistic reports. There’s little credibility left. They’d rather piss on us and tell us it’s raining than focus on truth in reporting.

This is real. This is not some hypothetical theory conjured from the deep psychological recesses of the mind. There’s an incessant, flowing stream of propaganda that the American voters must wade through each election in an ever increasingly frustrating attempt to glean the truth from the money machines and the media.

Does anybody want to fix it?

Doubtful. With social media, 24/7 news coverage, etc., the switch never gets flipped off. Everybody has an opinion and nobody seems too shy to share his or her viewpoint once the soapbox is presented, no matter how many times we say piss-off.

It’s late November 2018. I sit inside the Denver International Airport terminal with my wife and two children, waiting to board our flight to Cancun, Mexico for a much anticipated vacation. I peruse our documentation and realize that neither teenage child signed their respective passports. I don’t want anything slowing us down when we pass through Mexican Customs, so I find a pen and instruct them both to write their signatures on the passports.

To my horror, I watch them scrawl their names on the signature lines like a pair of kindergarteners slowly pushing a crayon across a piece of manila paper.

I immediately ask why it looks like they’ve never written their signatures before this precise moment. My 18 year-old-son responded with an answer that left my mouth agape. He informed me that almost nowhere in his educational journey did any teacher worked on cursive penmanship. My daughter vouches for her brother and makes the same claim.

I’m dumbfounded. I spent the better part of my elementary years learning handwriting, first print, and then cursive. We received letter grades for penmanship. How did I not know the public education system ignored this highly regarded skillset while it was a crucial part of my schooling?

I can still remember the lined paper where we painstakingly practiced our cursive writing. Letters needed to be exact heights, the correct distance from the bottom of a line and the correct distance to the top. The letters required a specific cant in their appearance. Everything necessitated uniformity, completely legible to any reader. Seasoned handwriting was an art form that we would carry with us throughout our lives.

The teachers so stressed its significance we students believed it a pre-indicator for later life success. Certainly no astronaut, engineer, or scientist wrote jumbled, misshapen letters. Literary giants, teachers, lawyers, and the like were most likely first recognized for their penmanship.

And all of the doctors…well, I suppose there are exceptions to any rule.

Like a mother bear protecting her cubs, my wife came to our teenager’s defense. She quickly pointed out that my handwriting was anything, but neat and orderly. I countered by explaining writing in a hurry precludes the ability to always pen legible words. I could write properly if I chose to take the time.

I wasn’t certain our children could make that argument. Watching them sign their passports was like witnessing a caveman first discover the wheel. It rolled slowly, often times appearing to trail off course or come to a complete halt. They basically sucked at handwriting.

I, however, chose to suck at handwriting. There is a difference.

My son and daughter wisely retorted that they spent hours in computer labs, typing documents on keyboards and learning computer programs like Word, PowerPoint, and Excel. Technology for me was moving forward from manual typewriters to electric machines.

In high school I was overjoyed to have correction ribbon instead of Liquid Wite-Out. By the time our kids reached fifth grade, they individually knew more about Microsoft computer applications and their constructive uses than I did. When it came to Apple and Iphone technology, I routinely went to them for advice. I still do that to this day.

I can recall one typed, research paper submitted in high school. I submitted all other assignments handwritten, typically double-spaced. I vaguely remember my kids submitting some handwritten documents, but I recollect most assignments getting typed on a laptop or a PC.

By the time they both hit high school most assignments were delivered online. Now that they’re in college during Covid, the whole process is online. Their technological understanding and its seamless flow from year to year appears unencumbered by their diminished handwriting prowess.

My son compiled straight A’s in his last three university semesters, while his sister finished her first collegiate semester with all A’s. Cursive writing does not appear to be slowing down their academic achievements, nor is it propelling me further up the career ladder.

What was once deemed an absolute necessity has gone the way of the dinosaurs.

Outside of penning high school graduation thank you cards and endorsing the backs of gift checks, handwriting for my kids doesn’t seem so essential anymore. I admit, most of my signatures these days are in a digital format anyhow. Apparently good penmanship is about as useful as speaking fluent Latin.

Category: Uncategorized

Shy High

A Cursive Curse