Wholesomeness is the New Rebellion

Britney Spears said she's been seen in a light that doesn't accurately portray her, and she'd like to be portrayed in a different light, although she's not sure in which light that is.

It seems that the light she has been seen in is the light she has placed herself in. She chose to do the things she has done, in the light she has been spotted in.

It is a wise saying, that you can not control others, only yourself. Self-restraint is not too difficult when practiced with diligence. If she doesn't want to be seen as a substance abuser, then it would be wise not to abuse substances, and be seen in the public light. If she doesn't want to be seen as an unfit mother, then it would be wise not to behave in the way that unfit mothers do. If she wants to be seen as a respectable person, should she not behave in a responsible way?

Unfortunately, fame is a double-edged sword, and there is a fine line between being famous and being infamous. Fortunately we all have the power to choose which way to behave.

On that note, there is a phenomenon known as saturation, and the best way to describe it is with an example. When the Beatles came to America, they were derisively called mop-tops, because their hairstyles were longer than what was considered the norm of that time. How does the Beatles mop-top style compare with hairstyles today? Today's styles are longer, more messy, more frumpy, and are a part of the cultural norm. The Beatles have not shocked the nation in over four decades.

Being a wild child was once shocking and a form of rebellion. Today, though, that type of behavior has become blase. We have been saturated with it, and are no longer shocked. The true rebel of today would go against that grain, against the saturated thing, the cliche. The true rebel of today would become the anti-rebel, would wear a corporate suit and tie, behave prudishly and politely.

If Britney Spears wants to shock the world, she should consider becoming a wholesome image again, without the covert and overt sexuality. How shocking would that be?

The Farmer's Wife

One of the most pointless children's stories I have ever read is "The Farmer's Wife." It is an old Sufi children's story with a moral, which is not very clear to me.

As I interpret the story, the Farmer's wife is picking apples from a tree. She accidentally drops an apple into a hole in the ground (which doesn't look very deep from the depiction), and cannot reach in to get it.

So she asks a bird to get her the apple. The bird declines, so the Farmer's wife asks the cat to chase after the bird until the bird complies with her demands.

The cat declines to chase after the bird, so the Farmer's wife asks the dog to chase the cat to chase the bird to force it to comply with her wishes to go get the apple for her.

The dog declines as well. Anyway, after all the animals turn down her requests, she then asks a rope, then a fire, then some water, who don't care to acknowledge her existence.

In the end, the Farmer's wife prevails, forcing earth, wind, fire, animals and bugs to comply with her demands until she is finally handed the apple that she so carelessly loses into the hole in the ground.

"And everyone lived happily ever after," ends the story. Yet, what is the moral of the story? That it is OK to compel others by force or the threat of force to do as you demand, or God help them!

Couldn't she have simply taken responsibility for her own mistakes, grabbed a shovel and dug up the apple?

Old Harry Kritikopoulos

Old Harry Kritikopoulos was a crusty old curmudgeon, a throwback to a much older generation from the Old Country. Since his youth, he has been a sheep herder and a hunter. Nothing satisfies old Harry more than hunting wild hares in the mountains near his village of Goranous, Sparta.

At the ripe old age of 100, the fruits have yet to fall from his tree. He still hunts, herds sheep, and occasionally fights off the local youths who mistake him for an easy target. At his old age, he has yet to incur a bruise from a youthful punch. The kids can't seem to hit him dead on.

"He's a quick old fart," one young thug said, as I probed his opinion of the old man. "By the way, got any money on you?"

"No, I don't," I replied.

"You sure?" he inquired again, with squinting eyes that failed to hide a cunning mind.

"All I'm carrying right now is my gun permit," I answered.

The young thug's eyes widened. "Gun permit?"

"Oh, and my glock too," I added for good measure. The youth took a step back.

"Alright, I have to go now. Any further questions?" he asked with his back half turned already.

"Goodbye," I said, and he scampered off to a full trot.