Empowered by Anonymity

Let's talk a little bit about a word I can't say three times fast, but if called upon, could type three times fast.  The word I am referring to is, "anonymity".

People these days seem to bask in the ability to be anonymous.  I mean, let's face it, we are all a little bit more comfortable to do things that we would not normally do if we can do it from a place of concealment (I point to me and my blog).

Think about some of the things that we have the opportunity to do in relative anonymity.  In this technological age we live in, there are any number of things we can do in anonymity.  After all, most of the technology we use was designed by some guy living in his mothers basement and when they come out, they are socially awkward to the Nth degree. Therefore they needed something that would help them interact with people, but not actually interact with them.  Yes, because of these geeks, we are able to get on message boards and make comments on other people's posts by berating, making fun of, or agreeing with them and do so in obscure privacy.  We can go to blogs and comment on the articles that have been written or comment on others comments and do so anonymously.  In some cases we have to have a screen name to be able to comment, but on others, we can comment completely anonymously.  Really though, unless we know the person on the other end of "Sam I Am", anything that person posts under that screen name is done in obscure privacy. 

Another part of technology today is text messaging.  Of course we usually know who is texting us, however, it still gives us a measure of anonymity.  How so?  Well, when I was a little kid, and my parents would ask me what I thought was an embarrassing question, I would put a blanket over my head and answer the question.  If they could not see me, somehow it was easier to tell them that I had a crush on 15 year old girl when I was just 7 years old.  Almost certainly, it can be said that when we text message someone and tell them something we normally would not be able to say to them face to face, it's like we have pulled that blanket over our head so we can let them know what we could not bring ourselves to tell them face to face. 

Really, even while driving we are somewhat anonymous.  Of course others can see us, but after we cut someone off, or after they cut us off, we can, from the safety of our cars, yell at the other driver, or even get into a conversation with them using our limited knowledge of sign language. 

Yes, the ability to make ones self anonymous is empowering for some.  But really, what is anonymity in the sense we are talking about?  Cowardice, spinelessness, and gutlessness.  It's funny to me, in a sick and twisted way, that if we were in a grocery store, we would never start heading to the checkouts and break into a sprint with our cart full of groceries in order to beat the little old lady in front of us to the open checkout lane.  Why not?  Because for one, it is socially unacceptable to do so.  If we did that, everyone around us would be looking at us like we were a jerk, and rightly so.  There is also the possibility of the little old lady's body building grandson observing from a distance what we have done and him coming over to twist our head like a pepper mill.  Yet, you put that same little old lady and her freakishly large grandson in a Honda Civic and they are fair game.

I bring all of this up because over the past couple years I have had a few nasty comments left on a few different posts.  What makes me laugh is when these people leave there comments they don't even have the huevos to leave their name, it simply says, "Anonymous".  As I am typing this, I have a grin on my face because of the fact that the anonymity that they desire, really just makes them a coward of the highest order, and nobody respects anything they have taken the time and energy to type.  The latest comment left was obviously left by someone I know.  They said that my family name is "synonymous with 'chip on their shoulders'" and then proceeded to insult my grandparents.  Well, whoever you are, I would be happy to sit down and talk with you about whatever it is that my family or I did to you to make you such a bitter, gutless, twit.  However, I am sure you enjoy the anonymous darkness in which you dwell.  Much safer there, isn't it.

The moral of the story is, we should all be careful with the empowering anonymity that comes with the world we live in.  Even I have learned a lesson or two while writing this blog.  That being the case, I try hard to not hurt any one's feelings, because when you hurt feelings, you just end up in their living room trying to explain that most of what I say is very tongue in cheek or should not be taken too seriously.  However, like a very brilliant friend of mine has said on occasion, "Some people don't even know they have feelings until you hurt them."  Therefore, I like to think I am doing a public service and helping people get in touch with their feelings.  With that I offer you a wholehearted, "You are welcome!". 

What makes Stinkin' Lincoln Stinkin' Lincoln?

These guys get me!

I am sure there are people out there that wonder why I am not exactly in love with living in Stinkin' Lincoln.  After all, it's a relatively nice place.  It's clean, there's a fairly low crime rate, you don't have to travel far to the Husker games and there is approximately one bar per capita along O Street alone.  So why the disdain for the state capital?  There are things that annoy me about this town, such as the traffic, the difference in the people, the Omaha haters and things like that, but those aren't great reasons to hate this place.  Really, I think when it boils right down to it, it's mostly the fact that it's not truly my home.  Omaha has always been and will always be home.  It's not because Omaha is such an awesome place that everything pales in comparison.  In all actuality it's the people.  It's my family and friends that I have been associated with for years and some for decades.  They are all people that understand me.

Here in Stinkin' Lincoln, I am a bit of an enigma.  Sometimes I will crack a joke and people won't even understand that I am joking, or I will make a statement and people will think I am joking.  Sometimes I will be very serious about a conversation or a task I am involved in and people will think I am cold and a bit of a jerk.  Or because I was at a meeting or something with someone and if I don't go seek that person out to glad hand with them before or after the meeting that person thinks I don't like them.  Or because I didn't answer my cell phone when they call, they think I am avoiding them.

I will say, I probably am a tough person to figure out.  For some reason though, in Omaha, people that have known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper, they get me. I can just be me and I don't have to be on guard all the time so I make sure I don't hurt someone's feelings or make them think I don't like them.  There really is nothing quite as wonderful as being able to just be ones self. 

It always amazes me how I will occasionally run into someone I knew before I left Omaha and we will have a conversation just like we had just seen each other the day before rather than there being 16 years in between our last conversation. 

I was reading a web article entitled, "The Top 5 Regrets People Have on Their Deathbed", and number 4 was, "I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends."  The great thing about the people I know from Omaha is that they make it very easy to stay in touch.  It's a rare occasion that someone you knew years ago treats you coldly or like you mean nothing to them now.  I am sure this is not exclusive to Omaha, but it's where I get to experience it, so it makes it special for me.  Therefore, wishing I had stayed in touch with my friends will most likely not be something I am regretting on my deathbed.  However, it's still fairly early in life.  I could still screw it up. 

After all things have been considered, I hope that Stinkin' Lincolnites will understand I don't really hate their beloved city.  I may poke fun at it from time to time, but I am sure that the Lincoln city planners really aren't Larry, Curly and Moe.  Really, it's just the fact that my real home is 55 miles to the Northeast. 

Lincoln Traffic: I-80 East Edition

Excuse me sir, do you have any Grey Poupon?

It's been quite some time since I have touched on the wonderfully entertaining subject that is Lincoln Traffic.  I think I have stretched things a bit in this edition, but I think you will agree with me that it should still be considered part of Lincoln's traffic Gordian Knot (Google it).

In the recent past, I had to drive to Omaha about once a week for work.  The way things are now (long story which can be read two blogs ago), I only make the trek to Omaha about every three week or so.  Regardless, there has remained one constant.  The Stinkin' Lincoln inhabitants making their way to Omaha on I-80 are dangerous!  Seriously, it's amazing people don't die daily on I-80 between Lincoln and Omaha in the East bound lane.  Now, let me paint the picture for you so you can understand where I am coming from.

First of all, you get on the interstate at the Waverly entrance where it is currently under construction but is still two lanes heading East and there are concrete barriers on the left and right for the first couple miles.  As you get on and merge into traffic, you can immediately identify the Lincolnites.  They are the ones who's knuckles are white as the driven snow since they have to drive a whole 60 MPH through this "tight" area where those concrete barriers could jump out at us at any moment.  Not only are they in a state of complete fear, they can't seem to keep an eye on the speed limit.  Therefore they are only driving somewhere between 50-65 MPH if you are lucky.  Then you find an opening in the traffic to pass this Bozo and as you are driving by, you look over to give the guy a dirty look and they won't take their eyes off the road for even a second.  Which is really all for the best because those eyes are filled to the brim with fear, but very unfulfilling for me because I had one doozy of dirty luck ready for them.

After several miles, we get through the stretch of interstate that is two lanes and we come to Greenwood, NE where the interstate construction has been completed and there are three wide open lanes with no concrete barriers to make the Lincolnites' tummies hurt from all that anxiety.  Now that things have opened up, you would think that the average Lincolnite would no longer make himself a nuisance.  Well, you would be wrong.  At this point, the Lincolnites take a position in the center lane (which is called, THE PASSING LANE for all you Lincolnites reading this), and decide now would be a good time to get out their cell phones and either send that important text or to call their mommies and let them know they made it through the ever so dangerous, two lane portion of the interstate.  Regardless of their reason for making their phone call or sending that text, they drive at a snails pace down the middle of the interstate while swerving from one side of the lane to the next.  Meanwhile, you are trying to decide if it's safe to pass this person since they are obviously taking care of some very important business that just couldn't wait until they got out of their vehicles, or at the very least off the interstate.

Finally, you get up the courage to pass this swerving idiot from Lincoln and put the hammer down and blow the Lincolnites' doors off.  No sooner do you get past him and you notice that the Lincolnite has noticed he has been passed, therefore he has to speed up.  Next thing you know, this driving lunatic is next to you and as you look over, you notice it's time for him to send another flippin' text message!  So you speed up again in an attempt to get in front of this Lincolnite moron.  As you get passed the guy, you look in your rearview mirror only to see this guy looking up from his cell phone and realizing he isn't keeping up with traffic, so of course, he speeds up.

It's at this point that I usually have had enough and am actually a little bit scared that this ninny might just remember he needs to text or phone his Nana to let her know he was thinking of her instead of thinking about the stretch of interstate he has been driving on!  So, it's time to put the hammer down and leave this boob in my dust.  "Burn some dust!  Eat my rubber!"  (Good ol' Clark Griswold)

Usually by this time I have made it to Omaha alive...usually.  Hopefully if you are a Lincolnite and you read this, you won't be incredibly offended by my disdain for the Lincoln driver.  Afterall, you can't help it.  It's not your fault that the city of Lincoln chose to make getting around town an experience that can only be survived by crawling into the inner recesses of your mind and basically driving in a trance-like state.  By necessity very little of your brain is used while driving in Lincoln.  Otherwise you would realize how incredibly stupid the whole process is and would most likely find the nearest cliff to drive off of.  Even I, an Omaha native, born and raised, goes into that trance-like state.  It's purely a survival tactic our brain uses to keep us alive.

No, instead of being offended by this issue of Stinkin' Lincoln, I hope you will use this as an opportunity to be self aware while driving East bound on I-80.  If you look at it that way, you will see this blog for what it is; A public service announcement.  Drive safe Lincoln!