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Tag Archives: sociopathy

Child-Like? Or, Childish?

12 Saturday Dec 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

child, childish, childlike, dance, essasy, joy, life, sociopathy

Aren’t they synonyms? Aren’t both these words applied to adults who have some of the characteristics of a child?

No. And … yes.

Both words are typically applied to adults. And both words are typically applied to indicate that the adult in question has some characteristic(s) in common with a child.

But the sense of these words is quite different.

I spent two wonderful summers in my mid-teens working as a counselor at a camp for kids with special needs. Many of these kids had been paralyzed from polio. Some were confined to a wheelchair. But polio was not the only cause of issues. One week was dedicated to kids who were severely hearing impaired. One of the great joys of that particular week was a camp tradition that the cook would “chase” the senior counselor while clanking a cow bell very loudly through the mess hall. Only two of the group of 50-60 kids were totally unable to hear. (Who knows? Maybe even those two have been since able to hear a little with cochlear implants). Anyway, although the rest couldn’t hear well enough to understand spoken speech, they could hear that very loud bell. People differ in all sorts of capabilities; most often the kids at the camp — and adults as well — have some mobility, or some hearing, or some coordination. The so-called “deaf kids” squealed with delighted laughter at the antic.

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Generally speaking, the weeks that the kids came were not organized by their particular special needs but by age range. The first campers to appear were young; perhaps 5-7. The next group were 8-10. There was a huge difference in the way these two groups approached things. The younger kids had a kind of … openness. A light burned behind their eyes. They were fully there. The second group were already wary. Instead of plunging ahead to answer a question based on what they themselves thought and felt, they would look at my face, or the face of another authority figure and try to read what they were supposed to think and feel. They had, it seemed, surrendered some of their soul to schools, and rules, and requirements. They knew how to be cagey. The light behind their eyes had dimmed.

Inside every adult however, that wild well-lit child still lingers and sometimes he or she will come out to play. For some folks, that requires drugs or alcohol. Others save it for special occasions like Mardi Gras or having their team win the World (sic) Series. And some adults are lucky (or unlucky) enough to be in a profession that actually rewards creativity — at least up to a point. Painters, writers, actors, therapists, scientists, dancers — often need to draw on that inner child to see afresh; to play; to dance; to interact with the world while minimizing preconceptions. That is being child-like. And, it is generally thought to be a good thing. Some adults find any hint of play annoying in other adults. Children almost universally like it — although they want the adults to be adult when a real danger is afoot.

Once, when my daughter was about four, she and I and my wife all sat on the floor listening to Leonard Bernstein’s introduction to the orchestra. We “adults” mimicked playing all of the various instruments. After a few minutes of this, my daughter looked back and forth between the two of us and said, “Oh! I get it! You two are really just little kids!” My wife and I burst out laughing. We took it as a great compliment.

Photo by David Trounce on Pexels.com

In graduate school at Michigan, one of my favorite courses was “Complex Adaptive Systems” taught by Professor John Holland. Most of the course consisted of his showing various mathematical models of complex adaptive systems. One modeling effort in particular I found interesting. It explored this question:

“If you are a complex adaptive systems (we humans are one example; so are cows, crayfish, corporations, and clans) how much of your resources should you spend on optimizing based on how much you already know and learning more about the environment (and then you can use that knowledge to optimize even more effectively later).”

Under a wide range of assumptions, it turns out that it is just about 50-50. That is, you should spend roughly half of your resources learning more about the world around you and half using what you already know to get more of what you need to survive and thrive; e.g., in the case of a person, food, water, love, etc.

Half.

How many organizations do this? How many adults do this? And, if an adult does learn, is it really open learning? In my experience, even when most adults do try to learn new skills, they are their own worst enemies. They have a highly evolved network of constraints, rules, assumptions and — yes, they do try to improve their skills — but only so long as it does not require a change in those constraints, rules, and assumptions.



To take a trivial example, people will go on to the tennis court and attempt to improve their game. But they often do it by making the same mistakes over and over. For fundamental improvement at tennis (or almost anything else), you will need to be open to fundamental change. By the way, making a fundamental change means that your performance will get slightly worse before it gets better. For instance, one of the people I sometimes play with exhibits a common error. He doesn’t bring his racquet back soon enough. He runs to hit a shot and only brings the racquet back after the ball bounces. As a result, he often rushes the shot, does not have any power, or mis-hits the ball. He’s trying to improve his skill, but he won’t improve much until he changes his approach.

For fundamental change, we need to dig deep and find that way of being in the world in which we are open to what is happening. Unfortunately, if a player does manage to “remember” to bring the racquet back father, his or her first few attempts will likely be worse than the way he or she usually hits the ball. Why? Because the timing of the shot will be quite different. The positioning and the weight transfer will also be different. A child seems to enjoy the movement itself and they seem to grasp intuitively that bringing the racquet back farther will naturally result in more powerful ground strokes. If you can be or become child-like while you learn, you will free yourself to learn at a deeper level.

To be childish is a quite different thing altogether. Someone who is childish is often not interested in learning or adapting or changing at all. They insist that they are already perfect and if they didn’t win the Monopoly game or the Chess Game or the Tic-Tac-Toe game, it’s not their fault (and therefore, there is no reason to learn to do better).

(one of my cats, Shadow, arranging the used dish towels she stole from the kitchen)

While I ran an AI lab at NYNEX, for a time, I had a pretty long commute. I listened to many “Books on Tape” during the commute including the autobiographies of many CEO’s of companies. Many of them were childish rather than child-like. Perhaps because they were rich and powerful, people told them what they wanted to hear all too often. As a result, these CEO’s often blamed their failures on factors beyond their control: the weather, government regulation, foreign competition, bad luck, fickle customers, etc. When they had successes, that was because they were smart enough to hire good people, make excellent decisions, provide superb leadership. That attitude of taking all credit for success and zero responsibility for failure is being childish — not child-like.

Incidentally, other animals can be stubborn (like a mule) and refuse to try something new — or they can be child-like and explore, play, and innovate. Play is not something that humans invented. We’ve all seen dogs play, but so do cats, otters, crows, ravens, horses, foxes, etc. In a very real sense, life itself is play. The replication and reproduction of life always allows for some variance. Life is always exploring the new and well as sticking with the old. Life itself is a balance between work (using what we already know to defend or acquire) and play (exploring new places, new ways of doing things). It is a balance between being an adult and letting that inner child continue to play. That is being child-like.

Photo by Rolandas Augutis on Pexels.com



Being childish is however quite different. That refers to a situation in which an adult (by chronological age) refuses to consider alternatives or the consider consequences; they refuse to think about the impact of their actions on others and even on themselves. Wearing a mask that has a Star Trek emblem or the likeness of a Skull or that’s colored like a rainbow — these are examples of being child-like. Refusing to wear a mask at all because someone doesn’t “feel like it”? That is being childish.

Wearing a condom that has a rocket ship on it is being child-like but not wearing one at all might be childish (unless you know you’re disease free and willing and able to raise a child). Putting on some of your favorite music and dancing while you’re doing the dishes is child-like; smashing the dishes on the floor because you’re fed up with washing them every day — that is childish. Making up a song so your students can learn math better is being child-like while being adult in taking your responsibilities seriously. Telling your students not to bother learning math — that is abdicating your responsibility to be an adult and being childish. Making up a funny protest sign and voting for the candidate whose policies you honestly think are good for the country is being an adult and being child-like. Refusing to learn about both candidates and voting for the one who makes absurd promises is being childish. Stubbornly refusing to learn the truth about your candidates failures and lies is being childish.



Life is a dance. Joining the dance and being child-like — that’s a really good thing for an adult’s health and well-being. It’s also good for society. Without any adults being child-like, there would be little or no math, science, art, music, or innovation. Of course, not all situations lend themselves to being child-like. You might have a job where the culture is so damned serious that any levity or joy will get you fired. If you have a family to feed, you might have to put on hold your desire to be child-like. If you give in to it and get fired, you’re being childish. First, get yourself a new job — hopefully one where you can be more child-like. Then, dance at the bank. If you are driving your car in bad weather, it’s not the time to “see what this baby can really do!”

Most people exhibit a mix of serious adult behavior, being child-like, and being childish. If a responsible adult “loses it” and smashes all the dishes, they will apologize; clean up the mess; buy new dishes. Rarely, we find a person who acts in a purely childish fashion. They will break the dishes and then, instead of apologizing, cleaning up the mess and buying new dishes, they will deny that they broke the dishes, blame others, and refuse to take any responsibility. Abusive parents and spouses fit into this category. But so do politicians who take a solemn oath of office to uphold the Constitution and then seek to overturn that Constitution that they swore to uphold. That is not being child-like. That is being childish.

And so is supporting such a person. To do so is to reject your own adult responsibilities.

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com



———————————–

Purely fictional stories about a child sociopath named “Donnie Boy”

Ramming Your Head Into a Brick Wall Does Not Make You a “Hero”

Donnie Boy attends a Veteran’s Day parade

Donnie Boy lets his brother take the blame

Donnie Boy plays Sailor Man

Donnie Boy plays Soldier Man

Donnie Boy visits Granny

Donnie Boy Gets a Hamster

Donnie Boy Takes a Blue Ribbon in Spelling

Donnie Boy Gets his Name on a Tennis Trophy

Donnie Boy plays Bull-Dazzle Man

Poem: Life is a Dance

Poem: Serious Play

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Index to Catalog of ‘Best Practices’ in Teamwork and Collaboration

Author Page on Amazon



Donnie Lets his Brother take the Fall.

27 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

con man, criminal, crook, fiction, narcissistic personality disorder, politics, satire, sociopathy, story, truth

680174EA-5910-4F9B-8C75-C15B3136FB06_1_105_c

“Good God you’re stupid, Donnie. I thought I was a bad student. Look at these grades? What’s wrong with you!” The longer Donnie Boy’s dad Fred screamed, the purpler his face became. His voice grew steadily louder and less intelligible; his gestures grew wilder and more erratic.

Donnie held his head appropriately low and his eyes were on the floor. He pretended to be mortified, but let’s take a peek inside Donnie Boy’s head and see what kinds of semi-thoughts slither around in there.

Donnie Boy gritted his teeth and thought: Like I really give a flying fruck what you think. He squeezed his hand extra hard to put a grim and sorrowful look on his face, but not enough to cause real pain. If he showed a tear, he would bet a righteous beating. “Yes, Daddy” said Donnie boy as he thought silently, Some day I’m going to bury you. Bury you. Bury you. Like Khrushcheat Hah. So there!

Now, Fred had reached the dangerous stage of throwing random crap around the kitchen. On he ranted, “I told you Idiot Boy, [an ash tray shattered against the fridge; Donnie Boy flinched] the more you learn, the easier it is to fool other people! [a crystal wine goblet shattered against the floor; Donnie Boy flinched] Who the hell are you going to be able to con, if you can’t sound educated when you need to? You going to be stuck all your life with two-bit cons? [To prove his point, Fred flung a frying pan through the kitchen window; Donnie Boy flinched}.  

broken glass on wooden surface

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

The front door swung open and Mommy twittered into the kitchen. One look at the expression on her husband’s face told her that it was going to be one of those nights. “Hello, dear. Would you like me to make your dinner now? I got some nice —- “

“Where the F### have you been, B####? Why isn’t my dinner on the table NOW? This piece of crap apparently got your genes in the smarts department! Look! Look at his report card! If you know how to read it. Can you read a report card, dummy? He’s hardly worth the trouble to even whip. Here. You do it for once. I’m going out.” At this point, Fred slipped his belt out from the loops of his pants and doubled it up. He sprang at his wife and drew his arm back. He saw his wife flinch and that made him laugh. “Don’t worry, idiot. I’m not going to hit you. Not now. But when I get back, I’d better see 20 lashes on that boy’s butt or you or going to get double. And those other two as well. And, beat some sense into him while you’re at it.” 

Fred slammed his way out the door. Mary walked over to her son shaking her head, “I’m sorry Donnie Boy, but you know what I have to do. You heard him. I’m not going to beat Maryann and Junior because of your laziness. Turn around now, like a good boy and drop your drawers.”

Donnie Boy flinched, “But Mommy! I didn’t do anything bad! The teacher just doesn’t like me! I know it all! Ask me anything. I know everything! I deserved all A’s but she failed me because I wouldn’t show her my thingie.” 

“Donald, I think you’re just trying to get out of a beating. Now let your pants down.” 

“But Mommy! It wasn’t me! It was Fred! It was Fred. I didn’t want to say. I was trying to protect him!” 

“What are you talking about? You failed and got a D. It doesn’t have anything to do with Fred.” 

“Well, it is Mommy it is. But please don’t make me tell you. Please. Fred will kill me if he finds out I told you.” Even at his tender age, Donnie had learned delaying tactics that gave him time to make up a lie. He thought: This will be better. It’s one kid against another. They would believe the teacher, but whether it’s me or Fred? Who knows? I’ll just keep lying and at least they will doubt whether it’s true.

“Donald, you’d better explain and explain good or I’ll whip you twice as hard. You know I don’t want to, but I get tired of your lies! Now how is it your brother’s fault that you have bad grades.” 

“OK, Mommy, I’ll tell you but please, please, don’t let Fred find out I told you. He’ll kill me. Well, maybe he won’t, but those bad friends of his will.” 

“What bad friends? What are you talking about?” 

“Well, Mommy, I had to skip so many classes because I had to go earn money to help Fred pay back all those gambling loans to those bad people and I was afraid — well, Fred said not to tell anybody because both of us could go to jail and I didn’t do anything illegal. I was just trying to help my brother! Fred said if we didn’t get the money and we didn’t want to ask Daddy or you because really that wouldn’t be fair. Even Fred and I agreed on that. We wanted to solve our own problem. Isn’t that what you said we should do? Isn’t it Mommy?” 

people playing poker

Photo by Javon Swaby on Pexels.com

“Of course, Donald, but what gambling? What friends? What are you talking about? Where is your brother? It’s dinner time.”

“I know. I mean, I know he should be here. I hope he’s okay. I think tomorrow was the day he really needed the money for. But those bad people…they might not wait. I don’t know. Maybe we should go try to find him? I mean, before it’s too late. Anyway, I know if we solve this problem of the money for Fred, I can easily get my grades up! It’s not like I don’t know the material. I know it! Oh, I know it! But I missed some test. If Fred just had like $500, we could pay them off — he swears he’ll never gamble again! But I — all that time I worked I only made $5.”

“Donald, are you making this up? Tell me honestly.”

“Oh, Mommy, it’s true. And, you know I love to talk with you but … I’m worried about Fred. He should be home. You’d better let me take him the money. I can run faster and you … Mommy … so beautiful a young lady would … the only women who are there after dark … well, I know it like the back of my gigantic hands. I think it’s the only thing we can do — and then we won’t have to tell Daddy. He would kill Fred! You know he would! Let’s keep it to ourselves. Okay?” 

“All right, Donald. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Oh, I’ll be all right, Mommy! Don’t you worry. But let’s just never talk about it again. Okay?” 

“All right, Donald. I’ll be right back. You stay there.” 

official currency united states of america

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Mary went into the bedroom and went to her side of her closet, knelt down and pulled out a shoe box. In the shoe box was the money she had saved for herself — for a rainy day — sometimes, she fantasized about using the money to skip town. But then, she thought about Fred Senior tracking her down. It would be worse — much worse — than the usual beatings and rapes. So. What better way to use it than to save my son’s life.”

Meanwhile, Donnie Boy peered through the crack of the door and saw the secret hiding place for Mommy’s Cash. He had long suspected that she had such a treasure and now he knew for sure and he knew where. He slowly shuffled back to where he had been. 

Donald stood with a pleasant but serious look on his face as his mother handed him the envelope. 

“Be careful, Donald. Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“I swear, Mommy, I won’t put myself in any danger. I should go!” 

Donald tucked the envelope into his pocket, turned on his heel and shuffled to the door and closed it behind him. He walked to the corner, turned right and went about half a block were there was a bus stop. He knew Fred would soon pass by here on his way home from the library. He had asked Donald to tell their folks that he’d be home at 7pm sharp. Of course, Donald said no such thing and had not planned on it, even if he hadn’t gotten in trouble for his report card.

grayscale photography of waiting shed near open road at night

Photo by Alexander Kovalev on Pexels.com

Donald shivered slightly in the damp air and pounded his shoulders with his teeny hands. A few moments later, he recognized the form of his older brother. “Hey Fred! How’s it going?”

“Hey, Shrimp. What are you doing here?” 

“I thought I’d come give you a heads up about what’s going on at home.” 

“Oh? Why, Shrimp, is anything wrong.” 

“Well, Fred, Mommy didn’t have dinner ready and you weren’t there and Dad got all made and stomped out. He broke some stuff and we need to clean it up. Meanwhile, Mommy’s not in a very good mood, as you might imagine. Probably best not to say much to her tonight. Then, we should go to bed early and pretend to be asleep. Maybe Daddy will be too drunk to beat anybody. I don’t know. We can hope. Just don’t say much to Mom.” 

“All right. Thanks, Donald. You’re all right. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Sure thing, Fred. That’s what brothers are for!”

No-one in the family ever mentioned the $500 ever again. Donnie Boy used it for his own purposes — purposes that are beyond the boundaries of the sensibilities of the vast majority of people to even wish to read about. 

DCA8FC9A-F229-4538-9EA2-D9E13D4796EB_1_105_c

———————————

Donnie Plays Bull-Dazzle Man
Donnie Gets a Hamster

Donnie Visits Granny

Donnie Learns Golf

Donnie Takes a Blue Ribbon for Spelling

Donnie Boy Plays Doctor

Donnie Boy Plays Soldier Man

Donnie Boy Plays Captain Man

Donnie Gets his Name on a Tennis Trophy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Author Page on Amazon

Essays on America: The Game

10 Tuesday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 52 Comments

Tags

criminal, Democracy, evil, games, life, society, sociopathy

The Game

man in gray suit playing chess

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

The Game has no rules. Not really. I suppose you could say that the one rule is that there are no rules. 

Not everyone can play The Game. So, that might count as a rule about entering and leaving The Game.

To Enter the Game, you need to be a Player. 

And, to Leave the Game, you need to die. (You can’t “quit.”)

dog and house toy on monopoly board game

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

Those are the two rules about whether you can play, but there are no rules within The Game. 

But how does one become a Player? 

Fame is not enough. Wealth is not enough. Good looks, or sharp wits, or intelligence, or encyclopedic knowledge, or special talents? No, that is not enough. 

What is important is that you have Power and that you will execute your Power without regard to any human ethics or sense of fair play or human sensibility. 

But what exactly is this Game? 

To answer that, we must look at its origins. 

IMG_3320

Original Art by Pierce Morgan

Have you ever been bored? 

I certainly was — as a kid. But not for long. Because when I was bored — no TV, no friends, and long before video games or the Internet, I would read or I would make up a game and play that game. As an adult, however, I’ve been very busy as most of us have. I have plenty to challenge me, entertain me, make me laugh, and make me cry, both real and artificial. 

Likewise, I imagine that most of you have been more tired or worried or overjoyed or experiencing any one of a hundred emotions much more often than you’ve been bored. 

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But let’s imagine that you had been born into different circumstances. Let’s say that you were born into so much power and wealth that you could afford literally anything provided only your parents approved. And, once you could carry cash around on your own, you could even circumvent that restriction fairly easily. You may not have been able to buy true love, but you could certainly buy enough sexual favors to keep you satisfied. You could access any drug you felt like without any fear of consequence so long as you didn’t do anything boringly inconvenient like OD. 

Because, you see, if you did overdose, it would call attention to the fact that you and your mates could use drugs without a meaningful fine and without any jail time, provided only that you ditched your parents’ mansion for a month or two and instead lived in another mansion that would set you straight. Similarly, many of life’s challenges that most people have to face are not really challenges for such folk. They don’t have to worry about getting into college, or getting a job, or being popular, or finding a mate, or getting drafted into the army, or getting sick and not having to be able to afford the drugs, or getting arrested for such trivialities as shoplifting, doing illicit drugs, speeding, sexual assault, or vandalism. 

Human nature being what it is, even this kind of upbringing will not produce only sociopaths. Some people from such circumstances do turn out to be wonderful, productive, generous human beings. After all, they will get access to a marvelous education and if they are thoughtful, they may see that the world would actually be a better place if more people could live better lives. That happens a lot. 

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But not always. Many people born into such circumstances will not feel true love toward another human being. They will not take advantage of the educational opportunities by learning how to be a better human being. Some might learn particular skills like finance or law that they feel will help keep them in power. But education for them, like everything else, is only a means to an end. 

Imagine how you would feel if you had everything you could possibly want? Ecstatic? For a while perhaps. Happy? Maybe. But again, the way most of us are wired, with zero challenge there is zero sense of true accomplishment. You would be bored. Since real life offers no challenges, you’d like to play a game. 

The Game. 

The Game with no rules that is only open to the very bored and very powerful. 

To be a Player, you must have enough power to make it interesting to the other Players. And, you must be willing to play unethically. Otherwise, you’d be boring because you’d be so easy to beat. 

Just because you can’t be a Player doesn’t mean you don’t have a part in The Game. You do have a part. You are the dice. You are the cards. You are the little tokens that more around the board. There are 7 billion of you. It’s a complicated game! And because it’s so complicated and so open-ended, it never really gets boring for The Players. 

Although the game is open ended, there are certain patterns of moves that recur quite regularly. A common move, for instance, is to start a war. Another is to steal a great deal of wealth. Another is to “take over” another player — to “own” them so that they have to do what you say. 

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These “moves” in The Game, of course, can cause great pain and suffering to millions of people in the real world. So what? Many of them are also trophy hunters. It’s kind of a signal to other potential players: “No, I don’t care about life. But I care about winning. And I won over this lion (or elephant). So there!” 

Similarly, The Players really don’t care about how the people feel who die in a war or what it means to their kin; not any more than you would care if you’re playing monopoly. You might care about what token you use. I think the train and the dog are quite popular; the iron not so much. 

monopoly board game on brown wooden tabletop

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

Similarly, The Players often have some sort of persona that they prefer; gangster, thug, bon vivant, playboy, philanthropist, celebrity, politician, professor, entrepreneur, etc. Somewhat inconveniently, their persona shares a body with their real character so if the persona is mobbed, the real person beneath gets rushed, and touched, and man-handled. A great deal of time and effort goes into protecting The Player from the consequences of their actions in “the real world.” 

I cannot see the whole board, but it’s clear that The Players moves right now are, among other things, destroying the ecosystems that we rely on. By the very nature of The Game and The Players, they couldn’t care less provided the “real world” consequences will occur after their death. It’s no accident, of course, that most of The Players who are on-board with ecological suicide are old, white men who are not going to live much longer anyway. It’s of absolutely zero interest to them whether people die in hurricanes, or lose their crops, or their houses are flooded —- BOR-ing! What really matters — to them — is winning the game and “taking over” other players along the way. 

If that’s all that matters to us — the dice, the cards, the board, the checkers — if all that we care about is whose team is winning The Game and nothing about the consequences for billions of human beings and for other living beings on this earth — then that’s what will be. 

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But if we do care, then it’s time to end The Game. 

Before it’s too late. 

In other words, now.

———————————————————————-

Series on SHRUGS (Super Hyper Really Ultra Greedy Swindlers). 

Post on how interconnected all life on earth is. 

An antidote to boredom: gratitude. 

Author Page on Amazon

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