Sunday, December 19, 2010

Chapter One

Mass Manners©
Your guide to living as part of a society
Good manners are a lubricant and a balm for people who live among people. They are part of our history, part of an implicit social contract – a contract where “live and let live” and “do no harm” will always trump “get out of my way” and “shut the fuck up.” And unlike the existence of Global Warming or the “Theory” of Evolution, that contract is largely non-negotiable – or at least it will be when I am made King of the World.

The Umbrella

You open it. You hold it above your head. It keeps the rain off. Easy, right? Apparently not, because people seem to have no idea how to use an umbrella and live as part of a society at the same time. So let me help you. I beg you, let me help. Here’s the thing. If you live in the country, where there’s “land, lots of land under starry skies above,” this doesn’t apply to you. You do whatever you want. Wear a big hat, ride a pony, carry a “surrey with the fringe on top” above your head whenever it rains, if that’s what you want to do. But if you live in a city, it is time to learn how to use an umbrella.

Step One: Choosing an Umbrella. Your umbrella, or brolly, or bumbershoot, or whatever you want to call it, should be less than half the width of a standard urban sidewalk when fully deployed. Yup – you heard me – LESS THAN HALF the width. If you are “that guy” walking down the street with a golf umbrella, you have failed. You have failed to meet one of your obligations as part of society as surely as if you wore your pajamas to the 7-Eleven. Make no mistake, if you are indeed one of those thoughtless goomers wielding a giant, sidewalk-hogging rainshade, you have broken the implicit contract you have with the rest of us – you have made life more difficult for all the other members of sodden humanity. “But I have expensive clothes…I have to walk to 3 blocks to work…this hairdo cost blah, blah, blah.” Yeah, yeah, yeah I’ve heard it all before and nobody cares. You are not more important than I am, or he is, or she is, or they are. You simply are not so important that you have to carry a giant tarpaulin with you down the street for fear of getting…god forbid… damp. And another thing, buy a real umbrella. We have all been caught out in a storm with no umbrella. We have all had to buy one of those overpriced under engineered little collapsible soon-to-be-wire-sculptures-in-the-garbage-can pieces of crap from the guy on the corner. Once is okay, twice is forgivable; but if you buy one every time it rains, you are part of the problem. Stop wasting money and resources and buy a real umbrella at a real store that sells real merchandise that is not made from materials that don’t matter by people who don’t care. Stop it. Buy a well-made, long lasting, “human width” umbrella. Do it today.

Step Two: Using an Umbrella. Hold your umbrella above your head, close to your body. Take up as little space as possible. This will be easy, because you have already chosen an umbrella whose size, shape, and width make it appropriate for city dwellers. Right? Now, as you approach a fellow umbrella wielding city dweller, another member of society, another person with whom you have entered into the aforementioned implicit contract, you must avoid umbrella entanglements. You do this because you care about other people and have come to realize you are no more important than anyone else. Still with me? You have a choice. You can tilt your umbrella away from theirs, getting briefly damp -- oh no! Or you can raise your umbrella vertically – so your umbra maker goes above the other person’s. It’s so easy. Just start doing it. If you approach a fellow citizen who is bereft of an umbrella, take extra care. Your umbrella is held open, miracle-like, by a series of telescoping wires. These wires can cut, and maim, and poke other people’s eyeballs right the hell out. Be careful. Be courteous. Tilt your brolly away from them, or above them. Just do it. Also, if it’s so windy that your umbrella is flipping and flopping and flapping around uncontrollably then close it up. You aren’t staying dry in that kind of wind anyway, and you are a menace and a hazard to navigation. Stop it.
Step Three: Storing an Umbrella. One would think that storing the umbrella is the easiest part of umbrella ownership and operation. Au contraire. With respect to long-term storage, the case is indeed quite simple: shake it off, bring it in the house, rinse it in the shower, dry and stow. Easy-peasey. Sadly, it is the oft mishandled short-term storage of “in use” umbrellas where most people fall grievously short of the I-deserve-to-live-among-nice-people mark. You have chosen the proper umbrella, and you wield it with precision and courtesy. Bully for you. You make it to the safety, aquatically speaking, of the subway. How does one behave? It’s all so confusing. Let me help. You shake off your umbrella while still outside – not on the stairs. Were you raised in a barn? You carry your neatly stowed umbrella onto the subway train and you hold it. You do not set it on floor, nor do you place it on the seat next to you. If you set a wet umbrella on the seat next to you, you are an asshole. I’m sorry, but there is no gray area here. Hold your umbrella, and once again, take up as little space as possible. Nobody wants to get any more wet than they already are. When you leave the train station, you wait to open the umbrella until you are completely out of the station. Yes, you will a smattering of drops on your precious little self before the bumbershoot is fully deployed. Butch up. Do it now.

You live in a society. Start acting like it, okay? If you want electricity, and flush toilets, and hot air hand dryers, and Netflix, and public transportation, and mystery meat kabobs on every corner, then earn them. Be part of the solution. Learn to use your umbrella.

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