Category Society

And to Aunt Shirley I Leave My Blog

Michael Leave a comment

The Uniform Law Commission made a monumental decision this week.  It released information to the general public letting everyone know it exists and what it does.  No, we’re just kidding!  That’s not it.  We still have no idea who belongs to this group and what they actually do.  But very recently we read that the Uniform Law Commission (ULC to its closest friends) has published legal guidelines for what to do with all of your electronic accounts once you are no longer you.  All that has to happen now for this to become law and close a gap that has been widening like a pothole on the information highway is for every state legislature to adopt it as law.

Apparently people have actually sued on-line providers for access to accounts held by deceased relatives.  On-line files at e-mail, file storage, and social media sites are being compared to records kept in vaults, safes, and shoeboxes from another era.  Banking, insurance, and ownership records are just some of the items kept in today’s on-line shoeboxes.  These are things that would be of much interest to the executor of an estate and importance to the estate.

The way the proposed law addresses the release of information is that a designated person, presumably the executor, would be able to access the files but not act on the files.  He or she could read the posts on a social media site but could not post to the site, could read the files at a cloud storage site but could not copy the files from that site, could read e-mails but not send e-mails from that account.  Does that help?  We’re not sure.  It seems that still leaves a lot of room for someone to commit identity theft.  That room might be made smaller if the law gave the designee the power of action.  We may not want someone to read every e-mail we’ve ever saved over years (nor may they want to) but we certainly want someone to purge our banking information before the bad guys get to it and clean out our accounts.

In the spirit of excess, people are already reading more than the practical applications into the proposed rules.  In reporting on the ULC’s actions, the Associated Press said “Imagine the trove of digital files…and what those files might fetch on an auction block.”  Now the AP was specifically referring to Bill Clinton and Bob Dylan and their electronic writings which would fetch an attractive sum at auction.  They might fetch even more than The Real Reality Show Blog posts will.  (Don’t you just love the use of “fetch” regarding high prices returned of sold items?  Come on fella, go fetch those millions of dollars!  But we digress.)

Do we need a law to make this happen?  Not really.  Just like you can put into your will who gets access to your safe deposit box, you can put into your will who gets access to your electronic storage areas.  It might sound funny today but in a few years it could be routine to read at the opening of a will, “And I release all my Instagram pictures to my friend John Doe,” or more likely, “And I allow full access to and disposition of accounts held at the First National Bank on-line banking service by the Executor by way of the user name and password found in the addendum to this will.”

Of course, Aunt Shirley will get control of all the posts to this blog and whatever they fetch at auction or the garage sale, whichever is greater.

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

 

Handicap Hate Crime

Michael 2 Comments

We’ve never actually said who we are, where we are, what we do, and other such identifying characteristics.  It wasn’t necessarily intentional.  It just never came up.  After a few years and a few hundred posts it became something just not said.  This week something happened so heinous we may change that just so we can make sure nobody ever, never, never, ever patronizes a particular store.  But first, a story.  And with apologies, a somewhat longish story.

Recent events have slowed He of We from his usual vibrant self.  There are days when his vibrancy is right up there but none so up there that he can vibe without the help of a cane, and not for more than a couple hundred feet at a time.  Thus he has entered the ranks of the temporary handicapped placard people.

All of We (He, She, Sons and Daughter) have always respected the wheel-chaired icon.  So much respect goes to those who are somewhat diminished but still find it in themselves to continue to work, shop, and play that even now, if He of We finds himself in a particularly good day and there is only one spot outlined in blue, he will leave it for someone else and find a relatively close general parking place.  So much respect goes to those in need that when He sees someone in obvious violation of the perk (for example, the youngster who drops a handicapped person off at the door, tells him or her that he’ll come back to the door for pick-up when he sees him or her emerge from the store, and then goes off to take a handicapped spot to wait at), He of We offers to put said violator in compliance with the rules if he doesn’t move.

But we digress.

Earlier this very week on a particularly trying day, he needed to stop at a local grocery store for a handful of items.  This was not the store he usually patronizes but it was one whose weekly ads he scans for that phenomenal loss leader that makes stopping after work worth the few minutes to wander along the dingy aisles.  This particular store has their handicapped spots around the corner from the main entrance.  Those immediately in front of the store doors are general parking.  Fortunately this store is so poorly patronized that at least one of those spots is always available.  Not that day.  So for the first time he parked in one of the three designated spots around the corner, displayed his placard, struggled out of the driver’s seat, crossed the parking lot, and snatched a buggy on the way in.

He noticed the shopping carts were new from his last visit there.  He also noticed that at the inside of the front of the cart, in the place where most supermarkets would make hay with advertisements, these carried a warning.  Yes, a warning.  “Warning,” it said, “the wheels on this state of the art shopping cart are designed to lock and render the cart immobile if the cart is removed from the security perimeter of [name of store]’s  parking lot.”  He supposed it made some sense.  The store is in an area just as urban as sub and he imagined that many very local shoppers push their laden carts all the way to their apartments and return with them on some future shopping day.  But not his problem.  He had specials to exploit.

He proceeded through the dingy aisles, made his few purchases, paid his bill, and because of the weight of the items purchased, elected to leave the now bagged products in the cart and wheel it to his designated parking spot.  You can see where this is going, can’t you?  He got about five feet from his car, absolutely right in the middle of the travel lane, and the wheels locked.  And boy, did they lock.  That cart was not going anywhere!

It would not budge forward.  It would not budge backward.  There appeared to be no obvious switches.  Worse, there was no audible alarm so no one came running to help (or to prosecute).  Not even the buggy boy who at about 20 feet away was apparently far enough not to hear the plea for help.  So he, in his not fully capacitated state, did what he could do.  He removed his bags, one by one, trekked them to his car, and left the disabled cart right in the middle of the travel lane.

As he pulled away he checked his rear view mirror and saw that the buggy boy had finally noticed the unattended shopping cart and was attempting to corral it back with the rest of the herd.  Actually what he was doing was dragging it, kicking it, slapping its handle, and probably swearing at it but since it was at least 20 feet away from anyone, nobody heard his calls for help.

We think we’ll continue to leave our location a bit of mystery.  Actually, it’s not that much of mystery but in fairness to the store we’ll just stay “those reality blog people” and give the store owners more benefit of a greater doubt than they undoubtedly deserve.  Perhaps the store owners didn’t know that the lot designer had a thing against handicapped people or that the security system installer didn’t realize that those blue spaces around the corner from the entrance would ever actually be used, or that the shopping cart salesperson hadn’t might have bamboozled them with carts that randomly proved their mettle.

We’ll just say that if you are anyplace where the handicapped spots are some 30 to 40 feet from the door and you have to cross the path of 6 to 8 general parking spaces, including 4 that are immediately in front of the entrance, go shop somewhere else.  The $4 savings on 12 K-Cups just isn’t worth it.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Careful Wishing

Michael Leave a comment

Sometime over the past week a first or second grader grabbed his “not usual backpack” on his way to school one day.  This wrong backpack had a toy gun in it.  Sometime during the school day it became the toy gun not in the backpack and he was ultimately sent home for violating the zero tolerance policy on weapons in the school.  We replayed that scene across several local school districts about a half dozen times since the beginning of the school year.  Apparently a lot of kids keep their toy guns in backpacks now.

Sometime over the past month a first or second grader grabbed his backpack on the way to school and when he got there he found his mother’s real gun in it.  A while before that another first or second grader pulled from his backpack at school his grandfather’s hunting knife.  Sometime between them yet another first or second grader discovered heroin in his backpack courtesy of his parents.

What do all these have in common?  Besides that all of the children were suspended per their district’s zero tolerance policy on weapons and drugs, all of them were phoned into one or another of the local news outlets’ “on your side” reporters who “went to bat” for the youngsters.  The claim was that they were unfairly disciplined either because of their age, what was found, or how what was found was put into the child’s backpack becoming the rallying cry for saving the children.

Another thing in common is that in these and similar incidents, the public was behind the reporters.  The vast majority of people who cared enough to express an opinion expressed that the children should not have been punished.  It wasn’t their fault that the gun – toy or real – ended up at school.  It wasn’t their fault that a knife, several inches long and sharp enough to slice through an animal hide popped out at the elementary school cafeteria inducing inferiority complexes among the standard issue plastic tableware.  It wasn’t the child’s fault that his backpack was the closest hiding place for drugs at home that didn’t get removed before the backpack left home.

They argue that zero tolerance certainly didn’t mean to include actions not within the students’ control and certainly not the actions of first or second graders.  Yet when the knife slashes 20 other students, or the gun is discharged and becomes the weapon holding a classroom hostage, even zero tolerance is too tolerant.

It seems somebody needs to revisit the various school districts’ policies.  At what age does accountability begin?  Are students expected to pay for the actions of their parents?  Is “zero tolerance” a policy or a catchphrase?

Most importantly on that visit, people have to make a decision.  Does zero mean zero?  And if it does, does it mean zero at all times.  How careful is one willing to be when one is wishing in today’s society?

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Serving Is a Verb

Michael Leave a comment

We’ve managed to be at restaurants three times over the past 8 days. That’s quite unusual for us even in the best of times. Given that lately we’ve been held to a restaurant visit once every couple of weeks, it’s absolutely extraordinary.

We start on Easter with the She and the He families hitting separate emporia for a holiday buffet. Oddly enough, even though we were eating out, He had to still bake a ham and boil some eggs to have leftovers throughout the week. We may have to revisit that someday. We ended the week at a Sunday brunch at a well-known television chef’s restaurant. A bit of a modified buffet with an antipasti bar up front and a dessert bar to finish with served entrees in between.

Now what can you say about serving at a buffet? Keep the patrons’ glasses full of their preferred beverages, keep the tables clear of empty plates, and generally make certain they guests feel welcome. Admittedly there are some servers for whom even buffets are too much of a challenge, just as there are some restaurants that have difficulty meeting the buffet challenge. But these were upscale establishments with professional servers and their mission was to make you want to go back for a full service meal and go back soon. Mission accomplished.

But then we had the meal in between. It was at one of our favorites that had been much neglected by us. Neglect isn’t the right word. Due to uncontrollable circumstances it had been much un-patronized by us. That’s better. During our absence they changed the menu just a tad, changed the drink sizes a wee bit, even changed the portion sized of the side dishes a touch. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make you go hmm when the courses came out. We are certain had we had one of our regular servers we would have been forewarned of the changes. As it was, we were waited on by one we had never met and were as new to her as she to us.

It started quite positively. We stood at the hostess stand where the host greeted us and immediately sat us at a table for two. And a good thing it was that we weren’t two minutes later because the next party of two ended up with a 45 minute wait for a table. But we didn’t and we immediately sat and were almost immediately greeted by the new waitress. She welcomed us, didn’t say a word about the day’s special that were scrawled on a chalk board on the other side of the waitress stand, but did take our drink orders and told us she would be right back. And right back she was our complimentary basket of chips and salsa. After ascertaining we weren’t yet ready to order she said she would be right back with our drinks and indeed was right back with half of our drinks and a promise to be right back again for our order.

What seemed like just about when the couple behind us finally got their table did our waitress return for our order. Either she realized it had been about 20 minutes since she said she would be right back again or it was He’s inquiry of the host as he walking by if our server had left a forwarding address before she left on her vacation that prompted her return. But back she was and she took our order and even managed not to have the appetizers and the entrees come out together. A big plus in our world.

The plusses continued until we got to the end of the meal. Even with the newer portion sizes there was, is, and probably will always be too much for one seating and she offered take-out containers for our leftovers. Two boxes came out, one for each of our leftover entrees but nothing for the appetizer that was still on the table and still had a ways to go before one could consider it gone. Regardless of how many containers came out, that would usually signal the end of the evening for most restaurant patrons, leaving nothing left to do but pay the check and make one’s way through the parking lot and then home. All of that self-paced except for the paying of the check, requiring a check to pay, that the waitress claimed she would be right back with. Eventually it made its way to the table, cash was plopped in the little leather book and then there it sat. And sat. It may still be there for after a while we moved on to the self-paced portion of going home and went home.

Will we return? Of course we will. We’re getting used to the fact that there are fewer restaurants with professional servers. We would prefer that of those who rely on whomever they can get to be the face of their establishments stress upon those faces that serving is a verb. It’s not just carrying a plate from kitchen to table. If you’re looking for that kind of job there are plenty of them in one’s own home.  If you should find yourself in that position, smile, go out of your way, make yourself memorable in a good way, and remember, “I’ll be right back” has its limits.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Smile, You’re Protected From Candid Camera

Michael Leave a comment

Before we begin please let us assure you that we are all for the presumption of innocence, civil rights, and the protection of privacy. But every now and then something comes up that makes us go more than hmm. Something that we’re certain Tom, John, Ben, and the gang in Philadelphia in 1776 really hadn’t had in mind.

Somewhere in Pennsylvania there is a young high school sophomore who has been the target of bullying. The school district in which he is currently a sophomore claims it takes all manner of precautions and discipline to provide a safe environment for its students, including protection from physical, verbal, and psychological abuse dealt by bullies, not unlike the rest of the country.

This young man had claimed to be the victim of a bully since the school year began. He brought his concerns to his mother who in turn brought them to the school per the district policy. Yet the bullying continued. The young man’s mother couldn’t even confirm if her concerns were ever addressed with the “alleged” bully and/or the “alleged” parents of said “alleged” bully. The district claimed that would be an infringement on the “alleged” bully’s “alleged” privacy if they were to disclose if they spoke with him or his parents about the “alleged” conduct.

Let’s fast forward to this spring. Young man has had enough of the bully and not having any positive response form the school decides the best way to convince them that he is being victimized is to show them the victimization. And so, with his cell phone, he records the bully bullying him. He takes this recording to his mother who takes it to the school who promptly has the young man arrested and charged with wiretapping for recording the “alleged” bully without his consent.   About a week later the young victim is actually convicted under the wiretapping statutes of Pennsylvania and ordered to pay a fine and court costs, hopefully unlike the rest of the country. At least he didn’t get jail time.

Fast forward again a few weeks. There is discussion over this. The district attorney’s office gets involved and decides that perhaps this wasn’t the best outcome and asks for the conviction to be vacated. However, it will stay on his record until he requests, and pays the attending court and legal costs, to have his record expunged. The school district is not in any hurry to apologize and actually stands by its decision to have the young man charged since it wants to provide a safe environment for its students including the expectation of the right to privacy, apparently the “alleged” privacy of the “alleged” bully. And public opinion is pretty much split 50/50 on who is right and who is righter.

So we suppose the next time you’re walking through a store, or a parking lot, or used car establishment, or perhaps a bank or post office and you see the sign, “Smile, You’re on Camera,” you have the right to say, “No, I’m not.” Of all his inventions, it’s a shame the camera wasn’t one of Ben Franklin’s. Then we’d know for sure.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Made With Pride

Michael Leave a comment

Last week She of We spent a day at the self-proclaimed basket capital of the world. (We’ll wait while you look it up. We can’t tell you everything!) Among the acres of baskets, table accessories, wrought iron, pottery, and more and more baskets were acres of baskets, et. al. signed by the constructing craftsman. That takes pride in one’s work to put one’s signature on it.

Signing work is nothing new. Proof marks, builders’ marks, foundries, and forges have through the years identified themselves proudly on the goods turned out by their artisans. It is through these marks that many of today’s antiques treasures can be confirmed treasure and not just old. But not so much today. Now it seems that along the assembly line a robot pastes a sticker somewhere inside your car that claims it was “Made with Pride” by whatever union local finished it up. No name, no signature, not even an “Inspected by No. 7” graces that finished product.

Back to the baskets. Or more appropriately, to the weavers. Can you imagine the quality of hand made products if everyone who had a part in their construction claimed their piece of the work? Can you imagine the quality of machine made products if everyone who had a hand in prepping, aligning, calibrating, and finally running the machines claimed his or her responsibility for that assembly? Companies are always talking about accountability but other than that limited warranty everyone prints on the package (and in real small print), just what are they taking account of?

The basket weaver, pewter smith, wood wright, or one of many other artisans knowing he or she is at the top of the game and is really making it with pride will take accountability. So much so that he or she wouldn’t think of not signing the work.

Maybe your work isn’t of the type that you can literally “sign” what you do, but you can work with that same amount of pride that at the end of the day you can proclaim that your work is worthy of your mark. Would you rather be a sticker hidden inside the door frame just waiting for a recall to happen, or would you rather be a signature, as large as John Hancock’s, proclaiming to the world that what just happened you will always recall as your best? (We’ll wait while you decide. It shouldn’t take long.)

Yep, we thought so.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Written with pride by She and He.

 

If You Give a Teen a Penny

Michael 3 Comments

This weekend we finally got to it, the annual Maple Festival where we picked up a trinket or two, saw grain being milled into flour, and bought a year’s supply of locally produced maple syrup. It was a success.

One of locally produced items we weren’t able to get at the festival was local honey. Another one of our food extravagances. If you’ve never had locally produced honeys, syrups, relishes, and such you are missing something special.  Spend the extra dollar and spoil your taste buds.   But we digress. One of locally produced items we weren’t able to get at the festival was local honey. Fortunately we found a farmer’s market just a bit outside the grounds where local relishes, piccalillis, mustards, and yes, honey are available. We stopped in and explored the greenhouses. Then we perused the shelves, made a few selections, and dropped them off at the counter while we continued our search of local treasures. After a while we were set to finalize our purchases and move on to lunch.

She went first, splitting the bounty on the counter in front of the cash register which itself was in front of a brand new, first day on the job, high school student and part time helper. She already was a little confused (she the helper, not She of We), and asked if everything wasn’t all together. Her mentor explained that it appeared we had separate piles and would be checking out separately. And so she began to ring through Pile #1, collected the debit card from She, punched the requisite buttons, generated a receipt, and bagged up the bounty. And all went well adding to the success of the day.

Next up was He. It wasn’t difficult to determine which pieces were his since they were those that remained from Pile #1. Pile #2 was soon rung into the register and a total announced. $15.76. He dug into the pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and a penny, offered them to the brand new, first day on the job, high school student and part time helper and watched her turn into the proverbial deer in the headlights. High beams even. She stared so intently at the cash in her hand it brought to mind the Amazing Kreskin and can she bend the penny with her mind. Apparently her mind wasn’t up to the task. The penny stayed as it was, where it was, until she asked, “What’s the penny for?” Her mentor suggested that He didn’t want to walk around with a pocket full of change. She suggested she punch $20.01 into the cash register and see what happens. He shook his head trying valiantly not to call the brand new, first day on the job, high school student and part time helper a dolt. (Somehow he succeeded but it gave him a headache.)

Somewhere along the way we’ve read in papers that standard test scores for reading and math are improving at staggering rates and today’s high school graduates are even more prepared to enter the world than those of say, 30 or 40 years ago. Apparently somewhere along the way math questions have eliminated all to the right of the decimal. And with it, went our pennies.

If you give a teen a penny, she’s going to ask what it is for. When you tell her what it’s for she’ll not believe you. She’ll check a nearby mirror to make sure she isn’t frowning. She’ll refresh her makeup and then remember she owes you change. Chances are she’ll still have that penny and ask what it is for.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

True Lies

Michael Leave a comment

It’s been twenty years since Arnold Schwarzenegger kept the fact that he was a spy from his movie wife Jaime Lee Curtis in True Lies. She really wasn’t lied to as much as just not told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Not unlike a lot of stuff that’s going on now.

Even though it’s Spring and we are still getting legitimate bad weather, we do find ourselves with clear skies and no snow every couple of days a week. The weather forecasters, now used to a season’s worth of viewers hanging on to their every isobar must crave the days when something on their radar screens actually shows potential “Severe Weather.”   No problem. If the local forecast has no precipitation nearby, they just bring up some neighboring radar. And, voila, there we have the greens, and the blues, and the whites, and the greys we are used to seeing and they can say with all honesty, “This storm could dump another couple of inches before it’s all over.” Just because it’s 200 miles away doesn’t make it untrue.

Recently a sales brochure showed up in the mail. We think it was a sales brochure. It had glossy pages, colorful pictures, and big fonts declaring “$10 off!” But it never said $10 off what. Of a regular low, low price? Off an already discounted price? Off the manufacturer’s suggested retail price (AKA modern fiction)? There was no indication of what the starting or final price was or is. Ten dollars off, true. Cost to you, who knows.

Fine print is annoying in print ads usually requiring a good strong magnifying glass. Fine print on a television ad is basically useless. It’s at the bottom of the screen, still requiring a magnifying glass even with a 50 inch picture. And just as you are ready to focus in, it disappears. But now we have to deal with fine print on radio ads! If after the ad you hear a breathless individual who manages to speak at an annoying 720 words a minutes all in a near whisper, assume that everything you just heard clearly in the body of the ad has now been modified, restricted, or limited. The ad was absolutely true. You can indeed get cell phone service for 87 cents a month. However, the additional access, roaming, internet, texting, calling, receiving, and bill paying fees add up to $220 for the life of the contract unless the phone company decides to raise any or all of them.

These are just a few examples of today’s true lies. You can come up with many more if you think about it for thirty seconds or so. True? Absolutely. Misleading? Even more so. And it doesn’t take a spy to figure out what’s wrong with those pictures.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

The Twittering of America

Michael Leave a comment

Not too long ago we posted a post that posed the thought that everything has turned large.  (See “Large is the New Small,” February 3, 2014).

We have rethought that thought and now think that we think there is one thing not so large anymore.  America’s attention span.

In the course of her everyday business, She of We often sends out forms to be filled out.  But she always makes sure there are detailed instructions so one doesn’t get lost along the way.

Invariably, the first 2 or 3 of those are followed to the letter and then after that the recipient fills in whatever, wherever, and for who knows whyever as he or she wants.

In the course of his everyday business, He of We often presents training sessions on new or changed company policies.

Just last week he presented such one and began as he always does with “This information comes from the new policy on blah-blah-blah.  You will find a copy in your packet.”

Within the first five minutes, one of the attendees asked “is this stuff some new policy or something?”  Within the next five someone else asked if she could have a copy of the policy.

Have you noticed how many commercial breaks on TV are no longer the standard two minute breaks?

Now they stretch over as much as six minutes and even in the shorter ones, there will always be at least one commercial repeated within that break.

What has happened that all of a sudden people aren’t paying attention anymore?

We’ve come to the conclusion that they are still paying attention.  But only to the first 140 characters.

Somewhere we’ve also created a new vocabulary for old symbols.

Years ago (like maybe two), when calling a phone with an auto-attendant, prompts would include things like, “Please enter your account number followed by the pound sign.”

Today, Mr. Attendant invites you to press the “Hash Key” when finished with your entry.

We’re fine with micro-blogging.  It’s entertaining, brings people together who wouldn’t otherwise, and fills up lots of time that would otherwise be used doing work.

We just don’t want people to stop at 140 characters if the information runs to a few hundred words.

So that’s our thoughts for today.  Some of the paragraphs are more than 140 characters.  Feel free to split them if you think you might be mi

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Surprise! Beyond the PDA

Michael Leave a comment

No, we’re not talking personal digital assistants.  Are they even still out there?  What we’re talking about are public displays of affection.  In general, when tastefully done (which unfortunately isn’t all that often), PDAs are just fine.  Walking hand in hand down the street, arms linked while strolling through a park (yes, people still stroll), an unexpected kiss in an elevator.  Even She and He have displayed affection publicly.  The most public was being caught on the Kiss-Cam at an NHL game in front of 17,000 of our newest, closest friends.  We later found out that there were some among those 17,000 who knew us before our 15 seconds of fame and wanted to know how we managed to end up on that video screen.  Just hanging around acting like a couple we supposed.

These are true displays of affection.  Not the almost public displays of erotica that some seem to think are perfectly acceptable.  And not the newest wave to hit coupledom, the public displays of surprise engagements.

Now that the Olympics are over and the NHL is back to its regular schedule, we’re certain there will be several “Will you marry me?” messages on hockey scoreboards across the league.  You couldn’t get through the football season without seeing someone proposing, along with the requisite surprise response, on the Monday morning news.  And if the asker happens to be a celebrity, the sky and/or television schedule is the limit.  Talk show hosts have lost control of their own shows when someone gets into his head that he is going to use that show as the spring board to domesticity.  Since we brought up the Olympics, it too has been the site of several proposals.  Before the 2010 Winter Games, torchbearer Ryan Clarke proposed to his girlfriend as he ended his torch relay run.  Then as the 2010 games were underway, America skier Billy Demong proposed to his longtime girlfriend after winning a gold medal in the Nordic Combined.

Where do these people come from?  We recently heard the story of a high school junior who rented a billboard to ask his girlfriend to the prom.  If he’s starting out using a public forum as big as a billboard to ask a girl to a dance, imagine him in another 10 years and what his marriage proposal may be like.

We’re not so certain the “surprise” proposals are either fair or surprises.  It seems that it would be almost cruel for someone to turn down such a public display.  We’ve often seen the very public proposal on the news and the answer has never been “No.”  We suppose that’s because nobody wants to be branded as the cold hearted you-know-what when someone makes such a grand gesture in front of so many.  Someday, someone may say no and the habit will start to die out.  Who wants to take the risk that the outcome might not be what one wants?  That sounds almost too much like reality.

The real reality of it is that of all the possible public displays of affection out there, if you’re going to end up on a scoreboard somewhere, make it on the Kiss-Cam.  It’s easy. It’s fun.  And you get your 15 seconds of fame.  Just hang around and act like a couple.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?