Originally posted April 10th, 2011
By Michael Konik
If we can put aside millennial-old inquiries into the nature of Truth, assuming such a thing exists, we can agree that propaganda, which is less concerned with veracity than with delivering a particular message, is a kind of prevarication. A lie. A tendentious assertion that’s antithetical to our notion of Truth.
I was reminded of this uncomfortable tension when my family informed me that my nephew and nieces, ages 8-10, were being inculcated at school with a “zero tolerance” policy toward drugs. The children, I was told, were alarmed to learn that their Uncle Mike, who has written an honest book about marijuana, was, according to what they were being taught in public school, breaking the law and ruining his brain.
Their parents warned that when I next saw the kids they would have many questions and would want explanations.
Originally posted September 5th, 2006
By Michael Konik
As anyone who has attended a scolding church sermon knows, our children — meaning the children of other people, irresponsible guardians who aren’t as good at parenting as they ought to be — are drowning in filth. Their minds are infected with lewd thoughts inspired mostly by female mammaries, and the sludge that spews from their mouth is laced with horrible words like “shit,” fuck,” and “goddamn.”
The cause of this spiritual corruption is primarily the entertainment industry, which produces movies and television shows that portray the world with far too much realism. Rather than showing how things supposedly “are” in our debased, devil-driven society, filmed entertainment should be showing how things ought to be: a world where people don’t have sex (unless they’re married and attempting to conceive) and they certainly don’t swear out loud (without suffering grievous consequences). Instead, the corrupt greed-mongers in Hollywood and New York cram . . . → Read More: Keeping Young Minds Pure
Originally posted August 25th, 2006
By Michael Konik
It’s been exactly two years since my dad, Eugene, died. So much has happened since he left, so much he would have been thrilled to witness. I think of him every day. And I miss him.
Somehow this two-year anniversary seems unreal, or inaccurate. Wasn’t it just a few months ago that I had to say farewell to the man who raised me, who toiled and sacrificed so that my brother and I would have beautiful lives? Has he really been gone for this long?
I look at his photo every morning. I say “hello” to him. I send him good thoughts.
And I hope he knows nothing’s quite the same without him.
Originally posted June 30th, 2006
By Michael Konik
My beautiful mother, Renice Konik, turns 65 today. She’s now officially a senior citizen.
I would suggest, however, that if you didn’t have access to her government-issued identification — or a Web page trumpeting the fact — you wouldn’t guess that this vibrant, vivacious lass is eligible for Social Security (and bargain matinees). My mom continues to teach elementary school, where, far from being considered “Old Lady Konik, the Dour Ogre,” she’s lauded as the most inventive and creative pedant in the building. Her classroom, which has as many animals in it as books and inspiring epigrams, radiates the spirit of curiosity, and her students can’t be bored no matter how hard they try. There’s just too much to do and process and question. Plus, the youngsters must take care not to let their guards down. Fair and balanced be damned: Mrs. Konik does her best to brainwash their susceptible . . . → Read More: Happy Birthday, Renice Konik
Mother’s are like dogs: Everybody thinks his is the best.
Unless we’re living in billions of parallel universes, everyone having the best mom (or dog) is impossible. So I would like to clear up any confusion surrounding this question and set the matter straight. It is I alone who have the best mom in the world.
Sorry. I’m just a lucky guy.
Now, I’m big-hearted enough to recognize the lovely and endearing qualities all the other mom’s out there possess, and I’m gladdened to know that countless sons and daughters enjoy something approaching the satisfaction I enjoy. Nothing in life matches a mother’s love and affection, her concern and care, her passion for her children. Maternal nurturing is one of the brightest forces in the known universe, and all of us fortunate enough to have a mother to guide us and protect us know the beauty and hopefulness of that . . . → Read More: My Mom
My father died some time ago. (It will be two years in August). I can’t hug him, or call him on the telephone, or walk with him. But I often feel he’s still with me, and not just in memory.
Every day I see photos of his handsome face in my office, and on the refrigerator, and in the dining room. Sometimes I say, “Hi, Daddy,” to the images, knowing they aren’t him but suspecting somehow that he hears me.
Nearly every day mail comes to the house addressed to him. More than 20 months after his death, the mailing list administrators at woodworking catalogues, automobile magazines, and life insurance sellers — a little late, guys! — continue to send my dad their pitches, as though brute persistence might change the irreversibility of his circumstances.
At least a few times a week I wear an article of clothing that was . . . → Read More: Daddy’s Still Here
Originally posted April 26th, 2006
By Michael Konik
In our business dealings, in our consideration of the feelings of others — in nearly every transaction between civilized people — we seek to balance our selfish impulses with the nebulous notion of what’s “right.” Thanks to parents and religion and laws, we have a strong idea of what constitutes fairness, and our ability to behave properly (fairly) is often the strongest measure of our personal goodness.
On the other hand, we’re constantly reminded that life is not fair. We witness grotesque disparities in standards of living; we see worthy folks punished by unseen forces, and scurrilous ones rewarded; we experience almost daily the cruel randomness of being alive. Our existence is essentially unfair. If life were a playing field — and many people do indeed see life as an elaborate game — then it surely isn’t a level one.
Why then do we constantly strive to inject fairness into . . . → Read More: In Search of Fairness
In a world that increasingly seems to lack absolute values, where right and wrong have constantly shifting shades of meaning interpreted by courts, church pulpits, and the vicissitudes of public whim, “doing the right thing” can be problematic. How can anyone be sure he’s acting righteously if the notion of righteousness is constantly in flux? Einstein’s special theory of relativity covers some of these ideas, but only insofar as how to measure the speed of light, and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle suggests that by injecting oneself into the proceedings making a definitive judgment is difficult, if not impossible. So what’s a guy to do?
The answer for most people, it seems from casual observation, is to throw up hands, shrug shoulders, and honor the easier moral rubric, that of self-gratification and expediency. Faced with dynamic code-of-conduct guidelines, following the path of least resistance is far easier — and usually more rewarding . . . → Read More: Doing the Right Thing
Originally posted September 1st, 2004
By Michael Konik
My father Eugene Konik died yesterday, August 25th at 3PM, of congestive heart failure.
Family surrounded him at his hospital bed, and we held his hands and cradled his head as he passed on. If any death can be said to be beautiful, my dad’s was. His heart gradually stopped beating and his breath slowed gracefully; his face was utterly serene; and though he was unconscious, the sounds of loving voices and reassuring affirmations filled his ears. Until his last day, my father fought death with a resolve and mental strength that confounded the limitations of his physical maladies, but when it was time to go he didn’t struggle or suffer. My father died in peace.
I will miss him.
Eugene Konik was born in Chicago, Illinois, the first child of Polish immigrants. World War II raged during his childhood, and the Korean War occupied his early adult life. He was . . . → Read More: Eugene Konik, 1936-2004
Originally posted April 8th, 2004
By Michael Konik
A study published this month in Pediatrics magazine suggests that toddlers who watch TV risk attention problems, including difficulty concentrating, acting restless and impulsive, and being easily confused.
This discovery won’t come as news to my parents, who raised me on a strict diet of one hour of TV during the school week. At the time, of course, I resented the fascist restrictions on my youthful desires. While other kids at school were talking about The Fonz and Laverne and Shirley, I nodded dumbly and pretended I was in on the joke. And though I would beg Mom and Dad to let me vegetate in front of the glowing screen like most of my classmates, they were adamant that I would be better off reading a book, drawing a picture, or constructing an elaborate fantasy game with my brother.
In retrospect, I’m grateful for my parents’ Draconian TV regulations. I became a . . . → Read More: To Mom and Dad: Thanks!
We're really sorry about our most recent trading loss. People will say we require more oversight, and, in this case, maybe they're right. It shouldn't have happened, and we'll take steps to make sure it doesn't happen for a third time.
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