This guy, and to avoid getting nasty
comments, letters or being sued, let’s just call him Reverend Cleophus
the Third...unless James Brown or John Landis is reading this... unlikely I
know, but maybe we should call him Sid. Anyway, Sid made a troubling remark to
me. He said “no one ever sues anyone for hundreds of thousands of dollars due
to an attitude or dodgey look”, or something like that. I disagreed. I don’t
think that he was right and the more I think about it, the more I think he is
absolutely wrong. The more I think about it, the more I think that the only
reason someone ever does something like sue someone else is due to a bad
attitude or a dodgey look. A few more well travelled
solicitors I know would tell you that the reason is that the courts (especially
family) are not about justice, fairness or even the law. They are about
resolution. They are about getting two people who have a dispute and wearing
them out, tying them up in procedures, process and paperwork until they get to
a point where any solution, no matter how stupid, would be better than
continuing with their dispute, and then sending them the bill. But do we learn
from our pettiness, our inflated sense of self?
There is a far bit of work going on in this
area: exactly why and how do people disagree? Relational
Contract Theory is fascinating, albeit American understanding of why people
won’t disagree when they should. We’ve talked before about happiness and
morality and how in the fight between emotions and reason, emotions will win.
Especially emotions like disgust, vanity and pride. Then once we have made up
our mind on that, we will stick with it way beyond the point of sanity. This is
the point where our lovely confirmation bias kicks in and keeps us from
re-evaluating the facts.
I live in this nice little quiet street,
right on the beach where everyone , well, most people, get along really well. I’ve
lived here for a few years now and the place was a clear change from my last
abode, especially in terms of the neighbours. My last home was neighboured by
druggies on one side and alcos on the other, so a street where most people say
hello and are happy and look out for unusual or odd events is a wonderful
change. The only problem is; it comes at the expense of the blue house.
The blue house is directly opposite us.
When we first moved in, everyone in the street was welcoming and happy to talk
to us. They all also warned us about those
people in the blue house. They were
not welcome. There were stories of having to call the police time and time
again due to noise, swearing and fighting. The blue house’s cat was responsible
for most of the ills of the street; from lounges and outdoor furniture being
ruined to plants not growing properly.
I never had any issue with the people; they
seemed nice and kept to themselves. I am not sure whether this is due to their
character or that they knew no one liked them. There was only one night that I
heard any fighting or yelling, and that didn’t last very long and wasn’t too
intrusive, save for a radio being thrown on the road. But upsetting the neighbours
on one occasion in over a year is quite alright with me. It’s a fair bit better
than my usual average.
Then they moved out. There were stories
that they were on the run
from the law, that they were on the run from something else, had
just run
away, or that they had moved to the mines and the like. The house stayed
empty for a while and then everyone was relieved when it was tenanted by ‘nice’
people.
Not long went by before the ‘nice’ people,
while still being nice, this niceness had qualifications; they were nice, but drove
a car that was too expensive. Then the teenage daughter left a light on
overnight and was a little noisy. Another brief period of time passed before
how they had acted on a particular occasion became who they were. “They did the wrong thing by upsetting...[well,
let’s just call her Mrs
Murphy]”
Another thing that has happened is that
next door has been renovated and another person has moved in. The lady that
lives next door is in her nineties and has lived in that house for fifty years.
She still has an English accent that is almost too think to understand at
times. She pays a grumpy old fool to mow the front lawn, but the back lawn is
mainly overgrown weeds and clover. For a while now I have been meaning to spend
a few hours mowing and then weeding the yard as it needs doing. This is not
only cause I’m just that nice ... [cough] ... fine then... but it is also
because it would save a lot of weeds coming through to our yard for a while. So
while this was a helping-out-a-neighbour
idea, there was also benefit for me in it.
But then her
daughter moved in. And then her daughter swore at the neighbours for using
a chainsaw too loudly. And then her daughter swore at me for using a sander one
Sunday arvo.
“I’m
just so sick of all this noise. Could YOU people make any more noise?”
Never ask an Aussie man if he could make
more noise after you’ve annoyed him. You’re not going to like the answer. There
may not be a valid reason for using a drop saw and a petrol powered pressure
cleaner at the same time; come to think of it it’s probably a tad bit
dangerous, but I do believe it answers her question.
But here’s the thing: now I am not inclined
to help with the back yard at all.
Why is this? Am I justified in just saying ‘well
stuff them then, they can mow their own yard’ when I know that they clearly can’t?
I lie to myself and say that I have too much on my plate as it is and couldn’t
really spare the time.
I have witnessed the daughter have a
partial tantrum at a council worker who was planting trees, prettying up the
street; due to their being a palm tree there many decades ago (probably before
this guy was born) that caused them some concern. So maybe I don’t want to be
subjected to an onlooker. Maybe I don’t want to allow myself to be judged by an
unwelcomed external source.
Maybe, and maybe not. But the point is that
for some reason, I am a less kind person, I am a lesser person than I was and I
can not explain why. If I say it was caused by her, I would have to admit that
she has some sense of power to do that, which I don’t want to do. Maybe she’s just
cranky and lonely and I should cut her some slack.
Australia has a fairly good track record at
being able to turn the other cheek as a country. We don’t get all pissy when
our leaders do something stupid. The closest we’ve ever come to civil war or rebellion
was over rum and we didn’t throw a tantrum and dump a whole bunch of tea into a
river or try and blow up parliament house with gunpowder, we just found him
cowering under his bed and sent him back to England. “This one’s no good,” we
said, “but no harm done, just send us another one.”
By the way, sorry for all the cheesey
Blues Brothers references and links... here’s one more to make a lie out of
my apology. It’s my son’s new all time favourite movie. A while ago I lamented
that the greatest joy in life is watching four children eat their breakfast and
sway in time to ‘Love in
an Elevator’. It’s been topped by those same kids not wanting to go to the
school disco because the music is terrible... “I’d go if they played a little SRV or Beatles Dad.” ... you kids
rock.
This
post’s lame joke:
Most people don’t realise that Heaven isn’t
above us and Hell isn’t below us, they are side by side. One day, Satan threw a
huge kegger and ended up burning down a few sheds and the big fence that separates
the two areas.
The next morning, God is out there and he
is mad. I mean, he is really mad.
“You’ll fix up this fence and quickly.” He yells
at Satan.
Satan, bleary eyed and hung-over, replies “yeah,
yeah, we have tonnes of tradies here in hell. We have concreters, builders,
builder’s labourers. It’ll be done in no time.”
A few hours later, God is surprised to see
the fence has not only been completely rebuilt, but it is far more magnificent
than the last one. When God inspects it a little closer, he notices that the
fence is actually three metres on the heaven side of the boundary.
“You bum” God yells at Satan, “You won’t
get away with this, I’m going to sue you for this.”
“Really?” Satan responds, “and where are
you going to find a lawyer?”
This
post’s groovy, identity seeking quote:
(you know the one I’m going to throw at you
already don’t you dear reader?)
This
is the Court...which has its decaying houses and its lighted lands in every
shire, which has its worn-out lunatic in every madhouse and its dead in every
churchyard, which has its ruined suitor with his slipshod heels and threadbare
dress borrowing and begging through the round of every man's acquaintance,
which gives to monied might the means abundantly of wearying out the right,
which so exhausts finances, patience, courage, hope, so overthrows the brain
and breaks the heart, that there is not an honourable man among its
practitioners who would not give — who does not often give — the warning,
"Suffer any wrong that can be done you rather than come here!"
This
post’s inappropriate over share:
Continuing on from the theme of pettiness,
or a variation of it, I can’t stand people who say “for all intensive purposes”.
What on earth does that mean? I know they meant to say ‘for all intents and
purposes’ but what is an intensive purpose? What isn’t? Are they even listening
to what they’re saying? Why are non-intensive or less-intensive purposes not
allowed? I know it seems little but man does it get under my skin. It’s like
all these bogans who slush out the supposed ANZAC poem and say “...age will not
weary them, nor the years condemn.” What does that mean ? Why would the years
condemn them? That doesn’t make any sense. The years may contemn them, that
would make sense.
I guess I’m just small minded and petty...