Tony and I have a thing

A man named Tony Levelle spent time yesterday helping me market my book (www.lattefarsan.se). He doesn’t know me and I don’t know Tony. Until he was done helping me, I didn’t know he existed.

So why did he spend his free time helping a stranger? I doubt I can call it “reciprocal altruism”. There’s nothing in it for Tony except my appreciation. And that seems to be enough. That’s what I love about Tony – he’s not after my money or time. He just wants me to be successful, because that will make him feel good and needed.

Hey, what if we all started living like this, and cut the moneyminders out of the equation all together?

Fidgety rich

This might not be news to you, but apparently rich people are less interested in talking to us than poor ones are. According to Berkeley psychologists Michael Kraus and Dacher Keltner, the body language of the well-off displays more “disengagement behaviours” such as looking away, fidgeting and doodling. Poor saps, on the other hand, will try to engage others by nodding, laughing and making eye contact.

I believe this is true. Some of my best friends are poor, and they’re exactly like that – really friendly. Don’t know that many filthy rich ones. Maybe they’re the ones who insist on ignoring me?

The ”Important” binder

Ever since I left home 23 years ago, I have kept a ring binder in my bookshelf with “Important” written on the spine. In it I have kept insurance papers, pension papers, bank statements, employment contracts, etc. Not a thing about my travels, my loves, my prides and joys, my secrets and dreams. That stuff has been spread all over the place.

Lately, though, that binder has started to annoy me. “Important”? These papers from strangers are what I have considered important in my life? I can’t even make sense of most of the damn things.

In short, I feel a bonfire coming on. After 23 years indoors, the fucker should make perfect kindling.

Listening heads

A successful friend of mine once had the idea of us returning to the town where we grew up to exchange wisdom with the high school kids who came after us. We could set up workshops and build networks that would benefit both sides.

I thought it was a great idea until I heard him go on and on about everything we would tell them. “Yes”, I said, “and then we would learn what it’s like to be a teenager today!” He went silent. I could tell he wasn’t the least bit interested in hearing what the kids had to say. He wanted to talk about himself.

I often fall into this trap myself, which makes me such a lousy interviewer. I want to impress my subjects with how much research I’ve done, and I can tell it annoys them. It’s not about me, it’s about them. Maybe that’s why I like this blog – because it’s all about me?

Ann

A friend of mine died yesterday. We weren’t super close, but we worked together every day from 2000 to 2007 and got to know each other fairly well. She was 13 years older than me, and when we first met she lived a life very different from mine, with a husband and two kids outside of Stockholm. Now I am a family man myself, so ironically we probably would have had more in common now.

But I left the company two years ago, then she did the same last year, so we lost touch. I last saw her in July at a friend’s birthday party. She had just quit her new job, too, and was unemployed, worried and searching for a foothold. Soon after that she got sick.

She gave me a very nice professional compliment in an e-mail once, and I made a point of printing a hardcopy of it when I quit. On my part, I teased her for being nervous about shifting lanes when driving to our new offices when the company moved. She didn’t enjoy driving.

Just a few days ago, when the Swedish winter chose to momentarily relax its grip, I took my motorcycle out for its first spin of the year. I remember thinking I should drive out and visit Ann when it gets a little warmer. Not that I really know what to say to someone who is terminally ill, but I don’t want to be somebody who lets down a friend just to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

I should have done it right away.

What happened to Britain?

We tend to take it for granted, but when we back away and study history from afar, it’s nothing short of amazing to see the amount of contributions the British have made to human progress. Why were Darwin, Newton, Hume, Priestley (Joseph, not Jason) and countless others British and not, for instance Spanish? Or Swedish?

Yes, I know – all countries have their local heroes. And probably a dozen countries take credit for inventing the telephone. But there’s no getting around the fact that some societies are fertile ground for innovation and exploration. The British Isles were for a very long time exactly that. But to paraphrase the great Janet Jackson, what have they done for us lately?

You Brits spoiled us, and now we miss you. What happened?

Euro-Caribbean arses

An ad in the latest CNN Traveler offers “distinguished Euro-Caribbean living at its best” somewhere in the Dutch Antilles. I’m trying to decide if this is just the usual marketing bullshit or if it’s built on market research saying that this is what nauseously rich people want – distinguished Euro-Caribbean living. What the hell is that anyway? Two waiters to every man? Round-the-clock Evian service? Somebody polishing your nads while you’re having brunch?

Believe me, there is nothing distinguished about sitting around in a $20,000-dollar deckchair all day. It’s called “wasting your life away”. How about lending a hand instead? There’s a lot to be done in the real world.

Arseholes.

Full disclosure

Henrik Schyffert once said he wasn’t afraid of anything anymore because he had stopped keeping secrets. If we just stop worrying about getting found out for imaginary transgressions, we become indestructible. People don’t care as much about us as we like to think. They are mostly preoccupied with their own lives. This can be a depressing insight, but in this particular case it works to our advantage.

To give an example, Schyffert said he was now comfortable telling complete strangers that he used to be a bedwetter. Once you pre-empt people by disclosing stuff openly there is no way others can have power over you, and you can get on with your life without being afraid.

Here’s where I should come clean about something I used to keep secret, but I’m not ready yet. Not for the big ones, anyway. Okay, I love Star Trek and occasionally power-eat cinnamon buns, but that doesn’t count. I will be back with more juicy bits later. In case you care. Which you don’t. But I still will.

Squeaky

Thanks to a tip from my friend Christian, I have today ordered a miniature microphone to stick to the business end of my iPod to record interviews. I wonder if it comes with a smooth Apple feature that makes my recorded voice sound less like a little girl’s?

If not then come on, geeks! What could you possibly be working on that’s more important than that?

Ingvar

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog entry here bemoaning the fact that no beleaguered companies use their websites to put their own side of the story out there. I’m not claiming credit, but now AMF Pension is doing exactly that.

AMF Pension is a Swedish company that makes beautiful TV commercials about pension savings. The films are versions on the idea of meeting your future self. Sadly, the top brass at the company seems to be of rotten moral fiber. Recently, one (at least) vice president, a man named Ingvar Skeberg, came forward and admitted to moving his private pension savings in the company ahead of some financial news that is now hurting regular Joes and Janes.

CEO Ingrid Bonde promptly fired Skeberg and put the company’s self-flagellating version of the story on the index page of their website. Two swift and decisive moves.

Now I’m hoping Bonde will turn the torch on the rest of her team. And make sure Skeberg was a one-off greedy jerk. Keep ’em crossed!

Nallo

Today just an image of what will hopefully be my office for two weeks in late April. It’s a mountain cabin called Nallo in the far north of Sweden. The nearest paved road is 43 kilometers away. Keep your fingers crossed!

P.S. The house is in the bottom right of the picture.

Rugby

Sometime’s it all feels a bit like this:

“Life’s a bit like a game of rugby. You grab the ball and you’ve got to run through the scrum and make as long a run as you can ... and not get distracted by people kicking you in the nuts. You’ve got to keep running.”
– Tim Flannery, FT Weekend Magazine 2009-02-28/03-01

Doesn’t it?

Sevensleeper

I think it’s hilarious that someone who can’t get out of bed is called a “sevensleeper” (sjusovare) in Sweden. Was that the most outrageous hour to rise our phrase-coining forefathers could think of?

“Yep, he’s a real sevensleeper. Can’t roll out of bed at 4.45 like the rest of us to milk the cows before the sun goes up. Lazy bastard.”

Seriously, isn’t this phrase overdue for an adjustment to modern life? Since when is 7 am sleeping in? We invented automatic milking machines for a reason, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of enjoying a good weekend snooze into the early afternoon.

Meriwether Lewis

I like to watch the credits at the end of a film to count people who have first names as their last names. People such as George Lucas, Steve Martin, George Michael, Patrick Stewart, Darryl Hannah, Bob Hope, Ian Fleming. I could go on. Try it yourself. I guarantee you will find at least ten in a good-size credit roll.

Since I started doing this, I have found them in other areas, too. Like politics, where we have Warren Christopher, John Kerry, Helen Thomas and, I guess, even Scooter Libby. And no less than three men in Obama’s inner circle – Rahm Emanuel, Greg Craig and Barney Frank.

An interesting case is Lewis and Clark (a two-fer), which could have been their first names but are their last. Actually, since “Meriwether” isn’t even a real first name, I would argue that Lewis had his first name as a last name.

Anyway, what I’m wondering is why this phenomenon only appears in English. Why isn’t the prime minister of Sweden ever named “Göran Sven”? I know, I know, there are a few examples, but not nearly as many as in English. Just something I think about.

Eco and social justice

When did the environmental movement become a crusade for social justice?

Here I thought the point of alleviating climate change was to make the world clean for future generations. Now people are latching on ideas about land reform and solidarity with the developing world, equal pay and “levelling the playing field”. All very noble intentions that I sympathize with, but can we please talk about one issue at a time?

I can’t see how the environment would benefit from me becoming as miserable as a subsistance farmer in Darfur. Maybe I can even do more good if you let me stay rich and powerful?

Chuck Feeney

You have probably never heard of him. Not many have. Chuck Feeney started selling tax-free cigarettes and booze to American troops in the Mediterranean during the 1950s. When business boomed, he co-founded the Duty Free Shoppers Group and became a billionaire.

Then he did something remarkable. After providing for his wife and kids for life, he gave all his money away. All 3.457 billion dollars of it, save about a million for himself. And without showboating or attracting attention.

He will never have a statue on Wall Street, but he’s one of my heroes.

Poker blows

I once read an investigative article in Reader’s Digest detailing the planned introduction of cigar smoking in society. Turns out none of those movies (Independence Day, etc) and magazine covers (Arnold and Demi Moore) were the results of creative decisions. They were bought by an industry that made a killing on poor saps who suddenly, as if from out of the blue, thought it was cool to smoke cigars. Meanwhile, rich saps bought $2,000 humidors and bored each other with stories of rare Cubans. We were all made to believe it was a trend sprung from normal people that cigar companies just happened to capitalize on. In reality, it was all planned from the top.

While this fleecing was going on, very few people thought it was also cool to give away their money by gambling. Now, as if by a random trend (again), we all do. We have been brainwashed to believe that poker and slot machines and casinos are what we should devote our leisure time to. And gambling companies are swimming in cash.

Can somebody please expose this? Reader’s Digest? Anybody?

Pakistan has the bomb!

Cricketers should never have to be shot at, but what worries me even more about recent events in Pakistan is that the country is a nuclear power (that’s nuculer for you Republicans). Having any state fall into the hands of medieval clergy is a bad enough. If it happens to a state with thermonuclear weaponry, we should all stop being happy and start worrying.

The Pakistani government now allows the use of sharia law in the Swat valley (apparently a tourist destination, as far as those go in Pakistan). So I guess we will soon be seeing public stonings and lashings in town squares on Friday afternoon. Mainly of kids for the crime of dancing or humming U2. And all approved by the government.

I used to be only worried about Iran getting their hands on nuclear weapons, but Pakistan provides a far more scary, and seemingly more likely, nightmare.

R.I.P. Arena

It’s a sad day when your husorgan (great Swedish word that deserves to become the next smörgåsbord) folds. The British magazine Arena (www.arenamagazine.co.uk) will put out its last issue next week, ending a glorious tradition of amazing writing.

I will remember Justin Quirk’s gruelling Spartan workout with the trainer who whipped actors in shape for the film 300, and the “Britain under the Taliban” article. Exceptional stuff.

Guess I’ll have to read Wired now.

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Get lost you little jerk

Nicolas Sarkozy cracks me up. I thought lèse-majesté was quaint when used against foreigners in Thailand, but the pint-sized (yes, I’m making fun of his height) president of France has had a protester arrested, prosecuted and convicted of offending a head of state. The man had apparently waved a sign at Sarkozy saying “Get lost you little jerk.”

Now that in itself is funny, but the really funny thing is that the demonstrator was quoting ... Sarkozy. When an ordinary Frenchman refused to shake his hand, the president of France told that citizen to “Get lost you little jerk”.

So let me get this straight: The president is allowed to insult citizens, but citizens who insult the president are arrested? I’m distressed. If the French can’t rage against the pompous, who can? No country has a finer tradition of telling their leaders they are little jerks, and they should be proud of it.

Robert

I was recently invited to a breakfast with Robert. It sounded nice until I saw that Robert Bergqvist is the chief economist at SEB. The invitation says that he will explain to us the reasons for the current crisis, its effects and when we can count on it being over.

Can someone please explain to me why we are still listening to economists? Robert represents a bank that has asked for 15 billion kronor from the government because they didn’t see this mess coming, and now I’m supposed to believe that he knows when it will end?

Sorry Robert, I will not be attending.

Why not eat this blog?

When Apple introduced the iPod Shuffle, there was a line in the legal text that read “Do not eat iPod Shuffle”. I thought that was funny because it made the point that the device is so small that you just might eat it by mistake. Sneaking it in with the mind-stoppingly boring legal script was a stroke of subversive genius that did nobody any harm. It just spread some joy where it was much needed.

After a few months of such unruly fun, the unsmiling lawyers caught on and said the sentence had to go, and they got their way. The world got a little less enjoyable and nobody benefited. (God, it must be depressing to be a lawyer.)

Anyway, that’s the story behind the name of this blog. Not as funny as in Apple’s case, but isn’t it at least a little better than “Henrik’s blog”?

Seth told the story, so believe it.

Your friendly atheist

If you believe the media (which, alas, we seem pre-wired to do), you get the impression that violence today – both random and premeditaded – is out of control. It is not. As a species, human beings have never been more physically safe.

French historian Robert Muchembled writes that today’s Europeans are murdered at a rate of 1 per 100 000. (For Americans, it’s 6 per 100 000). But in the 14th century, a full 130 of every 100 000 are estimated to have met a violent death at the hands of other humans.

So why are we so afraid? Who benefits from scaring us? Well, the media (my profession) surely does, as do insurance companies and politicians who want more authority to “protect” us. Then there are the religious who hysterically call on the ignorant to battle non-believers (Rwanda is the most Christian country in Africa).

Seems we get more moral the less we pay attention to religion. Haven’t the godly always told us it was the other way around?