Getting My Sh*T Together OR Where Have I been All of My Life OR The Pitfalls Of Being US.

SCIENTISTS NEED TO LOCATE AND IDENTIFY THE "DOER" GENE! Mapping that gene should be worth 2 or 3 Nobel Prizes for Science as well as some big bonus money.

The world would be so much better off knowing if a little"get things done" spawn is growing in utero. Parents could have prenatal knowledge they won't have a slacker cooing in their bassinettes. They can plan early for college or trade school (someone has to build the stuff, don't they?) for their embryonic wunderkind! What an improvement to the world.  Of course, you wouldn't ignore those unfortunates who do not carry that gene. They too would be welcomed into society with a knowledge the beer and gaming industry would remain vital and strong.
Someone needs to be there to experience and offer first-hand testimony of what they observed...kind of a reviewer or blogger even. You see, there has to be those who do as well as those who watch. Watching in the archival sense (an observer, let's say). Many times the watcher looks at what the doer has done and says things like "I could have got it for you cheaper" or "You know, there was a better way of doing that" or "From what I saw that isn't gonna work", irritatingly spouting useless negativism at its best. The ways of the observer are underappreciated. We who chronicle, work to remove any confusion regarding what the doers have been, are or are about to be doing. We provide a vital function. We offer helpful, if not wanted, criticism which can skirt the edge of ruthlessness when bestowing our opinion on something disagreeable and wallow about spouting gaudy, aggrandizing raves when in full agreement. We are the watchdogs of the doers!

My/Our problem is as observers we might never lift a finger to make something happen. Doers can be cruel.
I keep hearing that expression, "Those that can do. Those that can't teach." in the back of my mind as I sit here typing away, spilling my guts about stuff I really have no right on which to voice an opinion more than the next person. Am I a sideline kinda guy? Don't answer that...yet.

Walking through a big box store a couple of days ago, well known for late-night shopper fashion, I was struck by the fact you can see styles that harken back to the trashy attire of the 1970's being worn now by folks who probably rocked it proudly IN the 1970's. Upon seeing one such vision pass me by, I voiced my opinion to my spouse (who has that gene if they ever get around discovering it) in a light-hearted way and received a tongue lashing for being an insensitive elitist looking down on those folks. It did give me pause. I had to think about my implied need to get my societal poop scraped into a proper pile and decided to allow the time required for such introspection. My epiphany took but a few minutes of reflection. If that well past MILF, cougaresque (Yup. It's a new word. Don't bother with the dictionary...it means in the manner of an older predatory female on the make.) lady wanted to turn heads by sporting a mullet, daisy dukes (featuring 360 degrees of cellulite), a halter top, covered in tats interlaced with suntanned wrinkles distorting the design, it was her right to do so. It was also my right as an observer and chronicler to observe and note for future comment. My mistake was the public display of mirth and of telling my spouse what I was chuckling about. Lesson learned.

At any time in my life have I been a doer? Have I always been the guy who sits back, observes and then spews his brilliance by way of opinion or helpful hints?

Teachers are doers. I've been in sales for almost my entire career. If I wasn't a doer I would have starved or had to change jobs. So can one be both a doer and an observer? Yes. We need both. BUT an observer isn't sitting in front of a game console with headphones on in their underwear playing video games every waking hour. Of course, now you can earn millions by turning pro and winning tournaments. It's a crazy world. Even slackers can now aspire to greatness.

We still need that gene identified. I may not be a traditional doer but maybe a little rubbed off on me. Or perhaps I have a better understanding of where I've been all my life...right here in the checkout line at midnight wearing flipflops, a Hawaiian shirt, ugly shorts and a Yankees hat.