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We all have different experiences that influence our attitude toward something, but the fact is that the world’s most knowledgeable art experts would not disagree very much on which are the best paintings. You can say, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” or you can say “That’s your opinion,” but once two people know all about a subject, they almost always agree. We disagree on things when one person knows more than the other.” –Andy Rooney

I don’t get electricity. I know it comes from the conversion of force into energy, through burning fuel or harnessing the power of water, wind, sun, fission. I just don’t know what happens next. It goes to a transformer and it gets transformed? Then it travels magically through “live” wires into my house. And with all this electricity around, why don’t more people get fried? Electrocution is a phobia of mine, thanks to Rick Moody and Ang Lee (See The Ice Storm).

–I don’t get “The Masters.” Golf. As a spectator sport. Especially televised. Is this a sleep aid? A form of meditation? A well-heeled walk-about in the hot sun under enforced silence. A practice similar to living in a cave, eating gruel, wearing a burlap dress. Perhaps it is the way.

I don’t get social one-upmanship among relative nobodies. Once you have met someone, let’s say twice (to be generous)– why put so much effort into avoiding acknowledgment of any sort? Why not nod, smile, or just say hello? Afterwards, you can keep walking, shopping, or sunbathing behind your mirrored shades. I will not abduct you.

I don’t get grown men in diapers. I’m not talking about Depends. I understand what’s going on with those poor guys, and I feel for them. I don’t get grown men who symbolically wear diapers. Grown men who want to be taken care of in a sort of mundane way. For example, a man who refuses to pick up his dirty socks from the floor. (See Byron Katie’s spiritual awakening.) Is it because of a mother issue? Maybe I do understand this one.

–I don’t get grown women who play with dolls. (See above.)