During a recent (slightly heated) conversation in which everything political was put on the table for discussion – from the Cuban Revolution and the “natural” democratization of Latin America in the 1980s to the shortfalls of Reagan’s domestic policy – the role of religion in American politics inevitably came up. Since the faith of our current president provides much of the explanation, if not the motivation, for the vast majority of his policy decisions, it was a natural transition.
What was striking, however, was the unwillingness of the gentleman with whom I was (heatedly) speaking to discuss religion with the same tit-for-tat exchange of facts and ideas with which we had just discussed politics. He did agree with my statement that unquestioned dogma is most dangerous when applied liberally to politics. But that was as far as he would go. The conversation took a quick and decisive turn back to politics.
If one claims to be a person of faith, and readily acknowledges the perils of dogma-infused political positions, but refuses to openly discuss their faith (which, they admit, forms the basis of their political outlook), what separates them from the dogmatic people (usually Arab) whom they criticize? Very little.
What makes the study of political science possible is the fact that all of the forms, history, key players, etc of politics are fair game. Certain ideas are considered more radical than others, but none are considered too sacred for discussion because of some allegedly inherent personal nature of politics. If one is bold enough to espouse political views, it is assumed that they reached these views through some degree of reading or observation. Even if this person’s political views are merely the adopted views of others or the regurgitation of some radio show or biased media outlet, conversation should make this readily apparent. The fact that they exposed their particular political position makes them vulnerable to criticism and responsible for their own defense.
Espousing religious beliefs, however, does not demand the same responsibility of its adherents. It should.
In the course of the discussion mentioned above, I realized that my worldview and the worldview of the gentleman with whom I was talking differed greatly. More important than the fact that there was a difference, is where the difference began. Because one’s view of religion determines how one views the end of life, the ethical responsibilities of human beings, and myriad other ideas of immense importance, it cannot help but be the greatest determining factor in one’s politics.
If religion is such an important player in the world today, providing motivation for President Bush and Islamic fundamentalists alike, shouldn’t its merits be more defendable, and its adherents less defensive? I think so.
Obviously there are plenty of religious people that are more than willing to debate and discuss their respective faiths until all involved parties are blue in the face. The three monotheistic faiths are, unless practiced in the most watered-down forms, ultimately incompatible, and are also equally defensible, given the standard of evidence and the role of faith. This being the case, those people willing to discuss or debate (or murder, bomb, terrorize) to the death, will continue to do so to no end. And even though all of the talk of religious pluralism makes me warm inside, it is more disingenuous than realistic given the incompatibility and close proximity of the world’s religions, especially considering what is at stake.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Friday, December 01, 2006
An Open Letter to Carson Daly
Carson, I’m sorry. Apparently you’ve been begging for scraps from Leno and Conan’s late night table for five years now. For all but about three weeks of those five years, I have considered you kind of a tool. It was in the last month or so that my insomnia kicked in and my bootleg cable limited my wee-morning viewing options to either your show or John Hagee’s “Fat-man Christian Variety and Repentance Hour.”
Expecting to see nothing but cheesy humor, average guests, and selections from Mariah Carey’s “party shuffle,” I was pleasantly surprised to see that your celebrity and musical guests were at least adequate, and sometimes very good. You also seem quite aware that you are not funny.
This is fine because your show doesn’t depend on you being funny. You only have 30 minutes to burn, so there’s no need for Conan-esque skits or Lenoian sidewalk trivia games. Perhaps this is why your guests are so entertaining. Or maybe I’m completely wrong and your guests only seem entertaining in contrast to you.
If this is the case, then any living, breathing person that owns a suit can do your job. I know that the same holds true for my job, but I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to be a jackass. I have to do it pro-bono.
Bitterness aside, you are most likely not the tool that I once thought you were. You are, at worst, terribly boring. At least you (or your producer) have decent taste in music and a knack for picking out relatively obscure but oddly interesting guests for your insomniac viewers to watch as they fade in and out of consciousness.
So Carson, I hope that we can put our past behind us. As long as you don’t start thinking that you’re funny and keep the good music coming, all will be well in the late night universe.
Rainbows and kittens,
T
P.S. We’re all convinced now that your ties are not clip-ons. You’re a grown up. It’s ok to wear your tie like an adult.
Expecting to see nothing but cheesy humor, average guests, and selections from Mariah Carey’s “party shuffle,” I was pleasantly surprised to see that your celebrity and musical guests were at least adequate, and sometimes very good. You also seem quite aware that you are not funny.
This is fine because your show doesn’t depend on you being funny. You only have 30 minutes to burn, so there’s no need for Conan-esque skits or Lenoian sidewalk trivia games. Perhaps this is why your guests are so entertaining. Or maybe I’m completely wrong and your guests only seem entertaining in contrast to you.
If this is the case, then any living, breathing person that owns a suit can do your job. I know that the same holds true for my job, but I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to be a jackass. I have to do it pro-bono.
Bitterness aside, you are most likely not the tool that I once thought you were. You are, at worst, terribly boring. At least you (or your producer) have decent taste in music and a knack for picking out relatively obscure but oddly interesting guests for your insomniac viewers to watch as they fade in and out of consciousness.
So Carson, I hope that we can put our past behind us. As long as you don’t start thinking that you’re funny and keep the good music coming, all will be well in the late night universe.
Rainbows and kittens,
T
P.S. We’re all convinced now that your ties are not clip-ons. You’re a grown up. It’s ok to wear your tie like an adult.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
It's not just me, right?
Do you ever see someone and think, “What a tool,” and then realize that his/her dress/behavior/jokes/hair/etc are frighteningly similar to your own? If so, and if you’re anything like me, your immediate reaction is “oh, but I would really make that sweater/shoes/ pair of glasses sexy.”
Who am I kidding? I mean, really?
This is the same kind of judgmental attitude coupled with self-denial that in junior high resulted in my placing a “TV is bad” sticker on a wall that would eventually house a TV. This is tantamount to calling someone on your cell phone to tell them that you are now completely off of the “grid.”
Blind rage combined with an underdeveloped sense of direction can certainly result in some embarrassing ironies (Michael Richards’ claiming to be Jewish, for example). Luckily, if you have a sense of humor and a willingness to acknowledge your own ability to think and do stupid things, yesterday’s embarrassment can be today’s funny story.
Who am I kidding? I mean, really?
This is the same kind of judgmental attitude coupled with self-denial that in junior high resulted in my placing a “TV is bad” sticker on a wall that would eventually house a TV. This is tantamount to calling someone on your cell phone to tell them that you are now completely off of the “grid.”
Blind rage combined with an underdeveloped sense of direction can certainly result in some embarrassing ironies (Michael Richards’ claiming to be Jewish, for example). Luckily, if you have a sense of humor and a willingness to acknowledge your own ability to think and do stupid things, yesterday’s embarrassment can be today’s funny story.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
A Few Morsely Morsels
“I’d start a revolution, but I just bought a hammock”
- Zach Galifianakis<>R>
*************************************************************************************
An ExxonMobil executive complained to me yesterday about the pollution in Tokyo being worse this time of year because of the weather. I mentioned that Santiago, Chile suffers from the same problem. He replied, “Ahh yes, but Tokyo has significantly more cars though.”
This particular gentleman and I are quite aware of our differing opinions on climate change, global warming, etc.
*************************************************************************************
This article, of course, picked out selections from Ahmadinejad’s latest letter to Americans. You know, sometimes he makes some pretty good points. Unfortunately he spends most of his time scaring the shit out of Israel, so we’re never going to be able to take him seriously.
- Zach Galifianakis<>R>
*************************************************************************************
An ExxonMobil executive complained to me yesterday about the pollution in Tokyo being worse this time of year because of the weather. I mentioned that Santiago, Chile suffers from the same problem. He replied, “Ahh yes, but Tokyo has significantly more cars though.”
This particular gentleman and I are quite aware of our differing opinions on climate change, global warming, etc.
*************************************************************************************
This article, of course, picked out selections from Ahmadinejad’s latest letter to Americans. You know, sometimes he makes some pretty good points. Unfortunately he spends most of his time scaring the shit out of Israel, so we’re never going to be able to take him seriously.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Clever Like a FOX
FOX interrupted the Simpsons this weekend with a flashy promotional piece for their fancy Tuesday primetime lineup. They wanted to make sure that I knew that both Standoff and House would be all new this week. What was interesting about this particular promo piece, however, was the intermittent interjection of the comforting phrase, “you’re never alone.”
At first, this struck me as odd coming from a television network. But then I realized that this was precisely the sentiment that the network hoped to convey to its viewership.
What FOX really wants to instill in you is the following:
Rest assured. If you find yourself being held hostage by some maniac in the greater Los Angeles area, Ron Livingston (of Sex & the City fame) and Emily Lehman (of Standoff fame) will briefly put aside their inconvenient and awkward love affair to save your life, and will do so in just under 60 minutes (including commercials).
Or, if you’re a hypochondriac:
Don’t worry. If you find yourself afflicted by some random disease, a drug-addled Hugh Laurie (of Blackadder fame) will refuse to dress like an actual doctor while gladly spraying you with some experimental medicine. He will then immediately pinpoint the super-rare ailment that is currently afflicting you. The he’ll take more drugs while confidently wielding his cane.
Essentially, fat America (I include myself in this slam) can breathe a sigh of relief because Rupert Murdoch’s designer-clad problem-solvers are on the case.
The bigger question, I think, is how much do we, the American TV-watching public, look to television for comfort and friendship. Now, I understand that this should be a question relegated to absurdity, but honest observation will, I think, prove otherwise.
Take FRIENDS, for example. I know of several people who, by the end of the 10 season run, felt a sincere connection with the six characters. These people are not social degenerates or chronic introverts who look exclusively to NBC for their social interaction. Since FRIENDS was universally popular, it could easily be used to relate other FRIENDS viewers. Now, don’t think that by talking about “these people” in a distant third person that I am putting them down in any way. I have shows that I relate to and enjoy, too. I pride myself for having developed a keen “Seinfeldian” outlook on life, and tend look down on those who are not as highly evolved.
So, in case you find yourself lost (I know, I like that phrase, too), all I have illustrated thus far is that people a) watch TV, b) they like it, and c) they talk about it after they see it. As irrelevant and useless as this might seem, you’re right.
Irrelevant, that is, until you meet someone whose sole means for interaction with other human beings seems to be whatever they happened to have watched on television the night before.* Granted, TV is often entertaining and sometimes interesting. I watch a lot of it. But one has to be aware of how often one’s conversation starts with “Oh my god. You should have seen it. Last night on…..”
I think that FOX ultimately wants to remind people that they “are not alone” because they hope to be that one thing that stands between the public and absolute loneliness.
“I know I’m not out with friends right now, but I am by no means alone. I mean look, Ron Livingston is right here in my living room. I can’t wait to tell everyone at work all about it. They’ll be so interested.”
*Yes. I still have a short-term memory. I do recall writing something about a “Seinfeldian” outlook on life. I maintain that this outlook was formed over years of observation and conversation with fellow Seinfeldians. I think that my outlook on life would have developed just as well without Seinfeld, just perhaps not as rapidly or acutely. It’s kind of like those people who followed the Grateful Dead around the country. Just because Jerry Garcia formed a band and took a liking to pot didn’t automatically cause all of those people to adopt an affection for tie-dyed clothing and Winnebagos. They were already willing and able. They just needed a namesake.*
At first, this struck me as odd coming from a television network. But then I realized that this was precisely the sentiment that the network hoped to convey to its viewership.
What FOX really wants to instill in you is the following:
Rest assured. If you find yourself being held hostage by some maniac in the greater Los Angeles area, Ron Livingston (of Sex & the City fame) and Emily Lehman (of Standoff fame) will briefly put aside their inconvenient and awkward love affair to save your life, and will do so in just under 60 minutes (including commercials).
Or, if you’re a hypochondriac:
Don’t worry. If you find yourself afflicted by some random disease, a drug-addled Hugh Laurie (of Blackadder fame) will refuse to dress like an actual doctor while gladly spraying you with some experimental medicine. He will then immediately pinpoint the super-rare ailment that is currently afflicting you. The he’ll take more drugs while confidently wielding his cane.
Essentially, fat America (I include myself in this slam) can breathe a sigh of relief because Rupert Murdoch’s designer-clad problem-solvers are on the case.
The bigger question, I think, is how much do we, the American TV-watching public, look to television for comfort and friendship. Now, I understand that this should be a question relegated to absurdity, but honest observation will, I think, prove otherwise.
Take FRIENDS, for example. I know of several people who, by the end of the 10 season run, felt a sincere connection with the six characters. These people are not social degenerates or chronic introverts who look exclusively to NBC for their social interaction. Since FRIENDS was universally popular, it could easily be used to relate other FRIENDS viewers. Now, don’t think that by talking about “these people” in a distant third person that I am putting them down in any way. I have shows that I relate to and enjoy, too. I pride myself for having developed a keen “Seinfeldian” outlook on life, and tend look down on those who are not as highly evolved.
So, in case you find yourself lost (I know, I like that phrase, too), all I have illustrated thus far is that people a) watch TV, b) they like it, and c) they talk about it after they see it. As irrelevant and useless as this might seem, you’re right.
Irrelevant, that is, until you meet someone whose sole means for interaction with other human beings seems to be whatever they happened to have watched on television the night before.* Granted, TV is often entertaining and sometimes interesting. I watch a lot of it. But one has to be aware of how often one’s conversation starts with “Oh my god. You should have seen it. Last night on…..”
I think that FOX ultimately wants to remind people that they “are not alone” because they hope to be that one thing that stands between the public and absolute loneliness.
“I know I’m not out with friends right now, but I am by no means alone. I mean look, Ron Livingston is right here in my living room. I can’t wait to tell everyone at work all about it. They’ll be so interested.”
*Yes. I still have a short-term memory. I do recall writing something about a “Seinfeldian” outlook on life. I maintain that this outlook was formed over years of observation and conversation with fellow Seinfeldians. I think that my outlook on life would have developed just as well without Seinfeld, just perhaps not as rapidly or acutely. It’s kind of like those people who followed the Grateful Dead around the country. Just because Jerry Garcia formed a band and took a liking to pot didn’t automatically cause all of those people to adopt an affection for tie-dyed clothing and Winnebagos. They were already willing and able. They just needed a namesake.*
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
My Impending Unemployment
So, in two months, I will most likely be unemployed and in a foreign country. I quit a job that, other than the usual complaints (demanding boss, too much work, too little pay, etc), isn’t really that bad. I have a decent apartment, a newish car, and a good group of friends here. Why would I up and move to a foreign country with no job and plenty of bureaucratic, linguistic, and professional barriers in place to keep me from finding one? Since I have to sell, parcel out, and move all of my earthly belongings, and then dive into the unknown, am I not risking a whole lot? Aren’t the stakes ridiculously high here?
Yes. The stakes are incredibly high.
If you watched The Office last week, you may remember the dilemma facing the awkward characters in that great show. The people who work in one of the offices featured in the show thought for a while that the office was going to be closed. After it was revealed that their office would not, in fact, be closed, one of the characters said something to the effect of
"Wow. So much for moving to Costa Rica and learning how to surf. I guess that there will be plenty of time for Costa Rica…..when I’m 60."
This is precisely why there is so much at stake. It will always be easy to stay where it’s comfortable. Complacency is never difficult. I have never lived more than 10 miles away from I-35. Trust me, it’s not difficult.
I may fail at this. I may get down there, completely freak out, not learn the language, not get a job, and have to come right back. That is a very real possibility. I’m trying very hard to prevent that from being the case, but I know that it is certainly well within the realm of possibility. It may even constitute a great majority of that realm.
What I do know is that at 24, I don’t need to spend more than two years at this job. If Argentina isn’t right, at least it’s not wrong. Staying in Dallas is easy. Staying in Dallas would be wrong.
The stakes are incredibly high here because if I don’t get the heck outta Dodge, I just might become Festus. (I love a good Gunsmoke reference) As funny as he may be, nobody wants to be Festus.
Yes. The stakes are incredibly high.
If you watched The Office last week, you may remember the dilemma facing the awkward characters in that great show. The people who work in one of the offices featured in the show thought for a while that the office was going to be closed. After it was revealed that their office would not, in fact, be closed, one of the characters said something to the effect of
"Wow. So much for moving to Costa Rica and learning how to surf. I guess that there will be plenty of time for Costa Rica…..when I’m 60."
This is precisely why there is so much at stake. It will always be easy to stay where it’s comfortable. Complacency is never difficult. I have never lived more than 10 miles away from I-35. Trust me, it’s not difficult.
I may fail at this. I may get down there, completely freak out, not learn the language, not get a job, and have to come right back. That is a very real possibility. I’m trying very hard to prevent that from being the case, but I know that it is certainly well within the realm of possibility. It may even constitute a great majority of that realm.
What I do know is that at 24, I don’t need to spend more than two years at this job. If Argentina isn’t right, at least it’s not wrong. Staying in Dallas is easy. Staying in Dallas would be wrong.
The stakes are incredibly high here because if I don’t get the heck outta Dodge, I just might become Festus. (I love a good Gunsmoke reference) As funny as he may be, nobody wants to be Festus.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Where's the Outrage?
You may think that my most recent post is rediculous because instead of being happy about a week that sent Rummy, Santorum, and Mehlman to monster.com, I found some obscure races in Dallas and Ellis Counties to bitch about. I'm sorry. I'm usually the silver-lining guy.
I just can't muster it this week.
A friend sent me this article and things haven't been right since. I know that we have all read articles similar to this before, but please try to read it and not be angry.
I dare say that it’s impossible.
I just can't muster it this week.
A friend sent me this article and things haven't been right since. I know that we have all read articles similar to this before, but please try to read it and not be angry.
I dare say that it’s impossible.
What a week
Where to start…..
Among all of the good news this week is the great news that the wise people of Pennsylvania kicked renowned homophobe Rick Santorum out of the Senate. Now if Oklahoma can wake up and get rid of Tom Coburn, perhaps the Senate can leave the constitution alone and have a meaningful discussion about Iraq. But, since my oldest sister and a handful of good bands are among the few good things to come out of Oklahoma, I’m not holding my breath. (This is the state, after all, where I witnessed a shop-vac being used as a toilet.)
While the national political picture looks better, voters in Dallas and Ellis County rejected two great candidates for county judge. Margaret Keliher was defeated by Democrat Jim Foster, who has never held elected office. It’s a shame, because as the self-described “Mayor of Dallas County,” Keliher had a sincere concern for international issues—something that Dallas’ current mayor doesn’t care to be bothered about.
In Ellis County, the GOP’s unwavering and unlearned followers reelected anti-environmentalist and Joe Barton yes-man Chad Adams instead of former Waxahachie mayor Chuck Beatty. Turnouts like these prove (again) that straight-ticket voters are at best naïve, and at worst destructive. (See the Dallas County DA race, for example.) Just because Dubya and his crew have made some big messes, doesn’t justify voting straight Democrat in LOCAL RACES. And just because you think that Dubya can do no wrong doesn’t mean that the right guy (or gal) is always riding an elephant.
With Rumsfeld gone and possibly facing charges, it looks like Tony Snow’s alleged warning that “this is not a time for floating ideas” might (hopefully) be the last breaths of an Administration in denial.
What’s really interesting about the charges being mounted against Rummy, is that it appears not to be all for show. Among those listed at possible defendants in the TIME article listed above is John Yoo, the man given the responsibility to provide the Administration’s intellectual and legal backing for torturing POWs. Since it seems that public opinion, if not (I assume) 99% of ethicists and John McCain are in the majority in saying that torture is wrong in any situation, perhaps these trials could (read: should) get some traction. I know that the US’ longstanding policy of “do what we say, not what we do” will certainly be called upon, thereby preventing Rummy from doing hard time for Abu Ghraib. And that’s too bad.
Among all of the good news this week is the great news that the wise people of Pennsylvania kicked renowned homophobe Rick Santorum out of the Senate. Now if Oklahoma can wake up and get rid of Tom Coburn, perhaps the Senate can leave the constitution alone and have a meaningful discussion about Iraq. But, since my oldest sister and a handful of good bands are among the few good things to come out of Oklahoma, I’m not holding my breath. (This is the state, after all, where I witnessed a shop-vac being used as a toilet.)
While the national political picture looks better, voters in Dallas and Ellis County rejected two great candidates for county judge. Margaret Keliher was defeated by Democrat Jim Foster, who has never held elected office. It’s a shame, because as the self-described “Mayor of Dallas County,” Keliher had a sincere concern for international issues—something that Dallas’ current mayor doesn’t care to be bothered about.
In Ellis County, the GOP’s unwavering and unlearned followers reelected anti-environmentalist and Joe Barton yes-man Chad Adams instead of former Waxahachie mayor Chuck Beatty. Turnouts like these prove (again) that straight-ticket voters are at best naïve, and at worst destructive. (See the Dallas County DA race, for example.) Just because Dubya and his crew have made some big messes, doesn’t justify voting straight Democrat in LOCAL RACES. And just because you think that Dubya can do no wrong doesn’t mean that the right guy (or gal) is always riding an elephant.
With Rumsfeld gone and possibly facing charges, it looks like Tony Snow’s alleged warning that “this is not a time for floating ideas” might (hopefully) be the last breaths of an Administration in denial.
What’s really interesting about the charges being mounted against Rummy, is that it appears not to be all for show. Among those listed at possible defendants in the TIME article listed above is John Yoo, the man given the responsibility to provide the Administration’s intellectual and legal backing for torturing POWs. Since it seems that public opinion, if not (I assume) 99% of ethicists and John McCain are in the majority in saying that torture is wrong in any situation, perhaps these trials could (read: should) get some traction. I know that the US’ longstanding policy of “do what we say, not what we do” will certainly be called upon, thereby preventing Rummy from doing hard time for Abu Ghraib. And that’s too bad.
Friday, October 27, 2006
DTS Halloween Costumes
After the release of Rick Warren’s Purpose-Driven Halloween, many believers are again celebrating Halloween. Shunning their usual means of celebration, they are this year embracing more traditional Halloween celebrations.
So, as a service, John-Michael and I devised a list of what should be the most popular costumes among students of Dallas Theological Seminary.
10. Vessel Created for Destruction
Terracotta pot with “Destroy” stamp
9. Scale Model of Old Testament Earth
Flat, one continent, very few animals
8. Post-Rapture Christian
Store-bought zombie costume
7. Kirk Cameron
Brillo-pad hair and a squeaky voice
6. A TULIP
Feel free to omit the ‘L,’ I did
5. Bride of Christ
Tammy Faye Baker-esque makeup
4. Catholic Jesus Kit
Giant Saltine Cracker
3. Jerry Falwell Sumo Champion
Normal sumo costume with Falwell mask
2. Body of Christ
Shirtless, stitches on both sides
1. Spanish Missionary
Carry around a trident and a bag labeled “syphilis”
So, as a service, John-Michael and I devised a list of what should be the most popular costumes among students of Dallas Theological Seminary.
10. Vessel Created for Destruction
Terracotta pot with “Destroy” stamp
9. Scale Model of Old Testament Earth
Flat, one continent, very few animals
8. Post-Rapture Christian
Store-bought zombie costume
7. Kirk Cameron
Brillo-pad hair and a squeaky voice
6. A TULIP
Feel free to omit the ‘L,’ I did
5. Bride of Christ
Tammy Faye Baker-esque makeup
4. Catholic Jesus Kit
Giant Saltine Cracker
3. Jerry Falwell Sumo Champion
Normal sumo costume with Falwell mask
2. Body of Christ
Shirtless, stitches on both sides
1. Spanish Missionary
Carry around a trident and a bag labeled “syphilis”
Thursday, October 19, 2006
ELECTION DAY STILL A LONG WAY OFF
by Molly Ivins
All newspaper editors want to know what their readers like. If you would like to read this feature in your local newspaper, please do not hesitate to share your enthusiasm with your local newspaper editor.
RELEASE: THURSDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2006, AND THEREAFTER
Stunning coincidence. The verdict in the long-running trial of Saddam Hussein in Iraq is now due two days before our congressional elections in November. Astounding. How ineffable. Sometimes you know the Republicans have just lost the rag completely. This week, Dick Cheney said to Rush Limbaugh regarding the Iraqi government, "If you look at the general, overall situation, they're doing remarkably well." The vice president also acknowledged there's some concern because the war wasn't over "instantaneously." We have now been in Iraq just one month shy of the entire time it took us to fight World War II. Seventy Americans dead so far in October. Electricity in Iraq this year hit its lowest levels since the war started. What infuriates me about this is the lying.
WHY can't they level with us? Just on the general, overall situation. Put me in the depressive Dems camp. We always look good going into the last two weeks, until we get hit with that wall of Republican money (though I do think Ohio is beyond political recall at this point for the R's). Of course, both sides always complain about unfair advertising, but I must admit that almost all political advertising strikes me as ludicrous and I don't notice the D's looking simon-pure. A little shading, a little emphasis here and there -- I'm hard to shock on political ads, but I do get more than miffed when they take the truth and just stand it on its head.
For example, if ever there has been a friend to Social Security it would be Rep. Chet Edwards from Waco, Texas, a D loyal to the FDR, LBJ and government-exists-to-serve-the-people tradition. So what are the R's attacking him on? Not supporting Social Security. All this kind of thing does is render political debate completely meaningless. The argument now is that D's have a seven-point structural deficit going into any election. I see the problem, I just have no idea what the actual numbers are.
Let's start with the easy end, the Senate. From the book "Off Center" by Jacob S. Hacker and Paul Pierson, as recently quoted by Eric Alterman in his blog: "The mismatch between popular votes and electoral outcomes is even more striking in the Senate. Combining the last three Senate elections, Democrats have actually won 2.5 million more votes than Republicans. Yet now they hold only 44 seats in that 100-person chamber because Republicans dominate the less populous states that are so heavily overrepresented in the Senate. As journalist Hendrik Hertzberg (of the New Yorker) notes, if you treat each senator as representing half that state's population, then the Senate's 55 Republicans currently represent 131 million people, while the 44 Democrats represent 161 million people."
OK, we all know about the small-state advantage in the Senate. How did the People's House get so far out of fair? Paul Krugman explains: "The key point is that African-Americans, who overwhelmingly vote Democratic, are highly concentrated in a few districts. This means that in close elections many Democratic votes are, as political analysts say, wasted -- they simply add to huge majorities in a small number of districts, while the more widely spread Republican vote allows the GOP to win by narrower margins in a larger number of districts."
I should also point out that Democrats used to pack minority voters into the same districts when they drew the redistricting lines because of simple racism. Minority candidates need more votes to win, as polling consistently shows them several points ahead of where they actually finish because some people still cannot bring themselves to vote for black politicians even if they agree with them. For instance, race is a factor this year in Harold Ford's Tennessee Senate contest -- even though political people keep pretending it's not. I'm the one who has been writing for two years that the American people are fed up with the war in Iraq and with the Bush administration's lies and incompetence.
I'm the one that keeps beating the Washington press corps about the head over how out of touch it is. I'm the one who has been insisting there's a Democratic tide out here, and that the people are so far ahead of the politicians and the media it's painful to watch. So how come I'm not thrilled? Because I watched this happen two years ago -- same rejection of the Iraq war, same disgust with Bush and Co., same understanding Republicans are for the rich, period, same polls showing D's with the lead going right into Election Day. And the same geographic gerrymander and same wall of money in the last two weeks. I'm not close to calling this election, and I'm sure not into celebrating anything yet.
To find out more about Molly Ivins and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at www.creators.com.
COPYRIGHT 2006 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.
Originally Published on Thursday October 19, 2006
All newspaper editors want to know what their readers like. If you would like to read this feature in your local newspaper, please do not hesitate to share your enthusiasm with your local newspaper editor.
RELEASE: THURSDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2006, AND THEREAFTER
Stunning coincidence. The verdict in the long-running trial of Saddam Hussein in Iraq is now due two days before our congressional elections in November. Astounding. How ineffable. Sometimes you know the Republicans have just lost the rag completely. This week, Dick Cheney said to Rush Limbaugh regarding the Iraqi government, "If you look at the general, overall situation, they're doing remarkably well." The vice president also acknowledged there's some concern because the war wasn't over "instantaneously." We have now been in Iraq just one month shy of the entire time it took us to fight World War II. Seventy Americans dead so far in October. Electricity in Iraq this year hit its lowest levels since the war started. What infuriates me about this is the lying.
WHY can't they level with us? Just on the general, overall situation. Put me in the depressive Dems camp. We always look good going into the last two weeks, until we get hit with that wall of Republican money (though I do think Ohio is beyond political recall at this point for the R's). Of course, both sides always complain about unfair advertising, but I must admit that almost all political advertising strikes me as ludicrous and I don't notice the D's looking simon-pure. A little shading, a little emphasis here and there -- I'm hard to shock on political ads, but I do get more than miffed when they take the truth and just stand it on its head.
For example, if ever there has been a friend to Social Security it would be Rep. Chet Edwards from Waco, Texas, a D loyal to the FDR, LBJ and government-exists-to-serve-the-people tradition. So what are the R's attacking him on? Not supporting Social Security. All this kind of thing does is render political debate completely meaningless. The argument now is that D's have a seven-point structural deficit going into any election. I see the problem, I just have no idea what the actual numbers are.
Let's start with the easy end, the Senate. From the book "Off Center" by Jacob S. Hacker and Paul Pierson, as recently quoted by Eric Alterman in his blog: "The mismatch between popular votes and electoral outcomes is even more striking in the Senate. Combining the last three Senate elections, Democrats have actually won 2.5 million more votes than Republicans. Yet now they hold only 44 seats in that 100-person chamber because Republicans dominate the less populous states that are so heavily overrepresented in the Senate. As journalist Hendrik Hertzberg (of the New Yorker) notes, if you treat each senator as representing half that state's population, then the Senate's 55 Republicans currently represent 131 million people, while the 44 Democrats represent 161 million people."
OK, we all know about the small-state advantage in the Senate. How did the People's House get so far out of fair? Paul Krugman explains: "The key point is that African-Americans, who overwhelmingly vote Democratic, are highly concentrated in a few districts. This means that in close elections many Democratic votes are, as political analysts say, wasted -- they simply add to huge majorities in a small number of districts, while the more widely spread Republican vote allows the GOP to win by narrower margins in a larger number of districts."
I should also point out that Democrats used to pack minority voters into the same districts when they drew the redistricting lines because of simple racism. Minority candidates need more votes to win, as polling consistently shows them several points ahead of where they actually finish because some people still cannot bring themselves to vote for black politicians even if they agree with them. For instance, race is a factor this year in Harold Ford's Tennessee Senate contest -- even though political people keep pretending it's not. I'm the one who has been writing for two years that the American people are fed up with the war in Iraq and with the Bush administration's lies and incompetence.
I'm the one that keeps beating the Washington press corps about the head over how out of touch it is. I'm the one who has been insisting there's a Democratic tide out here, and that the people are so far ahead of the politicians and the media it's painful to watch. So how come I'm not thrilled? Because I watched this happen two years ago -- same rejection of the Iraq war, same disgust with Bush and Co., same understanding Republicans are for the rich, period, same polls showing D's with the lead going right into Election Day. And the same geographic gerrymander and same wall of money in the last two weeks. I'm not close to calling this election, and I'm sure not into celebrating anything yet.
To find out more about Molly Ivins and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at www.creators.com.
COPYRIGHT 2006 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.
Originally Published on Thursday October 19, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Seattle: The Home of Classic Rock
Ok, as previous posts have made abundantly clear, I am lazy. It is for this reason that I have not reinstalled by satellite radio receiver after removing it to use in another car in September. This, combined with the current NPR pledge drive, and the fact that I have grown a bit tired of the Gnarls Barkley CD currently in my deck (150 or so consecutive listens will have this effect, regardless of the CD’s quality), resulted in my resorting to terrestrial radio for the latter half of my nine-minute commute this morning.
Out of nostalgic obligation, I tuned to KZPS, the classic rock station on which I grew up. The station has since been bought out, of course, by Clear Channel.
The Devil has yet to purchase an iPod, so He has purchased, via Clear Channel, every terrestrial radio station within his jurisdiction to ensure that he never misses the latest from Rob Thomas, Diddy, or Hoobastank)
To my horror, following an unsuspecting John Mellencamp song was Nirvana’s cover of Bowie’s “Man Who Sold the World.” Are you KIDDING me? Bob Seger’s career must be spinning in its grave knowing that it is losing airtime to a band whose leader is not even alive, much less still touring and creating music.
Since when does a song recorded in 1993 count as “classic rock?” This is precisely the sort of negligence that is creating the horrid musical homogeneity rampant in radio today. If mainstream radio can’t even be depended on to expose people to the Stones, the Beatles, Clapton, and the Who, what hope can we have that the masses will be exposed to Duke Ellington, Wes Montgomery, Miles Davis, Buddy Guy, Bob Wills, Jerry Garcia, Neil Young, The Doors, Bob Dylan, Merle Haggard…..
Perhaps the fact that these quality artists are not spoon-fed to the masses is what makes finding and delving into them so very sweet. I did not, after all, discover and learn to appreciate good music from the radio. My sisters and brothers-in-law really impressed on me the value of good music. Sandra introduced me to the Beatles; Paul to the Stones, Cream, Junior Brown, and M. Ward, among others; Dani to Todd Snider, Arrested Development, Miles Davis, and the Gourds, among others; and Sean to Neil Young, Public Enemy, the Skatalites, Jane’s Addiction, and Lenny Kravitz, among many others.
My fear is that the songwriters of tomorrow will, considering Nirvana as a “classic” artist worthy of replication, be both “stupid and contagious” with their music. If the likes of Rob Thomas and Ludacris continue to churn out lyrical and musical drivel, I suppose the best that I can hope for is that the feeling of the discovery of quality bands will become even sweeter by contrast.
While top 40 subscribers are certainly in danger of a white-bread music collection, there are a lot of idie rockers facing a similar peril. If one spends all of one’s time consumed by the next emerging artist, finding vain satisfaction in their appreciation of even the most obscure bands, one is certainly running the risk of listening to purely sub-par music. Thanks to our vigorous consumer market, most quality music does find itself on some sort of label. It’s when the major labels sign no-talent hacks like Fuel, Eve 6, and Matchbox 20 that we are reminded that the best music still lies somewhere under surface, safe from Clear Channel’s watchful eye. It is this subterranean search that makes finding new music so great.
For those of us who really appreciate music and take it seriously, it is through listening to, sharing, and writing about quality music that will guarantee its survival. As long as Mariah Carey outsells M. Ward, the major record labels will have no reason to be concerned with diversity or quality.
Out of nostalgic obligation, I tuned to KZPS, the classic rock station on which I grew up. The station has since been bought out, of course, by Clear Channel.
The Devil has yet to purchase an iPod, so He has purchased, via Clear Channel, every terrestrial radio station within his jurisdiction to ensure that he never misses the latest from Rob Thomas, Diddy, or Hoobastank)
To my horror, following an unsuspecting John Mellencamp song was Nirvana’s cover of Bowie’s “Man Who Sold the World.” Are you KIDDING me? Bob Seger’s career must be spinning in its grave knowing that it is losing airtime to a band whose leader is not even alive, much less still touring and creating music.
Since when does a song recorded in 1993 count as “classic rock?” This is precisely the sort of negligence that is creating the horrid musical homogeneity rampant in radio today. If mainstream radio can’t even be depended on to expose people to the Stones, the Beatles, Clapton, and the Who, what hope can we have that the masses will be exposed to Duke Ellington, Wes Montgomery, Miles Davis, Buddy Guy, Bob Wills, Jerry Garcia, Neil Young, The Doors, Bob Dylan, Merle Haggard…..
Perhaps the fact that these quality artists are not spoon-fed to the masses is what makes finding and delving into them so very sweet. I did not, after all, discover and learn to appreciate good music from the radio. My sisters and brothers-in-law really impressed on me the value of good music. Sandra introduced me to the Beatles; Paul to the Stones, Cream, Junior Brown, and M. Ward, among others; Dani to Todd Snider, Arrested Development, Miles Davis, and the Gourds, among others; and Sean to Neil Young, Public Enemy, the Skatalites, Jane’s Addiction, and Lenny Kravitz, among many others.
My fear is that the songwriters of tomorrow will, considering Nirvana as a “classic” artist worthy of replication, be both “stupid and contagious” with their music. If the likes of Rob Thomas and Ludacris continue to churn out lyrical and musical drivel, I suppose the best that I can hope for is that the feeling of the discovery of quality bands will become even sweeter by contrast.
While top 40 subscribers are certainly in danger of a white-bread music collection, there are a lot of idie rockers facing a similar peril. If one spends all of one’s time consumed by the next emerging artist, finding vain satisfaction in their appreciation of even the most obscure bands, one is certainly running the risk of listening to purely sub-par music. Thanks to our vigorous consumer market, most quality music does find itself on some sort of label. It’s when the major labels sign no-talent hacks like Fuel, Eve 6, and Matchbox 20 that we are reminded that the best music still lies somewhere under surface, safe from Clear Channel’s watchful eye. It is this subterranean search that makes finding new music so great.
For those of us who really appreciate music and take it seriously, it is through listening to, sharing, and writing about quality music that will guarantee its survival. As long as Mariah Carey outsells M. Ward, the major record labels will have no reason to be concerned with diversity or quality.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The World According to MTV
There were a couple of nights this week that I couldn’t get to sleep, so I did what any other person in this situation would do—I watched TV. Because I have bootleg cable and no remote control, when I watch TV, I tend to watch a single channel for a long period of time. On these particular nights, that channel was MTV.
I am proud to say that as a gainfully employed 24 year old, I am no long in their primary demographic. It seems to me that most of their original programming and music videos are targeted at the 14 to 21 year old range. Fourteen year old boys and girls watch shows like “Two-a-Days,” which depicts the drama of a highly successful high school football team in Alabama, in order to confirm that their quarterback/cheerleaders/cocky wide receivers are in fact better/prettier/cockier than those on TV. Only those currently in high school (or living vicariously through their high school-aged children) can really relate to this show as I believe it is intended. That is not to say it is not entertaining. It is. In that “if they only knew that life doesn’t end at homecoming” kind of way.
The meat of MTV’s wee-morning programming is music videos. The more I watch these videos, the more I tend to agree with Beck adage, “MTV makes me want to smoke crack.” I don’t bring this up to offend anyone who has an actual crack addiction. I mean this to offend anyone to actually enjoys these music videos, for they are horrible.
Not horrible in the James-Dobson-says-it’s-evil-so-I-must-avoid-it horrible, but poorly made and lacking in substance originality—much like the music they are meant to celebrate. After observing these horrid productions and other MTV offerings, I made a note of what I had learned about the world:
1. If I see a cute girl across the room at a club, all I have to do wink at her and she’ll follow me outside and dance around in her bikini (which she is wearing at all times) behind a convenient sheer cloth. Though she is wearing a bikini, all I must remove before going to the beach is my hat.
2. Women wear nothing but bikinis.
3. If I am a pompous overrated self-promoting rap mogul, a bikini-clad woman will wake me up every morning, regardless of who else might be in my bed.
4. Rich people have rooms in their houses that use cash for carpet.
5. Girls change clothes at least 10 times during any 4 minute period—especially if there is a song about empowering women playing in the background.
6. It’s ok to star in a video about being a strong, independent woman not getting by on looks, and then star in one in which two of your five outfits are made primarily of strategically-placed lace.
7. If I have a really nice car, women will dance all over them in bikinis.
8. It’s ok for grown men to wear nothing but jeans and football jerseys.
9. “News” is comprised solely of a behind-the-scenes look at the making of the latest Beyoncé video.
10. If it doesn’t happen in Laguna Beach, it doesn’t matter.
I am proud to say that as a gainfully employed 24 year old, I am no long in their primary demographic. It seems to me that most of their original programming and music videos are targeted at the 14 to 21 year old range. Fourteen year old boys and girls watch shows like “Two-a-Days,” which depicts the drama of a highly successful high school football team in Alabama, in order to confirm that their quarterback/cheerleaders/cocky wide receivers are in fact better/prettier/cockier than those on TV. Only those currently in high school (or living vicariously through their high school-aged children) can really relate to this show as I believe it is intended. That is not to say it is not entertaining. It is. In that “if they only knew that life doesn’t end at homecoming” kind of way.
The meat of MTV’s wee-morning programming is music videos. The more I watch these videos, the more I tend to agree with Beck adage, “MTV makes me want to smoke crack.” I don’t bring this up to offend anyone who has an actual crack addiction. I mean this to offend anyone to actually enjoys these music videos, for they are horrible.
Not horrible in the James-Dobson-says-it’s-evil-so-I-must-avoid-it horrible, but poorly made and lacking in substance originality—much like the music they are meant to celebrate. After observing these horrid productions and other MTV offerings, I made a note of what I had learned about the world:
1. If I see a cute girl across the room at a club, all I have to do wink at her and she’ll follow me outside and dance around in her bikini (which she is wearing at all times) behind a convenient sheer cloth. Though she is wearing a bikini, all I must remove before going to the beach is my hat.
2. Women wear nothing but bikinis.
3. If I am a pompous overrated self-promoting rap mogul, a bikini-clad woman will wake me up every morning, regardless of who else might be in my bed.
4. Rich people have rooms in their houses that use cash for carpet.
5. Girls change clothes at least 10 times during any 4 minute period—especially if there is a song about empowering women playing in the background.
6. It’s ok to star in a video about being a strong, independent woman not getting by on looks, and then star in one in which two of your five outfits are made primarily of strategically-placed lace.
7. If I have a really nice car, women will dance all over them in bikinis.
8. It’s ok for grown men to wear nothing but jeans and football jerseys.
9. “News” is comprised solely of a behind-the-scenes look at the making of the latest Beyoncé video.
10. If it doesn’t happen in Laguna Beach, it doesn’t matter.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Ramadan 101
or those of you who let the beginning of Ramadan pass without notice, you are most likely unaware of which actions might cause you to break this holy fast. I find this list quite interesting, and I will allow it to speak for itself.
I do question, however, (at the very least) the logic behind number one. How is it that someone could “forget that one is fasting” for long enough to have “sexual intercourse?” It also seems to provide an exception for the involuntary viewing of porn. I find that very confusing and a little troubling.
RAMADAN – What does not break fast
From Madinah Masjid of Carrollton
1. If one forgets that one is fasting and eats, drinks or has sexual intercourse, or has a nocturnal emission while asleep or emits semen involuntarily by looking [at something sex ] (though it is totally haram to see such things)
2. If one applies tincture of iodine or some ointment [even if their tint or smell is noticed in one's saliva or urine].
3. If one vomits a mouthful involuntarily or vomits a little voluntarily.
4. If water goes into ones ear or dust, smoke or a fly goes into one's throat through one's mouth or nose involuntarily or if one cannot prevent the smoke of others cigarettes from going into one's mouth and nose.
5. If after rinsing one's mouth one swallows the wetness remaining in one's mouth together with one's saliva.
6. If one puts some medicine in one's eye or even if one feels its taste in one's throat.
7. If a fasting person swallows his saliva, his fast will not break. Bleeding from an injury in the mouth from taking a tooth out, or blood coming from the stomach to the mouth does not break a fast or an ablution. When one spits out or swallows his blood coming from mouth, if the saliva is greater than the blood, that is if the saliva is yellow in color, his fast is still not broken. If a mouthful comes to the mouth and goes out of the mouth, both are broken. It is seen that, when a tooth is extracted if there is much bleeding, the fast is not broken when one spits it out. When one is not fasting, one's ablution is not broken when one swallows it. Neither of the two is broken if the blood is less than the amount of saliva.
8. Using antimony (surma) or cosmetics for one's beard, moustaches, face, smelling flowers, musks or Lotions will not break one's fast.
I do question, however, (at the very least) the logic behind number one. How is it that someone could “forget that one is fasting” for long enough to have “sexual intercourse?” It also seems to provide an exception for the involuntary viewing of porn. I find that very confusing and a little troubling.
RAMADAN – What does not break fast
From Madinah Masjid of Carrollton
1. If one forgets that one is fasting and eats, drinks or has sexual intercourse, or has a nocturnal emission while asleep or emits semen involuntarily by looking [at something sex ] (though it is totally haram to see such things)
2. If one applies tincture of iodine or some ointment [even if their tint or smell is noticed in one's saliva or urine].
3. If one vomits a mouthful involuntarily or vomits a little voluntarily.
4. If water goes into ones ear or dust, smoke or a fly goes into one's throat through one's mouth or nose involuntarily or if one cannot prevent the smoke of others cigarettes from going into one's mouth and nose.
5. If after rinsing one's mouth one swallows the wetness remaining in one's mouth together with one's saliva.
6. If one puts some medicine in one's eye or even if one feels its taste in one's throat.
7. If a fasting person swallows his saliva, his fast will not break. Bleeding from an injury in the mouth from taking a tooth out, or blood coming from the stomach to the mouth does not break a fast or an ablution. When one spits out or swallows his blood coming from mouth, if the saliva is greater than the blood, that is if the saliva is yellow in color, his fast is still not broken. If a mouthful comes to the mouth and goes out of the mouth, both are broken. It is seen that, when a tooth is extracted if there is much bleeding, the fast is not broken when one spits it out. When one is not fasting, one's ablution is not broken when one swallows it. Neither of the two is broken if the blood is less than the amount of saliva.
8. Using antimony (surma) or cosmetics for one's beard, moustaches, face, smelling flowers, musks or Lotions will not break one's fast.
Friday, September 22, 2006
A Proposition for Venezuela
Dear Venezuela:
We will trade you one Dick Armitage for one Hugo Chavez. The way I see it, you like leaders that hate the United States and want to do it harm. Who has revealed the identities of more CIA agents and done even further damage to our reputation in the Middle East, Dick or Hugo?
Hugo’s rant got way more press than Dick’s assorted blunders ever do, so obviously we’re just more interested in the relatively harmless words of a Latin American leader than the actually harmful words of Dubya’s advisors.
We know that Hugo left the United States very shortly after delivering his tirade, but please let him know that he is more than welcome to return. We will gladly send you our Dick in return.
We think that would be an even exchange.
Puppies, rainbows, and kittens,
The United States
We will trade you one Dick Armitage for one Hugo Chavez. The way I see it, you like leaders that hate the United States and want to do it harm. Who has revealed the identities of more CIA agents and done even further damage to our reputation in the Middle East, Dick or Hugo?
Hugo’s rant got way more press than Dick’s assorted blunders ever do, so obviously we’re just more interested in the relatively harmless words of a Latin American leader than the actually harmful words of Dubya’s advisors.
We know that Hugo left the United States very shortly after delivering his tirade, but please let him know that he is more than welcome to return. We will gladly send you our Dick in return.
We think that would be an even exchange.
Puppies, rainbows, and kittens,
The United States
Thursday, September 14, 2006
I want to be a civil rights leader when I die
In case you were able to go all day without hearing the news and shedding a tear or “pouring some liquor,” yesterday marked the 10th anniversary of the death of Tupac Amaru Shakur. I found out from the hub of all hip hop news—NPR. What shocked me about NPR’s coverage of this “story,” was the airtime that they gave Tupac’s mother and the others involved in the Tupac Amaru Shakur Foundation for the Arts and other charities set up in his name.
You should have heard her talk about her son. About the 9 foot tall bronze statue of Tupac (in a three piece suit and cross necklace, or “Jesus chain”) that stands in the middle of the Foundation’s expansive grounds. About how complex, conflicted, and misunderstood her son was. About how NPR had to play snippets of the same song four or five times because the rest of his songs were ripe with foul language or explicit topics. Oh wait. That last one wasn’t mentioned.
What really riled me up was how everyone seems to have forgotten what he was actually all about. In ridiculously sharp contrast to the comparisons to Malcolm X and MLK Jr. that several people affiliated with his Foundation were making, Tupac was obsessed with the violent gang culture that eventually did him in. Anyone who has seen the 2 hour VH1 Behind the Music about the whole east coast/west coast rap wars will remember the footage of Tupac grinning widely while brandishing a fistful of cash under the watchful eye of Suge Knight. I think that his mother is guilty of misunderstanding who her son was and what it is he represents.
I am not putting Tupac down here. I just want his legacy to accurately reflect who he was. I listened to him quite a bit during college and readily admit that he was a talented guy. Nobody before or since has looked as tough as Tupac while wearing a denim vest. After all, I modeled my own “Thug Life” tattoo after his. My beef here is the comparisons with Malcolm and MLK. His mother even spoke about her hopes to coordinate the efforts of the Foundation with Nelson Mandela’s work.
As soon as that happens, I’m going to suggest to Bill Gates that we merge our fortunes and coordinate our philanthropic activities.
Today marks the 50th anniversary of the end of segregation in the Mansfield ISD. To hear people like Tupac being, as one NPR pundit put it, “repurposed” for this generation, I fear that those of us who weren’t around to hear MLK speak or ride a bus across town to a school in a different neighborhood, will cease to appreciate what kind of person it actually takes to motivate people to do good and bring about positive change. Let’s listen to Tupac’s music, but not follow in his footsteps.
Tupac and MLK were both killed by guns—Tupac because of his violent lifestyle, MLK because of his resistance to hatred. There’s no need to “repurpose” someone like Tupac when there are so many good people out there to follow.
You should have heard her talk about her son. About the 9 foot tall bronze statue of Tupac (in a three piece suit and cross necklace, or “Jesus chain”) that stands in the middle of the Foundation’s expansive grounds. About how complex, conflicted, and misunderstood her son was. About how NPR had to play snippets of the same song four or five times because the rest of his songs were ripe with foul language or explicit topics. Oh wait. That last one wasn’t mentioned.
What really riled me up was how everyone seems to have forgotten what he was actually all about. In ridiculously sharp contrast to the comparisons to Malcolm X and MLK Jr. that several people affiliated with his Foundation were making, Tupac was obsessed with the violent gang culture that eventually did him in. Anyone who has seen the 2 hour VH1 Behind the Music about the whole east coast/west coast rap wars will remember the footage of Tupac grinning widely while brandishing a fistful of cash under the watchful eye of Suge Knight. I think that his mother is guilty of misunderstanding who her son was and what it is he represents.
I am not putting Tupac down here. I just want his legacy to accurately reflect who he was. I listened to him quite a bit during college and readily admit that he was a talented guy. Nobody before or since has looked as tough as Tupac while wearing a denim vest. After all, I modeled my own “Thug Life” tattoo after his. My beef here is the comparisons with Malcolm and MLK. His mother even spoke about her hopes to coordinate the efforts of the Foundation with Nelson Mandela’s work.
As soon as that happens, I’m going to suggest to Bill Gates that we merge our fortunes and coordinate our philanthropic activities.
Today marks the 50th anniversary of the end of segregation in the Mansfield ISD. To hear people like Tupac being, as one NPR pundit put it, “repurposed” for this generation, I fear that those of us who weren’t around to hear MLK speak or ride a bus across town to a school in a different neighborhood, will cease to appreciate what kind of person it actually takes to motivate people to do good and bring about positive change. Let’s listen to Tupac’s music, but not follow in his footsteps.
Tupac and MLK were both killed by guns—Tupac because of his violent lifestyle, MLK because of his resistance to hatred. There’s no need to “repurpose” someone like Tupac when there are so many good people out there to follow.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Hear me out now...
I have driven (or ridden) over 2000 miles in the last 10 days. The two road trips that racked up all of these miles were taken with two of my favorite people on earth--each of whom enjoys music (almost) as much as I do. Needless to say, we had plenty of quality time to listen to lots of good music along the way.
I generally listen primarily to the music (as opposed to the words) when listening to a particular song. I've been known to comment on the "guitar work" or "monster bass player" on a given track. It's what I do. On these trips, however, I was given (ample) time to really appreciate the lyrical quality of some of the music right now. (Songs reminding us how to spell B-A-N-A-N-A-S are not included in this group)
Take, for example, Death Cab for Cutie's "I'll Follow You into the Dark:"
I generally listen primarily to the music (as opposed to the words) when listening to a particular song. I've been known to comment on the "guitar work" or "monster bass player" on a given track. It's what I do. On these trips, however, I was given (ample) time to really appreciate the lyrical quality of some of the music right now. (Songs reminding us how to spell B-A-N-A-N-A-S are not included in this group)
Take, for example, Death Cab for Cutie's "I'll Follow You into the Dark:"
Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles brusied by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
"Son fear is the heart of love"
So I never went back
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
You and me have seen everything to see
From Bangkok to Calgary
And the soles of your shoes are all worn down
The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Cause we'll hold each other soon
The blackest of rooms
If heaven and hell decideThat they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Then I'll follow you into the dark
Wow.
Am I crazy, or is the quality of Ben Gibbard's lyrics up there with anything anyone has ever been assigned to read in high school? Perhaps it is the pathos of the lyrics when it is put to music, but something about these words just gets to me. And I am not even dealing with the loss of a romantic parnter.
Though not at quite the same level, let me also propose for consideration, Jason Mraz' "Life is Wonderful:"
It takes a crane to build a crane
It takes two floors to make a story
It takes an egg to make a hen
It takes a hen to make an egg
There is no end to what I'm saying
It takes a thought to make a word
And it takes a word to make an action
It takes some work to make it work
It takes some good to make it hurt
It takes some bad for satisfaction
La la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Al la la la la
It takes a night to make it dawn
And it takes a day to you yawn brother
It takes some old to make you young
It takes some cold to know the sun
It takes the one to have the other
It takes no time to fall in love
But it takes you years to know what love is
It takes some fears to make you trust
It takes those tears to make it rust
It takes some dust to make it polished
Ha la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is so full of
Ah la la la la la la life is so rough
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is our love
Ah la la la la la
It takes some silence to make sound
It takes a loss before you found it
It takes a road to go nowhere
It takes a toll to know you care
It takes a hole to make a mountain
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is oh love
Ah la la la la la la love is all sorts of
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life is full circle
Ah la la la la la la life is holla holla
Ah la la la la la la next up bushwalla-walla
Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la
Friday, August 25, 2006
Thanks, Maynard
When I was first getting know jazz in high school, this man, usually referred to simply as “Maynard,” was the talk of the band. And not just the trumpet section. This man had earned the respect of everybody.
He played in Jimmy Dorsey and Stan Kenton’s big bands, released over 60 albums, and won a Grammy nomination with his recording of the theme to “Rocky.”
When in high school, we were quite aware of his jazz “cred.” There really are not many people around that played with the greats, and Maynard is, to my knowledge, the only one that was himself still touring.
I was able to see him live once while in high school with a group from the jazz band.
It was amazing.
He had recruited some real monster players to back him. He played on many of the tunes—wowing everybody with the perfectly clean pitch on the highest of high notes. What was equally amazing, however, was how he walked out into the crowd, shaking hands, obviously having a ball. I shook hands with Maynard Ferguson.
When not playing or shaking hands, he focused the attention on this group of young standouts with whom he was touring. Educating the next group of great jazz musicians was always top on his list. He was always playing at high schools ( though not my own, unfortunately) raising money for the music programs and instruments that many schools no longer choose to pay for.
He was a great player who gave back to his field and to kids. He will be missed.
He played in Jimmy Dorsey and Stan Kenton’s big bands, released over 60 albums, and won a Grammy nomination with his recording of the theme to “Rocky.”
When in high school, we were quite aware of his jazz “cred.” There really are not many people around that played with the greats, and Maynard is, to my knowledge, the only one that was himself still touring.
I was able to see him live once while in high school with a group from the jazz band.
It was amazing.
He had recruited some real monster players to back him. He played on many of the tunes—wowing everybody with the perfectly clean pitch on the highest of high notes. What was equally amazing, however, was how he walked out into the crowd, shaking hands, obviously having a ball. I shook hands with Maynard Ferguson.
When not playing or shaking hands, he focused the attention on this group of young standouts with whom he was touring. Educating the next group of great jazz musicians was always top on his list. He was always playing at high schools ( though not my own, unfortunately) raising money for the music programs and instruments that many schools no longer choose to pay for.
He was a great player who gave back to his field and to kids. He will be missed.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
A Site Not to Miss
Yeah, I know that I have had pretty much the same links on the right side of my blog for a while, but I’ve updated them now. And I want to draw your attention to one in particular:
THIS ONE
Check it out. It shows some of my brother-in-law’s own art, some art that he’s come across, and some pics of my sis and their kids. As far as I’m concerned, it just doesn’t get much better than this.
All of the art is for sell, so buy all of it. He’ll just make more, I promise. Don’t believe me? Buy it and try to prove me wrong.
My other brother-in-law is into ceramic and, when time allows, makes some really cool stuff. I’d give you a link to his site, too, but he doesn’t have one yet. (I’m calling you out, Sean)
Enjoy.
THIS ONE
Check it out. It shows some of my brother-in-law’s own art, some art that he’s come across, and some pics of my sis and their kids. As far as I’m concerned, it just doesn’t get much better than this.
All of the art is for sell, so buy all of it. He’ll just make more, I promise. Don’t believe me? Buy it and try to prove me wrong.
My other brother-in-law is into ceramic and, when time allows, makes some really cool stuff. I’d give you a link to his site, too, but he doesn’t have one yet. (I’m calling you out, Sean)
Enjoy.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Warning…This one’s a bit political…
Ok, so in reading a recent article in The Independent, I got really frustrated. I can’t help but feel as though the whole process of keeping informed and being open-minded has, for many people, completely shut down.
Actually, I think that it is running completely backwards.
Ideally, one’s mind should be open. One should read news and historical accounts from a variety of sources, and be willing and able to determine the truth on their own. Now, I know that nobody can be completely separated from their political views. I am quite aware of my own political bias through which I read and interpret news—and I think that it is fair, acceptable, and normal to expect this of anyone. As a result of this bias, there are a number of publications and authors whom I know I can trust. I know that when I read The Independent, for example, it will be rather liberal. I don’t agree with everything that they have to say, but I am often drawn to their take on events. In the same way, I know that when I listen to or read George Will, he will be very conservative. I cannot, however, discount his knowledge of history or his perspective, though I know that I do not agree with the basic political and philosophical premises on which his comments are based.
Unfortunately, I think that many people are completely closed-minded when it comes to politics and religion. Many topics discussed within these realms are pitched as having black-and-white solutions or explanations. Hardly ever is this actually the case. The complexity of the various issues is seriously underappreciated. Talk radio hosts and television news shows make it easy for people to form opinions and buy into quick-fixes by boiling each issue down to simple problems and solutions.
This is dangerous and does their audience a serious disservice.
If, for example, people were allowed/encouraged by the media and lobbying groups to look at the current Israel/Hezbollah debacle more rationally, I think that many lives could have been spared. If mainstream media in this country were to focus on the actual devastation taking place in Lebanon, Americans would have been more likely to be upset about Condi’s feeble attempt at peace, disguised as a weekend in Rome marked by the notable absence of Iran and Syria.
Instead, Israel was painted to be the more significant (and by some, the only) victim in the ordeal, thereby justifying anything that they deemed necessary to stop the rockets from raining in from Southern Lebanon. The fact that civilian casualties in Lebanon were over seven times greater than those in Israel was not fully appreciated or reported by the American press. I would like to think that if it were, the American public would not have allowed Condi to sit on the sidelines while the situation escalated. But this is probably too idealistic.
I eagerly and willingly admit that Hezbollah is an awful organization that regularly uses terrorist tactics to achieve its unrealistic and catastrophic goals. I just think that the media’s bias in reporting Israel’s forced displacement of nearly 1,000,000 Lebanese is appalling.
It is difficult for the people to hold their government accountable if coverage of its actions and the implications of its policies are a farce.
Actually, I think that it is running completely backwards.
Ideally, one’s mind should be open. One should read news and historical accounts from a variety of sources, and be willing and able to determine the truth on their own. Now, I know that nobody can be completely separated from their political views. I am quite aware of my own political bias through which I read and interpret news—and I think that it is fair, acceptable, and normal to expect this of anyone. As a result of this bias, there are a number of publications and authors whom I know I can trust. I know that when I read The Independent, for example, it will be rather liberal. I don’t agree with everything that they have to say, but I am often drawn to their take on events. In the same way, I know that when I listen to or read George Will, he will be very conservative. I cannot, however, discount his knowledge of history or his perspective, though I know that I do not agree with the basic political and philosophical premises on which his comments are based.
Unfortunately, I think that many people are completely closed-minded when it comes to politics and religion. Many topics discussed within these realms are pitched as having black-and-white solutions or explanations. Hardly ever is this actually the case. The complexity of the various issues is seriously underappreciated. Talk radio hosts and television news shows make it easy for people to form opinions and buy into quick-fixes by boiling each issue down to simple problems and solutions.
This is dangerous and does their audience a serious disservice.
If, for example, people were allowed/encouraged by the media and lobbying groups to look at the current Israel/Hezbollah debacle more rationally, I think that many lives could have been spared. If mainstream media in this country were to focus on the actual devastation taking place in Lebanon, Americans would have been more likely to be upset about Condi’s feeble attempt at peace, disguised as a weekend in Rome marked by the notable absence of Iran and Syria.
Instead, Israel was painted to be the more significant (and by some, the only) victim in the ordeal, thereby justifying anything that they deemed necessary to stop the rockets from raining in from Southern Lebanon. The fact that civilian casualties in Lebanon were over seven times greater than those in Israel was not fully appreciated or reported by the American press. I would like to think that if it were, the American public would not have allowed Condi to sit on the sidelines while the situation escalated. But this is probably too idealistic.
I eagerly and willingly admit that Hezbollah is an awful organization that regularly uses terrorist tactics to achieve its unrealistic and catastrophic goals. I just think that the media’s bias in reporting Israel’s forced displacement of nearly 1,000,000 Lebanese is appalling.
It is difficult for the people to hold their government accountable if coverage of its actions and the implications of its policies are a farce.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Where are all of the self-loathing Protestants?
I often hear people say things like “I went to Catholic school….which makes me an ex-Catholic.” The feeling that one’s exit from the Catholic Church was brought about, justified, and perhaps made inevitable simply by the fact that he or she was brought up in the Catholic tradition, seems to be fairly commonplace. Obviously, not everybody who grows up Catholic leaves the fold, but it seems as though those that do leave are able to treat their departure with a great deal of levity, often using it as an intro to a funny quip about nuns or a comment about naughty priests. As someone who grew up in a Protestant church (read: Baptist), I am not generally afforded that luxury. It could very well be a product of the circles in which I run, but my non-participation in church is not something that I can mention in passing. Someone would say something or give me a look of.....judgment is definitely not the correct term here.....concern, that's it. People would look overly concerned with my decision not to participate in church. I do not underestimate the portion of the Bible-belt in which I live. I reside in the heart of Dubya-land. I went to college 20 minutes from the Western Whitehouse, and now live about 7 miles from the house he left when he sobered up, got a job, and moved to Austin. This is conservative country. Of the 8 of us that were inseparable in high school, 3 are full-time, globe-trotting missionaries. I find this remarkable. The 5 remaining friends are in varying stages of backsliding (anything short of being a missionary is considered backsliding). Clearly, I failed to live up to some pretty high standards.
Perhaps the main reason that there is a community of non-participatory Catholics, and not a Protestant equivalent, is that Catholicism requires less of its adherents. It is not unusual for devout Protestants to be present in church every time the door is open. This is a sign of a faithful believer. You feel obligated to show up on Sunday mornings, Wednesday nights, and host or attend a Bible study sometime during the week. It’s just what you do.
Catholicism doesn’t seem to work that way. I have never been Catholic, so I welcome any correction this thesis, but it seems as though only the super-devout do more than attend Mass occasionally. One can, in good faith (no pun, really), call oneself a good Catholic and only attend Mass on Easter and Christmas. Protestants who attempt this subject themselves to “Easter-Christian” specific proselytizing.
My question then, is where is the Diaspora of former Protestants? Are we so frightened by the prospect of being outed and redeemed that we keep our mouths shut? Or is the fact that we left the church such a private and personal thing that we feel as though it is nobody’s business.
I’m not a stand-up comedian, or any kind of comedian for that matter. If I were, however, I suppose that I wouldn’t really feel comfortable airing my deepest personal convictions to a bunch of strangers.
I suppose that people have been leaving the Catholic church for hundreds of years longer than people have been leaving Protestant pews. It’s just a little odd since we Protestants started this whole “leaving” thing.
I hate to admit it, but I guess we all let Martin Luther down.
Perhaps the main reason that there is a community of non-participatory Catholics, and not a Protestant equivalent, is that Catholicism requires less of its adherents. It is not unusual for devout Protestants to be present in church every time the door is open. This is a sign of a faithful believer. You feel obligated to show up on Sunday mornings, Wednesday nights, and host or attend a Bible study sometime during the week. It’s just what you do.
Catholicism doesn’t seem to work that way. I have never been Catholic, so I welcome any correction this thesis, but it seems as though only the super-devout do more than attend Mass occasionally. One can, in good faith (no pun, really), call oneself a good Catholic and only attend Mass on Easter and Christmas. Protestants who attempt this subject themselves to “Easter-Christian” specific proselytizing.
My question then, is where is the Diaspora of former Protestants? Are we so frightened by the prospect of being outed and redeemed that we keep our mouths shut? Or is the fact that we left the church such a private and personal thing that we feel as though it is nobody’s business.
I’m not a stand-up comedian, or any kind of comedian for that matter. If I were, however, I suppose that I wouldn’t really feel comfortable airing my deepest personal convictions to a bunch of strangers.
I suppose that people have been leaving the Catholic church for hundreds of years longer than people have been leaving Protestant pews. It’s just a little odd since we Protestants started this whole “leaving” thing.
I hate to admit it, but I guess we all let Martin Luther down.
Friday, August 18, 2006
An open letter to my body
Body,
Since you are always with me, you are quite aware that I occasionally make use of self-deprecating humor. Making fun of you has earned me quite a few laughs over the years. How pale you are. How graceful you aren’t. How you dance like your feet are chained together. I could go on, but I think you are all too aware of what I am talking about.
We've had some good times. It seems, however, that you enjoy this abuse a little too much and gotten the wrong idea about this arrangement. I am convinced of this, because you continue to develop characteristics that make it even easier for me (and others) to poke fun at you. Thanks, but I don't need the help.
Please stop.
Just give me the benefit of the doubt here. Even if you were Brad Pitt, I could find plenty of petty stuff to poke fun at. (Ok, maybe not. But if you were Brad Pitt, you would garner a whole different kind of attention, wouldn’t you?)
Let’s make a deal, you and me. You stop devolving and falling apart so rapidly, and I’ll try to like you more. If you would take better care of yourself, you might find yourself having more fun. Help me help you. That sounds fair.
Together, we can turn this thing around.
T
Since you are always with me, you are quite aware that I occasionally make use of self-deprecating humor. Making fun of you has earned me quite a few laughs over the years. How pale you are. How graceful you aren’t. How you dance like your feet are chained together. I could go on, but I think you are all too aware of what I am talking about.
We've had some good times. It seems, however, that you enjoy this abuse a little too much and gotten the wrong idea about this arrangement. I am convinced of this, because you continue to develop characteristics that make it even easier for me (and others) to poke fun at you. Thanks, but I don't need the help.
Please stop.
Just give me the benefit of the doubt here. Even if you were Brad Pitt, I could find plenty of petty stuff to poke fun at. (Ok, maybe not. But if you were Brad Pitt, you would garner a whole different kind of attention, wouldn’t you?)
Let’s make a deal, you and me. You stop devolving and falling apart so rapidly, and I’ll try to like you more. If you would take better care of yourself, you might find yourself having more fun. Help me help you. That sounds fair.
Together, we can turn this thing around.
T
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS!!
It’s amazing to me how belligerent some people will allow themselves to be in public. A few days ago, during a Q & A session following remarks by Senator Dorgan and Congressman Martin Frost, a bitter old man stood up and called Frost a “fraud” and said that he was appalled that such a seasoned policymaker would endorse this particular line of reasoning.
He made this argument, however, by interrupting the congressman, shouting, and speaking out of turn in response to other respondents. At one point, he declared “I’M A PHYSICIST!” as of this would somehow change the course of the argument and justify his rant.
A friend at the event likened it to the SNL skit in which Will Ferrell shouts “I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS” in order to remind his family what a bigshot he was.
Do people have no shame?
Don’t get me wrong, I am passionate about many things. I can see myself being pushed to a point that would cause me to be upset and perhaps even yell at a congressman. But this guy just got mad out of nowhere. His point was not entirely germane to the topic of the evening, and he was in no way provoked. Who knows how long he had been in his seat—just stewing in his anger, carefully selecting the words that would cause so many to think and say “what was that crazy guy so mad about?” Fortunately, Frost is classy and chose to calmly and expertly respond to the guy’s fit of rage.
Having observed this spectacle, I thought that I’d provide a short list of things to keep in mind when you are contemplating yelling about something in public.
· Make sure the person at whom you are yelling is not retired from congress. Don’t get mad at a former politician. He can’t do a whole lot about it.
· Make sure what you are saying makes sense. If all three experts on the panel, the discussion’s moderator, and most everybody else in the room can reasonably counter what you are saying, you might be wrong. At the very least, you haven’t explained yourself well.
· Don’t look crazy. If you have pit-stains, look disheveled, or carry a large bag full of “research” with you at all times, your level of credibility goes down quite a bit.
If you follow these three simple steps, hopefully you can avoid being the giant ass in the room. Somehow I often find myself playing that role for a number other reasons. Perhaps I should work on that.
He made this argument, however, by interrupting the congressman, shouting, and speaking out of turn in response to other respondents. At one point, he declared “I’M A PHYSICIST!” as of this would somehow change the course of the argument and justify his rant.
A friend at the event likened it to the SNL skit in which Will Ferrell shouts “I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS” in order to remind his family what a bigshot he was.
Do people have no shame?
Don’t get me wrong, I am passionate about many things. I can see myself being pushed to a point that would cause me to be upset and perhaps even yell at a congressman. But this guy just got mad out of nowhere. His point was not entirely germane to the topic of the evening, and he was in no way provoked. Who knows how long he had been in his seat—just stewing in his anger, carefully selecting the words that would cause so many to think and say “what was that crazy guy so mad about?” Fortunately, Frost is classy and chose to calmly and expertly respond to the guy’s fit of rage.
Having observed this spectacle, I thought that I’d provide a short list of things to keep in mind when you are contemplating yelling about something in public.
· Make sure the person at whom you are yelling is not retired from congress. Don’t get mad at a former politician. He can’t do a whole lot about it.
· Make sure what you are saying makes sense. If all three experts on the panel, the discussion’s moderator, and most everybody else in the room can reasonably counter what you are saying, you might be wrong. At the very least, you haven’t explained yourself well.
· Don’t look crazy. If you have pit-stains, look disheveled, or carry a large bag full of “research” with you at all times, your level of credibility goes down quite a bit.
If you follow these three simple steps, hopefully you can avoid being the giant ass in the room. Somehow I often find myself playing that role for a number other reasons. Perhaps I should work on that.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Tom Petty is My George Washington
This weekend, watching Tom Petty play “Refugee,” singing along with 15,000 of my closest friends, I had a true patriotic moment. Some people get all warm and fuzzy when they see a bald eagle flying overhead. Some when they see the iconic painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware, and some when they watch the Blue Angels perform meticulously choreographed stunts overhead.
For me, hearing Mike Campbell, lead guitarist for the Heartbreakers, wail away as thousands of strangers watch in amazement represents everything that is great about America.
I grew up listening to Tom Petty, so I am more than familiar with the words to most of his hits. I do not own a Tom Petty album, nor would I rank him in my top 50 musicians/artists/performers of all time, even if such a list did exist. I did not even plan on going to the concert until a friend invited me and gave me the ticket.
What is so great about Tom Petty, and numerous artists like him that I could easily include in the same category, is that they are part of the American narrative. When Stevie Nicks made a guest appearance at the show and the duo sang a few covers from their heyday, the number of people singing along did not decrease at all. The crowd had come to see Petty, but sang just as loudly to hits by the Yardbirds and pre-Nicks Fleetwood Mac. These people knew their music. People from all over the state (and who knows where else) had converged on that place, and they all had something in common: they knew the words to the same songs. And this made them happy.
The kind of happiness that Tom Petty induces is an innocent and simple happiness. It has no caveats. Unlike other, more traditional sources of patriotism, it doesn’t have to remind me of the millions that have given their lives so that I might enjoy my freedom. No happiness with a side of guilt. I can be happy just because this song is cool.
Other things have this effect on me, too. Train engineers that wave back. A freshly paved farm-to-market road with a bright yellow line, miles from the closest city. Certified organic produce. Building permits and city inspectors, especially health inspectors. The ACLU. The ACLJ. Gun shows and hip hop clubs.
None of these things just happen. Countries that are rife with corruption and full of people who are either disinterested or scared to take action don’t have such luxuries. When a relatively mild earthquake hits Turkey, and all of the shabbily constructed homes and other buildings collapse, it’s horrible. It’s horrible and tragic and unnecessary. If their government had the means and the willingness to enforce the appropriate building codes, such devastation wouldn’t seal the fate of so many thousands of poor people. When such a thing happens, I am reminded of why I love this country so much.
There are many things about this country that are shitty, too. And many of them involve the same government that enforce the various permits that I just finished praising. What gives me hope, a hope that makes the shit almost bearable, is that we are willing to change. We have the means to change. Americans seem determined not to let the political entropy that paralyzes much of the world establish a firm hold on their country. Yes, it is hard to tell this at times, but I can’t help but think that this country is bound for better times.
At least that’s what I think when I listen to Tom Petty.
For me, hearing Mike Campbell, lead guitarist for the Heartbreakers, wail away as thousands of strangers watch in amazement represents everything that is great about America.
I grew up listening to Tom Petty, so I am more than familiar with the words to most of his hits. I do not own a Tom Petty album, nor would I rank him in my top 50 musicians/artists/performers of all time, even if such a list did exist. I did not even plan on going to the concert until a friend invited me and gave me the ticket.
What is so great about Tom Petty, and numerous artists like him that I could easily include in the same category, is that they are part of the American narrative. When Stevie Nicks made a guest appearance at the show and the duo sang a few covers from their heyday, the number of people singing along did not decrease at all. The crowd had come to see Petty, but sang just as loudly to hits by the Yardbirds and pre-Nicks Fleetwood Mac. These people knew their music. People from all over the state (and who knows where else) had converged on that place, and they all had something in common: they knew the words to the same songs. And this made them happy.
The kind of happiness that Tom Petty induces is an innocent and simple happiness. It has no caveats. Unlike other, more traditional sources of patriotism, it doesn’t have to remind me of the millions that have given their lives so that I might enjoy my freedom. No happiness with a side of guilt. I can be happy just because this song is cool.
Other things have this effect on me, too. Train engineers that wave back. A freshly paved farm-to-market road with a bright yellow line, miles from the closest city. Certified organic produce. Building permits and city inspectors, especially health inspectors. The ACLU. The ACLJ. Gun shows and hip hop clubs.
None of these things just happen. Countries that are rife with corruption and full of people who are either disinterested or scared to take action don’t have such luxuries. When a relatively mild earthquake hits Turkey, and all of the shabbily constructed homes and other buildings collapse, it’s horrible. It’s horrible and tragic and unnecessary. If their government had the means and the willingness to enforce the appropriate building codes, such devastation wouldn’t seal the fate of so many thousands of poor people. When such a thing happens, I am reminded of why I love this country so much.
There are many things about this country that are shitty, too. And many of them involve the same government that enforce the various permits that I just finished praising. What gives me hope, a hope that makes the shit almost bearable, is that we are willing to change. We have the means to change. Americans seem determined not to let the political entropy that paralyzes much of the world establish a firm hold on their country. Yes, it is hard to tell this at times, but I can’t help but think that this country is bound for better times.
At least that’s what I think when I listen to Tom Petty.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I’m not sorry. Pink was in my crayon box, too.
Why is it that every time I wear a pink shirt (which is not often, since I only have two in rotation), I cannot go the day without hearing “hey, nice pink shirt?” These comments inevitably come from people with which I work. With the exception of one person (the second oldest and third-highest paid), everyone with whom I work has been to college. They are, presumably, educated people living the uncloistered examined life in Dallas. Why is it then that these same people find it noteworthy that a man would wear a pink shirt, and continue to find it noteworthy, even though I regularly wear pink?
I am not an effeminate man, so perhaps they don’t expect to see me in pink. Perhaps if I were effeminate, they would be less likely to say something, afraid that they might offend me in some way. Following this line of reasoning, I suppose that I should take it as confirmation that no one suspects my appreciation of the aesthetic (this is what I call my attention to detail, when my finances permit, in fashion and food) as anything effeminate.
I am glad that this is the case, because I find it incredibly infuriating and repulsive that cleanliness, personal hygiene, and fashion sense are all ascribed effeminate properties. If a guy has a clean, well appointed apartment, he must be gay. If a man appreciates a professional manicure/pedicure, he must be gay.
This line of reasoning was used recently by the Army to discover a translator’s sexual preference. Apparently, because of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policies, it’s not ok to ask someone whether or not they are gay, but you can use tricky questions such as “are you involved with community theatre?” to ascertain one’s sexual orientation.
No, I’m not kidding.
Never mind that the training the replacements for the nearly 11,000 gay soldiers dismissed since 1994’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy has cost the military nearly $329 million (or the amount we spend every two weeks in Iraq.
I’m not sure how this blog turned into an anti-homophobe, anti-war rant, but there you go.
I wear pink. The color was in my crayon box, so I figured it was fair game.
I am not an effeminate man, so perhaps they don’t expect to see me in pink. Perhaps if I were effeminate, they would be less likely to say something, afraid that they might offend me in some way. Following this line of reasoning, I suppose that I should take it as confirmation that no one suspects my appreciation of the aesthetic (this is what I call my attention to detail, when my finances permit, in fashion and food) as anything effeminate.
I am glad that this is the case, because I find it incredibly infuriating and repulsive that cleanliness, personal hygiene, and fashion sense are all ascribed effeminate properties. If a guy has a clean, well appointed apartment, he must be gay. If a man appreciates a professional manicure/pedicure, he must be gay.
This line of reasoning was used recently by the Army to discover a translator’s sexual preference. Apparently, because of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policies, it’s not ok to ask someone whether or not they are gay, but you can use tricky questions such as “are you involved with community theatre?” to ascertain one’s sexual orientation.
No, I’m not kidding.
Never mind that the training the replacements for the nearly 11,000 gay soldiers dismissed since 1994’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy has cost the military nearly $329 million (or the amount we spend every two weeks in Iraq.
I’m not sure how this blog turned into an anti-homophobe, anti-war rant, but there you go.
I wear pink. The color was in my crayon box, so I figured it was fair game.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Democracy is a Funny Thing
So, yesterday was a first for me. I participated in my first political march. With the detestable violence in the Middle East, I felt as though I really should do something. And since we do not live in a direct democracy, and will not therefore have a referendum vote on whether or not current US foreign policy towards Israel is completely masochistic, I am forced to voice my feelings elsewhere.
And where better to voice one's beliefs than in a silent peace march in downtown Dallas at 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon?
We were told to wear white and not to carry any flags or hostile signs. This was to be a march in favor of an immediate cease-fire in Lebanon, not a Cindy Shehan political spectacular.
When we pulled up, we parked on the street. Right next to the "No parking - Anytime" sign. To be sure that the urban myth regarding no towing or parking tickets was true, we decided to ask a local peace officer.
ME: So, is it ok if we park here?
Peace Officer: Um, it should be.
ME: (Puzzled look)
PO: Are you two part of the protest?
Friend: It's a peace march.
PO: You two don't look Palestinian.
ME: We just care. And she's Lebanese.
PO: (Rolls up window. Continues to listen to what must be Toby Keith)
After this little exchange restored my faith in the police. We continued towards the gathering of the white-clad peaceniks. It was a cosmopolitan group. If you can call a group that is 80% Muslim cosmopolitan. The other 20% was pretty mixed. Some hippies. Some yuppies. Some kids brought there against their will by their parents.
The march itself was pretty unremarkable. It was just your average group of 300 people walking 1.5 miles around downtown Dallas hoping to achieve some political objective. What exactly did these people (and myself, I suppose) hope to accomplish out there? So what if 300 Muslims and hippies think that the US gov't is doing something stupid? 500,000 marched on those same streets a few months ago, and the immigration debate was not changed at all.
I feel as though I have been placated by this whole "democratic process." Am I supposed to feel as though a little march that no one will see and maybe a call to my senator will change something? I don't think the point of these little acts are to bring about real change. The real point is to make myself feel better.
I am glad that I participated yesterday. I think that it is important for me as a young pork-loving white person to show the Muslims that came out to march that they are not alone in their frustration and anger with the policies that are killing their families abroad. I just hate that we are given this sense that by walking around in the heat, we are actually solving anything globally. What we are actually doing is finding a community that shares our beliefs and finding some sort of peace that we are not alone in how we think. Perhaps that is all that we can hope to accomplish on a Sunday afternoon.
And where better to voice one's beliefs than in a silent peace march in downtown Dallas at 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon?
We were told to wear white and not to carry any flags or hostile signs. This was to be a march in favor of an immediate cease-fire in Lebanon, not a Cindy Shehan political spectacular.
When we pulled up, we parked on the street. Right next to the "No parking - Anytime" sign. To be sure that the urban myth regarding no towing or parking tickets was true, we decided to ask a local peace officer.
ME: So, is it ok if we park here?
Peace Officer: Um, it should be.
ME: (Puzzled look)
PO: Are you two part of the protest?
Friend: It's a peace march.
PO: You two don't look Palestinian.
ME: We just care. And she's Lebanese.
PO: (Rolls up window. Continues to listen to what must be Toby Keith)
After this little exchange restored my faith in the police. We continued towards the gathering of the white-clad peaceniks. It was a cosmopolitan group. If you can call a group that is 80% Muslim cosmopolitan. The other 20% was pretty mixed. Some hippies. Some yuppies. Some kids brought there against their will by their parents.
The march itself was pretty unremarkable. It was just your average group of 300 people walking 1.5 miles around downtown Dallas hoping to achieve some political objective. What exactly did these people (and myself, I suppose) hope to accomplish out there? So what if 300 Muslims and hippies think that the US gov't is doing something stupid? 500,000 marched on those same streets a few months ago, and the immigration debate was not changed at all.
I feel as though I have been placated by this whole "democratic process." Am I supposed to feel as though a little march that no one will see and maybe a call to my senator will change something? I don't think the point of these little acts are to bring about real change. The real point is to make myself feel better.
I am glad that I participated yesterday. I think that it is important for me as a young pork-loving white person to show the Muslims that came out to march that they are not alone in their frustration and anger with the policies that are killing their families abroad. I just hate that we are given this sense that by walking around in the heat, we are actually solving anything globally. What we are actually doing is finding a community that shares our beliefs and finding some sort of peace that we are not alone in how we think. Perhaps that is all that we can hope to accomplish on a Sunday afternoon.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Americans Should Care about the World Cup, In Spite of Themselves
Something donned on me yesterday when I turned on the World Cup. I realized why football is not popular in America. Iran was playing Mexico. Who should I, as a good and faithful American patriot, supporter of troops, user of oil, listener to talk radio, root for in this game?
I am, of course, surprised and appalled that Iran is even allowed to compete in these games. This enormous oversight alone casts doubt on the entire institution of soccer. I am equally surprised that any Mexicans still live in Mexico. I thought that by now all of the good players would have left that country to play in the lucrative European leagues.
For an American to “get into” soccer, he/she would have to recognize that these other countries exist. The fact that we have had 150,000+ young men and women in Iraq for over 3 years and over two thirds of Americans can’t find the country on a map shows this country’s disdain for geography. It used to be said that Americans learn geography through war, but not even that seems to be working anymore. We just don’t want anything to do with other countries.
NFL Europe is a complete bust over here. It’s not because the scores are low, they are not. It is because the teams play in places we’ve never been and are full of players we’ve never heard of. We’d rather watch a boring 3-2 baseball game than root for the Frankfurt Galaxy in the World Bowl. It’s just easier. If someone truly loved the game, why would it matter that they are playing on the other side of the pond? It’s because the Frankfort Galaxy isn’t part of our cultural construct. We didn’t grow up hearing about that infamous game in Zurich where the rookie for the Amsterdam Admirals broke all of the single-game rushing records in one day. There are no highways named after legendary coaches. We don’t buy cars from a dealership owned by the famous Hamburg Sea Devils quarterback. It’s just not a part of who we are.
Our ‘world’ is much smaller. Much easier to comprehend. And to influence.
We call the teams that win our Super Bowl, NCAA football and basketball championships, the World Series, and NBA championships “World Champions.” They didn’t compete against the world. We simply assume that because they won here, they could win anywhere.
We usually don’t make a showing in the World Cup, so we don’t bother tuning in. Meanwhile, the best that America has to offer gets blown out of the water by a team that is pretty bad financial and political shape. But most Americans couldn’t care less about that, either.
Watch the World Cup. The entire world is interested. Let’s use this game. this moment, to help us understand why.
I am, of course, surprised and appalled that Iran is even allowed to compete in these games. This enormous oversight alone casts doubt on the entire institution of soccer. I am equally surprised that any Mexicans still live in Mexico. I thought that by now all of the good players would have left that country to play in the lucrative European leagues.
For an American to “get into” soccer, he/she would have to recognize that these other countries exist. The fact that we have had 150,000+ young men and women in Iraq for over 3 years and over two thirds of Americans can’t find the country on a map shows this country’s disdain for geography. It used to be said that Americans learn geography through war, but not even that seems to be working anymore. We just don’t want anything to do with other countries.
NFL Europe is a complete bust over here. It’s not because the scores are low, they are not. It is because the teams play in places we’ve never been and are full of players we’ve never heard of. We’d rather watch a boring 3-2 baseball game than root for the Frankfurt Galaxy in the World Bowl. It’s just easier. If someone truly loved the game, why would it matter that they are playing on the other side of the pond? It’s because the Frankfort Galaxy isn’t part of our cultural construct. We didn’t grow up hearing about that infamous game in Zurich where the rookie for the Amsterdam Admirals broke all of the single-game rushing records in one day. There are no highways named after legendary coaches. We don’t buy cars from a dealership owned by the famous Hamburg Sea Devils quarterback. It’s just not a part of who we are.
Our ‘world’ is much smaller. Much easier to comprehend. And to influence.
We call the teams that win our Super Bowl, NCAA football and basketball championships, the World Series, and NBA championships “World Champions.” They didn’t compete against the world. We simply assume that because they won here, they could win anywhere.
We usually don’t make a showing in the World Cup, so we don’t bother tuning in. Meanwhile, the best that America has to offer gets blown out of the water by a team that is pretty bad financial and political shape. But most Americans couldn’t care less about that, either.
Watch the World Cup. The entire world is interested. Let’s use this game. this moment, to help us understand why.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
A Captive Audience
Yesterday I met a man who scared me very much. He was wielding scissors, had a firm grasp of my head for nearly 30 minutes, and wouldn’t let me leave without paying.
He was my barber.
Actually, to be honest, I think that charging that much for a haircut is against the barber creed. This is why he is required by law to call himself a “stylist.”
It wasn’t the scissors or high prices that scared me most, though. It was the conversation. Two of the first several questions that he asked me were “So, what kind of work do you do?” and “Where did you go to school?” These were innocent questions – neither out of the ordinary nor invasive. Questions that anyone might ask to get to know someone better. You’re choice of school, field of study, and occupation often says a lot about you.
When I told him where I worked, the conversation turned political. When I told him that I went to Baylor, the conversation turned conservative. Crazy conservative.
Now, before I go any further, please let me explain something. Those of you that know me know that I am by no means a card-carrying Republican (though I once was). You know that I have very few nice things to say about Bill O’Reilly, Ann Coulter, Lou Dobbs, or any other the other conservative scaremongers. I neither disagree completely with Dubya, nor agree completely with Dean, Kennedy, Clinton, Franken, or Biden. I welcome a healthy, well-informed discussion with someone that has an open mind. And I try to do my part by being well-informed and keeping my mind open.
That being said, this guy scared me.
Apparently “I went to Baylor” is code for “I, too, am a political conservative who bases my political views on my Christian faith.” Having made this assumption, he talked to me as though I should be nodding in agreement to the hypotheses that he was spouting off. I wasn’t. From the “one-world government” type paranoia to even a suspicion about the membership of presidential cabinet members being members of the Council on Foreign Relations, this guy was off the charts.
I don’t know from where he gets his news, but he did say that he listens to a lot of talk radio. Judging by the fact that he had absolutely no clue about the massacre in Haditha by US Marines, I think I have a good idea about the kind of radio shows to which he listens.
Why is it that the most vocal people are often the least informed? Perhaps it’s because if you don’t really understand the complexities of a given situation (and I am not claiming here to understand much, if anything), it is incredibly easy to offer a solution. It is also easy to be spoon-fed your news and solutions to the various problems in one big swallow. This is the service that crazy (often, but not always) conservative talk radio personalities provide. These (often, but not always) guys spout out information often citing other hosts as sources, and then provide solutions that they see as funny, clever, or incredibly simple. This is how “quick and easy” solutions like attacking Iran, the gay marriage ban, and building a big-ass fence along the Rio Grande gain such wide popularity. If the public is ill-informed about the complexities of a problem, it’s much easier to over-simplify the solutions. I have a simple solution for you: TURN OFF THE LOUD SCAREMONGERS AND FIND OUT WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON.
I’m sorry to yell. I just get frustrated sometimes.
I’ll leave all of the scary religious stuff that my stylist said to a later post, but let’s just say it made me nervous to know that this guy gets to vote. Not only this, but he belongs to a church full of people that are (presumably) just like him. They get to vote, too.
So, even though I was a little scared going in, and a little goofy-looking going out (the way he styled my hair, I looked like Conan O’Brian and Lyle Lovett’s lovechild), it was one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had. And the conversation, though scary, was interesting and a little entertaining.
He was my barber.
Actually, to be honest, I think that charging that much for a haircut is against the barber creed. This is why he is required by law to call himself a “stylist.”
It wasn’t the scissors or high prices that scared me most, though. It was the conversation. Two of the first several questions that he asked me were “So, what kind of work do you do?” and “Where did you go to school?” These were innocent questions – neither out of the ordinary nor invasive. Questions that anyone might ask to get to know someone better. You’re choice of school, field of study, and occupation often says a lot about you.
When I told him where I worked, the conversation turned political. When I told him that I went to Baylor, the conversation turned conservative. Crazy conservative.
Now, before I go any further, please let me explain something. Those of you that know me know that I am by no means a card-carrying Republican (though I once was). You know that I have very few nice things to say about Bill O’Reilly, Ann Coulter, Lou Dobbs, or any other the other conservative scaremongers. I neither disagree completely with Dubya, nor agree completely with Dean, Kennedy, Clinton, Franken, or Biden. I welcome a healthy, well-informed discussion with someone that has an open mind. And I try to do my part by being well-informed and keeping my mind open.
That being said, this guy scared me.
Apparently “I went to Baylor” is code for “I, too, am a political conservative who bases my political views on my Christian faith.” Having made this assumption, he talked to me as though I should be nodding in agreement to the hypotheses that he was spouting off. I wasn’t. From the “one-world government” type paranoia to even a suspicion about the membership of presidential cabinet members being members of the Council on Foreign Relations, this guy was off the charts.
I don’t know from where he gets his news, but he did say that he listens to a lot of talk radio. Judging by the fact that he had absolutely no clue about the massacre in Haditha by US Marines, I think I have a good idea about the kind of radio shows to which he listens.
Why is it that the most vocal people are often the least informed? Perhaps it’s because if you don’t really understand the complexities of a given situation (and I am not claiming here to understand much, if anything), it is incredibly easy to offer a solution. It is also easy to be spoon-fed your news and solutions to the various problems in one big swallow. This is the service that crazy (often, but not always) conservative talk radio personalities provide. These (often, but not always) guys spout out information often citing other hosts as sources, and then provide solutions that they see as funny, clever, or incredibly simple. This is how “quick and easy” solutions like attacking Iran, the gay marriage ban, and building a big-ass fence along the Rio Grande gain such wide popularity. If the public is ill-informed about the complexities of a problem, it’s much easier to over-simplify the solutions. I have a simple solution for you: TURN OFF THE LOUD SCAREMONGERS AND FIND OUT WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON.
I’m sorry to yell. I just get frustrated sometimes.
I’ll leave all of the scary religious stuff that my stylist said to a later post, but let’s just say it made me nervous to know that this guy gets to vote. Not only this, but he belongs to a church full of people that are (presumably) just like him. They get to vote, too.
So, even though I was a little scared going in, and a little goofy-looking going out (the way he styled my hair, I looked like Conan O’Brian and Lyle Lovett’s lovechild), it was one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had. And the conversation, though scary, was interesting and a little entertaining.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
A Few Observations
People whose explanation for doing something is simply "because it's a free country, and I have the right to," are most likely incapable of understanding that that makes absolutely no sense. These people should be avoided.
Example:
Rational Person: "Hey, uh, why do you own a handgun? You live in a gated community in the suburbs"
Insane Person: "Because it's a free country and I have the right to own a handgun if I want to, buddy!"
RP: "Oh, so you don't need a handgun, you just do it because you're allowed to. Got it."
IP: "Umm, yeah. And to protect my personal property from thieves, terrorists, and the French."
RP: "Right. Ok."
This same conversation could take place with someone who drives a dually and lives in an apartment, refuses to buy a Dixie Chicks album (even though they can't wait until they are played next on the radio), or see The DaVinci Code (even though they know that the movie can't actually hurt them).
People like this cannot be rationed with because they ignore the portion of the brain that gives the rest of us this capability. All we can do is keep our cool during conversations like the one above, and hope that somewhere (deep) inside, they too know that what they are saying makes no sense.
Example:
Rational Person: "Hey, uh, why do you own a handgun? You live in a gated community in the suburbs"
Insane Person: "Because it's a free country and I have the right to own a handgun if I want to, buddy!"
RP: "Oh, so you don't need a handgun, you just do it because you're allowed to. Got it."
IP: "Umm, yeah. And to protect my personal property from thieves, terrorists, and the French."
RP: "Right. Ok."
This same conversation could take place with someone who drives a dually and lives in an apartment, refuses to buy a Dixie Chicks album (even though they can't wait until they are played next on the radio), or see The DaVinci Code (even though they know that the movie can't actually hurt them).
People like this cannot be rationed with because they ignore the portion of the brain that gives the rest of us this capability. All we can do is keep our cool during conversations like the one above, and hope that somewhere (deep) inside, they too know that what they are saying makes no sense.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Beware of Grown Men in Shorts
Ok, Let me explain...
I was running an errand for work in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon one day, and I saw a man walking down the street. I saw several people walking down the street, in fact, but this man stood out for some reason. Something seemed a little...Suspicious. Now, this was a clean-cut man dressed in newish clothes just minding his own business walking alone not bothering a soul. "What was it, then, that created my suspicion?" I ask myself.
It was his shorts.
This was a grown man in perhaps his mid-thirties wearing a yellow plaid button-up shirt tucked into his olive green cargo shorts. He was also wearing oakleys and tennis shoes with white crew socks. Now, perhaps this choice in attire stood out because I happened to see him walking in one of the notoriously trendy parts of town. But it got me to thinking...
If this man has the type of job that allows him to meander around Dallas with not a care in the world on a Tuesday afternoon, one would be let to assume that he would have slightly better fashion sense than he was exhibiting on the day in question. Before you accuse me of judging this man for merely dressing in a way that shows blatant disregard for the last 10 years in the evolution of men's fashion, please believe me: he looked uncomfortable in his own skin and unfamiliar with his surroundings, like he was up to no good.
I didn't stick around to see what he was up to, but I know that it wasn't good. Of this I am certain.
So, in short, never trust a grown man dressed in shorts in the middle of a weekday. He should know better. Any man who shuns common sense like this is obviously spending entirely too much time devising an evil scheme to terrorize puppies and/or small children.
I was running an errand for work in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon one day, and I saw a man walking down the street. I saw several people walking down the street, in fact, but this man stood out for some reason. Something seemed a little...Suspicious. Now, this was a clean-cut man dressed in newish clothes just minding his own business walking alone not bothering a soul. "What was it, then, that created my suspicion?" I ask myself.
It was his shorts.
This was a grown man in perhaps his mid-thirties wearing a yellow plaid button-up shirt tucked into his olive green cargo shorts. He was also wearing oakleys and tennis shoes with white crew socks. Now, perhaps this choice in attire stood out because I happened to see him walking in one of the notoriously trendy parts of town. But it got me to thinking...
If this man has the type of job that allows him to meander around Dallas with not a care in the world on a Tuesday afternoon, one would be let to assume that he would have slightly better fashion sense than he was exhibiting on the day in question. Before you accuse me of judging this man for merely dressing in a way that shows blatant disregard for the last 10 years in the evolution of men's fashion, please believe me: he looked uncomfortable in his own skin and unfamiliar with his surroundings, like he was up to no good.
I didn't stick around to see what he was up to, but I know that it wasn't good. Of this I am certain.
So, in short, never trust a grown man dressed in shorts in the middle of a weekday. He should know better. Any man who shuns common sense like this is obviously spending entirely too much time devising an evil scheme to terrorize puppies and/or small children.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Why My Neighbor Makes Me Hate People
Last night, I had a wonderful evening watching the Mavs game. As usual, I got along with everybody (even Spurs fans) and the night ended very well. When I arrived home, however, I was greeted by a small pile of rat-dog shit. Someone had allowed their rat-dog to shit on the sidewalk. Not only on the sidewalk, but on the sidewalk immediately at the bottom of the stairs to my front porch. Had I not been paying close attention to where I was stepping, I would have stepped right in it.
Noting the unique position of the pile (what kind of crazy dog actually craps on concrete?), it really made an impression on me. It really takes a special person to stand there and watch one's dog unload on someone else's porch? It is methodical and careless actions such as these that cause me to really hate people sometimes (all of the time).
I think that there are two types of people in this world - special people such as my neighbor, who have no concept of others, allow their pets to shit indiscriminately, and leave the police scanner on full-blast 24/7 (yes, he does this too); and people who care enough to at least pick up after one's pet, return lost wallets, bring your paper in from the rain, and other things such as this. Now, I understand that there are varying degrees of each type of people, but my mind tends to force people into one of these two groups for one main reason: I need something to hate.
Those of you that know me know that I am extremely laid back. I am not quick to anger. I don't pick fights. I would rather be nice than be a prick. This comes at a cost. I am not immune to the normal frustrations, annoyances, and irritations of normal life. I just channel them a different way.
I store all of my rage inside until that unfortunate person cuts me off, hangs up on me, or wrongs me in some other relatively minor way. At that point, when the time is just right, I have been known to explode. I still do not pick fights...it's much more passive aggressive at this point. I yell obscenities, sometimes deliver a strategic middle finger, or some other means of focusing my hate.
If I am not careful, these passive aggressive tendencies will certainly get me in trouble. Just last night, for example, two kids pulled up in a Pontiac as I was walking to my car. They came to a complete stop right between me and my car - showing no consideration whatsoever for the fact that I even existed. So that the driver would know which type of person he was, I provided a gentle reminder in the form of a sarcastic comment. It was, of course, loud enough for them to hear me.
Fortunately, they were smaller in stature than me, and neither of my subsequent comments persuaded them to exit their car to further explore the subject. They did, however, call me a 'bitch' from the street as they left. This just gives further proof that my initial analysis was correct.
I do need to be more careful, I suppose. But I still can't help but be curious about how my neighbor would react to have a big pile of (dog, cow, horse, human) shit on his front steps.
Noting the unique position of the pile (what kind of crazy dog actually craps on concrete?), it really made an impression on me. It really takes a special person to stand there and watch one's dog unload on someone else's porch? It is methodical and careless actions such as these that cause me to really hate people sometimes (all of the time).
I think that there are two types of people in this world - special people such as my neighbor, who have no concept of others, allow their pets to shit indiscriminately, and leave the police scanner on full-blast 24/7 (yes, he does this too); and people who care enough to at least pick up after one's pet, return lost wallets, bring your paper in from the rain, and other things such as this. Now, I understand that there are varying degrees of each type of people, but my mind tends to force people into one of these two groups for one main reason: I need something to hate.
Those of you that know me know that I am extremely laid back. I am not quick to anger. I don't pick fights. I would rather be nice than be a prick. This comes at a cost. I am not immune to the normal frustrations, annoyances, and irritations of normal life. I just channel them a different way.
I store all of my rage inside until that unfortunate person cuts me off, hangs up on me, or wrongs me in some other relatively minor way. At that point, when the time is just right, I have been known to explode. I still do not pick fights...it's much more passive aggressive at this point. I yell obscenities, sometimes deliver a strategic middle finger, or some other means of focusing my hate.
If I am not careful, these passive aggressive tendencies will certainly get me in trouble. Just last night, for example, two kids pulled up in a Pontiac as I was walking to my car. They came to a complete stop right between me and my car - showing no consideration whatsoever for the fact that I even existed. So that the driver would know which type of person he was, I provided a gentle reminder in the form of a sarcastic comment. It was, of course, loud enough for them to hear me.
Fortunately, they were smaller in stature than me, and neither of my subsequent comments persuaded them to exit their car to further explore the subject. They did, however, call me a 'bitch' from the street as they left. This just gives further proof that my initial analysis was correct.
I do need to be more careful, I suppose. But I still can't help but be curious about how my neighbor would react to have a big pile of (dog, cow, horse, human) shit on his front steps.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Baby Talk
So, I spent this past weekend with my sisters, who between them, have about 73 children. While the actual number is 5, the omnipresence this weekend of small people at various stages of mobility and cognitive development, makes 73 a more accurate representation of the "Children Index." This is similar to the heat index. It may only be 90 degrees outside, but the humidity and proximity of Satan might make it feel like 190 degrees. It's mostly used as an excuse for old and lazy people to stay in their 72 degree home and bitch about the weather, but the concept is easily tranferred into an analogy for children.
That being said, please do not take the comments above as any indication that I do not love my nieces and nephews (with all of the words in the English language, there really should be one word that means 'the children of my siblings'). I do love them very much and I really enjoy being around them. It's just that I live alone, can listen to whatever I want, say whatever I want, and do whatever I want - regardless of the 'appropriateness,' volume, or time of day. So being around so many children for two full days around which one has to be so mindful of what one says or refers to, is an enormous departure from my normal life. This fact, along with the fact that absolutely none of my day-to-day human interaction is with people below the age of 22, I am not entirely sure how to talk to a baby. I don't just go around speaking baby talk, so I when the opportunity arises, it shows that I am desperately out of practice. I can't help but feel as though the baby knows that I'm new to this, and already thinks less of me. It's very uncomfortable to feel as though you've let down a 6 month old. But at least I'm setting the bar low. I'd rather disappoint them now, than set their hopes high and disappoint them when they're old enough to voice it.
That being said, please do not take the comments above as any indication that I do not love my nieces and nephews (with all of the words in the English language, there really should be one word that means 'the children of my siblings'). I do love them very much and I really enjoy being around them. It's just that I live alone, can listen to whatever I want, say whatever I want, and do whatever I want - regardless of the 'appropriateness,' volume, or time of day. So being around so many children for two full days around which one has to be so mindful of what one says or refers to, is an enormous departure from my normal life. This fact, along with the fact that absolutely none of my day-to-day human interaction is with people below the age of 22, I am not entirely sure how to talk to a baby. I don't just go around speaking baby talk, so I when the opportunity arises, it shows that I am desperately out of practice. I can't help but feel as though the baby knows that I'm new to this, and already thinks less of me. It's very uncomfortable to feel as though you've let down a 6 month old. But at least I'm setting the bar low. I'd rather disappoint them now, than set their hopes high and disappoint them when they're old enough to voice it.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Relax, it's just me
So, you'll notice that more than a month has passed since my last post. I know that had each and every one of you (read: nobody) hooked with only two posts, and that your lives have been thrown into imbalance because you don't know what's going on with me. How's his apartment? Did he throw more stuff away? Has his attitude towards fellow bloggers changed? Does he realize that his talking to a non-existent and therefore completely made-up audience is tantamount to his having a conversation with an imaginary person? Did he just type that?
Well, get up off your couch, throw away the ice cream carton, put down the zoloft - I'm back. Though this next statement will be contradictory to the fact that I write all of these (3) posts from work, please believe me when I say that I have been busy. That's at least the excuse that I give myself and others.
In fact, I'm pretty lazy.
I graduated from a fancy private university with a BA in international studies. That's what happens when you decide while waiting tables in college that being "happy" and doing "what you love" is better than being able to pay your bills every month, living in a cool loft downtown, and driving a schnazzy car. We all made fun of business majors while we were in school - claiming that they had no souls, were in it only for the money, and would never be satisfied with pushing papers and crunching numbers. Well, folks, I was wrong.
Somehow I ended up as an event planner. That means I have papers to push, numbers to crunch, and alot of self-important ass to kiss. So basically, instead of finding a job that has meaning, I found one that does not pay and at which I have to work ungodly hours. I then go home to my apartment in the 'hood, decide which bills to pay, and do it all over again the next day. Now, I suppose that things aren't entirely as bleak as I make them. I get to meet interesting people. Drive around senators. Meet Bono. My boss never lets an opportunity go by without placating me with reminders of the "intangibles" of my job. Apparently he lives in a world where such "intangibles" are easily substituted for hard currency that one can use to keep the lights on in one's dimly lit shithole.
I'm in a big funk today. I apologize for whining so much. I promise not to bitch quite so much next time.
Well, get up off your couch, throw away the ice cream carton, put down the zoloft - I'm back. Though this next statement will be contradictory to the fact that I write all of these (3) posts from work, please believe me when I say that I have been busy. That's at least the excuse that I give myself and others.
In fact, I'm pretty lazy.
I graduated from a fancy private university with a BA in international studies. That's what happens when you decide while waiting tables in college that being "happy" and doing "what you love" is better than being able to pay your bills every month, living in a cool loft downtown, and driving a schnazzy car. We all made fun of business majors while we were in school - claiming that they had no souls, were in it only for the money, and would never be satisfied with pushing papers and crunching numbers. Well, folks, I was wrong.
Somehow I ended up as an event planner. That means I have papers to push, numbers to crunch, and alot of self-important ass to kiss. So basically, instead of finding a job that has meaning, I found one that does not pay and at which I have to work ungodly hours. I then go home to my apartment in the 'hood, decide which bills to pay, and do it all over again the next day. Now, I suppose that things aren't entirely as bleak as I make them. I get to meet interesting people. Drive around senators. Meet Bono. My boss never lets an opportunity go by without placating me with reminders of the "intangibles" of my job. Apparently he lives in a world where such "intangibles" are easily substituted for hard currency that one can use to keep the lights on in one's dimly lit shithole.
I'm in a big funk today. I apologize for whining so much. I promise not to bitch quite so much next time.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
What's my deal?
So I finally finished moving yesterday. I find it amazing that I can throw away about 10 full trashbags of stuff from my old place, and my new place is still way too full of stuff - most of which I don't use.
I think it's time to shed some of this crap - books I've read or never will read, clothes I haven't worn in years...you know the drill. For some reason I'm hell bent on having certain things, while at the same time I'm frustrated about having so much crap and running out of room to put it.
Well, now that I'm finished writing, I think I'll go watch Fight Club again....and then go shopping.
I think it's time to shed some of this crap - books I've read or never will read, clothes I haven't worn in years...you know the drill. For some reason I'm hell bent on having certain things, while at the same time I'm frustrated about having so much crap and running out of room to put it.
Well, now that I'm finished writing, I think I'll go watch Fight Club again....and then go shopping.
Friday, March 31, 2006
And we're off....
I don't read blogs, and I seem to not think much of those people who rely on them for their news, ideas, culture, sense of humor, etc.
So why did I start a blog if I think so little of those that use them? It's not because I see myself as ultimately interesting, or even that I don't expect to be the only person to ever see these feeble words. It's mostly that I'm bored at work and I want to write and think about something other than what I get paid (barely) to do write and think about all week.
And with that, we're off....
So why did I start a blog if I think so little of those that use them? It's not because I see myself as ultimately interesting, or even that I don't expect to be the only person to ever see these feeble words. It's mostly that I'm bored at work and I want to write and think about something other than what I get paid (barely) to do write and think about all week.
And with that, we're off....
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