Here I sit on the east coast of the U.S., securely (so far) sequestered in my casa as Hurricane Sandy gives us her worst -- wind gusts, torrential downpours, flooding. What a bitch. Luckily my power is still hum hum humming along so I can partake in the extensive hurricane coverage on the boob tube. Thankfully, the local coverage is up-to-date. Not so thankfully, I think the meteorologist has a rager. You know, boner, erection, stiffy ... While discussing Hurricane Sandy, he excitedly used some inappropriate language like the storm is "interesting" and "beautiful" reminiscent of "Independence Day":
Dr. Okun: The last 24 hours have been really exciting.
President Whitmore: Exciting!? People are dying out there. I don't think exciting is the word I'd choose to describe it.
Meteorologists love weather, obviously, so extreme weather is like fetish porn.
There are reporters out in the field: standing in flooded areas, complaining about the cold, wind and rain while the storm beats down on their pink, snotty faces peeking out from tightly secured hoods ... robed in bright slickers, they brave the elements to give us live coverage. I see some benefit -- reporters showing real-time conditions -- but it seems unnecessarily dangerous. The newsroom anchors comment how the reporter is "tough" and "doing a great job" while comfortably lounging in their chairs in the heated studio.
Politicians, like sassy porker Chris Christie, lay down the law: "Don't do anything stupid." Thanks, Vinnie Barbarino.
Then there's the 80-year-old veteran reporter in a yellow slicker standing in a river mumbling and bumbling about the wind, although my better half is a fan of this senile dinosaur.
It's like the Olympics for news. May the odds be forever in your favor.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
What is Halloween? -- Holidays become more consumer goods than tradition
Is your Halloween costume laid out on your bed, wrinkle-free and glorious? Pumpkin carved, candy bought, house decorated. Here I sit with half a costume and a full serving of cynicism. This go around, my Halloween musings keep returning to Ray Bradbury's novel "The Halloween Tree." Oh you don't know?! Well now you know:
On a journey to save their friend from certain death by a mysterious force, eight boys travel across space and time with the help of an equally mysterious man, learning the origins of Halloween along their travels.
Origins, history, tradition. Americans are so conditioned with traditions reinforced by retail stores and the media, we forget, or never knew, how major holidays came to be. Or, more likely, we get the gist with no want to delve further. We weren't alive then, so let's move on, right? You shouldn't live in the past and, according to Col. Jessup, you can't handle the truth!
Anyway, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July ... we focus on food, merchandise and clothing. We must prepare for parties, boozing and b.s. We don't reinforce the roots of holidays to our children or friends and, more often than not, don't mention the historical significance as we get down on our knees and worship Santa, over-eating and fireworks. We're breeding a race of idiots.
Halloween has Celtic influences: feasts, rituals, festivals of the dead, and preparing for winter. They called it the Festival of Samhain. That night, souls were said to visit their former homes ... creepy, right? So, during feasts places for these souls were set at the table as a welcome invitation. People donned disguises to conceal themselves from the not-so-nice souls and fairies who returned. Not all souls are Casper the Friendly Ghost because some have unfinished business. People trick-or-treated, more or less, but for food for the festivals, not candy to feed their fat faces. Jack-o-lanterns were turnips carved to represent the souls and fairies or, sometimes, for used for protection.
So, instead of some goofy carving, how about carving an image of a dead relative ... pretty eerie when lit by candlelight.
Halloween has Christian influences: honoring saints and praying for the recently departed who still climb the stairway to Heaven. Trick-or-treaters were the hungry and poor who went door-to-door for soul cakes -- cakes for Christened souls -- as they prayed for souls in purgatory. Costumes were worn for the same reason as the Celtic tradition. Although, Jack-o-lanterns represented souls in purgatory. Again with the purgatory, yikes!
As for the good ole U S of A, Puritans were pure as the driven snow and wanted none of this nonsense until the mass of impure Scottish and Irish immigrants flooded the country and brought their traditions.
Assimilation because aren't we all just mongrels at the pound?
Religion isn't forced upon us as it was in our not-so-distant past. We are free to believe what we want with only hate speech, nasty looks and judgement from the religious right. That's all well and good but there is something comforting about tradition to me, something prideful. Maybe it's because I grew up in chaos but I hope people share historical tales of Halloween, as well as other major holidays, and stop making it all about the Almighty Dollar and this Gimme Gimme Gimme culture we've been brewing.
On a journey to save their friend from certain death by a mysterious force, eight boys travel across space and time with the help of an equally mysterious man, learning the origins of Halloween along their travels.
Origins, history, tradition. Americans are so conditioned with traditions reinforced by retail stores and the media, we forget, or never knew, how major holidays came to be. Or, more likely, we get the gist with no want to delve further. We weren't alive then, so let's move on, right? You shouldn't live in the past and, according to Col. Jessup, you can't handle the truth!
Anyway, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July ... we focus on food, merchandise and clothing. We must prepare for parties, boozing and b.s. We don't reinforce the roots of holidays to our children or friends and, more often than not, don't mention the historical significance as we get down on our knees and worship Santa, over-eating and fireworks. We're breeding a race of idiots.
Halloween has Celtic influences: feasts, rituals, festivals of the dead, and preparing for winter. They called it the Festival of Samhain. That night, souls were said to visit their former homes ... creepy, right? So, during feasts places for these souls were set at the table as a welcome invitation. People donned disguises to conceal themselves from the not-so-nice souls and fairies who returned. Not all souls are Casper the Friendly Ghost because some have unfinished business. People trick-or-treated, more or less, but for food for the festivals, not candy to feed their fat faces. Jack-o-lanterns were turnips carved to represent the souls and fairies or, sometimes, for used for protection.
So, instead of some goofy carving, how about carving an image of a dead relative ... pretty eerie when lit by candlelight.
Halloween has Christian influences: honoring saints and praying for the recently departed who still climb the stairway to Heaven. Trick-or-treaters were the hungry and poor who went door-to-door for soul cakes -- cakes for Christened souls -- as they prayed for souls in purgatory. Costumes were worn for the same reason as the Celtic tradition. Although, Jack-o-lanterns represented souls in purgatory. Again with the purgatory, yikes!
As for the good ole U S of A, Puritans were pure as the driven snow and wanted none of this nonsense until the mass of impure Scottish and Irish immigrants flooded the country and brought their traditions.
Assimilation because aren't we all just mongrels at the pound?
Religion isn't forced upon us as it was in our not-so-distant past. We are free to believe what we want with only hate speech, nasty looks and judgement from the religious right. That's all well and good but there is something comforting about tradition to me, something prideful. Maybe it's because I grew up in chaos but I hope people share historical tales of Halloween, as well as other major holidays, and stop making it all about the Almighty Dollar and this Gimme Gimme Gimme culture we've been brewing.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
America's obsession with abortion: Mitt Romney distancing himself from Richard Mourdock's mouth
Indiana Republican Senate candidate Richard "I Love Chick-fi-La" Mourdock stands by his statement: when a woman becomes pregnant during rape "that's something God intended."
"I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize that life is a gift from God. And, I think, even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen."
Struggled? Struggled, as in torment for days, weeks, months? I'm confused, is he Socrates or a candidate for Senate? Sleepless nights, charts and diagrams scattered across a coffee table under communion wafer crumbs, evenings spent alone with bottles of wine trying to figure this thing out. I didn't know this needed to be "figured out" but if anybody can do it, some rando from Indiana is our man! Did he struggle with what's been described as Indiana's most pressing problems: the cost of healthcare, substance abuse, and the economy? No, he struggled with pregnant rape victims.
It's interesting the National Republican Senatorial Committee, as well as presidential hopeful Mitt Romney, stand by Mourdock because they didn't stand by their man Missouri Senate candidate Todd "Legitimate Rape" Akin. I don't understand how the comments differ all that much but whatever ... Romney distanced himself but still supports Mourdock -- like a relative who's a miserly hateful jerkface but because you're related you hold them at arm's length but still love them because they're "your miserly hateful jerkface." Romney's handlers say he doesn't agree with Mourdock's views but, after watching debates and speeches over the past few months, I don't know how Romney stands on anything ...
He all five-point-planning when all he got is a one-point plan, lookin like he be modeling on a package of men's briefs.
After drawing outrage from the public (shocking), Mourdock clarified. He didn't mean God preordains rapes but God is the only one who can create life and his God or any God wouldn't intend this to happen ... Confusing logic. Mourdock is upset his comments were twisted by Obama's House of Democrats and Loose Liberal Lefties. For those who disagree, like myself, it's our fault for not understanding. We need to get our shit together and get with the program!
Since he's taken us down this lovely Our Bodies, Ourselves road, I wonder why his good and loving God would allow rapes to happen in the first place. Mourdock has life, the universe and everything figured out so ... Why would God allow 10-year-old Jessica Ridgeway to be kidnapped and murdered? Why is Hurricane Sandy, aka "Out To Destroy Key West FantasyFest," barreling down on the east coast of the United States on its way to join forces with a cold front and become Frankenstorm (makes me think of Al Franken ... which makes me think of Stuart Smalley)?
You're good enough, you're smart enough, and, doggone it, people like you.
Anyway, Americans have friends, family and loved ones, young and old, die from terminal illnesses, car crashes and senseless acts of violence. Is this God's plan? Oh wait, it's not preordained by God but God's the puppet master so ... huh? I better call Richard "Socrates" Mourdock! Oh you didn't know? Your ass better call somebody! Better call Saul!
I'm no left-wing nutbar believing Mourdock is pro-rape or soft on rapists because that's not the case. He's another jerk obsessed with vaginas as the world heads for disaster. Another day, another dollar, another hopeful Senatorial looney up in Tocus (Attention loud mouths backing Obama or Romney, please oh please put as much time and effort into voting for Senators because they are important too).
Anyway. Why are Americans obsessed with abortion, especially politicians?
Decisions over birth control, abortions and the like are made between a woman, a spouse/partner/close friend and/or a doctor. Women don't wonder what senators or representatives or the president will think if they start Ortho Tri Cyclen or choose to have an abortion because it's not like politicians are ever specifically thinking about them. They are supposed to pass laws and chair committees for the good of the people: not some people, all people. It's reminiscent of Prohibition: outlaw abortion and guess what? Women will find ways to make it happen and it won't be pretty.
Politicians pander to the base with controversial issues, especially abortion because it ties in with hot button topics: religion, government's role, when life begins, sex, feminism, a woman's role in society, motherhood, family, healthcare and the economy. There's supposed to be a separation between church and state but people are deeply embraced in their religious beliefs, they feel everyone should follow the leader as their holy book says. Well, not that they've read the holy book, but I'm sure it's in there somewhere. My way or the highway and apparently life is a highway so ... yeah ...
Truth be told, if we continue down Abortion Road we will never find a solution because this isn't a quest for common ground. This is a black and white debate with no room for compromise. It's a losing battle fought with more vigor than any other battle: the economy, healthcare, unemployment, conflicts overseas, drug abuse ...
I would love to host a mass meet-up with every politician and say: take a deep breath and channel sixth grade science class. Ready? Say it with me now: penis, penis, penis, vagina, vagina, vagina. Say it again. Some people have vaginas, some people have penises. They can bring great, dizzying, overwhelming amounts of joy and pain. Stop obsessing about vaginas and fix the country. Stop pretending you are a Bible scholar because we all know the Bible is a book of riddles and lessons. Bible Bottomline: Love God and love your neighbor ... no matter if your neighbor is gay, straight, black, white, poor, rich, Christian, Jew, Muslim ... we are all children of God.
"I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize that life is a gift from God. And, I think, even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen."
Struggled? Struggled, as in torment for days, weeks, months? I'm confused, is he Socrates or a candidate for Senate? Sleepless nights, charts and diagrams scattered across a coffee table under communion wafer crumbs, evenings spent alone with bottles of wine trying to figure this thing out. I didn't know this needed to be "figured out" but if anybody can do it, some rando from Indiana is our man! Did he struggle with what's been described as Indiana's most pressing problems: the cost of healthcare, substance abuse, and the economy? No, he struggled with pregnant rape victims.
It's interesting the National Republican Senatorial Committee, as well as presidential hopeful Mitt Romney, stand by Mourdock because they didn't stand by their man Missouri Senate candidate Todd "Legitimate Rape" Akin. I don't understand how the comments differ all that much but whatever ... Romney distanced himself but still supports Mourdock -- like a relative who's a miserly hateful jerkface but because you're related you hold them at arm's length but still love them because they're "your miserly hateful jerkface." Romney's handlers say he doesn't agree with Mourdock's views but, after watching debates and speeches over the past few months, I don't know how Romney stands on anything ...
He all five-point-planning when all he got is a one-point plan, lookin like he be modeling on a package of men's briefs.
After drawing outrage from the public (shocking), Mourdock clarified. He didn't mean God preordains rapes but God is the only one who can create life and his God or any God wouldn't intend this to happen ... Confusing logic. Mourdock is upset his comments were twisted by Obama's House of Democrats and Loose Liberal Lefties. For those who disagree, like myself, it's our fault for not understanding. We need to get our shit together and get with the program!
Since he's taken us down this lovely Our Bodies, Ourselves road, I wonder why his good and loving God would allow rapes to happen in the first place. Mourdock has life, the universe and everything figured out so ... Why would God allow 10-year-old Jessica Ridgeway to be kidnapped and murdered? Why is Hurricane Sandy, aka "Out To Destroy Key West FantasyFest," barreling down on the east coast of the United States on its way to join forces with a cold front and become Frankenstorm (makes me think of Al Franken ... which makes me think of Stuart Smalley)?
You're good enough, you're smart enough, and, doggone it, people like you.
Anyway, Americans have friends, family and loved ones, young and old, die from terminal illnesses, car crashes and senseless acts of violence. Is this God's plan? Oh wait, it's not preordained by God but God's the puppet master so ... huh? I better call Richard "Socrates" Mourdock! Oh you didn't know? Your ass better call somebody! Better call Saul!
I'm no left-wing nutbar believing Mourdock is pro-rape or soft on rapists because that's not the case. He's another jerk obsessed with vaginas as the world heads for disaster. Another day, another dollar, another hopeful Senatorial looney up in Tocus (Attention loud mouths backing Obama or Romney, please oh please put as much time and effort into voting for Senators because they are important too).
Anyway. Why are Americans obsessed with abortion, especially politicians?
Decisions over birth control, abortions and the like are made between a woman, a spouse/partner/close friend and/or a doctor. Women don't wonder what senators or representatives or the president will think if they start Ortho Tri Cyclen or choose to have an abortion because it's not like politicians are ever specifically thinking about them. They are supposed to pass laws and chair committees for the good of the people: not some people, all people. It's reminiscent of Prohibition: outlaw abortion and guess what? Women will find ways to make it happen and it won't be pretty.
Politicians pander to the base with controversial issues, especially abortion because it ties in with hot button topics: religion, government's role, when life begins, sex, feminism, a woman's role in society, motherhood, family, healthcare and the economy. There's supposed to be a separation between church and state but people are deeply embraced in their religious beliefs, they feel everyone should follow the leader as their holy book says. Well, not that they've read the holy book, but I'm sure it's in there somewhere. My way or the highway and apparently life is a highway so ... yeah ...
Truth be told, if we continue down Abortion Road we will never find a solution because this isn't a quest for common ground. This is a black and white debate with no room for compromise. It's a losing battle fought with more vigor than any other battle: the economy, healthcare, unemployment, conflicts overseas, drug abuse ...
I would love to host a mass meet-up with every politician and say: take a deep breath and channel sixth grade science class. Ready? Say it with me now: penis, penis, penis, vagina, vagina, vagina. Say it again. Some people have vaginas, some people have penises. They can bring great, dizzying, overwhelming amounts of joy and pain. Stop obsessing about vaginas and fix the country. Stop pretending you are a Bible scholar because we all know the Bible is a book of riddles and lessons. Bible Bottomline: Love God and love your neighbor ... no matter if your neighbor is gay, straight, black, white, poor, rich, Christian, Jew, Muslim ... we are all children of God.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Halloween costumes -- Slutty, controversial, witty, lame: Are you ever too old to dress up?
Walk your TV-addicted, frozen dinner loving ass outside and take a deep breath. The air is crisp, temperatures hover in the land of perfection. The leaves turned in secret, showcasing brilliant shades as their last hurrah before death -- enjoy raking 'em up loser!
Your fat, salty tears rain down on bathing suits, t-shirts, tank tops and shorts as you pack them away and unleash sweaters, jackets, boots and jeans to cover your body before your tan fades and you return to the land of Pasty White American. Mother nature is diverting the attention away from winter, which creeps upon us to steal sunlight and warmth and leave us with snow, ice and cabin fever.
Bah humbug.
Ah yes, it's fall. Maybe you enjoy the cooler temperatures or the return of all-American football. Foos-ball? Buncha overgrown monsters man-handlin' each other ... Maybe you're a piggie pig face and enjoy the food -- pumpkin flavored goodies, fall beers and comfort foods like chili and harvest fruits and vegetables -- and the excitement for more food with Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts knock, knock, knocking at your chamber door and your waist line.
Or maybe, just maybe, you're obsessed with Halloween.
There are folks who enjoy a good shock to the system, like offerings from television networks and movie channels -- i.e. AMC's Fearfest or "American Horror Story." Jason, Michael, Candyman, Mothman, Freddy ... rejoice! The freaks come out at night and so do you!
Some enjoy decorating their homes for trick-or-treaters, parties or for their own nick-knack-paddy-wack-give-a-dog-a-bone loving amusement from low-range Halloween fun to I-want-to-make-kids-cry -- pee filled tightie whities, skid marked briefs, nightmares and therapy appointments. Haunted house vs. Martha Stewart Living (pre-jail).
I'll never forget the Halloween, many moons ago, one of my sisters donned a full gorilla costume to answer the door and scared the neighborhood bully. Seeing his fat, tear-soaked face before he ran screaming from our front porch = bliss.
With big events, from holidays to celebrations, there are those who go overboard. Today, class, pinpoint your judgement viewfinder on costumes. When are you too old for costumes?
Halloween costumes start at infancy when parents dress babies as the cutest thing imaginable even though they can't walk or talk -- Tootsie Roll pops, Dalmatians, ladybugs, puppies ... or you're the spawn of Mr. and Mrs. Death Metal and were clad as Ozzy or Rob Zombie. Schwing!
As we age and become self-aware, we choose costumes. Most boys want to be Batman or Spiderman while girls choose a princess or Disney character or, in my case, a skeleton and, the following Halloween, a geisha. Anyway, kid-you was excited to dress up because your friends were excited, it's fun to pretend, and the All Mighty Free Candy image flashed non-stop in your brain. Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear. This ends at age 12 -- although some rapscallions eek it out a few more years but that's awkward.
In high school there's a lull ... you could dress up for school but that'd be lame because you're in high school and everything is lame and you're so cool. So hip it hurts. So, you'll either dress up for a party or not at all. College is when the nonsense begins. Girls become all trick, no treat, and dress as slutty (insert costume here) -- there are always uncreative skanks who dress as prostitutes for Halloween. Lazy. Thanks to Mitt Romney's recent PBS attack (news flash liberals, Republicans have hated PBS for decades), there's even a slutty Big Bird, which makes Sesame Street mad.
After college, it's all parties and bars until you have children who need the trick-or-treat experience. I lack kids but drift farther away from a college mentality year after year until here I sit in the limbo realm. I know people my age, and older, who are gung-ho costume party people with their ensembles already signed, sealed, delivered. Bucko dollars were spent. Then again, I know others who could care less and won't don attire or, possibly, don something deemed lazy by gung-ho costume party people. I'm floating, somewhat interested in adorning my body in ridiculousness but less interested because of money, time and self-respect. I'm getting too old for this nonsense or am I?
Also, what am I supposed to be? I'm spoken for in the relationship department for eternity so the female go-to slutty (insert costume here) is questionable. With that in mind, I'm a little long in the tooth to be anything juvenile. So, nothing slutty, nothing silly ... what then? Maybe it's because I'm not fanatical about anything. There are characters I love from movies, television, books and popular culture but then there's the dreaded you-dressed-up-as-someone-but-don't-really-look-like-them-so-people-ask-you-all-night-who-you-are phenomena. Also, yeah I like this, that and the other but not so much as to want to be them for an entire evening.
Maybe I should lighten up and have fun. Dance like nobody's watching as the hens say.
Your fat, salty tears rain down on bathing suits, t-shirts, tank tops and shorts as you pack them away and unleash sweaters, jackets, boots and jeans to cover your body before your tan fades and you return to the land of Pasty White American. Mother nature is diverting the attention away from winter, which creeps upon us to steal sunlight and warmth and leave us with snow, ice and cabin fever.
Bah humbug.
Ah yes, it's fall. Maybe you enjoy the cooler temperatures or the return of all-American football. Foos-ball? Buncha overgrown monsters man-handlin' each other ... Maybe you're a piggie pig face and enjoy the food -- pumpkin flavored goodies, fall beers and comfort foods like chili and harvest fruits and vegetables -- and the excitement for more food with Thanksgiving and Christmas feasts knock, knock, knocking at your chamber door and your waist line.
Or maybe, just maybe, you're obsessed with Halloween.
There are folks who enjoy a good shock to the system, like offerings from television networks and movie channels -- i.e. AMC's Fearfest or "American Horror Story." Jason, Michael, Candyman, Mothman, Freddy ... rejoice! The freaks come out at night and so do you!
Some enjoy decorating their homes for trick-or-treaters, parties or for their own nick-knack-paddy-wack-give-a-dog-a-bone loving amusement from low-range Halloween fun to I-want-to-make-kids-cry -- pee filled tightie whities, skid marked briefs, nightmares and therapy appointments. Haunted house vs. Martha Stewart Living (pre-jail).
I'll never forget the Halloween, many moons ago, one of my sisters donned a full gorilla costume to answer the door and scared the neighborhood bully. Seeing his fat, tear-soaked face before he ran screaming from our front porch = bliss.
With big events, from holidays to celebrations, there are those who go overboard. Today, class, pinpoint your judgement viewfinder on costumes. When are you too old for costumes?
Halloween costumes start at infancy when parents dress babies as the cutest thing imaginable even though they can't walk or talk -- Tootsie Roll pops, Dalmatians, ladybugs, puppies ... or you're the spawn of Mr. and Mrs. Death Metal and were clad as Ozzy or Rob Zombie. Schwing!
As we age and become self-aware, we choose costumes. Most boys want to be Batman or Spiderman while girls choose a princess or Disney character or, in my case, a skeleton and, the following Halloween, a geisha. Anyway, kid-you was excited to dress up because your friends were excited, it's fun to pretend, and the All Mighty Free Candy image flashed non-stop in your brain. Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear. This ends at age 12 -- although some rapscallions eek it out a few more years but that's awkward.
In high school there's a lull ... you could dress up for school but that'd be lame because you're in high school and everything is lame and you're so cool. So hip it hurts. So, you'll either dress up for a party or not at all. College is when the nonsense begins. Girls become all trick, no treat, and dress as slutty (insert costume here) -- there are always uncreative skanks who dress as prostitutes for Halloween. Lazy. Thanks to Mitt Romney's recent PBS attack (news flash liberals, Republicans have hated PBS for decades), there's even a slutty Big Bird, which makes Sesame Street mad.
After college, it's all parties and bars until you have children who need the trick-or-treat experience. I lack kids but drift farther away from a college mentality year after year until here I sit in the limbo realm. I know people my age, and older, who are gung-ho costume party people with their ensembles already signed, sealed, delivered. Bucko dollars were spent. Then again, I know others who could care less and won't don attire or, possibly, don something deemed lazy by gung-ho costume party people. I'm floating, somewhat interested in adorning my body in ridiculousness but less interested because of money, time and self-respect. I'm getting too old for this nonsense or am I?
Also, what am I supposed to be? I'm spoken for in the relationship department for eternity so the female go-to slutty (insert costume here) is questionable. With that in mind, I'm a little long in the tooth to be anything juvenile. So, nothing slutty, nothing silly ... what then? Maybe it's because I'm not fanatical about anything. There are characters I love from movies, television, books and popular culture but then there's the dreaded you-dressed-up-as-someone-but-don't-really-look-like-them-so-people-ask-you-all-night-who-you-are phenomena. Also, yeah I like this, that and the other but not so much as to want to be them for an entire evening.
Maybe I should lighten up and have fun. Dance like nobody's watching as the hens say.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Mitt Romney, Barack Obama debate: Did you change teams?
Fox News is reporting liberals "freaked out" after Barack Obama's poor performance last night (no, not sexual performance). Apparently Mitt "Galvatron" Romney crushed him, signifying Barry O finally lost his mojo -- it was last seen floating in a bottle of homebrewed beer. Memo to Barack: We get it, you're a cool dude. No need to brew beer and act all Joe Everyman because you're not. You're the president of the United States of America. We don't want the president to be cool, we want him/her to be smart. Sincerely, Everyone.
Big Bird was placed on the endangered species list last night -- which is equivalent to ripping our childhood dreams out of our grasp, kicking our dog and spitting in our ice cream before calling our sweet, sweet mother bad names. Although, Mitt Romney assured us, "I love Big Bird" like an abusive husband who says, "I don't want to hit you, you just make me so mad sometimes." It's not you Big Bird, it's me. Muppets across the world are rioting because people care more about muppets than they do real life.
Criticism isn't limited to the stars of the show. Apparently, veteran newsman Jim Lehrer asked questions weaker than his brittle old bones and lost control. The 78-year-old should leave the spotlight for Shady Oaks Retirement Community, where he'll be rewarded with Old Fashioneds, an unlimited supply of pitted prunes and a new spot as moderator of daily bingo -- Golden-agers are serious about some bingo!
This news, and much, much more, has hit the Internet since 1 minute into the debate last night. The rise of social media offers everyday folks tools to analyze and deconstruct Romney and Obama without waiting for the broadcast to end, as well as followup analysis by biased TV pundits. Everyone is an expert, credentials are Internet access and fingers. People declare winners and losers and examine every word, stutter, blue tie, red tie, and American flag pin from the word go. Their soap boxes are Facebook posts and 140-character filled rants.
These folks either bombard you daily with political know-how, shaking their heads when you don't agree, or are the ones too meek to speak in public because it's oh so much safer to anonymously gripe on the World Wide Web in the safety of their basements. The freaks come out at night and when alone on the Internet.
The debate was the most tweeted event in U.S. political history according to Twitter (which is impressive until you remember Twitter was founded six years ago -- lot of history before then folks). Although, it's not the most tweeted live event in history because, remember, we are Americans. People were more fired up for the Grammy's, MTV VMAs and the Super Bowl. However, it's important to keep in mind these Twittering fools skew to a younger population. Yo brah, sweet tie Barry. Mittens' hair looks sick!
A people browser web analytics firm examined Tweets (yes, Big Brother is watching) and concluded more people Tweeted about Romney winning so that makes him the winner winner chicken dinner in their eyes.
Did you watch the debate? Why? Were you planning to use this event to finalize your decision come November? Do you simply love a good show, you queen, you!? Did you not want to be out of the current event loop? Maybe you figured you can't complain if you don't watch. I heard someone comment they wanted to finally catch a glimpse of the human side of Mitt Romney.
All of this is a large, heaping helping of rotten baloney. I did not watch the debate. I did not plan to watch the debate. I did not stay up reading Tweets and FB posts by friends and strangers alike who believe they have PhDs in Life, the Universe and Everything. Everyone watching last night went in with an agenda, with a bias, whether they admit it or not. You've got your guy in this corner and the other guy in the other corner. Round one, fight! (All we needed were Ring Girls!) Everything your guy said right last night was amazing, everything he said wrong was ... well he didn't say much wrong and he's human, right? As for the other guy, every word that came out of his mouth was a lie or further reason he's out of touch with America. Blah blah blah.
Did you think you'd see the human side of Romney or Obama? Real talk with Barry and Mitt? They've been rehearsing for weeks and are, at the end of the day, actors. They're not three whiskeys in sitting with you at a dive bar, opening their slurring, bleeding hearts. They are on national television with millions of eyes watching surrounded by their posse of staff, who are crossing their fingers their prep work pays off.
Also, I don't understand how this debate could change your vote. Their platforms couldn't be any more different on the big issues. Blue or red. Conservative or liberal.
Hello? Hello? Anybody home? Huh. Think McFly, think.
Big Bird was placed on the endangered species list last night -- which is equivalent to ripping our childhood dreams out of our grasp, kicking our dog and spitting in our ice cream before calling our sweet, sweet mother bad names. Although, Mitt Romney assured us, "I love Big Bird" like an abusive husband who says, "I don't want to hit you, you just make me so mad sometimes." It's not you Big Bird, it's me. Muppets across the world are rioting because people care more about muppets than they do real life.
Criticism isn't limited to the stars of the show. Apparently, veteran newsman Jim Lehrer asked questions weaker than his brittle old bones and lost control. The 78-year-old should leave the spotlight for Shady Oaks Retirement Community, where he'll be rewarded with Old Fashioneds, an unlimited supply of pitted prunes and a new spot as moderator of daily bingo -- Golden-agers are serious about some bingo!
This news, and much, much more, has hit the Internet since 1 minute into the debate last night. The rise of social media offers everyday folks tools to analyze and deconstruct Romney and Obama without waiting for the broadcast to end, as well as followup analysis by biased TV pundits. Everyone is an expert, credentials are Internet access and fingers. People declare winners and losers and examine every word, stutter, blue tie, red tie, and American flag pin from the word go. Their soap boxes are Facebook posts and 140-character filled rants.
These folks either bombard you daily with political know-how, shaking their heads when you don't agree, or are the ones too meek to speak in public because it's oh so much safer to anonymously gripe on the World Wide Web in the safety of their basements. The freaks come out at night and when alone on the Internet.
The debate was the most tweeted event in U.S. political history according to Twitter (which is impressive until you remember Twitter was founded six years ago -- lot of history before then folks). Although, it's not the most tweeted live event in history because, remember, we are Americans. People were more fired up for the Grammy's, MTV VMAs and the Super Bowl. However, it's important to keep in mind these Twittering fools skew to a younger population. Yo brah, sweet tie Barry. Mittens' hair looks sick!
A people browser web analytics firm examined Tweets (yes, Big Brother is watching) and concluded more people Tweeted about Romney winning so that makes him the winner winner chicken dinner in their eyes.
Did you watch the debate? Why? Were you planning to use this event to finalize your decision come November? Do you simply love a good show, you queen, you!? Did you not want to be out of the current event loop? Maybe you figured you can't complain if you don't watch. I heard someone comment they wanted to finally catch a glimpse of the human side of Mitt Romney.
All of this is a large, heaping helping of rotten baloney. I did not watch the debate. I did not plan to watch the debate. I did not stay up reading Tweets and FB posts by friends and strangers alike who believe they have PhDs in Life, the Universe and Everything. Everyone watching last night went in with an agenda, with a bias, whether they admit it or not. You've got your guy in this corner and the other guy in the other corner. Round one, fight! (All we needed were Ring Girls!) Everything your guy said right last night was amazing, everything he said wrong was ... well he didn't say much wrong and he's human, right? As for the other guy, every word that came out of his mouth was a lie or further reason he's out of touch with America. Blah blah blah.
Did you think you'd see the human side of Romney or Obama? Real talk with Barry and Mitt? They've been rehearsing for weeks and are, at the end of the day, actors. They're not three whiskeys in sitting with you at a dive bar, opening their slurring, bleeding hearts. They are on national television with millions of eyes watching surrounded by their posse of staff, who are crossing their fingers their prep work pays off.
Also, I don't understand how this debate could change your vote. Their platforms couldn't be any more different on the big issues. Blue or red. Conservative or liberal.
Hello? Hello? Anybody home? Huh. Think McFly, think.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Bored at work: Procrastinating vs. unengaged
My average workday features two speeds: bored and swamped. So swamped I want to, and usually do, cry. You know, your eyes fill with tears, your nose tingles, and the Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in your mind screams, "No Private Pyle, you disgusting fat body. You are not going to cry you namby pamby. No way maggot! Get off my obstacle!" Fast or slow. Black or white. My job is a bipolar chick off her meds.
At work, I get paranoid bored, eyes darting back and forth between the corners of the ceiling, searching for the secret camera installed one dark and stormy night to ensure I'm fit, healthy and productive -- The All Seeing Eye. I'm apprehensive to use Internet Explorer to search online even though it's set to not record history because they could be watching some other way, some super techie sneaky way that's above my pay grade. Watching for what? Who knows.
It's notsomuch I fear they'll poo poo the contents of my search history. I'm more concerned they'll frown at my wasting worktime. You see, I'm not an unproductive Patrick Bateman, masquerading as a Wall Street investment banker while my workday consists of jamming out to "Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh at full blast on my Walkman and skimming S&M porn. Oh, and I'm not a serial killer.
So there's that.
I somewhat enjoy accomplishing the task at hand at my day job, so when there's work to be done I dive in head first. My worry is the powers that be (All Seeing Eye) will assume my Internet usage is procrastination, when in fact it is me unengaged. Then there will be the awkward e-mail, or heaven forbid face-to-face confrontation, where I will be forced to admit they aren't giving me enough tasks, which, in my line of work, means I'm not needed full time. Yikes.
Obviously this All Seeing Eye is nonsense but when you are behaving badly, even semi-naughty, you usually get paranoid -- which is related to guilt. Catholic guilt, Jewish guilt, Muslim guilt, shitty parent guilt, overindulging in booze with a grand finale of nachos and cookies at 3 a.m. guilt ...
Anyway, what's your go to when bored at work? Do you attempt a productive activity, like balancing your checkbook, paying bills, accomplishing something you've put off for days so you don't need to take care of it later when not at work? Of course not. You Facebook stalk friends and frienemies, check Twitter for breaking updates from US Weekly or sports news, and check your e-mail. You hit update on these three -- the axis of evil.
You look at the clock -- are the hands moving backwards? Tick tock tick tock tick tock -- they are totally moving backwards and that ticking is loud. Finally, something to do comes in. You're almost giddy with excitement for doing work while at work -- so lame. You get busy at the task at hand and become lost in the world of whatever it is you do -- law, sales, graphic design -- because they are paying you. You finish the task and lo and behold, you've burned 7 minutes. Seven minutes? Sigh.
You check Twitter again and learn Arnold Schwarzenegger didn't realize he'd fathered a child out of wedlock until the boy started looking like him -- obvious hard hitting news. George Michael seeks treatment for anxiety -- I'd be anxious if I was him too. Honey Boo Boo's family got a raise -- you brace yourself for the end of the world. You text message your friend, "What's up?" You check Facebook and notice the political rants slowed, which is comforting, but the amount of insatiable self-centered friends makes for boring content. "You've got to be kidding me." Or the irritating quote post, like "Shake like you're famous girl."
You're too bored to comment to find out why they're posting this passive aggressive crap. Anyway, now you're bored of being bored. You look at vacation pictures of friends you hardly know and sigh. Back to Twitter, nothing new. Now the super guilt -- guilt for having nothing to do and guilt for not being productive while bored. It's hard enough to sit inside an office with windows, peering out to a beautiful, sunny and 65 degree fall day like you're in Alcatraz, staring out between prison bars at beautiful San Fransisco, yearning for freedom, but knowing you're further complicating this by not only wasting this beautiful day at work (and a day of your life -- tick tock tick tock) but at work while there's nothing to do, well it's sad.
Yet I know if I had the day off I'd probably spend it at home, in bed, watching crappy television while filled with guilt over being unproductive so ... maybe I deserve this. Also, when I am busy with tasks at work, that's when I feel the productive urge: track my spending (maybe even getting freaky nerdy with it and create a spreadsheet), send birthday cards, order an item from Amazon. This urge is related to the mind racing before bed, which is coupled with the urge to clean your bathroom or do the dishes at 11 p.m. because you should be doing something else than sleeping.
Humans often don't want to do something while doing it and don't live life in the moment. We live in our minds, in the past or the future, and work at random jobs that suck our lives away, moment by moment, because of the Almighty Dollar.
At work, I get paranoid bored, eyes darting back and forth between the corners of the ceiling, searching for the secret camera installed one dark and stormy night to ensure I'm fit, healthy and productive -- The All Seeing Eye. I'm apprehensive to use Internet Explorer to search online even though it's set to not record history because they could be watching some other way, some super techie sneaky way that's above my pay grade. Watching for what? Who knows.
It's notsomuch I fear they'll poo poo the contents of my search history. I'm more concerned they'll frown at my wasting worktime. You see, I'm not an unproductive Patrick Bateman, masquerading as a Wall Street investment banker while my workday consists of jamming out to "Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh at full blast on my Walkman and skimming S&M porn. Oh, and I'm not a serial killer.
So there's that.
I somewhat enjoy accomplishing the task at hand at my day job, so when there's work to be done I dive in head first. My worry is the powers that be (All Seeing Eye) will assume my Internet usage is procrastination, when in fact it is me unengaged. Then there will be the awkward e-mail, or heaven forbid face-to-face confrontation, where I will be forced to admit they aren't giving me enough tasks, which, in my line of work, means I'm not needed full time. Yikes.
Obviously this All Seeing Eye is nonsense but when you are behaving badly, even semi-naughty, you usually get paranoid -- which is related to guilt. Catholic guilt, Jewish guilt, Muslim guilt, shitty parent guilt, overindulging in booze with a grand finale of nachos and cookies at 3 a.m. guilt ...
Anyway, what's your go to when bored at work? Do you attempt a productive activity, like balancing your checkbook, paying bills, accomplishing something you've put off for days so you don't need to take care of it later when not at work? Of course not. You Facebook stalk friends and frienemies, check Twitter for breaking updates from US Weekly or sports news, and check your e-mail. You hit update on these three -- the axis of evil.
You look at the clock -- are the hands moving backwards? Tick tock tick tock tick tock -- they are totally moving backwards and that ticking is loud. Finally, something to do comes in. You're almost giddy with excitement for doing work while at work -- so lame. You get busy at the task at hand and become lost in the world of whatever it is you do -- law, sales, graphic design -- because they are paying you. You finish the task and lo and behold, you've burned 7 minutes. Seven minutes? Sigh.
You check Twitter again and learn Arnold Schwarzenegger didn't realize he'd fathered a child out of wedlock until the boy started looking like him -- obvious hard hitting news. George Michael seeks treatment for anxiety -- I'd be anxious if I was him too. Honey Boo Boo's family got a raise -- you brace yourself for the end of the world. You text message your friend, "What's up?" You check Facebook and notice the political rants slowed, which is comforting, but the amount of insatiable self-centered friends makes for boring content. "You've got to be kidding me." Or the irritating quote post, like "Shake like you're famous girl."
You're too bored to comment to find out why they're posting this passive aggressive crap. Anyway, now you're bored of being bored. You look at vacation pictures of friends you hardly know and sigh. Back to Twitter, nothing new. Now the super guilt -- guilt for having nothing to do and guilt for not being productive while bored. It's hard enough to sit inside an office with windows, peering out to a beautiful, sunny and 65 degree fall day like you're in Alcatraz, staring out between prison bars at beautiful San Fransisco, yearning for freedom, but knowing you're further complicating this by not only wasting this beautiful day at work (and a day of your life -- tick tock tick tock) but at work while there's nothing to do, well it's sad.
Yet I know if I had the day off I'd probably spend it at home, in bed, watching crappy television while filled with guilt over being unproductive so ... maybe I deserve this. Also, when I am busy with tasks at work, that's when I feel the productive urge: track my spending (maybe even getting freaky nerdy with it and create a spreadsheet), send birthday cards, order an item from Amazon. This urge is related to the mind racing before bed, which is coupled with the urge to clean your bathroom or do the dishes at 11 p.m. because you should be doing something else than sleeping.
Humans often don't want to do something while doing it and don't live life in the moment. We live in our minds, in the past or the future, and work at random jobs that suck our lives away, moment by moment, because of the Almighty Dollar.
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