Is it just me or are other people sick of the "new look" shiz? Yes, shiz is my family-friendly way of saying that FCC-forbidden look alike (you know, the one that ends in T?).
I log in today to write this post and am greeted by the most hideous interface I've ever seen. Google thinks it's cool. I have no idea who's telling them these lies. Their designers? Their IT department? The entirety of Google is probably an IT department that has no concept of beauty (not to say that all IT people are like that, just Google's, maybe?).
Anyway, in case Google and Facebook missed it, THEIR NEW LOOKS are shiz. No one likes them. I represent the everyman, the everywoman and if I don't like it, NO ONE DOES.
Change for the sake of change is merely a nuisance. Don't they get it? EVERYTHING in our normal, day to day life changes, constantly. We can't stop it. It flows and ebbs around us like an annoying tide when all we want is for our sand castles to stay put. We spend hours and hours building them. We get everything just the way we want it. And what happens? The damn tide comes in and washes away our efforts.
We want some things to stay familiar. Google, you know that our mail accounts AND our blogging accounts could stay the same and no one would complain.
Most likely.
Things that stay the same, especially when they work, are nice. Comforting. Like a Seinfield episode after trying to get into Suburbagotory. Suburgatory*? I have no idea. But there, you see how annoying that title is? It's supposed to be cute and clever all wrapped up into a perfect cupcake, while really, it's just difficult and annoying and NOT Seinfield.
That's what this new Blogger is. Blugly. Blooger. And not Seinfield. It's trying to be clever. Like Suburgatory but without Alan Tudyk. Therefore, I shall call it Blugly. Or Blooger. And you will know that I mean Blogger.
And that's what the stupid new Facebook Timeline ("timeline, timeline, timeline" [those are echoes. Echoes of horridness]) is. Crapline.
And the new Gmail look. It's now called Crapmail, for those in the know. Because, why? Because it's shiz. It bites. It blows. It sucks. It's crappy crap. It's like an irritating little animal that once offered cuddles and comfort but now all it does is the majority of derogatory verbs. Look, I'm down at the very bottom of this NEW AWESOME Blooger screen and my neck is getting a kink in it. Instead of having half a window, I have a whole window, and it's that embedded crap kind of window where you have to use a scroll bar to move down. It used to be that when I got to this point, I was still looking at the middle of my computer screen and I didn't have to press return a hundred times to get some white space on my page so I wasn't blowing my neck out (you can blow your neck out these days because of computer screen wear and tear. It's true).
So what do I have to do? Blugly Blogger and Google and Facebook make ME adapt to their fancy. For some whimsical reason, they've adopted the mantra of constant improvement. It's like the new corporation, where it's all about profit margins. So rather than continue to give a good profit, the modern corporation gets the consumer addicted to their product, then slowly proceeds to cut corners until that sweet iPad you spent ten gajillion dollars on is now a fancy slab of cardboard with some dust in the middle pretending to be a processor.
In this metaphor, the profit margin is the addiction to "new and improved" and despite no complaints (most likely), these companies that I once loved (well, Google anyway), they feel it their duty to continually make improvements. For what purpose, I ask?
Google, Blogger, and Facebook are my heroine. But they're losing me. I'm considering going back to Hotmail, or transferring my blogs to Wordpress. I hate Wordpress. Why? Because it wasn't Blogger. And I hated Hotmail because it wasn't Gmail. But now that Google's been messing with it, they aren't Gmail and Blogger either. They're some ugly piece of shiz that's supposed to look neat, white, and streamlined.
B.S.
And also, I will throw in the Timeline version of Facebook. And the horrendous new Gmail look (oh wait, I already mentioned it, oops!). Even though I plastered Google with vitriolic feedback, they still made me switch. It looks just like this ugly, crap Blogger posting page. What's the point? So when I'm blogging, I feel like I'm emailing and vice versa?
This is called hubris. Get over yourself, Google. I was in awe of the space elevator plans, but now I just think you've impaled yourself on your own sword. Pride goeth before the fall, and I can see this giant toppling. Sadly, I want them to topple. They've messed with my mail account and now my blogging world. They've GONE TOO FAR!!!!!!!!!!!
*Yes, I know they have Alan Tudyk and I love him, but that doesn't make the show a shoe-in for the most awesome show award.
EDIT: Oh. Huh. Looky here. A button to revert to the old look. Ah. Brilliant. Much better. Anyway. Still. I know they'll force me to change to the new look, just like they did with Gmail.
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Monday, April 23, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Pregnant Women Are Smug and Single People Are the Smuggest of All
It's time I tackled the huge chasms between those who are single, married, pregnant, or with kids already.
I know. It's a monumental task, but I need to do it.
See, I just stumbled across this gem:
And it's funny. Quite. I laughed. I said, "Holy shiz, I said all that crap when I was pregnant." And I felt a little sheepish about that.
But let's just start right away. I was pregnant. I almost don't even care to go into it because it's so obvious, I mean it was _ _ _ _ ing hard. That's right. The only thing harder than BEING WITH CHILD for nine months was actually HAVING the child.
Have I told you yet? I had a birth-plan. I was going all natural and that went quite well until the moment I got to the hospital and everything went south. Not to say I hold a grudge (against the hospital or Murphy [who sabotaged my plan the minute I made the plan] or the midwives who suggested after hours and hours of not progressing and double-contractions, that I have a C-section). I don't. Everything worked out in the end.
Let me just say that the reason I said any of the cliche things was merely because I felt like a moron the majority of the time. For me, anyway, when it became apparent that I was pregnant, I felt foolish and silly. And even though it may seem smug to say, "I don't care, as long as it's healthy," well hell. That's really what you're thinking. The other option, saying something like, "A boy, dammit, and if it's not, I will seriously be pissed," you'd just sound like a spoiled child, especially in light of all the people you most likely know who are going through fertility treatments.
You're pregnant. You're grateful to be pregnant. But you're also scared to death that you're going to mess something up, either nutritionally or genetically, that will cause permanent damage to the baby. Smug or not. That's how it was, for me.
So the song, it's funny. I laughed. And I agree with them when they say, "Like I don't even care, I was just asking to be nice," or whatever about the smug reply that they've picked a name, but they're not telling. Hilarious.
I did that. Partly because the name I wanted to use was so universally reviled by my mom and siblings that after they successfully browbeat me into not using it, I was simply tired of having to tell people and experience the odd insecurity and vulnerability of sharing the hopeful name of my future child. Weird, eh?
But after I experienced some people NOT telling me (people related to me, not mere strangers) the name of their future kid (while I was also picking a name out and sharing with said people), even though they'd picked it, I stopped holding back the information. I realized, holy crap, the ONLY reason anyone asks you what name you've picked out is to be kind and try to show them that you care. You don't do that because you're interested in crushing them with a snide comment about how "nice" the name is. Well, most people don't ask for that reason.
So, really, NOT telling someone the name you've picked out for your kid when they ask is kind of similar to slamming the door in a person's face when you've invited them over for dinner. Of course, there are probably people you'd like to shut out and slam the door in their face, and that's OK. I say do it. Also, don't tell the bastards the name you have picked out.
Right then. The little song. I like it. I'm just dissecting the issues presented in it because that's what I do. I over-analyze. And then my blood pressure sky-rockets. And then I feel better because I've internalized everything.
And is it possible to have a favorite commercial star? Because I love the chick with dark hair. I've seen her in some commercials and she's great. I also like the girl from the Toyota Venza commercial who says, "Whaaaaat? That's not a puppy. That's too small to be a puppy." And I love this classic line from the same commercial: "I read an article online–well, I read the majority of an article online." She's great.
ANYway. The song is fun. I have nothing against it.
But I decided to write about this subject before I saw it, when I'd just seen the title and it reminded me of Bridget Jones' Diary, the book, and how Bridget hates going to dinner with her married friends because they're all smug and she's just a singleton and Cosmo (Kosmo?) is so damn smug and says hurtful things to Bridget.
I love that book and the movie. And I was a singleton too, once. And then I got married. And then I had a kid. So I've pretty much been in all the situations where there's smugness.
Let me just say, as a person with a kid, people without kids seem smug to me now. And when I was married, almost ALL my single friends seemed smug.
What gives?
Alright, I'll tell you. I have this all figured out.
I think smugness is just a product of not being where someone else is in this crazy thing called life*. So, you're not married and you have friends who are? They'll seem smug to you, especially if you long to be married. You have five kids and have a married friend with no kids? The child-less friend will seem smug to you.
Maybe not. I don't know for sure. I do know that I have quite a few single friends who've drifted away from me, like almost immediately after I got married (and these were the only friends I invited to my wedding–we kept it small), and they all seem kind of smug to me now.
Like I'm the idiot who got married and left. And now I have a kid. Why even talk to me? I'm, like, lame, now. I don't care about going to shows and being right in the music scene and I don't dress cool any more. I can't hang out and chill and therefore, as a friend, I'm useless. Because, like, you can only have friends who are in the exact same situation as you are, otherwise, you can't even relate to them. Right?
I've no idea if they think this. It's what I think they might be thinking because it's how I feel.
So, am I the smug one? I don't feel smug. I feel like an idiot who decided to grow up because that's what I'm supposed to do (incidentally, I prefer it. I'm not saying I hate my life. Love it. LOVE). And now I'm a square. And the single friends are cool and they're always having a good time, with loads of friends surrounding them at all times, coming and going, with no one permanent to care about (spouse) or take care of (kid) but themselves and so they can drop everything at a moment's notice and fly to France or where-the-hell-ever.
If I want to go to France, I have to plan months in advance, save up, buy tickets for me and my husband, and either take my son with or try to coordinate with in-laws and siblings over who will watch him for us while we're gone. And my trip to France will cost three times as much because I can't just stay in a youth hostel, especially if I take my son.
Or couch surf or what-the-crap-ever they call it.
Does that sound smug? Crap no.
Anyway. My point is (one of them), is that it's dang funny to call married people and pregnant women smug because they're easy targets. They have something. You can always make people who have something the butt of your jokes because they're lucky and they possess something to protect them or hold onto when the crap hits the fan. You can't make fun of single people. They're single. It's just them against the world.
They're basically nude.
I was single once. It was hard. I felt nude. And vulnerable. And I wanted to be married, like badly. Because I'm a lover (even though I appear to be a fighter. It's a ruse). But I never really thought that married people were smug. Although I did get sick of hearing stuff about "when are you going to get married?" as though I was chasing suitors off right and left.
I was. Actually.
But.
My advice to everyone who thinks other people are smug is: don't think that. It's crippling. I miss my single friends pretty badly. Short of stalking them, I don't really know how to reignite the friendship. Can you do that?
I'm sure they don't miss me. The majority of them don't slow down long enough to notice. It's been hard to forge new friendships and foster them and all that because I have a husband and now a kid. So I rely on my old friends and I'm thankful for the ones who are single who still make time for me and haven't let the fact that I'm married stop them from asking me to carve out some time for them.
Hell yes, I'll carve out some time for them. I did when I was single and I will now. I love their freaking guts. And you know what else I love? Over-analyzing. At 11:20 at night. And cursing. Like a sailor. I love that too.
*Favorite stupid line of all time. I use it whenever I can.
I know. It's a monumental task, but I need to do it.
See, I just stumbled across this gem:
And it's funny. Quite. I laughed. I said, "Holy shiz, I said all that crap when I was pregnant." And I felt a little sheepish about that.
But let's just start right away. I was pregnant. I almost don't even care to go into it because it's so obvious, I mean it was _ _ _ _ ing hard. That's right. The only thing harder than BEING WITH CHILD for nine months was actually HAVING the child.
Have I told you yet? I had a birth-plan. I was going all natural and that went quite well until the moment I got to the hospital and everything went south. Not to say I hold a grudge (against the hospital or Murphy [who sabotaged my plan the minute I made the plan] or the midwives who suggested after hours and hours of not progressing and double-contractions, that I have a C-section). I don't. Everything worked out in the end.
Let me just say that the reason I said any of the cliche things was merely because I felt like a moron the majority of the time. For me, anyway, when it became apparent that I was pregnant, I felt foolish and silly. And even though it may seem smug to say, "I don't care, as long as it's healthy," well hell. That's really what you're thinking. The other option, saying something like, "A boy, dammit, and if it's not, I will seriously be pissed," you'd just sound like a spoiled child, especially in light of all the people you most likely know who are going through fertility treatments.
You're pregnant. You're grateful to be pregnant. But you're also scared to death that you're going to mess something up, either nutritionally or genetically, that will cause permanent damage to the baby. Smug or not. That's how it was, for me.
So the song, it's funny. I laughed. And I agree with them when they say, "Like I don't even care, I was just asking to be nice," or whatever about the smug reply that they've picked a name, but they're not telling. Hilarious.
I did that. Partly because the name I wanted to use was so universally reviled by my mom and siblings that after they successfully browbeat me into not using it, I was simply tired of having to tell people and experience the odd insecurity and vulnerability of sharing the hopeful name of my future child. Weird, eh?
But after I experienced some people NOT telling me (people related to me, not mere strangers) the name of their future kid (while I was also picking a name out and sharing with said people), even though they'd picked it, I stopped holding back the information. I realized, holy crap, the ONLY reason anyone asks you what name you've picked out is to be kind and try to show them that you care. You don't do that because you're interested in crushing them with a snide comment about how "nice" the name is. Well, most people don't ask for that reason.
So, really, NOT telling someone the name you've picked out for your kid when they ask is kind of similar to slamming the door in a person's face when you've invited them over for dinner. Of course, there are probably people you'd like to shut out and slam the door in their face, and that's OK. I say do it. Also, don't tell the bastards the name you have picked out.
Right then. The little song. I like it. I'm just dissecting the issues presented in it because that's what I do. I over-analyze. And then my blood pressure sky-rockets. And then I feel better because I've internalized everything.
And is it possible to have a favorite commercial star? Because I love the chick with dark hair. I've seen her in some commercials and she's great. I also like the girl from the Toyota Venza commercial who says, "Whaaaaat? That's not a puppy. That's too small to be a puppy." And I love this classic line from the same commercial: "I read an article online–well, I read the majority of an article online." She's great.
ANYway. The song is fun. I have nothing against it.
But I decided to write about this subject before I saw it, when I'd just seen the title and it reminded me of Bridget Jones' Diary, the book, and how Bridget hates going to dinner with her married friends because they're all smug and she's just a singleton and Cosmo (Kosmo?) is so damn smug and says hurtful things to Bridget.
I love that book and the movie. And I was a singleton too, once. And then I got married. And then I had a kid. So I've pretty much been in all the situations where there's smugness.
Let me just say, as a person with a kid, people without kids seem smug to me now. And when I was married, almost ALL my single friends seemed smug.
What gives?
Alright, I'll tell you. I have this all figured out.
I think smugness is just a product of not being where someone else is in this crazy thing called life*. So, you're not married and you have friends who are? They'll seem smug to you, especially if you long to be married. You have five kids and have a married friend with no kids? The child-less friend will seem smug to you.
Maybe not. I don't know for sure. I do know that I have quite a few single friends who've drifted away from me, like almost immediately after I got married (and these were the only friends I invited to my wedding–we kept it small), and they all seem kind of smug to me now.
Like I'm the idiot who got married and left. And now I have a kid. Why even talk to me? I'm, like, lame, now. I don't care about going to shows and being right in the music scene and I don't dress cool any more. I can't hang out and chill and therefore, as a friend, I'm useless. Because, like, you can only have friends who are in the exact same situation as you are, otherwise, you can't even relate to them. Right?
I've no idea if they think this. It's what I think they might be thinking because it's how I feel.
So, am I the smug one? I don't feel smug. I feel like an idiot who decided to grow up because that's what I'm supposed to do (incidentally, I prefer it. I'm not saying I hate my life. Love it. LOVE). And now I'm a square. And the single friends are cool and they're always having a good time, with loads of friends surrounding them at all times, coming and going, with no one permanent to care about (spouse) or take care of (kid) but themselves and so they can drop everything at a moment's notice and fly to France or where-the-hell-ever.
If I want to go to France, I have to plan months in advance, save up, buy tickets for me and my husband, and either take my son with or try to coordinate with in-laws and siblings over who will watch him for us while we're gone. And my trip to France will cost three times as much because I can't just stay in a youth hostel, especially if I take my son.
Or couch surf or what-the-crap-ever they call it.
Does that sound smug? Crap no.
Anyway. My point is (one of them), is that it's dang funny to call married people and pregnant women smug because they're easy targets. They have something. You can always make people who have something the butt of your jokes because they're lucky and they possess something to protect them or hold onto when the crap hits the fan. You can't make fun of single people. They're single. It's just them against the world.
They're basically nude.
I was single once. It was hard. I felt nude. And vulnerable. And I wanted to be married, like badly. Because I'm a lover (even though I appear to be a fighter. It's a ruse). But I never really thought that married people were smug. Although I did get sick of hearing stuff about "when are you going to get married?" as though I was chasing suitors off right and left.
I was. Actually.
But.
My advice to everyone who thinks other people are smug is: don't think that. It's crippling. I miss my single friends pretty badly. Short of stalking them, I don't really know how to reignite the friendship. Can you do that?
I'm sure they don't miss me. The majority of them don't slow down long enough to notice. It's been hard to forge new friendships and foster them and all that because I have a husband and now a kid. So I rely on my old friends and I'm thankful for the ones who are single who still make time for me and haven't let the fact that I'm married stop them from asking me to carve out some time for them.
Hell yes, I'll carve out some time for them. I did when I was single and I will now. I love their freaking guts. And you know what else I love? Over-analyzing. At 11:20 at night. And cursing. Like a sailor. I love that too.
*Favorite stupid line of all time. I use it whenever I can.
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
The Spectacular Decline of All that Is Holy
So I just saw a piece on the terrible excuse for a talk-show, The View, about how any old average Joe can create porn in their homes and make a killing. I guess the segment is a teaser for another show on some network called Own, by some chick named Lucy Ling or the like. I usually never watch The View, partly because I don't relish morning talk shows, or afternoon talk shows to be fair (unless it's Ellen, but then, I always forget to tune in, don't I), and I especially loathe The View.
Frankly, as far as I've seen, there are never any views expressed on The View save complacency for the decadent ride into hell our country is taking (unless Whoopi's going on some rant wherein she displays her total lack of understanding for any serious issue, and it's never about the most pertinent points, like how the country's on a steady course for moral destruction). Honestly. To borrow a favorite phrase from the motherland across the pond, the country's going to the dogs.
The ONLY way the subject of Ms. Ling's segment is newsworthy is in fact to exhibit the total and utter lack of morals which our society possesses. Generally on this blog, I prefer to be somewhat tame in the expression of my values. You may laugh, because, well, because I'm probably always transparent and obvious. But let me just say, I usually hold back. Unfortunately, I'm a powder keg waiting for a spark and . . . . well, these days it seems there's a spark every day.
Anyway, is it surprising that a bunch of morally loose idiots are MAKING money by selling their sexuality on a camera in their bedroom? No. This has been going on for centuries. That's why it's not newsworthy. And hello? Does anyone out there have ANY standards these days? And by standards, I don't mean that you like to save the whales, though that is good to do, it's not going to save the humans from self-destruction. Well, it is, possibly, through preserving a salvageable eco-system. But there's more going on that's rotten in the state of Denmark than just animals being targets of poachers and the like.
The problem is selfishness and the reason the moral fabric of my society matters to me is because of, as Reverend Lovejoy's wife would say, "the children."
I love the Simpsons and it's for clever satire such as Reverend Lovejoy's wife obsessing about the children that I profess such admiration. She's always there to cry out at any mob gathering, like when a bear is in Springfield and the town is trying to decide what to do, "Who will think of the children!" It's the trump card. How can you be so heartless as to not care about the children?!? They're helpless!
I know, this all boils down to parents and how involved parents are in their children's lives. Parents should monitor what their kids are doing. Parents should be alert 24/7, they should ask questions, they should do thorough research, and essentially run a police-state in their home so their kids don't bump into porn on the computer, the laptop, the PS3, the Wii, the Xbox, the Kindle Fire, the Ipad, mom or dad's smart phone, the neighbors house, or in the ditch out back*, at school, on the street, in the mall, in the grocery store, at the restaurant, at the Starbucks, or any one of the other apparently millions of places porn prevails in our world.
We definitely need to be better parents.
And we can try our best to overcome or undo any harm that might be inflicted upon our kid by him or her bumping into it at a very innocent, tender age.
But what a world we live in, where the individual always eclipses the group. And by group, I mean family. Because I certainly believe in individual rights, and I believe that censorship shouldn't be enforced by the government or any other form of big brother.
Call it a wish, or a longing, that the individual wasn't such a jerk and that they could see that they are part of a larger fabric that consists of more than just a bunch of separate units acting independently of each other. It is exactly the inability to see that all things are connected that our society has ended up here. For a society to work well and to flourish, individuals must realize that there is a social obligation for each person to behave in a way that benefits society in the long run.
Which brings me to another reason there's so much crap being created and sold online and elsewhere: society is too big. How can one person make a difference in a huge world teeming with scores and scores of people? Exactly. That's why it's so easy to fool ourselves into believing that what we do, these tiny infractions against a moral code (such as the Ten Commandments, because, come on, what other code is out there?), even make a difference to any one but us. We think, "Oh, no one else is being harmed by this decision to video myself doing this and then broadcasting it live to those willing to pay to see it, right?"
When the things you're doing in public or even in secret are not being subjected to the scrutiny of your village or family, then there IS less of a reason to behave in a way often dubbed decent by those around you. And since there are fewer families, and cities are so large, and well, the ways to do things in secret (while somehow simultaneously being public) are abounding, then we have a problem.
So, I think everything I've said can be expressed in the following equation:
No Censorship + Individual With No Concern for Society as a Whole + Internet - Small Villages - Family = A Problem
Let me end with an illustration of how all that once delineated the boundaries of decency has frayed and unraveled to a frightening degree. Part of the segment by Lucy Ling and the fabulous porn-made-at-home story featured a 50-year-old woman who makes interactive videos with her clients. Her husband produces the live-web-cam events and Ms. Ling described how a large portion of this woman's "clientele" is "men" between the ages of 19 and 25. And what is their most common request?
That they can call the 50-year-old woman "mommy."
*Truly. If you're going to dump your porn collection, please don't throw it in a ditch. Or the gutter. You think it just "goes away" when you do that? No. It inevitably falls into the hands of children**. Yes, children. You're not the center of the universe and that ditch is most likely frequented by children pretending they're the Swiss Family Robinson or something like that.
**This is based on anecdotal evidence. While I never stumbled across porn in the ditch myself, as a child, I've heard several accounts from others who did.
Frankly, as far as I've seen, there are never any views expressed on The View save complacency for the decadent ride into hell our country is taking (unless Whoopi's going on some rant wherein she displays her total lack of understanding for any serious issue, and it's never about the most pertinent points, like how the country's on a steady course for moral destruction). Honestly. To borrow a favorite phrase from the motherland across the pond, the country's going to the dogs.
The ONLY way the subject of Ms. Ling's segment is newsworthy is in fact to exhibit the total and utter lack of morals which our society possesses. Generally on this blog, I prefer to be somewhat tame in the expression of my values. You may laugh, because, well, because I'm probably always transparent and obvious. But let me just say, I usually hold back. Unfortunately, I'm a powder keg waiting for a spark and . . . . well, these days it seems there's a spark every day.
Anyway, is it surprising that a bunch of morally loose idiots are MAKING money by selling their sexuality on a camera in their bedroom? No. This has been going on for centuries. That's why it's not newsworthy. And hello? Does anyone out there have ANY standards these days? And by standards, I don't mean that you like to save the whales, though that is good to do, it's not going to save the humans from self-destruction. Well, it is, possibly, through preserving a salvageable eco-system. But there's more going on that's rotten in the state of Denmark than just animals being targets of poachers and the like.
The problem is selfishness and the reason the moral fabric of my society matters to me is because of, as Reverend Lovejoy's wife would say, "the children."
I love the Simpsons and it's for clever satire such as Reverend Lovejoy's wife obsessing about the children that I profess such admiration. She's always there to cry out at any mob gathering, like when a bear is in Springfield and the town is trying to decide what to do, "Who will think of the children!" It's the trump card. How can you be so heartless as to not care about the children?!? They're helpless!
I know, this all boils down to parents and how involved parents are in their children's lives. Parents should monitor what their kids are doing. Parents should be alert 24/7, they should ask questions, they should do thorough research, and essentially run a police-state in their home so their kids don't bump into porn on the computer, the laptop, the PS3, the Wii, the Xbox, the Kindle Fire, the Ipad, mom or dad's smart phone, the neighbors house, or in the ditch out back*, at school, on the street, in the mall, in the grocery store, at the restaurant, at the Starbucks, or any one of the other apparently millions of places porn prevails in our world.
We definitely need to be better parents.
And we can try our best to overcome or undo any harm that might be inflicted upon our kid by him or her bumping into it at a very innocent, tender age.
But what a world we live in, where the individual always eclipses the group. And by group, I mean family. Because I certainly believe in individual rights, and I believe that censorship shouldn't be enforced by the government or any other form of big brother.
Call it a wish, or a longing, that the individual wasn't such a jerk and that they could see that they are part of a larger fabric that consists of more than just a bunch of separate units acting independently of each other. It is exactly the inability to see that all things are connected that our society has ended up here. For a society to work well and to flourish, individuals must realize that there is a social obligation for each person to behave in a way that benefits society in the long run.
Which brings me to another reason there's so much crap being created and sold online and elsewhere: society is too big. How can one person make a difference in a huge world teeming with scores and scores of people? Exactly. That's why it's so easy to fool ourselves into believing that what we do, these tiny infractions against a moral code (such as the Ten Commandments, because, come on, what other code is out there?), even make a difference to any one but us. We think, "Oh, no one else is being harmed by this decision to video myself doing this and then broadcasting it live to those willing to pay to see it, right?"
When the things you're doing in public or even in secret are not being subjected to the scrutiny of your village or family, then there IS less of a reason to behave in a way often dubbed decent by those around you. And since there are fewer families, and cities are so large, and well, the ways to do things in secret (while somehow simultaneously being public) are abounding, then we have a problem.
So, I think everything I've said can be expressed in the following equation:
No Censorship + Individual With No Concern for Society as a Whole + Internet - Small Villages - Family = A Problem
Let me end with an illustration of how all that once delineated the boundaries of decency has frayed and unraveled to a frightening degree. Part of the segment by Lucy Ling and the fabulous porn-made-at-home story featured a 50-year-old woman who makes interactive videos with her clients. Her husband produces the live-web-cam events and Ms. Ling described how a large portion of this woman's "clientele" is "men" between the ages of 19 and 25. And what is their most common request?
That they can call the 50-year-old woman "mommy."
*Truly. If you're going to dump your porn collection, please don't throw it in a ditch. Or the gutter. You think it just "goes away" when you do that? No. It inevitably falls into the hands of children**. Yes, children. You're not the center of the universe and that ditch is most likely frequented by children pretending they're the Swiss Family Robinson or something like that.
**This is based on anecdotal evidence. While I never stumbled across porn in the ditch myself, as a child, I've heard several accounts from others who did.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Not Being "the Best" and Contemplating a Possible Move. Plus Some Stuff About Vaccines.
So the past couple weeks I've been getting bigger and more miserable. That's why I've disappeared, sort of. It'll happen.
Plus I had company for a few days and then I was recuperating from having people stay at our house, and things just keep spiraling out of control. Did I mention that I was also undergoing a rigorous re-interview process to keep my job? Yes, that was fun too. I had to take a couple personality tests and editorial tests and just a bunch of crap.
And then I found out I'm apparently not one of "the best." Because the company wanted to assemble "the best team possible moving forward." Or some nonsense like that. So in January, I'll be asked to leave. January. But to get a severance, I must continue to come to work and do a "satisfactory job." Until January. I'm glad it's just "satisfactory," because that's obviously the best I can do. You know, not being "the best" and all that.
Anyway, I came to work today and the two lights above my desk have completely burned out. They were going slowly. There are like three or four lights in each fixture, but today they've all burned out. I'm in darkness here. I feel a little bit like Milton, from Office Space. I think that's his name. Tomorrow I'll show up and won't have a desk. Or it will be in the tiny store-room where people go to spray crap on artwork.
See, I've been really honorable, I like to think. I've worked here for almost five years and during that time, though the temptation has been extremely profound, I've never stooped to writing about the workplace. By writing about it, I mean really making fun of everyone and everything here.
And what has my honor gotten me? What does honor EVER get anyone? Usually nothing.
I guess the point of honor is to just be honorable. There's not really a reward, except the reward of an eternally clean conscience. I do like having that.
But I also wish I'd thrown caution to the wind and done more writing about the ridiculous. I love the ridiculous. And there's loads of it here. This place is ripe for parody. Even better than "The Office." The problem is that I tend to suffocate anything that I consider a base desire. And sarcasm and humor at the expense of others has always seemed base to me.
Yet, do I care now? I work in the publishing industry and it's crumbling. I only started working here four and a half years ago and since then, the only thing this company has done is lay people off. I'm actually surprised I lasted this long. So, really, while they've been paying me to come to work every day, they've also really instilled this crazy sense of instability into all their employees. "At any minute, YOU TOO could lose your job. So don't ____ with us."
Welp. At least I'll have my benefits long enough to have the baby. Right? Silver lining.
One thing that's been really consuming me, now that I have enough outfits for a newborn, is diapers. It's weird. I'm not exactly Misses eco-friendly or anything, but the thought of throwing away a trillion disposable diapers disgusts me. Especially after living through the late eighties and seeing the piles of disposable diapers in the landfills. Remember that? I think we got to see them in a the Scholastic Weekly Reader. They were brainwashing us early, those environmentalists.
So my younger sister got me on the cloth diaper thing. And of course I keep realizing I need more diapers. So then I spend several hours researching which wool diaper cover I want or what fitted cloth diaper will be good for the nighttime. And I read forums. Like Diaper Swappers. (I apologize for the abrupt change of pace, going from discussing my job to cloth diapers, but I really wanted to address something that's been bugging me since I read it.)
The other day I was researching nighttime cloth diapering solutions for newborns and I stumbled across a thread where one forum-poster listed herself as being the wife of so-and-so, the mother of so-and-so, and other neat facts about herself and her family, one of them being "non-vax."
You heard me. Yes, she's bragging about endangering the rest of her community. Unless, of course, she lives out in the woods alone, or something.
Bragging about endangering the children of other parents. I mean, that's something else, really. Baffling. It's not enlightenment. It's sheer stupidity and selfishness. This is particularly important to me right now because there have been several cases of outbreaks in Utah, where I'm from, of diseases that should be gone, and the numbers of people who are not vaccinated seem to be growing. And of course, those diseases are spread by the people who have consciously chosen to not vaccinate their children.
Recently there was a measles outbreak, spread by an unvaccinated family who went to Poland. There have also been several cases of pertussis (which requires a booster shot for adults to not spread it to babies and children). Now that I'm about to have a family of my own, we've been hoping to move back to Utah. Why stay here now, right? I haven't been selected as "one of the best" to be on the team "of the best." It's like the choice made itself.
So anyway. Do I want to go back to that apparent hotbed of unvaccinated deep-thinkers? It's the LDS crowd who are doing it, I think (not to insult them. I'm LDS myself). People on the outside—especially ex-LDS members—love to call Mormons sheep. But actually, in many ways they're extremely thoughtful. To the point of blaming vaccines for things that are not the fault of vaccines. And thus we have this high population of unvaccinated individuals spreading disease. And bragging about being non-vax. And going abroad to parts of the world where extremely contagious diseases still run rampant. Like Poland.
I propose isolating all conscientious vaccine-objectors in the Pacific Northwest where they can hang out together and die together of measles, mumps, and rubella, in addition to pertussis and polio (it's totally going to make a comeback). Who better to surround yourself with?
The problem I have with them not isolating themselves in an area with others like them is that they benefit from the willingness of everyone else to become vaccinated by mingling in regular communities of people who blindly (to the objector's mind) submit to vaccination. Without all those other people taking precautions (and, in their minds anyway, taking the vaccine risk), the unvaccinated would be in more danger. And it will sound callous, but they deserve to be in danger because they made a choice.
Yes, the children had nothing to do with the choice. It's the parents gambling on their child's life and it's sad that they don't value it more.
The problem is partly that there are specific vaccines infants can't get until they're older. But the diseases don't wait to strike until the baby has been vaccinated. A three week old baby can die from pertussis, who can't get the vaccine until six months. And yes, babies do die from pertussis.
All this to say that, to me, at least, bragging about being a conscientious objector to vaccines is tantamount to bragging about speeding through a school zone when school's just let out. You're endangering a community and you don't give a crap. It's all about you and your individual choice, made at the expense of a community that needs herd immunity to protect itself from the ravages of deadly diseases. So, good job. You're really awesome and smart and waaaaaaaay more enlightened than the jerks who just let the doctors vaccinate them like mindless beasts in a feed yard. Yep. The rest of us are just cattle. Moo!
Plus I had company for a few days and then I was recuperating from having people stay at our house, and things just keep spiraling out of control. Did I mention that I was also undergoing a rigorous re-interview process to keep my job? Yes, that was fun too. I had to take a couple personality tests and editorial tests and just a bunch of crap.
And then I found out I'm apparently not one of "the best." Because the company wanted to assemble "the best team possible moving forward." Or some nonsense like that. So in January, I'll be asked to leave. January. But to get a severance, I must continue to come to work and do a "satisfactory job." Until January. I'm glad it's just "satisfactory," because that's obviously the best I can do. You know, not being "the best" and all that.
Anyway, I came to work today and the two lights above my desk have completely burned out. They were going slowly. There are like three or four lights in each fixture, but today they've all burned out. I'm in darkness here. I feel a little bit like Milton, from Office Space. I think that's his name. Tomorrow I'll show up and won't have a desk. Or it will be in the tiny store-room where people go to spray crap on artwork.
See, I've been really honorable, I like to think. I've worked here for almost five years and during that time, though the temptation has been extremely profound, I've never stooped to writing about the workplace. By writing about it, I mean really making fun of everyone and everything here.
And what has my honor gotten me? What does honor EVER get anyone? Usually nothing.
I guess the point of honor is to just be honorable. There's not really a reward, except the reward of an eternally clean conscience. I do like having that.
But I also wish I'd thrown caution to the wind and done more writing about the ridiculous. I love the ridiculous. And there's loads of it here. This place is ripe for parody. Even better than "The Office." The problem is that I tend to suffocate anything that I consider a base desire. And sarcasm and humor at the expense of others has always seemed base to me.
Yet, do I care now? I work in the publishing industry and it's crumbling. I only started working here four and a half years ago and since then, the only thing this company has done is lay people off. I'm actually surprised I lasted this long. So, really, while they've been paying me to come to work every day, they've also really instilled this crazy sense of instability into all their employees. "At any minute, YOU TOO could lose your job. So don't ____ with us."
Welp. At least I'll have my benefits long enough to have the baby. Right? Silver lining.
One thing that's been really consuming me, now that I have enough outfits for a newborn, is diapers. It's weird. I'm not exactly Misses eco-friendly or anything, but the thought of throwing away a trillion disposable diapers disgusts me. Especially after living through the late eighties and seeing the piles of disposable diapers in the landfills. Remember that? I think we got to see them in a the Scholastic Weekly Reader. They were brainwashing us early, those environmentalists.
So my younger sister got me on the cloth diaper thing. And of course I keep realizing I need more diapers. So then I spend several hours researching which wool diaper cover I want or what fitted cloth diaper will be good for the nighttime. And I read forums. Like Diaper Swappers. (I apologize for the abrupt change of pace, going from discussing my job to cloth diapers, but I really wanted to address something that's been bugging me since I read it.)
The other day I was researching nighttime cloth diapering solutions for newborns and I stumbled across a thread where one forum-poster listed herself as being the wife of so-and-so, the mother of so-and-so, and other neat facts about herself and her family, one of them being "non-vax."
You heard me. Yes, she's bragging about endangering the rest of her community. Unless, of course, she lives out in the woods alone, or something.
Bragging about endangering the children of other parents. I mean, that's something else, really. Baffling. It's not enlightenment. It's sheer stupidity and selfishness. This is particularly important to me right now because there have been several cases of outbreaks in Utah, where I'm from, of diseases that should be gone, and the numbers of people who are not vaccinated seem to be growing. And of course, those diseases are spread by the people who have consciously chosen to not vaccinate their children.
Recently there was a measles outbreak, spread by an unvaccinated family who went to Poland. There have also been several cases of pertussis (which requires a booster shot for adults to not spread it to babies and children). Now that I'm about to have a family of my own, we've been hoping to move back to Utah. Why stay here now, right? I haven't been selected as "one of the best" to be on the team "of the best." It's like the choice made itself.
So anyway. Do I want to go back to that apparent hotbed of unvaccinated deep-thinkers? It's the LDS crowd who are doing it, I think (not to insult them. I'm LDS myself). People on the outside—especially ex-LDS members—love to call Mormons sheep. But actually, in many ways they're extremely thoughtful. To the point of blaming vaccines for things that are not the fault of vaccines. And thus we have this high population of unvaccinated individuals spreading disease. And bragging about being non-vax. And going abroad to parts of the world where extremely contagious diseases still run rampant. Like Poland.
I propose isolating all conscientious vaccine-objectors in the Pacific Northwest where they can hang out together and die together of measles, mumps, and rubella, in addition to pertussis and polio (it's totally going to make a comeback). Who better to surround yourself with?
The problem I have with them not isolating themselves in an area with others like them is that they benefit from the willingness of everyone else to become vaccinated by mingling in regular communities of people who blindly (to the objector's mind) submit to vaccination. Without all those other people taking precautions (and, in their minds anyway, taking the vaccine risk), the unvaccinated would be in more danger. And it will sound callous, but they deserve to be in danger because they made a choice.
Yes, the children had nothing to do with the choice. It's the parents gambling on their child's life and it's sad that they don't value it more.
The problem is partly that there are specific vaccines infants can't get until they're older. But the diseases don't wait to strike until the baby has been vaccinated. A three week old baby can die from pertussis, who can't get the vaccine until six months. And yes, babies do die from pertussis.
All this to say that, to me, at least, bragging about being a conscientious objector to vaccines is tantamount to bragging about speeding through a school zone when school's just let out. You're endangering a community and you don't give a crap. It's all about you and your individual choice, made at the expense of a community that needs herd immunity to protect itself from the ravages of deadly diseases. So, good job. You're really awesome and smart and waaaaaaaay more enlightened than the jerks who just let the doctors vaccinate them like mindless beasts in a feed yard. Yep. The rest of us are just cattle. Moo!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
"Happy Endings"? More Like "Crappy Endings"
I don't like to wish for anyone's failure. It seems rude. And not very classy. That being said, I'd really be happy if the show ABC's "Happy Endings" fails.
After I watch a really good show on television and another one comes on that's pure manure, I wish the network could hear me changing the channel or turning my TV off. But that would be creepy. So I'll just speak here, on my blog, and hope that ABC is paying attention. I know they have nothing else to do but peruse the blogosphere to find out what really important people like me think.
Here's more about what I think. It was terrible. Part of the time I left it on with the volume turned down and the acting was unconvincing, even without sound. With sound, I'm sure I would have longed more heartily to be able to punch each actor in the face.
I could liken the arrival of this show on the TV scene with that moment in "So I Married an Axe Murderer" when Mike Meyers walks into the girl's apartment and says, "You know what this room needs? A huge over-sized poster of Atlantic City." And he turns and pretends to just notice the huge over-sized poster of Atlantic City. Very funny and very cute and I love that movie.
But you know what we really really really need on television? Another piece of crap show about single people in their 30s being stupid and self-centered. I love nothing more than to watch story after story of people trying to find themselves when they've already lived over thirty years and still haven't learned how not to be a complete waste of oxygen.
Yes, yes. I have lots and lots of friends in their 30s who are single and I love them and hopefully my criticism of another show about a bunch of dummies (like "Friends") doesn't offend them. The point is that they're actually living that life. They're not sitting around bantering and saying witty things and being deplorable individuals. Hopefully. We're not together all the time, maybe they ARE doing that.
What I mean about not being a complete waste of oxygen is that no one is interesting once they reach a certain age and all they've managed to do is live for themself. They need a cause. There are circumstances where this is obviously an unfair measure of a person—of course I can't account for every single exception, but to name just one, there are plenty of great women who've never married because no one has asked them (not their fault)—and it's not like I'm here to make judgment's about the lives of specific individuals.
I'm merely making the observation that I personally don't find a show about yet another group of losers living in the city with their friends, in cool apartments with furniture and decor totally out of their income range (unless they're also living on entitlements...or trust funds), to be compelling.
And maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because I'm generally exhausted of the overwhelming decay of the family in our society and this show and others like it only contributes to the downward slide by showcasing the awesomeness of remaining single and living with your awesome friends in an awesome apartment in the awesome city. Want to go get beers or go to the club? Yeah? Awesome!
I'm old-fashioned, yep. So it wouldn't be witty of you to leave that comment on my blog (considering the usual clamor for readers to comment on my blog...I don't know what it is, seriously. I guess my tone doesn't encourage feedback....). I know. Yes. Old-fashioned, curmudgeonly old woman here! Point and laugh, please.
If you're thinking there's a lot of built-up resentment bubbling under the surface regarding this issue (people my age remaining single for forever and forever), you're right. There is. And it's not because I'm completely unfamiliar with being single. I didn't get married until I was twenty-seven. It wasn't that I didn't look, either. I dated and had a trillion boyfriends. I come from a culture that encourages marriage and where many people get married very young. So there was pressure for me to conform. I tried. But I didn't want to get married for the sake of getting married. I wanted to marry someone I loved.
Blah blah blah. The point is, even in the extremely oh-so progressive America of today, it is still not the fashion for women to ask a man to marry her. We have to wait for the question to be asked of us. But men aren't doing their job. And I suppose some of that falls to the women, who are somewhat confused about how they ought to operate in a culture where everyone just "hangs out."
I hate to point out the elephant in the room, but why not? I'm not good at burying my head in the sand, anyway, and I have to say, women make a huge mistake when they put on the attitudes of men and strut around acting like they don't give a crap and "hell yeah, I'll sleep with you. On the first date, even. I'm not a prude! I'm a modern woman! Girl-power!"
So, as much as my heart goes out to women who find it difficult to get a man to ask for her hand, I also think this is the bed we've made for ourselves. Women pretend to be men and feel the same way as men about sex and commitment and they do it to their undoing. Uncommitted sex only complicates relationships and as much as I hate the saying "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free," well...why? It's true. Think about it.
Men will often be the first to tell you they think that way. At least the ones who aren't trying to get you to sleep with them. So best ask a really old guy who's happily married and not looking to bag a younger woman. He's probably going to be most honest about it.
Anyway, I know it's a round about way of explaining my disgust with another show like "Happy Endings," but it's all melted into the same ball of wax. Singleness never was happiness*. That's all I'm saying. And I know most people will agree with me. I remember being single. It was me against the world, the universe, etc. Going to bed alone night after night was lonely. Even though I tried to put a good face on it, I really wanted to be part of a team.
The problem is that no one can tell you how to find someone. But shows like "Happy Endings" (from what I could tell from the first episodes, both muted and unmuted) don't help anyone in that search. And really, life isn't about "finding yourself." It's about losing yourself in serving others. And the best place to do that, historically speaking, is in a loving, committed relationship.
*I don't even want to qualify this statement because it's a given, but I would never make the claim that being in an abusive relationship is preferable to being single. I don't mean that at all. Yes, it is better to be alone than in a loveless or hurtful relationship.
After I watch a really good show on television and another one comes on that's pure manure, I wish the network could hear me changing the channel or turning my TV off. But that would be creepy. So I'll just speak here, on my blog, and hope that ABC is paying attention. I know they have nothing else to do but peruse the blogosphere to find out what really important people like me think.
Here's more about what I think. It was terrible. Part of the time I left it on with the volume turned down and the acting was unconvincing, even without sound. With sound, I'm sure I would have longed more heartily to be able to punch each actor in the face.
I could liken the arrival of this show on the TV scene with that moment in "So I Married an Axe Murderer" when Mike Meyers walks into the girl's apartment and says, "You know what this room needs? A huge over-sized poster of Atlantic City." And he turns and pretends to just notice the huge over-sized poster of Atlantic City. Very funny and very cute and I love that movie.
But you know what we really really really need on television? Another piece of crap show about single people in their 30s being stupid and self-centered. I love nothing more than to watch story after story of people trying to find themselves when they've already lived over thirty years and still haven't learned how not to be a complete waste of oxygen.
Yes, yes. I have lots and lots of friends in their 30s who are single and I love them and hopefully my criticism of another show about a bunch of dummies (like "Friends") doesn't offend them. The point is that they're actually living that life. They're not sitting around bantering and saying witty things and being deplorable individuals. Hopefully. We're not together all the time, maybe they ARE doing that.
What I mean about not being a complete waste of oxygen is that no one is interesting once they reach a certain age and all they've managed to do is live for themself. They need a cause. There are circumstances where this is obviously an unfair measure of a person—of course I can't account for every single exception, but to name just one, there are plenty of great women who've never married because no one has asked them (not their fault)—and it's not like I'm here to make judgment's about the lives of specific individuals.
I'm merely making the observation that I personally don't find a show about yet another group of losers living in the city with their friends, in cool apartments with furniture and decor totally out of their income range (unless they're also living on entitlements...or trust funds), to be compelling.
And maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because I'm generally exhausted of the overwhelming decay of the family in our society and this show and others like it only contributes to the downward slide by showcasing the awesomeness of remaining single and living with your awesome friends in an awesome apartment in the awesome city. Want to go get beers or go to the club? Yeah? Awesome!
I'm old-fashioned, yep. So it wouldn't be witty of you to leave that comment on my blog (considering the usual clamor for readers to comment on my blog...I don't know what it is, seriously. I guess my tone doesn't encourage feedback....). I know. Yes. Old-fashioned, curmudgeonly old woman here! Point and laugh, please.
If you're thinking there's a lot of built-up resentment bubbling under the surface regarding this issue (people my age remaining single for forever and forever), you're right. There is. And it's not because I'm completely unfamiliar with being single. I didn't get married until I was twenty-seven. It wasn't that I didn't look, either. I dated and had a trillion boyfriends. I come from a culture that encourages marriage and where many people get married very young. So there was pressure for me to conform. I tried. But I didn't want to get married for the sake of getting married. I wanted to marry someone I loved.
Blah blah blah. The point is, even in the extremely oh-so progressive America of today, it is still not the fashion for women to ask a man to marry her. We have to wait for the question to be asked of us. But men aren't doing their job. And I suppose some of that falls to the women, who are somewhat confused about how they ought to operate in a culture where everyone just "hangs out."
I hate to point out the elephant in the room, but why not? I'm not good at burying my head in the sand, anyway, and I have to say, women make a huge mistake when they put on the attitudes of men and strut around acting like they don't give a crap and "hell yeah, I'll sleep with you. On the first date, even. I'm not a prude! I'm a modern woman! Girl-power!"
So, as much as my heart goes out to women who find it difficult to get a man to ask for her hand, I also think this is the bed we've made for ourselves. Women pretend to be men and feel the same way as men about sex and commitment and they do it to their undoing. Uncommitted sex only complicates relationships and as much as I hate the saying "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free," well...why? It's true. Think about it.
Men will often be the first to tell you they think that way. At least the ones who aren't trying to get you to sleep with them. So best ask a really old guy who's happily married and not looking to bag a younger woman. He's probably going to be most honest about it.
Anyway, I know it's a round about way of explaining my disgust with another show like "Happy Endings," but it's all melted into the same ball of wax. Singleness never was happiness*. That's all I'm saying. And I know most people will agree with me. I remember being single. It was me against the world, the universe, etc. Going to bed alone night after night was lonely. Even though I tried to put a good face on it, I really wanted to be part of a team.
The problem is that no one can tell you how to find someone. But shows like "Happy Endings" (from what I could tell from the first episodes, both muted and unmuted) don't help anyone in that search. And really, life isn't about "finding yourself." It's about losing yourself in serving others. And the best place to do that, historically speaking, is in a loving, committed relationship.
*I don't even want to qualify this statement because it's a given, but I would never make the claim that being in an abusive relationship is preferable to being single. I don't mean that at all. Yes, it is better to be alone than in a loveless or hurtful relationship.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A Quick Classification of the Common Amazon.com Reviewers
Sometimes don't you wish customer reviews on places like Amazon.com came with caveats or personal summaries or something so you didn't have to weed through the obvious morons to find the reviews that matter to you?
I think this is a great idea, actually. A company like Google could totally invent a formula to separate the chaff from the grain and make tons of profit on good reviewers while casting the bad reviewers into a fiery pit of torment. Obviously, for subjecting decent customers to their crappy reviews and uninformed opinions, they deserve to be punished.
This is the kind of dross a person deals with when reading through reviews on Amazon.com:
The Diva: this is the type of customer who cannot be satisfied by a product no matter how much the product and it's backing company nears perfection. This person expects their life to be a walk through the Garden of Eden, where all creatures sing glorious arias in response to the Diva's presence, the grass bends beneath the Diva's feet, and food virtually falls into the Diva's mouth when he or she is hungry (yes, she or he, Diva is not a gendered word in the Garden of Eden). I personally resent these customers and their reviews because they're hard to detect at first. You can only pick them out when they give you concrete examples of how impossible they are to please. For instance, I recently read a review where, despite the fact that the company listened to the customer's phone call and offered to send the customer a test device (at no charge to the customer), the customer STILL said the customer service was only so-so. It was kind of difficult at first to recognize the Diva nature of this reviewer, but I read fifty other reviews where the customers were extremely pleased with customer service. Also, the reviewer expected a $40 product to cook him breakfast, take him shopping for a new wardrobe, babysit his children, and give him nightly foot rubs using lavender scented oils.
The Idiot: this customer has no idea how to read or write, but somehow they make their way to a cyber-location where both skills are required. They attempt to construct an intelligible paragraph about something they feel really passionate about, namely, why a product sucks so bad and didn't meet up to their expectations. As you lamely try to pick your way through their badly constructed sentences and mispelled words (honestly, why are you even trying? You probably watched 2012 too, didn't you . . .), you realize you can't possibly take this review seriously. There's something disconnected about trusting someone who can't communicate in a reliable way. If they fail to put a simple sentence together and spell words out rather than using txt speech, do you really think they even understood the product they were buying? No. The good news is that Idiots are easy to spot. Unlike Divas.
The Bizarro Jerry: this customer wants exactly the opposite of what you want. It's like they're a mirror image of you. Everything that should be on the left side, is on the right. Like that mole above your left eyebrow. Suddenly it's above your right eyebrow (cue "Scary Door" music). The problem is that you can't really tell at first. You only come to this conclusion based on tell-tale signs and through clever inferences on your end. Take, for example, Stoker shopping for a new pillow. There were a lot of good reviews on this one pillow, and he thought he'd like the pillow, but he looked at the negative reviews (everyone always looks at the negative reviews). Some of the negative reviews said things like, "This pillow is too tall." But Stoker wanted a pillow that was tall. So, that's a positive for him. Right? So, the lesson with The Bizarro Jerry reviewer is to know what you want and to make sure you don't let someone who wants the opposite of what you want, ruin your shopping experience. Of course, this could totally be fixed with a Google formula that could do all the work for you.
The Confused Reviewer: this customer thinks the review area of Amazon.com's website is the proper location for things like shipping issues, complaints with Amazon.com's return policies, or any of the other aspects that have nothing to do with the product or the company that makes the product. They pop in, give a one star, and say something lame like, "They told me this would arrive in too days and it took for days! Fail. I'll never by from Amazon.com again until they make ths right!!!1!!" Usually this sort of review has a couple smarties who leave comments like, "Um. This has nothing to do with the product. Thanks for being a total waste of air. Please walk off a cliff." And those comments are really the only thing that give a person hope after a terrible waste of a review and a completely unjust rating.
For all these reasons, I suggest swift action on the part of Google. Or any other genius with skills in programming and statistics. And whatever it requires to create a formula that will lessen the amount of time it takes me to discern which customer reviews are actually pertinent to me while I shop Amazon.com.
In case you're wondering, I'm the Diva reviewer/customer.
I think this is a great idea, actually. A company like Google could totally invent a formula to separate the chaff from the grain and make tons of profit on good reviewers while casting the bad reviewers into a fiery pit of torment. Obviously, for subjecting decent customers to their crappy reviews and uninformed opinions, they deserve to be punished.
This is the kind of dross a person deals with when reading through reviews on Amazon.com:
The Diva: this is the type of customer who cannot be satisfied by a product no matter how much the product and it's backing company nears perfection. This person expects their life to be a walk through the Garden of Eden, where all creatures sing glorious arias in response to the Diva's presence, the grass bends beneath the Diva's feet, and food virtually falls into the Diva's mouth when he or she is hungry (yes, she or he, Diva is not a gendered word in the Garden of Eden). I personally resent these customers and their reviews because they're hard to detect at first. You can only pick them out when they give you concrete examples of how impossible they are to please. For instance, I recently read a review where, despite the fact that the company listened to the customer's phone call and offered to send the customer a test device (at no charge to the customer), the customer STILL said the customer service was only so-so. It was kind of difficult at first to recognize the Diva nature of this reviewer, but I read fifty other reviews where the customers were extremely pleased with customer service. Also, the reviewer expected a $40 product to cook him breakfast, take him shopping for a new wardrobe, babysit his children, and give him nightly foot rubs using lavender scented oils.
The Idiot: this customer has no idea how to read or write, but somehow they make their way to a cyber-location where both skills are required. They attempt to construct an intelligible paragraph about something they feel really passionate about, namely, why a product sucks so bad and didn't meet up to their expectations. As you lamely try to pick your way through their badly constructed sentences and mispelled words (honestly, why are you even trying? You probably watched 2012 too, didn't you . . .), you realize you can't possibly take this review seriously. There's something disconnected about trusting someone who can't communicate in a reliable way. If they fail to put a simple sentence together and spell words out rather than using txt speech, do you really think they even understood the product they were buying? No. The good news is that Idiots are easy to spot. Unlike Divas.
The Bizarro Jerry: this customer wants exactly the opposite of what you want. It's like they're a mirror image of you. Everything that should be on the left side, is on the right. Like that mole above your left eyebrow. Suddenly it's above your right eyebrow (cue "Scary Door" music). The problem is that you can't really tell at first. You only come to this conclusion based on tell-tale signs and through clever inferences on your end. Take, for example, Stoker shopping for a new pillow. There were a lot of good reviews on this one pillow, and he thought he'd like the pillow, but he looked at the negative reviews (everyone always looks at the negative reviews). Some of the negative reviews said things like, "This pillow is too tall." But Stoker wanted a pillow that was tall. So, that's a positive for him. Right? So, the lesson with The Bizarro Jerry reviewer is to know what you want and to make sure you don't let someone who wants the opposite of what you want, ruin your shopping experience. Of course, this could totally be fixed with a Google formula that could do all the work for you.
The Confused Reviewer: this customer thinks the review area of Amazon.com's website is the proper location for things like shipping issues, complaints with Amazon.com's return policies, or any of the other aspects that have nothing to do with the product or the company that makes the product. They pop in, give a one star, and say something lame like, "They told me this would arrive in too days and it took for days! Fail. I'll never by from Amazon.com again until they make ths right!!!1!!" Usually this sort of review has a couple smarties who leave comments like, "Um. This has nothing to do with the product. Thanks for being a total waste of air. Please walk off a cliff." And those comments are really the only thing that give a person hope after a terrible waste of a review and a completely unjust rating.
For all these reasons, I suggest swift action on the part of Google. Or any other genius with skills in programming and statistics. And whatever it requires to create a formula that will lessen the amount of time it takes me to discern which customer reviews are actually pertinent to me while I shop Amazon.com.
In case you're wondering, I'm the Diva reviewer/customer.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Where Do I Go to Sign the "Burn the Fairgrounds" Petition?
South Nashville must be full of idiots. Except me, of course. And Stoker.
There's a lot to love in the area. I'm not kidding, though it may be difficult from time to time to see, because, well, there are A LOT of used tire shops in the area. Some of them in former banks, which is very architecturally incongruent when you can see the tires piled to the ceiling beyond the beautiful glass store front and the columns lining the sidewalk. But hey. You can't lose with architectural columns.
As well, there's no shortage of used car lots ("BUY HERE, PAY HERE!!!!!" "WORLD'S FIRST DRIVE THRU USED CAR LOT!!!!"). And there are plenty of title loan stores and instant cash places. And pawn shops. Plenty.
Beyond these questionable aspects are the cool things. Like the FIRST EVER Krispy Kreme donut shop. Some might want to firebomb the place for having turned donut-making into a Henry Ford assembly line, thus ruining the art of the donut. Not me. Of course...others.
But since we're on the subject, I prefer REAL donuts, like those you can get at The Donut Den in the Green Hills area of Nashville (aka, the RICH AREA). Once in a while a Krispy Kreme donut is OK. Like when they're right off the assembly line. They have that new car smell.
Anyway, there's also La Hacienda, which serves the BEST Mexican food in Nashville. I'm not lying. There's a tortilla factory out back too. I've written about this stuff before, I think, so I'll spare you.
In any case, there's a lot to love. And lots of people are saying (or were saying, anyway) that this area was gentrifying. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But I'll tell you one thing that's really not helping.
The idiots who want to "save our fairgrounds."
WHAT???
Let me get this straight. These people would choose to KEEP a pile of crap Pinto rather than trade it in for a Mercedes? Essentially that's what they're saying.
You know what MIGHT happen if we got rid of those stupid fairgrounds? That piece o' shee (to quote my sister) tire recapping shop, whose lot looks like a biohazard (I swear sometimes I think, "I'm seriously going to call OSHA." I don't even know if OSHA cares about stuff like that, but this Dumpster looks like a nuclear waste site at the end of the day, every day), might actually GET LOST because it sucks so bad, and without the lame race track at the fairgrounds, I'm pretty sure the dude who runs the shop will want to move it closer to...um...where-ever they need a tire recapping shop.
And if we got rid of the nasty fairgrounds, perhaps then some PRODUCTIVE businesses might decide to move in. And maybe property values would increase. Yeah, I know that would increase property taxes, but at least south Nashville wouldn't look like Germany after WWII, for once.
Honestly, I don't know what it is about the fairgrounds that this part of the city would resist the change. It would be an upgrade.
Is the flea-market seriously THAT important to the economy of South Nashville? Is it? Because, you know, the flea-market wouldn't have to die should the fairgrounds disappear. If the flea-market is so necessary and important and beloved, it will survive. It might have to move, but it would survive.
Same with the teeny-bopper races or derby or whatever it is that sounds like a swarm of bees during summer nights.
And, Tennessee, I hate to tell you, but the state fair is kind of crappy. One would think that a state with such a long history (in terms of U.S. history) and so much agriculture would have one of the largest, most kick-butt state fairs in the Union. It should be as wicked-awesome as a musical, like State Fair (that musical has an awesome state fair in it, doesn't it? I've never actually seen it. But with a name like State Fair.....), with people driving all the way from Knoxville just to get a look at the best pig in show. And all that. You would think!
But no. I went to the state fair last year and it was the most dismal affair ever. It was weak. If it was going to wrestle (Greco-Roman style), it would be in the lightest weight class. Like 110, if that. I know. That's like junior high weight. That's how pitiful the Tennessee State Fair is compared to other state fairs.
What fairs am I comparing it to? Well.
I'm from Utah, as you've probably noticed. When I have gone to the state fair in Utah, there was so much to see and do that I couldn't get to all of it in one night. The Tennessee State Fair? Yeah, it took me a half-hour, if that, to see what there was to offer.
Plus, it's on a dang hill. Several rolling hills, really. So you walk up a huge hill to the two ticket booths (that's all they need--two ticket booths), pay, and walk up more hill, to the six rides. Then you walk past those to the tiny building where canned things are and the displays about honey and whatnot. There's also a little building for the kitschy, fun things, but there are only like five booths there. Beyond that is a children's play-house size building for the farm animal things. Next door to that there are three rides for the kiddies.
I exaggerate. But only by a fraction. It feels more like a tiny county fair. It really is the smallest state fair in the world. I bet Rhode Island has a bigger state fair.
So, you might be thinking, well heck, what about the gun shows? Yeah, what about them? I've gone to the gun show at the fairground twice and both times it was crap. The actual gun show could be hosted in a banquet hall. I'm sure there's a better venue for the gun show. And, if it's so economically fantastic for gun shop owners, it won't die. It will just move. That's how these things work.
Saving a tired, worn out, ugly site for the mere sake of saving it stunts changes that could be much better for the city and its residents economically. Especially when you consider what a large swath of land the fairground consume just by its mere existence. And for the larger part of the year, that land sits there empty, looking like an eye-sore.
I don't really understand why many of the residents around the fairgrounds are so eager to "save" it. I can only guess. And my guess is that they lack vision.
I wish I could go talk to Karl Dean and tell him, "Don't give up, man. Rip those hideous fairgrounds out and put in a park, a shopping center, ANYTHING. Anything would be better."
Maybe if they can move the state fair to a better location (read, not on a couple of mucky hills), the fair can improve. And compete with the awesome Utah State Fair*.
And finally, to demonstrate the stunted thinking of people around Nashville, I refer you to this site that features this quote:
p.s. The "local neighborhood" has largely been stunted by the presence of the fairgrounds. So, in addition to the few homes in the area, there's the Coke bottling plant, several industrial type complexes, dismal and run-down looking liquor stores, a plot of land that seems to store rail-cars, and a mobile home park (that was wiped out during the flooding last year). So, yeah, let's BLEND the fairgrounds with the neighborhood. Real great idea, Jan.
*Lest you think I'm simply full of home-state pride, my friend from Kentucky said the Kentucky State Fair is also a million times better than the TN State Fair.
There's a lot to love in the area. I'm not kidding, though it may be difficult from time to time to see, because, well, there are A LOT of used tire shops in the area. Some of them in former banks, which is very architecturally incongruent when you can see the tires piled to the ceiling beyond the beautiful glass store front and the columns lining the sidewalk. But hey. You can't lose with architectural columns.
As well, there's no shortage of used car lots ("BUY HERE, PAY HERE!!!!!" "WORLD'S FIRST DRIVE THRU USED CAR LOT!!!!"). And there are plenty of title loan stores and instant cash places. And pawn shops. Plenty.
Beyond these questionable aspects are the cool things. Like the FIRST EVER Krispy Kreme donut shop. Some might want to firebomb the place for having turned donut-making into a Henry Ford assembly line, thus ruining the art of the donut. Not me. Of course...others.
But since we're on the subject, I prefer REAL donuts, like those you can get at The Donut Den in the Green Hills area of Nashville (aka, the RICH AREA). Once in a while a Krispy Kreme donut is OK. Like when they're right off the assembly line. They have that new car smell.
Anyway, there's also La Hacienda, which serves the BEST Mexican food in Nashville. I'm not lying. There's a tortilla factory out back too. I've written about this stuff before, I think, so I'll spare you.
In any case, there's a lot to love. And lots of people are saying (or were saying, anyway) that this area was gentrifying. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But I'll tell you one thing that's really not helping.
The idiots who want to "save our fairgrounds."
WHAT???
Let me get this straight. These people would choose to KEEP a pile of crap Pinto rather than trade it in for a Mercedes? Essentially that's what they're saying.
You know what MIGHT happen if we got rid of those stupid fairgrounds? That piece o' shee (to quote my sister) tire recapping shop, whose lot looks like a biohazard (I swear sometimes I think, "I'm seriously going to call OSHA." I don't even know if OSHA cares about stuff like that, but this Dumpster looks like a nuclear waste site at the end of the day, every day), might actually GET LOST because it sucks so bad, and without the lame race track at the fairgrounds, I'm pretty sure the dude who runs the shop will want to move it closer to...um...where-ever they need a tire recapping shop.
And if we got rid of the nasty fairgrounds, perhaps then some PRODUCTIVE businesses might decide to move in. And maybe property values would increase. Yeah, I know that would increase property taxes, but at least south Nashville wouldn't look like Germany after WWII, for once.
Honestly, I don't know what it is about the fairgrounds that this part of the city would resist the change. It would be an upgrade.
Is the flea-market seriously THAT important to the economy of South Nashville? Is it? Because, you know, the flea-market wouldn't have to die should the fairgrounds disappear. If the flea-market is so necessary and important and beloved, it will survive. It might have to move, but it would survive.
Same with the teeny-bopper races or derby or whatever it is that sounds like a swarm of bees during summer nights.
And, Tennessee, I hate to tell you, but the state fair is kind of crappy. One would think that a state with such a long history (in terms of U.S. history) and so much agriculture would have one of the largest, most kick-butt state fairs in the Union. It should be as wicked-awesome as a musical, like State Fair (that musical has an awesome state fair in it, doesn't it? I've never actually seen it. But with a name like State Fair.....), with people driving all the way from Knoxville just to get a look at the best pig in show. And all that. You would think!
But no. I went to the state fair last year and it was the most dismal affair ever. It was weak. If it was going to wrestle (Greco-Roman style), it would be in the lightest weight class. Like 110, if that. I know. That's like junior high weight. That's how pitiful the Tennessee State Fair is compared to other state fairs.
What fairs am I comparing it to? Well.
I'm from Utah, as you've probably noticed. When I have gone to the state fair in Utah, there was so much to see and do that I couldn't get to all of it in one night. The Tennessee State Fair? Yeah, it took me a half-hour, if that, to see what there was to offer.
Unfortunately, this map doesn't show topographical changes. If it did, you'd just stay home. It does, however, show how small the event is. The gray stuff is parking.
Plus, it's on a dang hill. Several rolling hills, really. So you walk up a huge hill to the two ticket booths (that's all they need--two ticket booths), pay, and walk up more hill, to the six rides. Then you walk past those to the tiny building where canned things are and the displays about honey and whatnot. There's also a little building for the kitschy, fun things, but there are only like five booths there. Beyond that is a children's play-house size building for the farm animal things. Next door to that there are three rides for the kiddies.
I exaggerate. But only by a fraction. It feels more like a tiny county fair. It really is the smallest state fair in the world. I bet Rhode Island has a bigger state fair.
So, you might be thinking, well heck, what about the gun shows? Yeah, what about them? I've gone to the gun show at the fairground twice and both times it was crap. The actual gun show could be hosted in a banquet hall. I'm sure there's a better venue for the gun show. And, if it's so economically fantastic for gun shop owners, it won't die. It will just move. That's how these things work.
Saving a tired, worn out, ugly site for the mere sake of saving it stunts changes that could be much better for the city and its residents economically. Especially when you consider what a large swath of land the fairground consume just by its mere existence. And for the larger part of the year, that land sits there empty, looking like an eye-sore.
I don't really understand why many of the residents around the fairgrounds are so eager to "save" it. I can only guess. And my guess is that they lack vision.
I wish I could go talk to Karl Dean and tell him, "Don't give up, man. Rip those hideous fairgrounds out and put in a park, a shopping center, ANYTHING. Anything would be better."
Maybe if they can move the state fair to a better location (read, not on a couple of mucky hills), the fair can improve. And compete with the awesome Utah State Fair*.
And finally, to demonstrate the stunted thinking of people around Nashville, I refer you to this site that features this quote:
How do I feel personally about the closing of the Tennessee State Fairgrounds? Well, if you don't already know by now, I think it stinks. This wonderful ole place, one that has given Nashvillians so many great memories, family fun, and plenty of racing history is about to be wiped away in the name of progress. To me, progress would be to improve on the existing property in a way that would also preserve its historical value as well as incorporate and blend with the local neighborhood.I would wager that Jan Duke doesn't live in south Nashville, near the fairgrounds. Though I might be surprised, since there are plenty of backward thinking fools in the neighborhood sporting "save our fairgrounds" signs. Anyway, it's nice of Jan to give us her opinion. Maybe she can come live next to the fairgrounds, if she doesn't already, so she can reap all the blessings of the important racing history, with all its joyful sounds.
p.s. The "local neighborhood" has largely been stunted by the presence of the fairgrounds. So, in addition to the few homes in the area, there's the Coke bottling plant, several industrial type complexes, dismal and run-down looking liquor stores, a plot of land that seems to store rail-cars, and a mobile home park (that was wiped out during the flooding last year). So, yeah, let's BLEND the fairgrounds with the neighborhood. Real great idea, Jan.
*Lest you think I'm simply full of home-state pride, my friend from Kentucky said the Kentucky State Fair is also a million times better than the TN State Fair.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
My Pro Red Cross Post
I want to throw out my support for the Red Cross right now, as events unfold in Japan.
I know everyone is most likely pro-Red Cross, but before last May, I wasn't. I mean, I wasn't anti-Red Cross, I was just skeptical. And I know admitting that will only further your suspicions that I'm as insensitive as I always joke of being, but it's worth the risk to convey that I'm now a Red Cross supporter.
Before last May, I was suspicious of what the Red Cross did with their donations. I had seen a pie-chart somewhere that showed that a large portion of donations went to administrative support, and that bothered me for some reason.
After the flood in Nashville last May, the first group to notice what was happening and rush to our assistance (at least, they were the first group I saw) was the Red Cross. I remember driving down Franklin road and seeing their vans and trucks at a church and feeling enormously grateful to have them there. I might have cried a little (sometimes my icy heart melts).
When you can't simply pack up and leave because you LIVE in a place that's just been destroyed by a natural disaster*, the presence of someone from the outside world (so to speak) is a source of comfort and solace. Someone has noticed and is there to help. As resourceful as an individual can be and as prepared as they might be before a disaster, there's a point when a person can't do much more and must rely on assistance.
I know this because even though I had practiced emergency preparedness before the flooding last year, water can wipe out all you've done very quickly. It comes without warning, almost. And if you've put your emergency supplies in the basement, and the basement is the first thing to take on water, unless you can move it quick, the water takes it (this happened to us).
The same goes for tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, and tsunamis, which can dismantle all your careful preparation in a matter of seconds.
The day Stoker and I saw the Red Cross at that church, serving my city, my heart changed. I think I said as much to Stoker and I told him about the pie chart I'd seen depicting where donation money went and he said something like, "Well, an organization that's going to be first to respond like they do is probably going to need to spend a lot on administrative work. So let them spend it like that, if it's going to help them get to the scene quicker. After this, I'll give them money any time they need it."
And it's a good point. He's right, and logistically, an organization that responds as fast as they do (and I've seen it with my own eyes; they're FAST), is going to have some serious overhead to deal with.
It was good to feel like someone had noticed what was happening in Nashville. No one else did, really. I remember that the Tide, Loads of Hope trucks came eventually and helped people wash their clothes (so I think they're great too), which was also invaluable, since water was being rationed because one of the water treatment plants was down. So many people had no clean clothes after the flood. Their houses were wiped out before they could pack up and run (many people had to swim to safety).
In any case, I'll never be stingy when the Red Cross is asking for help. I never paid close attention to natural disasters and relief projects until I had gone through my own. I know Nashville was fairly overlooked last May because there were a bunch of other good stories for the media to focus on (read: stories that could be used to further political agendas), such as the sinister-sounding Deep Water Horizon crisis and the bomb scare in NYC.
I'm not saying those things weren't scary or important. But I tend to think that because the flood in Nashville couldn't be attributed to a specific political party in some way, it was overlooked. No one whined about being a victim. There was no way to turn it into something that could help the liberal or conservative cause. It just happened and it sucked.
The problems in Japan are incredible. It's frustrating and sad and my prayers are with them. The media is going wild over it not only because of the amount of devastation, which is truly horrifying, but also because it will inevitably be angled against nuclear power, not that this has anything to do with the Red Cross. I just had to say it because it's true and it was waiting for me to say it. And I took the bait.
Anyway, I think the Red Cross is great. I know the people of Japan will be thankful for them.
*In case you're skeptical of the amount of damage middle Tennessee endured because of the 2010 May flood because you never heard about it, here's the Wikipedia entry (which has some statistics), video montage, and some news footage.
I know everyone is most likely pro-Red Cross, but before last May, I wasn't. I mean, I wasn't anti-Red Cross, I was just skeptical. And I know admitting that will only further your suspicions that I'm as insensitive as I always joke of being, but it's worth the risk to convey that I'm now a Red Cross supporter.
Before last May, I was suspicious of what the Red Cross did with their donations. I had seen a pie-chart somewhere that showed that a large portion of donations went to administrative support, and that bothered me for some reason.
After the flood in Nashville last May, the first group to notice what was happening and rush to our assistance (at least, they were the first group I saw) was the Red Cross. I remember driving down Franklin road and seeing their vans and trucks at a church and feeling enormously grateful to have them there. I might have cried a little (sometimes my icy heart melts).
View of downtown Nashville from East Nashville after the rain stopped during the May 2010 flood.
When you can't simply pack up and leave because you LIVE in a place that's just been destroyed by a natural disaster*, the presence of someone from the outside world (so to speak) is a source of comfort and solace. Someone has noticed and is there to help. As resourceful as an individual can be and as prepared as they might be before a disaster, there's a point when a person can't do much more and must rely on assistance.
I know this because even though I had practiced emergency preparedness before the flooding last year, water can wipe out all you've done very quickly. It comes without warning, almost. And if you've put your emergency supplies in the basement, and the basement is the first thing to take on water, unless you can move it quick, the water takes it (this happened to us).
The same goes for tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, and tsunamis, which can dismantle all your careful preparation in a matter of seconds.
Tsunami.
The day Stoker and I saw the Red Cross at that church, serving my city, my heart changed. I think I said as much to Stoker and I told him about the pie chart I'd seen depicting where donation money went and he said something like, "Well, an organization that's going to be first to respond like they do is probably going to need to spend a lot on administrative work. So let them spend it like that, if it's going to help them get to the scene quicker. After this, I'll give them money any time they need it."
And it's a good point. He's right, and logistically, an organization that responds as fast as they do (and I've seen it with my own eyes; they're FAST), is going to have some serious overhead to deal with.
It was good to feel like someone had noticed what was happening in Nashville. No one else did, really. I remember that the Tide, Loads of Hope trucks came eventually and helped people wash their clothes (so I think they're great too), which was also invaluable, since water was being rationed because one of the water treatment plants was down. So many people had no clean clothes after the flood. Their houses were wiped out before they could pack up and run (many people had to swim to safety).
In any case, I'll never be stingy when the Red Cross is asking for help. I never paid close attention to natural disasters and relief projects until I had gone through my own. I know Nashville was fairly overlooked last May because there were a bunch of other good stories for the media to focus on (read: stories that could be used to further political agendas), such as the sinister-sounding Deep Water Horizon crisis and the bomb scare in NYC.
I'm not saying those things weren't scary or important. But I tend to think that because the flood in Nashville couldn't be attributed to a specific political party in some way, it was overlooked. No one whined about being a victim. There was no way to turn it into something that could help the liberal or conservative cause. It just happened and it sucked.
The problems in Japan are incredible. It's frustrating and sad and my prayers are with them. The media is going wild over it not only because of the amount of devastation, which is truly horrifying, but also because it will inevitably be angled against nuclear power, not that this has anything to do with the Red Cross. I just had to say it because it's true and it was waiting for me to say it. And I took the bait.
Anyway, I think the Red Cross is great. I know the people of Japan will be thankful for them.
*In case you're skeptical of the amount of damage middle Tennessee endured because of the 2010 May flood because you never heard about it, here's the Wikipedia entry (which has some statistics), video montage, and some news footage.
Monday, February 07, 2011
How to Sing the National Anthem
During high school, I read Maggie: a Girl of the Streets by Stephen Crane for an English class. For some reason I picked this book out of a bunch of other choices. I think I was high or something and thought I'd really show my class that I could take the worst possible option and make it rock. I have no idea. There were better options, I remember that. Babbit (ha ha), As I Lay Dying, Slaughterhouse-Five. I really should have picked the Vonnegut book. Maybe I figured I was saving my innocent classmates from having to read a book about prostitution. I was taking one for the team, so to speak. That's how great and unselfish I am. Always thinking of others. Yep.
In any case, I can't remember anything about the story except for one scene. Someone's in a bar with a stage, it seems like, and a performer starts singing the national anthem, and the crowd goes wild. I think they get emotional, take off their hats, and stand up. The song arouses all sorts of patriotism and sentiment, even though, if I remember correctly, the bar is mostly full of what would be considered low-class citizens who were poverty-stricken and of humble means. The point is, the national anthem moved them.
I remember thinking that there was something wrong with my generation back then, after I read that scene and saw how the national anthem could get a crowd going back during Stephen Crane's time—my generation seemed so spoiled that we could only ever think of ourselves and we had to almost be threatened to pay the proper respects to things like the American flag and the national anthem.
Well, maybe it was just that we were teenagers and didn't know any better. We'd never been tested and lots of us had never suffered much. That's what I thought then, and I thought we'd grow up and become good adults, full of understanding, wisdom, and respect.
The problem is that it seems like most of my generation hasn't changed. They're still selfish, egocentric, and ungrateful. Granted, I know lots of people in my age group who are great. They have good desires, they have their heads on straight, they're not totally focused on me, me, me, me (and by me, me, me, I mean, "Like, I'm totally the awesomest. How can I become even more cooler? Perhaps by purchasing these totally sweet jeans from American Apparel or Urban Outfitters and starting a band...etc.").
This is why it's so offensive when a modern singer decimates the national anthem in addition to performing it like they're trying to prove how awesome their vocal acrobatics are. It illustrates a particular selfishness, as though they've never even attempted to understand what happened during the war that inspired the anthem. They've never read how Francis Scott Key wrote the lyrics. They've never tried imagine the historical moment and felt the impact of the battles waged for independence and freedom.
We don't have to lose everything in a war or nearly die in a battle to feel something about the value of our country and its symbols of sacrifice and liberty. All we have to do is have a bit of imagination. If we've lost our imaginations through lack of exercise, then we're truly lost. But I think the majority of us have retained some ability there, otherwise we'd have no emotional connection to any story we read, hear, or see (on TV, you know...yes, TV. I know it seems counter-intuitive because it does most of the work...but it does ask something of us).
What I mean is that Christina Aguilera, if she wants to find redemption from her horribly selfish performance, might decide to study the history of the song. She might read the account found here, and through some kind of inspiration—a muse, a dove, an angel (like a Dickensian ghost of Christmas past, only this one takes her spiritually back to the war of 1812)—she might suddenly realize,
My word, this song, this anthem, isn't about how loud I can screech into a microphone. It's not about those stupid Mariah Carey scales and high notes....it's—it's about fearing that all is lost, that our freedoms and ideals have been robbed during the night of a long battle, a veritable attack on our Capitol. It's about being carried emotionally to the brink of despair, knowing, just knowing our enemies had won, and seconds before caving into sorrow and hopelessness, we see, through the smoke of the cannons and sudden quiet of battle that the giant flag still flies over the fort, far away on land! It's about much more than me. It's about us. And when I sing it, I'm not me. I'm a vehicle for all the voices of all the Americans, their spirits united in me, praising God, or whatever higher power each individual might believe in, for giving us this land and our freedoms. Sort of like a prayer.
Maybe she'll get that. And maybe every singer selected to sing our national anthem can do that. So next time we don't have to listen to them mangle it as they forget the words because they're more focused on sounding awesome....you know, as though how they sing the national anthem might influence us to buy more of their songs or watch their movies or something. I think about the worst that can happen is that if you suck at it, we'll boycott you to death. Because, for pete's sake, that's our NATIONAL ANTHEM. Don't mess with it.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
"Lie to Me" Almost Ruined Our Relationship
I really like the show Lie to Me. And I was one of the first. That's right. For once in my life, I can honestly say that I've been with the show since the pilot. Usually something happens in the hour-long drama shows to offend me by this point and I've jumped ship. And something almost DID happen Monday night, but it's not grievous enough for me to slam the door in its face, turn off the porch light, and close all the blinds. Yet.
Usually it's the non-lesbian straight-hot-girl kiss that does it. Why? Because it's b.s. It's never in there because it adds to the story. It's deliberately contrived to be in there to titillate a male audience, which is offensive to me. It's like saying, "Hello, I know you're my girlfriend, but want to go to the strip club with me?" I know there are women who do that and that's fine, for them (of course I tend to think they're weak and insecure, but that's just me), but it's not ok for me. I demand civility and gentility and a bunch of other -ilities from the men in my life and if I don't get it, then . . . [fill in the blank].
Many of these shows know the largest part of their viewership is women, and what they end up counting on is the fact that women are not offended by seeing the non-lesbian straight-hot-girl kiss. So they throw it in to garner favor in their male audience, which is small, and which they hope to increase by the tantalizing chance of seeing such forbidden actions on prime-time TV.
If more women were as tough as me, they'd boycott the shows after such gratuitous, pointless, crap and teach the networks a lesson. Because it's not just offensive to me. It's offensive to real lesbians who have real relationships and not flings with women while actually being into men, just to be exhibitionists for men. It's reducing real lesbian partnerships into something that exists only for men, which is, as I understand it, what so many feminists (who often happen to be lesbians) want to escape.
So anyway. I haven't seen any of my pet peeves on Lie to Me. Yet.
But Monday night the show crossed a line. A faint line. Upon further reflection later on, it snowballed into something that could squash my enthusiasm for Tim Roth's character and the intriguing relationships he has with the rest of the characters.
What was it? What could it have been? you ask, holding your breath, sitting on the edge of your office chair.
At the very end, Cal Lightman's adorable daughter has broken up with her too-perfect boyfriend because . . . why? "He doesn't believe in sex before marriage." Tim Roth's character laughs. All this time he's been worried about what his daughter's getting into with the boyfriend and it turns out, the kid won't have sex before marriage. Not even a "is that so bad? Sounds perfect to me," from Tim Roth. Just laughter.
Am I insane that I think most decent fathers are going to be thrilled to find out their daughter has a boyfriend with standards like that? Am I insane to believe that most dads don't want their high school daughter sleeping around? Even in a culture that has determined that lots of sex before marriage—to see if you're compatible, of course—is a great idea, aren't dads a little more protective of their daughters than an "I give you my blessing" to a guy who wants to live with daddy's little girl before they get married?
What bothers me, really, is that this show I love has suddenly decided to twist what a girl wants into what men really want and not what women want. Sex in the City did enough of that. They've lied to women about what we want and a lot of women have bought it. It's not female empowerment to try to be what men are. We're not men. It doesn't empower women to sleep around and not demand commitment. It only serves men when women live like that.
So I don't need Lie to Me, to be trying to sell me some stupid Sex in the City ideology about what teenage girls want. GIRLS DON'T BREAK UP WITH GUYS BECAUSE A GUY DOESN'T WANT TO HAVE SEX BEFORE HE'S MARRIED. And if she does, her problem isn't the guy. It's the commitment. She's got commitment problems.
Ok. And that may be all me and me alone, because I'm not an idiot and lots of other people tend to be when it comes to logic and reason, nevertheless, it's really irritating. It's irritating that Cal (Tim Roth) didn't say anything, because in my opinion, his daughter was looking for fatherly advice, not laughter and best friend sort of crap. No kid in their right mind wants mom and dad to be their buddy. They want mom and dad to be their guide. They want dad to set them straight and show how important they are by pulling them away from the fire, not letting them get burned to a crisp. They want mom to establish rules and stick to the rules, because it makes them feel safe in a dangerous world.
Sure, teenagers pretend to hate it and they push against the boundaries, but until the kid is 18 or not living at home, they deserve to have the guidance of their parents. And even after they're 18 and have moved away, kids go back to their parents for guidance. Advice. Sound reasoning. Etc.
So it bugs me that Cal Lightman just laughed and didn't tell his daughter that a man like Liam (the boyfriend) is decent. That he respects her and sexual relationships if that's what his standards are, and that she shouldn't be breaking up with a guy over that, and oh yeah, she'll have sex before she's married over his dead body, etc. If a show is going to be trying to teach me standards, then it better be decent standards. And not Sex in the City standards, because that's no standards at all. And if I wanted that, I'd watch that show.
I hope Lie to Me straightens up after this and that if they want to do something about Cal Lightman's daughter having sex as a teenager, for pete's sake, show us that the consequences are detrimental. Because that's the reality more often than not. Sex complicates everything. And everyone knows it; if they think otherwise, they're lying to themselves.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Everyone Loves a Disaster
The news is horrifying, isn't it?
I just tried to read/look at the front page of a "news" website as I was eating lunch. My stomach started to do somersaults, my gag reflex kicked in and I had to navigate away so that I could eat.
But maybe it'd be better if I didn't eat at all. I could lose a few pounds. New diet! Read the news while you eat! It's a highly effective appetite suppressant! I could run ads for my new diet secret that say something like, "Lose stomach fat with one word: OBEY." But just change obey to NEWS. And then make people pay me for the particulars of my dieting secret.
My main question is, do I need to know the particulars of every evil, vile, horrific, disgusting, infernal low down thing that's happening in the world?
I just deleted an entire page of my ramblings about evil and stuff. You would have loved it, but it was WAY out there and off topic, and probably somewhat annoying. So I'm sparing you, in case you didn't like it.
I live to please.
I just tried to read/look at the front page of a "news" website as I was eating lunch. My stomach started to do somersaults, my gag reflex kicked in and I had to navigate away so that I could eat.
But maybe it'd be better if I didn't eat at all. I could lose a few pounds. New diet! Read the news while you eat! It's a highly effective appetite suppressant! I could run ads for my new diet secret that say something like, "Lose stomach fat with one word: OBEY." But just change obey to NEWS. And then make people pay me for the particulars of my dieting secret.
My main question is, do I need to know the particulars of every evil, vile, horrific, disgusting, infernal low down thing that's happening in the world?
I just deleted an entire page of my ramblings about evil and stuff. You would have loved it, but it was WAY out there and off topic, and probably somewhat annoying. So I'm sparing you, in case you didn't like it.
I live to please.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Late onto the Bandwagon, As Usual: World of Warcraft
I made a huge mistake and got the game World of Warcraft. Heard of it?
It's one of the only decent games you can get for a Mac, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Why do you need a game for Mac? Are you KIDDING ME? Why waste such a beautiful machine on a game?"
Some of you might be thinking that. Not all of you. Because maybe some of you are "gamers" like me. And for those of you who are like me, join my guild! I'm going to start a guild on WoW because I'm a born leader and where else to use my leading skills? Plus the guild I currently belong to is run by a fool. I still have yet to see a single thread of my guild tabard. What gives? A few days ago he was all, "I'll get back to you on that, I swear." And so far he's the only one with a tabard.
I need your signature for my guild charter, so let's meet by the bank in the big tree in Darnassus and you can sign it and we'll get you hooked up with a guild tabard, like, right away. And then we'll do things like ride our battlecats through the mountains outside Ironforge and get treasure and stuff. It'll rule.
See? That's why it was dumb to get WoW. Because now all I want to do is raid dungeons, get treasure, sell my treasures at the auction, buy pets, and explore. And what real world application does this even have? Is it making me a better human being? IS IT?
Well, to answer that question, the other day Stoker and I were at La Hacienda, our favorite restaurant (there are like ten La Haciendas in Nashville, all owned by different people), and I was in very good humors. Before we went, Stoker was joking about imposing a time limit on my WoW gaming . . . joking, because he would never ever do that. Never. Ever. Because he knows to never come between me and my games.
That's a joke. If my marriage was seriously on the rocks because of my devotion to gaming, I'd toss the games. No problem. None.
Anyway, while we were eating at La Hac, I made the observation that everything in life is much better if you pretend you're in the cantina in Star Wars, and all the humans are actually aliens and we're all from foreign lands with weird ideas, rules, and social norms. Because if you think that way (because really we ARE all kind of crazy and alien to each other, right?), then it's easier to get along, and everyone is much more interesting and exotic if you make believe that it's because we're all from different planets or completely foreign lands.
I also threw in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series to illustrate my point.
Stoker found it immensely funny. He humored me, but laughed and joked that he was mistaken when he suggested a time limit on my gaming in WoW. It was making me amiable and laid back. He suggested playing it more, and reading more fantasy because he really liked this new me.
And I'm right. I am. The problem with our world today, or at least one of the MANY MANY problems with our world today, is that we think we can streamline everyone into one big happy culture despite the societies and peoples that have developed over thousands of years with all their own ideas and ways to do things. I think that at the root of this is the politically correct movement. We are not all the same. From culture to culture, there are vast differences in world view. From family to family, even, there are vast differences.
In an effort to make everyone feel good about everything, to smooth over and politicize everything so that no one is EVER offended or hurt by the abhorrent thought that they might be wrong or slightly different, we pretend the differences don't exist.
The weird thing about this is that on the one hand, the politically correct movement says that diversity is good. Let's celebrate our differences. Let's have a week dedicated each year to the different cultures and races. One week it's Mexican week. Next it's French. Next it's Russian.
But on the other hand and at the very same time as supposedly being joyous about our differences, if you even point out or notice a difference between races or cultures, SHAME ON YOU. And the PC police arrest you and give you a thousand lashes for even DREAMING there's physiological or social differences from race to race or culture to culture.
It's dang hilarious. It's the old paradox, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
I, for one, love the idea that there are differences. Different races. Different cultures. Different ways to run a society. Because I love fantasy novels and World of Warcraft. I love that there are elves, humans, dwarves, gnomes, faeries, dragons, Wookies, and whatever race Yoda was. And that guy who played the clarinet-thing at the cantina. He was weird with those big eyes and that wrinkly nose. But I loved him. He was great. And I bet he played the clarinet-thing better than a human could because I bet he was physiologically more fit to be a clarinet-thing player.
Ha! Who KNEW?! Who knew I could make World of Warcraft have a real-life application? And one with so much insight, if I do say so myself.
_____________________________________
More video game magic:
How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes With Real Life
Inadvertently, I Let the Metaphorical Cat out of the Metaphorical Bag
Infamous and Flying in Video Games
Mercenary Team Deathmatch: How Call of Duty Relates to Real Life
It's one of the only decent games you can get for a Mac, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Why do you need a game for Mac? Are you KIDDING ME? Why waste such a beautiful machine on a game?"
Some of you might be thinking that. Not all of you. Because maybe some of you are "gamers" like me. And for those of you who are like me, join my guild! I'm going to start a guild on WoW because I'm a born leader and where else to use my leading skills? Plus the guild I currently belong to is run by a fool. I still have yet to see a single thread of my guild tabard. What gives? A few days ago he was all, "I'll get back to you on that, I swear." And so far he's the only one with a tabard.
I need your signature for my guild charter, so let's meet by the bank in the big tree in Darnassus and you can sign it and we'll get you hooked up with a guild tabard, like, right away. And then we'll do things like ride our battlecats through the mountains outside Ironforge and get treasure and stuff. It'll rule.
See? That's why it was dumb to get WoW. Because now all I want to do is raid dungeons, get treasure, sell my treasures at the auction, buy pets, and explore. And what real world application does this even have? Is it making me a better human being? IS IT?
Well, to answer that question, the other day Stoker and I were at La Hacienda, our favorite restaurant (there are like ten La Haciendas in Nashville, all owned by different people), and I was in very good humors. Before we went, Stoker was joking about imposing a time limit on my WoW gaming . . . joking, because he would never ever do that. Never. Ever. Because he knows to never come between me and my games.
That's a joke. If my marriage was seriously on the rocks because of my devotion to gaming, I'd toss the games. No problem. None.
Anyway, while we were eating at La Hac, I made the observation that everything in life is much better if you pretend you're in the cantina in Star Wars, and all the humans are actually aliens and we're all from foreign lands with weird ideas, rules, and social norms. Because if you think that way (because really we ARE all kind of crazy and alien to each other, right?), then it's easier to get along, and everyone is much more interesting and exotic if you make believe that it's because we're all from different planets or completely foreign lands.
I also threw in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series to illustrate my point.
Stoker found it immensely funny. He humored me, but laughed and joked that he was mistaken when he suggested a time limit on my gaming in WoW. It was making me amiable and laid back. He suggested playing it more, and reading more fantasy because he really liked this new me.
And I'm right. I am. The problem with our world today, or at least one of the MANY MANY problems with our world today, is that we think we can streamline everyone into one big happy culture despite the societies and peoples that have developed over thousands of years with all their own ideas and ways to do things. I think that at the root of this is the politically correct movement. We are not all the same. From culture to culture, there are vast differences in world view. From family to family, even, there are vast differences.
In an effort to make everyone feel good about everything, to smooth over and politicize everything so that no one is EVER offended or hurt by the abhorrent thought that they might be wrong or slightly different, we pretend the differences don't exist.
The weird thing about this is that on the one hand, the politically correct movement says that diversity is good. Let's celebrate our differences. Let's have a week dedicated each year to the different cultures and races. One week it's Mexican week. Next it's French. Next it's Russian.
But on the other hand and at the very same time as supposedly being joyous about our differences, if you even point out or notice a difference between races or cultures, SHAME ON YOU. And the PC police arrest you and give you a thousand lashes for even DREAMING there's physiological or social differences from race to race or culture to culture.
It's dang hilarious. It's the old paradox, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
I, for one, love the idea that there are differences. Different races. Different cultures. Different ways to run a society. Because I love fantasy novels and World of Warcraft. I love that there are elves, humans, dwarves, gnomes, faeries, dragons, Wookies, and whatever race Yoda was. And that guy who played the clarinet-thing at the cantina. He was weird with those big eyes and that wrinkly nose. But I loved him. He was great. And I bet he played the clarinet-thing better than a human could because I bet he was physiologically more fit to be a clarinet-thing player.
Ha! Who KNEW?! Who knew I could make World of Warcraft have a real-life application? And one with so much insight, if I do say so myself.
_____________________________________
More video game magic:
How Dragon Age: Origins Interferes With Real Life
Inadvertently, I Let the Metaphorical Cat out of the Metaphorical Bag
Infamous and Flying in Video Games
Mercenary Team Deathmatch: How Call of Duty Relates to Real Life
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Email Death Threats: A Fantastic New Way to Make Money From Home
So my friend received a most alarming email recently. A threat on his life, from hired man Razak Akin, if you can believe it. My friend will be alright, if he'll just give Razak some money. Razak decided he'd give my friend a chance to not be killed if only he'll deliver some money to Razak. Razak says . . . well, I'll just let him explain it to you. Here's his email, unchanged, in all it's aggressive, death-threaty beauty:
Can you believe that? Pretty awesome. My friend had no idea he was important enough to acquire a hit from a professional hitman service.
The best is that Razak doesn't even know how to add. First he says he wants just $20,000 (is your life not worth a measly $20,000 USD? Surely you can spear that much!), then he only gives instructions regarding the first $15,500 USD, followed by $3,500 USD. Maybe he changed his mind about that last $1,000 USD, in which case, yay! My friend only needs to come up with $19,000 USD to have his life speared.
What will he do with that remaining thousand*? He might as well do something FUN with it. Perhaps a trip to Cancun? Wait, no, Mexico is swarming with drug cartels and murderers at the moment. They've repopulated like lemmings down there, what with the rampant murders, hostages, and human/drug trafficking. First it was like, Mexico is a great place to vacation. Yay! People are sweet. The food is good. The beaches are fun. And then bam! Drug cartels and potential murderers moving across the countryside and through the cities in droves.
Where were they all this time? I'll tell you. They were underground. Mating like lemmings or rabbits. Suddenly, conditions underground became too crowded and bang! They came above ground and began the killing and drug trafficking (which, incidentally, is also what lemmings do. It has to do with natural population control).
In short, my friend would have to have a death wish to use that thousand bucks to go to Mexico. Perhaps he'll get a new Mac? Or an Ipad? Who knows. The possibilities are limitless. Plus he has a new lease on life, after all, this was a close brush with death, was it not?
Razak, if you're out there, somewhere, reading this, well, I know my friend would want me to tell you thank you. Thank you for spearing his life and listening to your conscience. It's good to know that hitmen have a little Jiminy Cricket crying out above the bloodthirsty roar of the demons camping on their shoulders.
Attention:
I felt very sorry for you, that your life is going to
end this way if you fail to comply, no matter how much security you
can acquire, everything will depend on you to choose you own path, i
was paid to eliminate you and I have to do it within 5 days. Someone
wants you dead by all means, and the person have spent a lot of money
on this, the person came telling us that he wants you dead and he
Provided us your names, photograph, and other necessary information
we needed about you. If you are in doubt of this, then I will have no
option that to carry out my duty immediately.
Meanwhile, I have sent my boys to track you down and they have carried
out the necessary investigation needed for the operation, but I
ordered them to stop for a while and not to strike immediately because
I just felt something good and sympathetic about you. I decided to
contact you first and know why somebody will want you dead by all
means, probably I believe you have done something very terrible to
him/her. Right now my men are monitoring you, their eyes are on you, and
even the places you think is safer for you to hide might not be. Now
do you want to LIVE OR DIE? It is up to you. Get back to me now if you
are ready to enter deal with me, I mean life trade, who knows, and I
might just spear your life, $20,000.00 USD is all you need to spend.
You will first of all pay $15,500.00 USD then I will send the tape of
the person that want you dead to you and when the tape gets to you,
you will pay the remaining $3,500 USD. If you are not ready, then I
will have no choice but to carry on the assignment, after all I have
already being paid before now.
Warning To You Do not think of contacting the COP or
even tell anyone because I will extend it to any member of your family
since you are aware that Somebody wants you dead, and the person knows
all members of your family as Well as employees of CRIME FIGHTERS.
And For your own good I will advise you not to go out alone once it is
9pm until I make out time to see you and give you the tape of my
discussion with the person who want you dead then you can use it to
take any legal action.
Good luck as I await your urgent respond. Do response to me on this email…
If also you think you can ignore this mail and feel all is well then let’s see.
You’ve less than 24 hours to reply this mail.
REGARDS:
RAZAK AKIN (HIRED MAN)
Can you believe that? Pretty awesome. My friend had no idea he was important enough to acquire a hit from a professional hitman service.
The best is that Razak doesn't even know how to add. First he says he wants just $20,000 (is your life not worth a measly $20,000 USD? Surely you can spear that much!), then he only gives instructions regarding the first $15,500 USD, followed by $3,500 USD. Maybe he changed his mind about that last $1,000 USD, in which case, yay! My friend only needs to come up with $19,000 USD to have his life speared.
What will he do with that remaining thousand*? He might as well do something FUN with it. Perhaps a trip to Cancun? Wait, no, Mexico is swarming with drug cartels and murderers at the moment. They've repopulated like lemmings down there, what with the rampant murders, hostages, and human/drug trafficking. First it was like, Mexico is a great place to vacation. Yay! People are sweet. The food is good. The beaches are fun. And then bam! Drug cartels and potential murderers moving across the countryside and through the cities in droves.
Where were they all this time? I'll tell you. They were underground. Mating like lemmings or rabbits. Suddenly, conditions underground became too crowded and bang! They came above ground and began the killing and drug trafficking (which, incidentally, is also what lemmings do. It has to do with natural population control).
In short, my friend would have to have a death wish to use that thousand bucks to go to Mexico. Perhaps he'll get a new Mac? Or an Ipad? Who knows. The possibilities are limitless. Plus he has a new lease on life, after all, this was a close brush with death, was it not?
Razak, if you're out there, somewhere, reading this, well, I know my friend would want me to tell you thank you. Thank you for spearing his life and listening to your conscience. It's good to know that hitmen have a little Jiminy Cricket crying out above the bloodthirsty roar of the demons camping on their shoulders.
Jiminy Cricket!
*Of course we already drummed up the money to save him. Duh! Wouldn't you? Everyone knows all Americans have hundreds of thousands of dollars at their disposal. It's petty cash! Some of us store it in banks, while the rest of us wiser individuals keep it in our mattresses.
___________________________________
You might also love this cynical post from my years as a slightly more bitter person:
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Secret of Happiness
I've figured out the secret to happiness.
It's quite simple, really. The secret is to realize that life is rather miserable. So expect misery, but be happy through it all. Right? It's not that hard. All you do is understand that life isn't supposed to be a visit to Wonka's factory and you'll get along swimmingly.
I was thinking about it today. I have about a hundred bruises on my thighs from this new bed-frame I got on Saturday. The bed-frame looks great. I swear it improves the entire bed, which was really starting to give me back problems. I feel like an adult, having a bed-frame and real bedroom furniture instead of whatever college leftovers Stoker and I could throw together. That's nice. There's nothing like feeling like an adult (even if all any of us ever does is fake it).
Anyway, the footboard has some wicked corners and being a dolt, I've run into them about a million and two times. I'm always in a hurry. I'm always charging ahead and ramming my legs against things accidentally.
So I was noticing how abused my legs look. The bruises are bad and hurt, as bruises are wont to do. But still, this song I was listening to put me in a good mood. I was singing along, getting into the song, and it hit me: life is like that combo--seeing the bruises and pain but being in a good mood because of a song. Or whatever you have that can add a positive note to the sorrow.
Priceless. I'm giving you kernels of wisdom here. Go with them and let them set you free, my child.
I know it seems like I have all the answers. But actually, I have a degree in fakery. I forget all the lessons I've learned almost always. If I've been hurt often enough, I can learn. Like, for example, the lessons of the inexplicable cabinet in our kitchen.
We bought a fixer-upper that was built in 1940. I think the kitchen cabinets might be the original cabinets. I assume refrigerators must have consistently been five in a half feet at some point and that's why this floating cabinet just hangs there with nothing under it, waiting to crack you open as you clock your head against its vicious corner on your way into the dining room. It's right next to the doorway. I think I turned my head into something like a squishy peach five or six times before it became habitual to automatically compensate for the stupid thing (and now I have brain damage. So sad. But it was worth it! To learn such a valuable lesson....).
What I mean to illustrate is how difficult it is for humans to learn. Or at least me, the slowest learner, the latest bloomer ever to feign intelligence.
But it took five or six good concussions before I learned. So in the end I think I came out on top. Or perhaps that's the brain damage talking.
The point is, misery should have a soundtrack. Find yours. I've got mine and it puts a great spin on everything. It's not that bad! Things are fine! Listen to this Cee Lo Green song, this Jamie Lidell tune or my favorite right now, Little Dragon.
It's quite simple, really. The secret is to realize that life is rather miserable. So expect misery, but be happy through it all. Right? It's not that hard. All you do is understand that life isn't supposed to be a visit to Wonka's factory and you'll get along swimmingly.
I was thinking about it today. I have about a hundred bruises on my thighs from this new bed-frame I got on Saturday. The bed-frame looks great. I swear it improves the entire bed, which was really starting to give me back problems. I feel like an adult, having a bed-frame and real bedroom furniture instead of whatever college leftovers Stoker and I could throw together. That's nice. There's nothing like feeling like an adult (even if all any of us ever does is fake it).
Anyway, the footboard has some wicked corners and being a dolt, I've run into them about a million and two times. I'm always in a hurry. I'm always charging ahead and ramming my legs against things accidentally.
So I was noticing how abused my legs look. The bruises are bad and hurt, as bruises are wont to do. But still, this song I was listening to put me in a good mood. I was singing along, getting into the song, and it hit me: life is like that combo--seeing the bruises and pain but being in a good mood because of a song. Or whatever you have that can add a positive note to the sorrow.
Priceless. I'm giving you kernels of wisdom here. Go with them and let them set you free, my child.
I know it seems like I have all the answers. But actually, I have a degree in fakery. I forget all the lessons I've learned almost always. If I've been hurt often enough, I can learn. Like, for example, the lessons of the inexplicable cabinet in our kitchen.
We bought a fixer-upper that was built in 1940. I think the kitchen cabinets might be the original cabinets. I assume refrigerators must have consistently been five in a half feet at some point and that's why this floating cabinet just hangs there with nothing under it, waiting to crack you open as you clock your head against its vicious corner on your way into the dining room. It's right next to the doorway. I think I turned my head into something like a squishy peach five or six times before it became habitual to automatically compensate for the stupid thing (and now I have brain damage. So sad. But it was worth it! To learn such a valuable lesson....).
What I mean to illustrate is how difficult it is for humans to learn. Or at least me, the slowest learner, the latest bloomer ever to feign intelligence.
But it took five or six good concussions before I learned. So in the end I think I came out on top. Or perhaps that's the brain damage talking.
The point is, misery should have a soundtrack. Find yours. I've got mine and it puts a great spin on everything. It's not that bad! Things are fine! Listen to this Cee Lo Green song, this Jamie Lidell tune or my favorite right now, Little Dragon.
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Voice of the Web: Real Loud and Real Obnoxious
Everything feels the same.
Is it just me or is this true?
The problem is the Internet, the Web, this mechanical interface with everything. And it has bled over into things in the real world, like with the way I relate to people.
Or perhaps it began happening with the advent of television. The first real mechanical separation of humans with the reality of interpersonal relationships.
I'm tired of clever. I'm tired of witty retorts, sarcasm, the brutality of cold humor, the detachment of knowing causes have effects. What I mean by that—the detachment of cause and effect—is the understanding that if I do or say A, B will happen. Like, for a totally generic example, if at home with my parents, I say some witty, clever, sarcastic remark such as, "Well, if you hadn't gotten pregnant at 17, perhaps you'd have a Corvette by now," there will be specific ramifications*. It won't be a funny sitcom. There won't be a laugh track where the audience responds by chuckling in unison and I am heralded as a comedienne extraodinaire. In fact, people in my immediate life will begin to see me as an ass.
This is perhaps a poor example, because the problem is much more advanced. Occasionally when I'm around certain people, I get the feeling everything is about the big joke. The perfect timing. The script in their head where everything happening is the set up for the punch-line. It could be that I've somehow, miraculously gotten MORE sensitive as I've advanced in age, though that seems unlikely. The longer I'm alive, the more rooted I feel to this world. (At first I mistakenly wrote out rotted. Freudian slip?) And the less things surprise me.
So it surprises me when I grow weary of the brutal nature of the Web. Who's with me? I'd really appreciate an acknowledgement here if anyone, ANYONE AT ALL, senses what I sense.
It isn't as though I spend an unholy amount of time surfing the Web. I do a lot of research. Read a lot of Wikipedia articles, about.com articles, amazon.com reviews, and just recently, have subscribed to a few sites through Google Reader. The sites are rather generic tech/gadget reviews, science fiction and fantasy commentaries, and for the most part, I find them interesting.
But there is a tone to all that's out there. I'm having a difficult time pinpointing what it is. I could be full of crap, but I could just as well be identifying a cultural malaise. Some might describe it as an advancement—I can see that. Finally! they would say, we've arrived at the future. We're here, all is open, all is possible, we're speeding toward this singularity where we'll become infinite and immortal through science.
Maybe the Miscrosoft Bing commercials aren't that off. From time to time I feel like my mind is fractured and I'm trying to sort through the hundreds of strands of thought, attempting to make sense of them, to grasp something solid. I don't think it's to be found in my head—everything is abstract there.
What I need is to step away from the mechanical, electronic interfaces with the world and engage in something real. I need to work in the garden. Take a walk by the river. Go for a hike. The Web, or Internet, whatever the crap it's called, becomes a voice in the head that won't be silenced, that influences behavior and perhaps in a negative way.
I tire of its plethora of voices—voices that don't always help me see reason or sort through the mess of the human condition. All things tend to converge, and I don't necessarily see them converging into a whole that I can treasure the way I treasure a favorite book (Jane Eyre, Angle of Repose, We). It usually happens that we veer toward the most common denominator, and I don't have much faith that this number will be the one I want.
*There would be no REAL reason to say this, as it isn't true in my family. But I could see this kind of thing happening in a sitcom, can't you?
Is it just me or is this true?
The problem is the Internet, the Web, this mechanical interface with everything. And it has bled over into things in the real world, like with the way I relate to people.
Or perhaps it began happening with the advent of television. The first real mechanical separation of humans with the reality of interpersonal relationships.
I'm tired of clever. I'm tired of witty retorts, sarcasm, the brutality of cold humor, the detachment of knowing causes have effects. What I mean by that—the detachment of cause and effect—is the understanding that if I do or say A, B will happen. Like, for a totally generic example, if at home with my parents, I say some witty, clever, sarcastic remark such as, "Well, if you hadn't gotten pregnant at 17, perhaps you'd have a Corvette by now," there will be specific ramifications*. It won't be a funny sitcom. There won't be a laugh track where the audience responds by chuckling in unison and I am heralded as a comedienne extraodinaire. In fact, people in my immediate life will begin to see me as an ass.
This is perhaps a poor example, because the problem is much more advanced. Occasionally when I'm around certain people, I get the feeling everything is about the big joke. The perfect timing. The script in their head where everything happening is the set up for the punch-line. It could be that I've somehow, miraculously gotten MORE sensitive as I've advanced in age, though that seems unlikely. The longer I'm alive, the more rooted I feel to this world. (At first I mistakenly wrote out rotted. Freudian slip?) And the less things surprise me.
So it surprises me when I grow weary of the brutal nature of the Web. Who's with me? I'd really appreciate an acknowledgement here if anyone, ANYONE AT ALL, senses what I sense.
It isn't as though I spend an unholy amount of time surfing the Web. I do a lot of research. Read a lot of Wikipedia articles, about.com articles, amazon.com reviews, and just recently, have subscribed to a few sites through Google Reader. The sites are rather generic tech/gadget reviews, science fiction and fantasy commentaries, and for the most part, I find them interesting.
But there is a tone to all that's out there. I'm having a difficult time pinpointing what it is. I could be full of crap, but I could just as well be identifying a cultural malaise. Some might describe it as an advancement—I can see that. Finally! they would say, we've arrived at the future. We're here, all is open, all is possible, we're speeding toward this singularity where we'll become infinite and immortal through science.
Maybe the Miscrosoft Bing commercials aren't that off. From time to time I feel like my mind is fractured and I'm trying to sort through the hundreds of strands of thought, attempting to make sense of them, to grasp something solid. I don't think it's to be found in my head—everything is abstract there.
What I need is to step away from the mechanical, electronic interfaces with the world and engage in something real. I need to work in the garden. Take a walk by the river. Go for a hike. The Web, or Internet, whatever the crap it's called, becomes a voice in the head that won't be silenced, that influences behavior and perhaps in a negative way.
I tire of its plethora of voices—voices that don't always help me see reason or sort through the mess of the human condition. All things tend to converge, and I don't necessarily see them converging into a whole that I can treasure the way I treasure a favorite book (Jane Eyre, Angle of Repose, We). It usually happens that we veer toward the most common denominator, and I don't have much faith that this number will be the one I want.
*There would be no REAL reason to say this, as it isn't true in my family. But I could see this kind of thing happening in a sitcom, can't you?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Dude. Seriously. Porn in the Coffee Shop?
I have always wondered WHO on earth would use bikini-clad women as their desktop wallpaper. Anyone? Really? You're that starved for visual gratification?
I think to myself, "I don't really know anyone like that—NO ONE I KNOW would have the sort of mentality such a thing would require." I'm pretty much right.
Although, now that I'm seriously considering it, I have a coworker who MIGHT do something like that. It's strange too, because he has a daughter . . . that's the kind of thing you think will change a man*. You know, make him realize a bunch of things about women, like that they're people, with hearts and thoughts and emotions, and how they want to be loved and all that and that they should be treated chivalrously despite all their chants about equality.
Ok, so that's me, not women in general, and I guess not everyone is as thoughtful as I am. Heh heh.
So my curiosity was finally fulfilled last week at Starbuck's. There are only a few locations in the place I frequent where you can have laptop-screen-privacy. And this guy didn't have that. No big deal, really. I mean, he's obviously got deeper issues—what with thinking it's perfectly normal to use mostly nude women as his wallpaper. I thought I saw a wedding ring on him too . . . so even stranger. But I guess there are women who find that acceptable. To each their own.
The point is, why would you subject yourself to such a distraction? If I understand men at all, visually that kind of thing is WAY more distracting than say, MY wallpaper (homesick-inducing landscape pictures of the Utah desert) and so how can he get any work done?
Guess I don't understand men.
BUT if that wasn't enough for this trip to Starbuck's, the guy sitting next to him pulls out his phone and begins looking at porn. Right there. In front of me.
Well, not quite in front of me. I was sitting behind him, so his phone was facing me as he perused the material. It was distracting. The mind is thinking, "What the hell. Am I really seeing this? I could be mistaken. Perhaps it's a medical website." So then I check again. And yes, it's porn. Then the mind thinks, "Am I wrong to want to censor this? I mean, this is a public space. There are children in here. There's a major aisle behind him. Whose rights are more important here? Who determines what's wrong and what is right in this scenario?"
At any rate. I don't believe in censorship. I think people should be free to choose according to their desires. But I also believe in decorum and that there are times and places where certain behaviors are socially wrong. Such as looking at porn in a coffee shop where everyone can see it. Call me crazy.
At that moment a mom entered the coffee shop with her little boy. He was probably five or six. Tall enough to see over Mr. Porn's shoulder and see it. And I thought to myself how scarring it would have been for me at that age to see something like what that guy was looking at. I really did. And then I felt like a jerk for all the selfish things I had ever done (weird, I know, but sometimes that's what you think about when you're faced with an uncomfortable decision), and I thought about the mom trying to explain to her son what that man was doing and why was he looking at that.
You could argue, if you're an ass, that the little boy has already seen porn if he's six and he knows how to use the internet. And if you are that ass, I would say to you, "I'm sorry for whatever bad thing happened to you in your life that you think children aren't fragile and that they shouldn't be protected."
And I would mean that.
So after my courage was all wound up based on my racing thoughts, I stood and tapped Mr. Porn on the shoulder. He looked up at me, surprised and scared as his phone snapped shut and I said, "You do realize that other people can see your phone, don't you?"
"Fine, fine, sorry," he answered, sounding guilty. I wasn't rude or anything. I don't think I was. It's kind of a blur now. After I sat back down, the college student sitting with his back to me thanked me, which was kind of shocking.
At the time I took it at face value, like that he was trying to study but Mr. Porn's phone was distracting him. I laughed and said something back, I forget what. But looking back, now, I can't decide if he was THANKING me or CURSING me for having ended the free porn. Stoker pointed out that it's not that difficult to find free porn, so it probably wasn't that. Good laugh, that.
It was all very strange. I've never been flashed, thankfully, but I imagine it's a similarly disorienting experience. The kind of thing that's so outrageous you can't believe it's happening and you sort of feel like you're floating out of your body. Because you've come to really believe that people don't do crap like that in public. But then later, upon further reflection you realize that people can really be messed up.
I guess I love them anyway, as I am messed up too, in my own ways. And by love I mean charity. The kind of thing where you let your heart feel empathy for them because maybe at some point they were like the little boy in the coffee shop, all innocent and naive, but nobody looked out for them. Or something. You know?
But seriously. Don't look at porn in the coffee shop where bystanders can see it too. It's damn awkward. ESPECIALLY when you're visibly reacting to it. Thanks.
*I should point out that I really appreciate that there are still men in the world who appreciate the female form and all that. It's not like I'm saying men shouldn't feel things. I'm just saying. It's weird that this guy had skanky wallpaper. That's all.
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