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Sunday, 9.28.8
If a man is
guilty, admits his guilt and makes heartfelt attempts to atone,
repair and rehabilitate, how long should that transgression be held
against him? If he falters along the way and corrects himself,
should he be immediately cast out?
It all depends
on the offence. I read those questions and answer them differently
depending on what the crime is. Of course I do. All crimes are
variable by degrees and all of us have different tolerances for
different crimes. Right and wrong are never absolute, they are our
own interpretations. Yes and no, truth and lie, these are
absolutes. But even Obi-Wan Kenobi pointed out that lies can be
truths "from a certain point of view".
All of us have
had epic moments when we made mistakes. Some mistakes are
embarrassing, some are mortifying.
I recently had
an episode of watching one of my mistakes happen to someone else and
I had to smile and hope he learns like I had to do. Someone
overindulged at a friendly gathering. He was drinking for some of
the same reasons I did a few years ago at another party. He showed
his ass and looked real foolish ending the evening with a
dry-cleaning bill... I looked at him and smiled as I remember how
stupid I was just a few short years ago. (Some of you remember that
day don't you? I'm still horrified by my actions, ughh!) I don't
think any less of him, I just hope he comes to the same realization
I did. We all make mistakes, we all embarrass ourselves, we all
play the fool. Our friends and our loved ones will admonish us,
forgive us and sometimes they'll even help us up off the floor.
Beyond this
point my example doesn't hold up because it is speculative. The
person in the real example isn't at this point yet. But if they
were, the follow up question is what if he doesn't learn a lesson
from this? What if I didn't learn anything from all of my
mistakes? What if he makes this a pattern of behavior? The answer
is fairly obvious. We'd talk to him, tell him to knock it off.
Help him if he needs it, etc.
So imagine he's
cleaned up his act and for a few years he is well behaved. Now
imagine he's gone full-tilt and he's back to the same old tricks for
one day. Now apply the original questions. Should he be written
off as a habitual offender? Should his past transgressions be
ripped open and displayed for all to see again?
I'd say no.
But only because I know the guy and I like him. And especially
because the original questions apply to me when this full entry is
read. So I'd say no, forgive and forget, help him stumble along if
he's really trying.
BUT, if I was
watching the news and they showed a village that witnessed a violent
eruption of a volcano, the survivors rebuilt their homes on the
mountain, knew the volcano was coming back to life, witnessed new
tremors and then died in the new eruption, I'd laugh my ass off at
these stupid people that stuck around when they knew it was
dangerous.
So cutting the
shit and dropping most of the pretenses, I will lay it out for you
to think upon. I am a failure. But then, so are you. Well, most
of you. Mistakes have been made, lessons have been learned,
relapses have occurred.
Most of you
reading this silly little blog of mine are people I have met, people
I know. If you know me well enough to call me a friend, I have
probably offended you in one way or a thousand over the tenure of
our relationship. I am loud, brash and stupid at times and being
that I am also obstinate and bull-headed, I have hurt many feelings
over the years. I am most humbly sorry for that. Most of you get a
sideswiping small dose; a couple of you have gotten hit with both
barrels.
I thought I had
put most of that behind me, I was wrong. Sometimes old demons can
be awakened by glaring injustices. Though they may not be any of my
business, when I see people I love being manipulated, controlled and
hurt by others, I go into an uncontrollable rage that destroys
everything in its path. Irrational and entirely way too messy, but
I am still learning to control the switch that controls me.
Not to
romanticize it or anything, but I can go from Dr. Banner to The Hulk
in a microsecond. After destroying everything around me, I can
recover my wits and promise to control myself but the damage has
been done. The object of my irritation stands no chance at that
point and all sense of control is out the window. I am on a self
destructing mission at that point. I am dangerous to all those
around me and I can take innocent bystanders down with me. I am not
proud of this rage, I am ashamed of it and I try to keep it hidden.
I have succeeded in quelling the major outbursts but they are not
gone.
Never was this
more evident than this weekend. I have had a source of irritation
for a while now, and not being an oyster, I never found a way to
turn this into a pearl. I only tolerated it and ignored it as it
was not my business. After witnessing the erosion of something I
deeply cherish, something I love, I was still able to swallow my
words and carry on. My point of failure was thinking that this
would go on forever. I simply can not watch quietly as people I
love are manipulated and destroyed.
Without knowing
I was doing it, I lashed out and I blamed myself. I lashed out
again, I was the object of scorn for all those around me. I lashed
out once more, I was a candidate for universal hatred. I was
finally subdued and brought under control only by love and infinite
patience. Each time I promised I'd wait until a better time to rant
and rave. Each time breaking that promise with impulse, not
intention. It was like blacking out. I honestly couldn't control
myself and that is what scared me. I had every intention of
"playing nice". I NEVER wanted to act like I did. I stand no
chance of changing the original problem, I only look foolish by
acting so wild, I hurt everyone around me with my rage, I looked
foolish and most of all, I had no control over myself. I can't
believe how scary it was to calm down one minute and then "come to"
only to find that I just did it again.
We come back to
the original questions I posed. Because I used to rage like this
often, have rehabilitated myself but have had a relapse, am I to be
discarded? Is it forgivable or have I failed to learn a lesson? If
I have learned and I have applied what I have learned and this is
only an isolated occurrence, should I be counted as a habitual
offender? What is the gamble that I will not continue in my
behavior? Am I wrong for making a cut-and-run decision against my
foe when I am asking for leniency for my offenses? Am I capable of
determining if any learning has taken place in the enemy's camp? Is
my foe worthy of the same patience I am asking for?
I see nothing
but deflection and blame-placing coming from my opponent. But I
also remember a time when I was the very same way and it was not so
long ago. Is this person capable of growth? Will they learn? Am I
willing to wait? Have I encountered a breech that is beyond
repair? Will I be blamed for this breech simply because I used to
cause them and I happened to find this one?
So I can sense
that some of you want all the "good" stuff. You want to know who,
when, where, etc? Well, I really want to give it to you because I'm
still pissed as hell! I've got A LOT to say about this particular
issue. But I'm not going to do that. I hate reading those
"personal message" blogs where people are having flame wars within
blog posts. Most of you know enough already, and to be honest, this
blog isn't about me getting out a few barbs. I wrote this up to get
some of it out of my system. I made a conscious decision not to do
the flame war thing so I concentrated on my input on the events.
I did a lot
wrong. I may have been reacting to things worth reacting to, but my
reactions were all wrong. I lashed where I should have turned away
and I care where I should give up. Fighting a futile battle is
honorable if you can do it while marinating your dignity. At what
point do you have to lay down your arms and walk off the field
because both sides of the war don't want you involved?
If someone is
at war, but they don't know it, and you try to defend them against a
smiling enemy who is defeating them without alerting them that there
is a war, do you become the only enemy to both sides?
Tuesday, 9.23.8
Hell exists.
It is Miami. Satan's throne is the Miami International Airport. It
is 4am and it is 86 degrees outside. It is not much cooler in the
terminal. The woman on the speaker tells me (every ten minutes)
that "unattended baggage will be removed, towed or destroyed". Then
she tells me again in Spanish. Every fifteen minutes she comes on
to tell me, "The current, local time is: three, forty five, am".
Current. Local. Two unnecessary words in that constantly recurring
announcement. I do not expect to hear what time it was in
Bangladesh 27 minutes ago. Patience has gone out the window and
sanity is close on its heels. I do not know how much longer I can
fake this smile. The next random passenger who just stops suddenly
while walking in front of me is getting bowled over.
And they aren't
passengers. Wanna know a secret? The airport hires these people as
extras to walk around and make your life just a little more hellish
while you travel. There are people walking around this place from
one end of the list to the other. Some are dressed like a fashion
model and some are the walking dead. It's like Halloween all year
long. They root through all the lost baggage and play dress-up,
then they walk around for an eight-hour shift just to get in our way
and to ask silly questions like, "Is the 'Military Lounge' just for
military people?" Ummmm, yes?
And who in
their right mind walks into the airport with a full upright bass
without a case? I saw a guy checking a sailboard into luggage. The
thing was twelve feet long! One woman came in with a four foot tall
framed picture of Jesus. Nothing to protect it except God and the
airport's plastic wrap service. For once I have more faith in god
than I do in technology. I give up. I really can't
take much more. I really have gone crazy from the heat. I need a
drink, I need a vacation, I need a bullet in the head.
Sunday, 9.21.8
For those of you who noticed the
change in the top border, it's all about baseball today...
Well, much like when the pitcher
allowed ten home runs in a single inning, it's the end of an era.
(Sorry, couldn't resist) A day I have heard about for a few years
now and just shuffled to the back of my mind, hoping it wasn't
real. The final game is being played and then they are tearing down Yankee Stadium. I'm not a rabid sports
fan and I don't even follow the Yankees as closely as my father and
brother. But I grew up on Yankee baseball and I stayed true through
the 80's when they couldn't win a game to save their lives.
So now I can add another thing to
the list of wishes/goals I will never accomplish. I will never take
my daughter to Yankee Stadium. The new stadium will be magnificent
and I'm sure it will carry on the tradition, but it just isn't the
same place. It's the same idea behind when we drive past that damn
field of trees in some podunk Pennsylvania town and Teresa's father
points out that his dad used to play ball there. Oh sure, there is
a nice new ball field over in town now, but this abandoned lot is
where he played, that's where we point to. That is our tradition.
I've been to Yankee Stadium a lot
when I was a kid and even though I haven't been there in decades, it
was always nice to know it was there. Bumping into random strangers
getting the tickets, buying a program and a hot dog and then hitting
that tunnel. Walking through the dark tunnel with the light at the
end of it, holding my father's hand. Getting to the end of that
tunnel and seeing the lush green of the field, the bright blue skies
and that fabled facade in between them. Taking in just how big the
place is and how EVERY single big name I ever heard of has played
here. The giant NY behind home plate...
Yankee Stadium will go on but it
will never be where I saw Dave Winfield being heckled and then
cheered by the same drunk in the same inning. It won't be where I
stood up and yelled "Buckwheat!" when they announced Eddie Murray.
It won't be the place where I ate potato kinish with my dad and it
won't be where I sweltered through a loss in the July 3rd
heat, only to listen to Dave Righetti's July 4th
no-hitter on the radio the next day... Most of all, even if they
carry on the tradition, it won't be the place where I fell in love
with Frank Sinatra. Walking out of that place after a win,
listening to "New York, New York", it just moves something in you.
It's the closest thing I have to a church and I will miss it.
Saturday, 9.20.8
Catching up...
I worked too many hours this week.
I had to be up during the day to meet with the contractor and TSA,
and then had to be up all night while the work was going on. A
typical work day last week consisted of me being up and at the
airport by 9am, crashing at the hotel around 5pm, writing reports
and e-mails until 7pm, arriving back at the airport by 7:30 and
working until 6am. Then writing up the day's activities and trying
to get a couple hours sleep until I had to be back at the airport
around 9 or 10... It's been a rough week and I'm feeling
drained in all possible ways...
I have napped at the rest stations
and have drunk my weight in Mt. Dew. Nothing makes this long, tired
drive bearable like AC/DC. If that band is good for nothing else,
it can keep you awake with its raw simplicity. Roll down the
windows and sing at the top of your lungs. I know you like
more complicated arrangements, I know you like "better music". No one's listening,
allow yourself to rock out!
I can't wait to go to the next "blink 182" concert and yell,
"Play Freebird!!!" Awwww, too Soon?
They say you should "kill your
heroes". What if they kill themselves? The more I listen to the
new Metallica CD, the more I wonder why I ever looked up to Lars
Ulrich. I wanted to be him when I grew up, now I'm grown and can't
understand when he stopped giving a shit. Every performance on the
new CD is phoned in. Watered down and gasping for air. I can play
everything on this CD without skipping a beat and I'm not even any
damn good. The CD is better than anything they've done in the last
20 years, but it's still pretty weak. Cream puff metal. It looks
like its solid, but it's empty on the inside. Empty and
unsatisfying.
A couple of months ago I put up a
link to a recording we did for a primitive show/podcast type thing
we tentatively called, The Fat Bastard Show... It was a silly show
with a few of us just sitting around talking shit but that's the
same format of about half the podcasts I listen to. I put the link
up there and asked you to e-mail me with comments (good and bad) and
that I wanted to improve it and do it on a semi-regular basis. The
overwhelming silence told me that I was in over my head and should
never entertain the notion of being audibly creative ever again. I
admitted defeat and shelved the thing as a failed experiment. I
mean, I didn't even get ONE e-mail telling me I suck.
I know I don't have hundreds of
people reading this but I figured at least one of you would jump at
the opportunity to tell me I'm bad at something... Now, a couple of
months later, at least three of you have asked me when I was going
to do another show. You liked the first one and want to hear more.
Where were you people when I asked for input? My fragile little ego
shattered by the deafening silence and now you tell me it was worth
trying to improve upon? I'm too damn sensitive for this kind of
manipulation ya know... So, maybe I'll try it again, because I really
think it could be good if we got some kind of direction and some
decent recording gear.
I'll leave it to you guys. It'll take at
least four
e-mails telling me that I should try again. No e-mails, no
show.
The creative writing process is
always feast or famine with me. Recently it has been feast, but
I've been too damn busy at work to write any of it down. When I do
have time, I'm too exhausted to concentrate. It feels like starving
for a month, then killing an entire herd of buffalo and only being
able to carry out 10 pounds of meat. The rest is going to waste and
I desperately want to keep it all!
So this was a short session of
getting caught up. A lot of the ideas I noted down or blurbed into
my recorder seem unimportant now or more likely, unintelligible.
Man, when I tell you I was tired this week I mean it. I haven't
been this tired even at festival or cons or even back when I used to
stay up for three days at a time. I guess the age is catching up
with me. Thanks for all your well-wishes, I'm still younger than
most of you out there so I'll never feel "old". Until some of you
die off, then I'll feel REAL old, and scared, and lonely... How is it
I can take a happy moment and find the disturbing elements in it?
Not that aging or birthdays are difficult to find sad moments in but
I've never been one to worry about my birthday. Good or bad, it
comes and goes and we mark another year. My body sees birthdays as
analog; our society sees birthdays as digital. 17 years 360 days
old, you're still not legally 18. Even though a few days won't get
you much closer. So Happy Birthday to Teresa and the dozen
or so other September babies I know. September/early October seems
to be a common birth month for a lot of people I know. Hmmm... What
were our parents doing on New Years Eve?
Wednesday, 9.10.8
Bunch of random stuff for your
entertainment. And by entertainment I mean the feeling you get when
you look at the animals in the traveling zoo and wonder why they
don't put those poor animals down. But you still keep looking at
the monkey through the glass walls.
First and I would guess most
importantly, we're all still here. The CERN super collider didn't
fold the universe in on itself and now we have ALL KINDS of cool
sciency stuff to look forward to. Of course, we still have to wait
until next year for the real collision test. If my zillions of
hours watching movies has taught me anything, it's this: The
initial test always goes smooth. In order for the big
test to work without catastrophic problems, we have to guard against
three types of individuals:
The evil handlebar-moustache-wearing
villain bent of revenge or global domination.
The comic book super genius that
wants to use it for some other noble-but-selfish purpose.
The jealous colleague that wants to
make us look stupid in front of the professor.
From awesome science and life/death
stuff directly to greed: I need $300 for statue bookends. The
Sandman/Death 20th anniversary statues are out and they
look sweet. Like always, I'll look at them and dream about them for
a few weeks and then I'll forget about them. $300 for bookends? I
don't even have a living room couch yet.
I worked late last night, watching
the electricians core drill the floor. There are several types of
people in this world. Some of them solve problems with a hammer,
and then there are those of us who ask, "Why is that monkey beating
that highly technical and calibrated equipment with a hammer?" It
was difficult to watch. Not surprisingly, there was a lot of down
time. When the equipment finally broke down, we weren't even half
way done.
But that meant I had a lot of time
to sit and watch the checkpoint in action. I hear a lot of people
complaining that the TSA is counterproductive and ineffectual.
Well, I have to agree. They were pulling people aside all night but
the only ones I remember were two or three elderly people, an Amish
family and an island woman with a large headwrap. Yes, an Amish
family of eight. That's its own little mindfuck isn't it? Why are
the Amish flying? I see them all the time in the airport. Ok, back
to the idea at hand. Which is, if you don't fit the mold, you get
"randomly" searched. I'm noticing these people getting pulled aside
all the time. To be fair, they are pulling people aside all day
long. Am I noticing the unusual ones? And what percentage is
getting pulled aside? Let's say thirty Amish people go through the
checkpoint. If all thirty get pulled aside, that's a tiny fraction
of the day's count but it's 100% of that type. I know they say it's
random but I doubt the hell out of that.
I have deciphered the Homeland
Security color code. For years we have wondered why they used a
Kindergarten color scheme to tell us how much deep shit we're in.
Now I will tell you what it all means. The first two colors (Green,
Blue) we'll never see again. They are there just to give us the
sense of danger all the time. The top color (Red) is there so we
have something to elevate to in the event something realty happens.
That leaves Yellow and Orange. Yellow is for the general public to
be cautious but Orange is special. Orange is for the airports.
Yeah, check that out. The country is on Yellow but airports have
been on Orange for the last two years. You know why? So the TSA
can see orange and treat us all like we are wearing the Guantanamo
Bay orange jumpsuits. "EVERYBODY STAND BACK, HE'S GOT 6oz OF
SHAMPOO!!!!"
"The
right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers,
and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not
be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause,
supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the
place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."
I didn't write that, if you're not familiar with that phrase, you'll
be the first sheep in the slaughter.
To top it all
off, the work schedule is trying to keep me locked in to Miami this
weekend. Now a lot of you are coming over to the house this weekend
for Teresa's party (her new house, her party...) She is in a panic
that I won't make it home in time for the party. I'll be there. I
may not get there before you do, but I'll be there. So, in
consideration of this, please don't mention that the lawn isn't
mowed and the weeds aren't pulled.
This new house
has turned me into that guy that gives a crap about his lawn. I
always hated those people, now I have become one. I don't go
overboard yet but I do mow it all the time, I trim and edge and even
use the weed eater. I adjust the sprinkler timer according to how
dry the lawn is that week and I have even been seen spreading
fertilizer and weed killer on the lawn by hand. If you remember my
last lawn, you won't believe the change. The old house looked like
they filmed "Lawrence of Arabia" in the front yard. All sand, the
only greenery was weeds. Now I'm concerned that you guys will see
the lawn without it being mowed in two weeks... What have I
become?!?!?!?
I'm dying out
here without my drum. Oh sure when I go home I have my drumset and
Becca's drum to play but I really miss MY djembe. The head blew out
on it a couple of weeks ago and I haven't been able to replace the
head yet. I tried contacting the guy we bought the drums from just
to keep continuity and if I'm buying the head through the mail I
might as well throw the money at someone I know. But I haven't
gotten a response so I started looking elsewhere. It's hard to find
an honest source for a goat pelt on-line. I can find 10 websites
right away, but none that I'd trust with my credit card number or
even trust that the pelt will be in good shape when I get it. So I
started looking for it here in Miami.
You are met
with a lot of curious looks when you are a white man down here
looking for something like a djembe head. I'm such an outsider
here, I don't belong to either of the two major groups that know
about this stuff. I don't share their religion so I'm not really
"in" with half of them. I'm not a frat boy looking to get high and
talk about the oppressive government and their conspiracies so I
don't fit in with the other half.
I went to one
drum circle here in Miami a couple of months ago. It was at the
beach and it was huge. I'd guess 200+ people. But it was amazingly
polarized. The people that formed the core were their own little
group and compressed the dancers in to a tiny space where they all
but danced in place, unable to move. They were very good drummers
but the dancers looked trapped and I didn't see how they got in or
out of the circle. Then there was the flotsam that surrounded the
center core. They weren't organized at all. Just beating the drums
with no sense of cohesion. If you could stand that, you had to deal
with all the screaming kids running around drinking, getting high
and throwing bottles. It was like a "Girls Gone Wild" video shoot
with drummers. And contrary to my love of drums and breasts, I
really can't stand the GGW commercials, why would I want to hang out
in one?
When the police
finally showed up and started handcuffing people I had the strangest
thought. "When they handcuff me and throw me in the back of the
police truck, what will happen to my drum?" Fortunately I never
found out. I just walked away and they never said a word. I will
not be returning. But I will be disappointed if I don't get a new
head in time to get it mounted and tuned in time for AutumnMeet.
There are several people that I will miss if I can't drum with them
and for them. I really love our time together and if I miss out on
it I'll be crushed.
I have
abandoned my quest to collect the Billboard top 100 songs from each
year. Not only was it expensive but it was pointless. I only got
angry listening to it. Pop music is not my genre and when I do hear
a band I can enjoy, it's always the worst possible song. And this
is for a couple of good reasons. The song may have been good when
it came out. But if it is on the top 100 of that year, that means
it got a LOT of radio play and in my head, that equates to being
played out. I don't want to hear the same song over and over
again. Van Halen is one of my favorite "party bands" but if I ever
hear "Jump" again I'll kill someone.
The other
reason I get so upset at the good band/bad song is also just as
irrational. David Bowie has put out a lot of good songs. "Let's
Dance" is not one of them. Aretha Franklin is a goddess. "Pink
Cadillac" is a heresy against her. Prince is an amazing musician.
He is capable of rock, blues, funk, jazz. "When Doves Cry"
showcases almost none of his talent. What do these three examples
have in common? They were pop songs on a pop chart. They made the
list on the same conditions I condemn them for. Also, it goes by
year. To be fair, "Pink Cadillac" was probably the best thing
Aretha sang in the 80's. They are empty, soulless songs and the
musicians are capable of so much more. But it's a pop song list...
When I listen to the playlist and Information Society or Wham comes
up I don't get upset. They were pop bands and I never expected
anything out of them. But when a good band plays a crappy song I go
nuts. Life is too short for vapid music and my wallet is too
shallow to pay for nostalgia.
That's it. I'm done
being your caged lion. Go gawk at something else for a little
while. Better yet, go do something productive. I'm stuck
here writing reports, eating fast food and watching
government-funded incompetence. Even better than that, go have
a drink for me.
See ya!
Saturday, 9.6.8
I just woke up from the coma. I'm
exhausted and I'm wondering why drugs are illegal. Hard work and
sleep deprivation are perfectly legal and have the same effect on my
brain... Does "tired" have a color or a taste?
So now that I'm finally up, it's
time to start thinking about packing up my bag and heading back to
work. I was hoping Hurricane Ike would stir up enough concern that
I'd get to stay home a couple of days, no such luck. Considering
how the storm looked early in the week, it's probably a good thing
it didn't make that direct hit...
Getting caught up in my podcasts and
iTunes and music in general. I just got the new Metallica album.
Well, it took them 20 years but they finally put something out I'll
buy. I haven't had the chance to listen to it in depth yet but on
the first listen it sounds like something I'll probably pick up.
1988 was the last time I bought their CD. Everything else that came
after that sucked so badly that I just couldn't bring myself to pay
for it. In fact, if it weren't for Fred, I wouldn't even have it in
my collection. It was all shit! And maybe this new one is shit
too, but it sounds like it has potential. Definitely not as good as
"Master of Puppets" but then again, what is?
And I'll leave you with this little
nugget. Maybe something you already know, I didn't know this until
last week. You know that psychedelic 60's song "I Just Dropped In
(To See What Condition My Condition Was In)"? They used it in "The
Big Lebowski". Well it was done by a band called The First
Edition. Their lead singer? Kenny Rogers. Yeah, go back and
listen to it, it'll mess you all up.
Friday, 9.5.8
Rosemary's Baby.
Michael Bay.
I'm just too sick for
words...
Thursday, 9.4.8
I've been writing up things for the
last few days but haven't had the time to post them. So today
you get four for one!
Today's 'WTF' iPod moment:
Joni Mitchell; "All I Want" followed
by The Sex Pistols; "No Feelings" followed by Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg;
"Mendelssohn Concerto"
I swear, leaving my iPod on random
is better than all the drugs in the world.
A couple of weeks ago I mentioned
how much I love the band "Rush" and how even when the song is bland,
it is still good because of the precision. Well my love for "The
Sex Pistols" falls on the farthest extreme of the spectrum where the
music is bad but there is so much passion, intensity and energy
behind it that it is beautiful. Passion counts for a lot in music.
The Sex Pistols and Joni Mitchell are very different but much the
same. Both of them are extremely passionate about the content of
their songs. And Sonnenberg is capable of moving me to tears with
just about anything she plays.
Wednesday, 9.3.8
Tell me that if her name was
displayed as "Sarah Palin: DEM" instead of "Sarah Palin: REP" she'd
be called a hero instead of a bitch. Politics is a game that I just
refuse to play. That's why I always end up looking for a job every
few years. I refuse to kiss the right asses, play the games. I
figure my work should stand on its own, but that's not how the world
works.
NOT that I'm coming out as for or
against Palin, I'm just involuntarily inundated with the coverage
and commentary from the conventions. I really don't care weather
she's any good or not. She's a game piece. She was the gamble the
party played to counter the novelty vote. Those people that would
vote democrat just to make history with the first black president
can be seen as fair game again because the republicans have their
own history making candidate. Once the old man kicks in,
Anna-Nicole can be the first woman president.
So I want to stay away from the "me
first" circus and Bob Barr is a fucking joke. Who can you vote
for? Freddy writes in "Henry Rollins/Ice-T" every election. I'm
going to take a page from his book and I'm writing in my own
candidates this year.
At a glance it would look like I'm
backing McCain/Palin but look closer, there are subtle diffrences... I think.
That's right, Tigh/Roslin. What
have we got to lose other than the end of humanity? If we're going
out, I want to go out led by a Cylon skin-job and a Kindergarten
teacher!
Tuesday, 9.2.8
Jerry Reed, the man that sang,
"Another Puff" has died from emphysema. Son, that's rough!
Don
LaFontaine is also dead. He's the guy responsible for EVERY damn
movie trailer that starts out with, "In a world..." I hope he
thought ahead enough to record the narration for his funeral
service. "Coming this September, in a world without the movie clip
guy..." It should be a hit!
I wish I
had something funnier to say... But I don't.
Monday,
9.1.8
I broke the rule: never sing along
at the top of your lungs with Guns N' Roses while driving. You
can't sound like him, I never will.
If you do sing along at the top of
your lungs, please make sure your new cell phone doesn't have a
one-touch redial button on the side. Your supervisor doesn't need
to hear your whining Axl Rose impersonation at 4:10am...
I watched a movie on Friday. One of
the guys I work with down here brought in a DVD and said I should
check out the movie. I had never heard of it. It was called
"Taken" and starred Liam Neeson. The movie was alright. It had a
few guttural moments in it that made me want to see the bad guys
die. But the funny part was that it was obviously a bootlegged
DVD. How could I tell? The Korean subtitles were my first clue. I
couldn't turn them off but you quickly learn to ignore them. I
could turn on the Spanish subtitles over top of them if I wanted but
the movie had no English subtitles. Which made it real interesting
when they spoke in French and Albanian for minutes at a time. If I
could speak French or Albanian, or if I could read Korean or Spanish
I would have figured out what they said. In the end you didn't need
to know. It was a shit movie. Bad guys kidnap girl. Girl's
estranged ex-CIA father hunts down the kidnappers and rescues the
girl. Many people die. The end.
The ending did seem tacked on
though. The father learns to let the daughter move on with her life
but saves the day by getting her a miraculous audition, the end. It
was too much of a happy ending. Especially since I really expected
the whole kidnapping to be orchestrated by the father just so he
could rescue her. It just felt that way and I honestly think that's
how they ended it and maybe the test audiences didn't like it so
they tacked on the happy ending. I hate Hollywood, they wrap
everything up so nicely...
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