Friday, December 9, 2011
So, in light of all the hoopla about the upcoming election, I have been thinking of what I'd like to see in a leader for our country. The conclusions I have come to are not promising. First, those who are our ''viable'' options seem to have more in common with each other than I can accept. If these people are truly for the people and by the people, why don't they resemble anyone I have ever met? Why are we allowing ourselves to be divided by a party, or a color, or nationality? Why do we only want to fight for those ''like us?'' Especially when those that are encouraging the fighting never get their hands dirty, and don't really fit the image we have of ourselves anyway. I am not sheltered, I've met many many people, some that I like and some that I don't, but generally if someone in normal life was as boring, self-serving, corruptable and narrow minded as the majority of our leadership options we would ignore them, vilify them, or have them committed. So why is it acceptable in politics? I find it funny that we as a culture get so upset when one of our lackluster options does something like molest an aide or cheat on their wife, but we breathlessly watch reality(and I use the term loosely) TV garbage and cheer the same type of people on. When did we culturally become such sheep that we will look the other way, or worse, openly support the kind of insanity that leads to getting involved with other countries' affairs while we have children starving in our homeland? I'll tell you why. Because most people are so complacent that they expect to be lead, and if you have never lead yourself, you don't know the qualities of leadership. If you don't know the qualities of leadership, you can't lead and therefore accept the word of any mindless self-serving hack with a penis, money and family connections. Those that are truly innovative and working for common good tend to be stuck in a menial job just to feed themselves and family, where creativity and nurturing are ground down to that fine powder that is blown away by the sands of time. Don't get me wrong, the answers I have would lead to mass destruction, upheaval and change, and we as a culture only accept that if we have an enemy to blame it on. No one wants to take responsibility and say ''Hey, look at this mess. Boy, we have fucked up. Let's stop electing these shitheads. Let's have some middle class here. Let's ask those on welfare what would be the best way to make themselves independent. How can we fix this?'' Instead, we keep reinventing a square wheel and wondering why the damn thing won't roll. Because people lost the idea of thinking for themselves when the family unit was replaced by the Tv unit. Because if all is not well, ignoring it or throwing money that doesn't belong to you at it doesn't fix it. Because it's about time that we are represented by someone who looks like us. Because this isn't working.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
So, I have a new old car. This car has a sunroof. I've never had a sunroof before, therefore I forget and leave it open all the time. Thus, things can get in at will. Rain, leaves, etc. I have explained all this since the etc is the problem. I was driving to work and to get the kids from the ex, and I felt what I thought was a lock of hair across my forehead. In a natural gesture, I brushed it away, and for a split second I thought my hair had fallen out. Then I realized what I was clutching was not my prized mane, althought that might have been an improvement. Oh no, in my hand sat a wolf spider. Now, I have an unnatural fear of spiders in hair due to an incident as a teen, so I did what anyone else would do. I slammed on the E-brake and took my foot off the clutch, and before the car even stopped bucking I had thrown myself out of the car in a desperate manuever that probably should have involved helmets and landing gear, and proceeded with the screaming, hair tearing hysterics. The spider had sensibly long since fled. Mid-fit, I realize I am blocking traffic at a 4-way stop sign in a fucking school zone. There must have been 50 people watching, gape-mouthed, as I danced around rending my hair. I did what seemed senseable and took a bow, re-entered the car, and continued on. Oh, and I havebeen closing the sunroof.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
So I promised some people that I would get back to this. Here it is. Well. That was anticlimactic. So lately I have been going through some changes. Not the ones physically, athough 30 is looming ever nearer. Mental stuff. I have found that I have been having some interesting conversations, read some good books, and generally been happier now that I have decided that making people like me is'nt my responsibility, that there are as many sides of a story that there are witnesses, that people are a mess everywhere, and that messes are'nt always the end of the world. Not to say that I can't still have appriciation for a white Bronco with the plate NOT OJ, just that sarcasm does'nt rise to the surface quite as easily as it once did. I suppose it helps that mortality is not just a social construct anymore. I get it. I've seen it. As is'nt one of those try-it-on-and-return-later goods, I am thankful for that. Watching the news the other day seemed like one of those spoof reels, Japan followed by Charlie Sheen. No wonder I am reaching for the inner peace. Seems odd that other than donating to a cause, the best thing I can do to help the world is staying out here in the ass end of nowhere and planting giant sunflowers with my kids. At least then we are'nt out pulling a Gozilla on the world, rasing Young Republicans, or impeding fair trade. Hopefully gardening has also not been suspect for bombing nations, ruining civilizations, or the Macarana.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
My job has awesome perks. I get paid well, it's union, I get to do the hardcore workouts I am too lazy to do otherwise, I see really hot guys often enough to be relieved to not actually have to stoop to talking to them, I get to do what I enjoy, some of the things that are asked of me are hysterical, but best of all....are the people who pay all this money for a show ticket, and then obviously spend the day before heading to the venue playing pin the tail on the way too short skirt obviously designed to flatter that corroding Ring-Ding receptical with all the unappealing characteristics of two 7 lb Jello molds with cottage cheese hips as accessory scarf, complete with fishnet tights which when worn as conneseurs like yourself prefer, in a size that can only be described as criminally ambitious when viewed through the horror lens of your flesh making a break for it through the holes as if your chubstumps were anti-porno braille. This ever classy tribute to bubble wrap perfectly illustrated, as only re-runs of national disasters of epic preportions are wont to be by your eye-catching(and dragging) Grimace-purple clingy top obviously chosen to be the topper on this obscene bakery item you have chosen to reveal to all and sundry by a simple alteration to the bottom of the shirt with your handy kitchen shears, thusly making the pendulous jelly roll that frames your waist as flatteringly as a herpies outbreak in a Cancun bordello seem even more right for your personal fashon Armageddon when balanced by your frosted-wheat curls painfully shellacked into a air-raid helmet that leaves all trailing in your wake gasping as if in a Raid and Shower-to-Shower cloud of spray-can induced world harmony. And Oh! You have brought a guest. He certainly seems to be enjoying himself, decked out in clean duds that almost clear the crack of his ass. It's almost worthy of a religious ceremony, but while all decent dice-toting Princess Leia worshipping chronic masturbators are heading for the auditory slaughter of the local emo band, you, Sir, are a leader. It's obvious that your dedication to Star Wars is not going to be quelled by a puny toy collection. No, you are a warrior, as determined by your firm grip on your World of Warcraft action guide, lest some poor unfortunate be afflicted by the audacity to try a snatch-and-grab on the Holiest of Holies. Your stand as proudly as your donut-seat cushion will allow from its near surgical grasp of your Chewbacca-worthy nether mounds. Stand tall, bask in the victory! You and your Date-A-Wreck are almost certain to be mistaken for stars of the silver screen. She for her wonderful rendition over the dessert buffet of Violet, the ponderous near-tusked hooligan who turned the same flattering blueberry color only affected by elderly Asian males and your particular sub-species as so elegantly displayed in that gluttonous family favorite, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And while your made-for-TV star is not yet on the rise, I will take to the streets to defend your honor, since it is blindingly apparent that through a terrible misjudgement your role of perfection was cast to another, a second-rate crooner who did nothing to improve his lot while you would have charged ahead, giving valor to the show in your spot-on method acting in Life Goes On. For you, sunshine, the only limit is your mother's stolen credit card.