Sarah Palin, First MILF of Stockdalian Proportions

The desire to write on this subject is like the consideration one takes when deciding whether or not to tug one off while at half mast. Certainly, I could follow through with my Olson twin fantasy and leave a white-on-white splatter in my bathroom sink for my gypsy maid to tell my fortune with, or, quit fiddlin' the fiddler and keep watching the Couric-Palin interview on YouTube. Tough choice but, rest assured, there is a solution.

Perhaps I'm a leftist minority when I say that John McCain is a friggin' genius! The moment he announced Sarah Palin as his running mate, all media scrutiny of him practically vanished. All he has had to do is sit back and play puppet master, allowing the political left to make fools of themselves. First in line were the feminists, angrily shouting that her selection was an insult to women across the nation. Their assumption that her selection was an attempt to draw women toward the McCain camp is just as myopic as what they are accusing our little elfen POW of in the first place.

Johnny-boy, you have impressed me, sir. You see, ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call free advertising. With Obama raking in nearly double the campaign dough as McCain, the old codger really has to budget his campaign smartly. One thing the last two elections illustrated was the power of the religious right mobilizing the vote over the apathy of the left. US Democrats also have this fantastic talent of opening their big yaps and making so much noise that we quickly lose sight of what's happening. The more we cry foul that Palin's selection is a shocking insult; the more we hear about her uber-christian-conservative values; the more pictures we see of her spread out on a bear-skin rug; the more we see her shrug at intellectualism; the more we see her flex diplomatic bravado ala Theodore Roosevelt (remember, he was REALLY fucking popular, and still is); the more we see her flash those gams and show a little cleave while nibbling on a pen cap or a Starbuck's straw; the more we see her demonstrate prideful ignorance about things you can't read on the paper place mats at Applebee's, the more she ultimately resonates with the political right that was threatening to abandon McCain. Let's get real here, does anyone really believe that McCain actually thought Palin's selection would fool the women of America? That's just silly. What he has done is solidify the entire political right, and will attract a sizeable flock among the female swing voters who are that stupid (Lynn Forester). Bravo, sir!

"But Hugh, what was that about the bear skin rug?"

Yes sir, you have a good eye! McCain has also demonstrated his remarkable taste in smokin' hot babes. Sarah Palin comes straight from the pages of BookwormBitches.com. Indeed, a tasty MILF. Hard to believe she pumped five units through them narrow hips (there must have been some surgery involved). Makes me want to see them in action. For every female swing voter Palin sends to the Dems, three fellas are getting in line to poke her hole on the ballot.

This Thursday evening, Mrs. Palin will throw on her best pantsuit, her patented coiffure, a Berretta tucked in her belt, and square up with Joe Biden. I can just imagine her staff prepping her for the show backstage:

*Slap!* "SARAH! This is important...you can't fuck this up!"

"What do you mean? I'll just have him fired...teehee!"

"No, really, you're going to be asked very hard questions out there tonight...harder than the ones Katie Couric asked you. Also, you'll already be standing still, so you can't stop walking to gather your thoughts."

"Katie was a bitch...I want her fired."

"You can't have her fired just because you looked like a rambling idiot."

"She was using black magic on me...can I say "black magic"? Or should I say African-American magic? You just can't keep track these days...can't say colored, can't say eskimo..."

*Slap!* "SARAH! We have 45-seconds to showtime...you CAN'T pull an Admiral Stockdale out there!"

"Who?"

"Aww jeez. Listen, if you can't answer the question, don't try to wing it. Just give a giggle, arch you back, and kick up a heel."

"I'm good at that!"

"I know, you'll be fine. Remeber, what's the difference between a Hockey Mom and a pitbull?"

"Lipstick! I know that one too! Tee-hee!"

"Aww...go git'em tiger!"

Have You Been Stimulated Lately?

Well, it has been a while since anything substantially infuriating, or ridiculous, has happened to me. But, as always, I can count on my federal government to pull a stunt that could either leave me feeling entertained or completely disturbed…it simply depends on my mood that day. Before today, the most poignant of such moments occurred just before the 2004 re-election of that dog-fucker in the Oval Office...this being the absentee ballot fiasco detailed in a previous posting.

Now, recent federal efforts seem to have instigated a flash of déjà vu. Thinking back to the 2000 election in which Schrub sealed a victory, electoral impropriety and Ralph Nader’s sabotage aside, over Al Gore with the promise to give every tax-paying American a check for $300. A friend recently pointed out to me a scenario, from her native Toronto, wherein two grocery stores battle an issue that usually requires the expense of a human resource: cart return. Both stores charge $0.25 to use a cart. However, one store gives the quarter back if you return the cart to the automated rack. The store with the refund policy does not require some unfortunate 15-year old to go out into the snow to wrestle a one-ton string of steel shopping carts, whereas the other store continues to require the services of some poor minimum wage slave. Indeed, the power of the word “refund”. All it takes to exert pastoral influence over a patronage is a quarter…their own quarter, at that. She makes a great point in suggesting that Bush paid way too much for those votes. I’d be curious to see liquor and tobacco profits in the second and third quarters of 2001, I know I bought a few extra rounds after I got my check.

So, being overseas now, I generally don’t receive unexpected mail that I haven’t initiated. The other day, my lovely brings to me a letter from the US Department of Treasury. Apparently, I am a deserving recipient of the Economic Stimulus 2008 legislation passed earlier this year…White House initiated and Congressionally (Democratic majority, mind you) approved. Yes, another check for $300! Bartender!

The beauty of receiving such an absurd waste of public funding doesn’t stop with the fact that this “Economic Stimulus” was received in Indonesia. Being a teacher means I really make squat in terms of income and, with my bona fide residence existence overseas, fall well under the $84,000 mark before I have to pay any taxes. I did file a return, but was not required to pay any taxes for 2007. The beauty of the situation is that the legislation is written such that the “stimulus” was worded to be a tax rebate. As anyone who’s ever paid too much for a computer at Best Buy knows, you actually have to pay something to receive a rebate. I love it! I don’t pay taxes, and I get money sent to me, in an effort to help stimulate the US economy, in a developing country.

Nader is an Employee of the Republican Party or How to get an Independent Elected

What the fuck?! I can't believe he's doing it again! After recovering from my year 2000 presidential election induced drinking binge, I swore up and down that Ralph Nader was an employee of the Republican Party. My friend at KBOO in Portland was taken aback when I declared my conviction,

"Hey man, you're too young to be that cynical."

Well, my good hippie friend, I am sad to say you are too old to be that wrong, the same shit is happening a third time. He did it in 2000. Again, in 2004, and let me remind you of the integrity of our federal government wherein I received an absentee ballot from the US Embassy in Cairo and when I was writing in my vote I noticed that Vice-President was spelled, and I kid you not, V-I-S-E President. And now, again, in 2008, claiming some malarkey about all the Democratic candidates being too supportive of big business. No shit Sherlock! How else is someone going to obtain the tens of millions of dollars necessary to campaign for the highest government post in the land. They have to kiss some ass. And he went on to say that he isn't taking away any votes from Democrats because nobody would vote for a warmonger like McCain anyway. Imagine me stunned silent, and sharply blinking arrhythmically. Nobody would vote for him? When I went back home to visit in 2003, and during my visits in subsequent years, I couldn't get over the grandiose level of flag waving that had permeated, and still does, American Society. Everyone is a potential enemy. What? you don't trust those folks south of the border? Here's some red, white, and blue tortilla chips to stick in your Mexican salsa, they'll get the picture! As a child, I was in the Boy Scouts, as Tom Lehrer labeled "those noble, little bastions of democracy", and know, first-hand, the psyche we're dealing with here. A population so rattled by fear of an enemy that is over magnified in the fucking media to become this evil force looming over all. Does McCarthy ring a bell? All a government official has to do is use the word "intelligence" and we're ready to murder every Muslim on the planet! An interesting society we live in when we are frightened by intelligence. Back to Nader, that motherfucker.

*taking deep breath*
*holding it*
*slowly exhaling*

I must apoligize for the profanity. This is just a bit much for me to take. A man, who has made a career out of doing things that are noble and just for society, goes and pulls a stunt like this...repeatedly. Me? I blame dementia. I met a feller like this once, on Amtrak. A sweet old man who seemed to have this endless string of tales about colorful people and their amazing adventures. Each vignette was triggered by a bright flash of light that flicked past the window of the speeding train. All stories unconnected and so utterly fantastic...he had my complete attention. He was so cute, I just wanted to stick him in my pocket and save him for my next acid trip. When my jaw would get stiff, my surroundings fuzzy, and I was assured that everything was one, I would pull him out of my pocket and let him take me to a magical land where everything was down-home and made of bubbles and marzipan. That someone can be so captivating and seem so lucid, it simply sweeps away all rational integrity and excuses complete insanity. His daughter then leaned over and apologized to me, "It's been getting worse over the past couple of years." She then took her colorful father to the bathroom for his round of meds.

"Say-a, Ralphy boy! How ya gonna pay the rent this month?"
"Well, Norton, I'm gonna run for president!"
"But, doesn't that require money? I've heard it's expensive."
"You see my dim friend, that's just it! All I have to do is make a couple of speeches to a few college students, avoid the mass media, and the Republicans will give me all the money I want!"
"Aw Ralphy boy, you sure got this one figured out!"

Not that Ralph Nader is personally lacking in financial capital. In fact, he has smartly invested in a variety of corporate equities, money markets, and mutual funds. However modest his wealth, he clearly understands the role of Corporate America. So, why bite the hand that feeds ya Ralphy? Nader pushes a rhetoric of socialist revolution, most of which I COMPLETELY agree with. He's critical of big business and the current distribution of wealth in the United States. He is openly critical of the political left not being left enough, I applaud this. However, he falls short in rational talents when considering his own self as a potential candidate for the executive office. He lacks the charisma and wide-spread national support, the two most important elements of any leader, regardless of political platform.

Now, Ralph is an intelligent guy and should be capable of recognizing the relevance of such characteristics. These are the elements that get things done. Jimmy Carter is a perfect example of a man with good ideas and poor leadership. Only a certain type of animal is successful in this environment. Hell, even Kennedy had to get his head blown off before people really began thinking highly of him. Then, it took a slime-ball like LBJ (my favorite president) to finish the work Kennedy never would have been able to complete because he just didn't have the required support in Congress.

Many progressive thinkers, including Ralph, have stressed the importance of greater political diversity in the federal government and efforts for third party candidates have been numerous, some have even caught the public eye. However, at best, these bids have been symbolic. Bush has been suspected of intentionally destroying civil liberties in an effort to symbolize the ills of a strong central government. Such an accusation is a serious one because it implies a direct assault on the American people, or mechanisms used to protect the American people. I believe running symbolic campaigns are just as dangerous...little need to search beyond the last eight years of idiocracy to find the reason why. Nader also likes to add a statistical dressing to this salad claiming that 25% of his votes came from Republicans, 38% came from Democrats, and the rest wouldn't have voted at all unless he spoke up. I didn't know you could lift that information from an anonymous ballot. I guess he needed to justify his new source of income.

"So, Hugh. You think you're so fucking smart, what would you do?"

Well yes, I do think I'm smart. And, indeed, I'm composing a conundrum. How can we get a genuine, tree-huggin', granola munchin', Chairman Mao lovin', socially active hippie off of my couch and elected? Easy, pack his nose full of coke and dress the fucker up like a frat boy.

"Fuck you Hugh! What you got against Greek life?"

Nothing. In fact, the cultural attitudes of the ancient Greeks on male homosexuality might even be construed as progressive by today's standards, if they didn't include a parallel disdain for women. Now, with respect to the fraternal tradition, many great thinkers and contributors of all things beneficial have worn Greek letters and pins, attended silly parties, and participated in meaningless cycles of humiliation and other generally offensive behavior. It's sort of like a wolf in sheep's clothing approach to subverting the system. I believe an agrarian reference is appropriate here. For some strange reason, the nice coiffure, clean shave, and power-tie combo seems to win people over. If you look like Erroll Flynn, it doesn't matter how many criminal charges or underage sex slaves you have under your belt, people will trust you.

Whatever it is, Ralph just doesn't seem to have it.

There's something about looking like an accountant during tax season that diminishes confidence in a population. Honestly, if Ben Stein and Don Knots had a love child, you'd get Ralph Nader. The idea would be to find someone who can talk Ralph's talk, but is nice to listen to and good to look at. This is where the frat facade is key. More so the case than positive contributors to society, fraternities have a remarkable history of producing just the sort of person with the talent to bull shit back into a steer. It goes a little something like this:

"Ms. Cow, are you sure you want to leave that behind? For twenty dollars I could pack that back in there for ya!"

"Well, thank you kind sir. Gosh, how could I be so blind? I don't know what I was thinking. This is so bovine of me. Where would I be without someone like you to stuff shit back in my ass?"

"Ms. Cow, our company is proud of our customer service record. I imagine we'll be seeing you again tomorrow morning."

"Or maybe sooner!"

So, what you do is begin your search in a high school. Find that kid. You know, the one with the trench coat, cargo pants, Korn t-shirt, and that 24/7 scowl. He (that's right, no chicks, we're talking reality here...nothing says lesbian like a female socialist and, politically, gay is still not fashionable unless you're a designer) should be relatively pimple free and not have any weight issues (no doughballs or meth casualties allowed). The proper candidate should come from an upper middle class family with a well camouflaged dysfunction and terrible secrets. Though not violent, he should be sympathetic to peers with violent tendencies, as well has a strong disgust for "the man". Both of which help develop a strong revolutionary foundation. A grade point average of 2.75 should be acceptable as the ideal candidate will not, likely, have the greatest level of academic integrity due to low self-esteem and an eager sense of rebellion against the senseless demands of the system. Because suicide is popular right now, you may want to select a large pool of potential candidates. Inform each candidate that they are being selected to participate in a plan of general deceit and social derelict with the express purpose of rocking the boat. Convince them to trade the fatigues for LL Bean and get them in the gym. It is important to have a good physique to gain the respect of your peers. Usually, if they are athletic, basketball is often the game of choice. Either way, they should be engaged in a physically aggressive environment. The military is not an option as it will certainly conflict with future associations. Perhaps, some cosmetic surgery, or dental work, may be necessary.

Get them into a university (preferably a competitive one) and convince them to treat the necessary fraternity experience as a game of deceit. The fraternity will help them establish connections, give them support when they start their own NGOs after grad, and give them access to a cache of hot smokin' babes to help their image. They should run a double major of Communications and Political Science and they should read a lot of Chomsky. Get them involved in as many public service projects as possible, giving them considerable practice with social interaction and developing their public appeal. After grad, they should begin a string of NGOs, each of which they secretly run into the ground. These are currency for image. Get them work with a socially/environmentally conscious corporation where they quickly achieve executive status. This is the launching pad into public life. You have a dedicated, left-wing advocate, with corporate appeal and a smile that goes "ding!" Get enough of these guys into the federal government, and we have a ballgame.

Anywho...until next time the news pisses me off or I'm so inspired.

Hugh

Who Moves on to the Next Round?

I find it shocking...well, maybe that's a stretch, I don't really find anything all that shocking anymore. I find it interesting that...well, here we go again, I'm generally turned off by the fusion of popular culture and politics that typify this supercharged media existence we collectively, but only somewhat, experience. I mean, really, who can actually absorb the volume of media required these days to make an informed decision about politics? I won't succumb to apathy, I will vote. But, for who? And why?


A couple of years ago ,when Hillary and Barack were targeted as the most likely candidates to duke it out for a Democratic nomination, during the prime of the Schrub administration, my heart sank. At the risk of sounding both racist and sexist, I was, and still am, firmly disappointed in the political left of our nation. Granted, Barack Obama's rhetoric about change is encouraging, and Hillary Clinton comes with Bill (though not much else), a man I respect and admire. However, in the middle of such delicate international and domestic politics, this is not the time to test the waters of social equality. It's not that we don't need more diversity in our government, we really do. But I'm convinced that if we put a gender, or ethnic, minority up against a good ol' boy, we are going to have another Republican president that will happily continue to support the ass-fucking our country and world is currently receiving. But we can't help not watch it happen. It's absolutely impossible to tear our attention away. It's like that bloody wreck on the side of the road that you can't peel your eyes away from. Only, it's immediately outside your window and you're stopped in a traffic jam. All of the gore, the little chunks of bone and tissue dribbling down the jagged fissure of a broken steering column; the bloodied baby still crying; the dead mother with those half-open eyes and that impossible posture, balanced on the pavement...then you hear an announcement on the radio:

"This is Ryan Seacrest reminding you not to miss tonight's exciting episode of American Idol: Season 7. That's right, last night it was the guys, and tonight the girls are going to show their stuff and give you a chance to vote which one could give Simon Cowell the best hummer. Tune in tonight at 8/7 Central to find out who will move on to the next round!"

You look at your watch and notice you only have 20 minutes to go.

As you, my dear reader, may now know, I have a television. I went for six years without owning one. Now, after countless hours of watching the fabulous Kimora Lee Simmons on the E! Entertaintment network, I am completely unable to comprehend what the hell I did with my time for all those years prior. I generally switch between about four Networks (E!, Star World, Discovery Travel & Living, and CNN with a BBC or Al-Jazeera chaser), but pay for thirty.

Lately, I've been watching American Idol. It's on now as a matter of fact. Perhaps, it is the cognitive anesthetization keeping me fom thinking about other things more relevant. However, today's news about the Clinton-Obama debates in Texas, that assuages any trickle of hope for intelligence or appropriateness from our press corps, has me happily gulping groomed bubblegum and pop-culture idealism for a new generation. Apparently, Barack Obama is a person to "beat". Now, they didn't say "lynched", but this is the era of political correctness. Without any other intellectual stimulation coming from the Associated Press, I turn my attention back to the audio-visual morphine pouring out through the satellites that are NOT currently being shot out of the sky.

"So, Hugh. What do you expect, you arrogant fuck? Can you think of something better? Do you think you could do a better job?"

Yes, but I'm far too lazy. I can barely contribute to this damned blog more than a few times a year (I'm working to change this). However, I think the answer can be found in American Idol. There is a striking similarity between this popular culture phenomena and the presidential race. Despite waning interest in reality television, American Idol stills captivates the minds of those with access. The parallel in the presidential race lies in a lackluster interest in the political process, an argument well supported by statistics in comparison to other developed democratic nations throughout the world. Americans don't vote. But, damnit, we fucking love our gossip and dirty laundry. Don Henley even wrote a hit song about it. Not that we'll actually make it out to the polls,

"Oh, I was at work." (actually, a sadly legitimate excuse)
"My vote doesn't count."
"I don't like the choices."
- insert bitch-ass excuse here-

but we love to have something to talk about at the water cooler. And what could be better to make us feel thoughtful, or part of a citizenry, than being up to date on the current goings-on of the democratic process. Like, who has been eliminated this week? Will Huckabee stay the course and upset McCain? Will that sassy rocker chick from Indiana pull through? Will Clinton and Obama join forces and run together? Will American Idol blow everybody's mind and launch a new super duo like Peaches and Herb or Captain and Tannille?

Personally, I'm vying for a Survivor-esque primary where all candidates are dropped off in Newark with nothing but an eight-ball and a block of government cheese. Once again, I think the Dems have an advantage. Obama might start a youth group where the kids can turn the eight-ball into a profitable venture, or Clinton can turn tricks to buy another one. Huckabee certainly wouldn't last long, though McCain could potentially offer us an explosive demonstration, closely resembling Rambo IV, as he soldiers his way to glory and eventually takes Jersey City as well. Nothing but pure entertainment for the whole family here. All I need now is an agent and a studio...there's money to be made here folks...drop me an email.

A Day at the Beach

Yesterday morning, I was greeted with an annoyance, a rain shower. No surprise though, it is the rainy season...the cost of living in the tropics. You see, karma has this particularly twisted way of making automatic withdrawals when you live in a place where the temperature rarely goes above 90 or below 80. More on karma later.

It is averaged that Jakarta (more so North Jakarta) has a good flood once every five years. It happened last year, and again this year, almost one year later to the day. The good thing about this flood is that it could be a lot worse. Thankfully, there are no raging torrents of water rushing downslope; no flash flooding to compromise the electrical grid creating an extremely dangerous aqua environment; no eroding embankments of land holding villages waiting for doom. None of this. The only concern here is the more subtle spread of disease. Jakarta, lacking a significant underground utility infrastructure, manages human waste with the use of open sewers and canals...yay!

Flood relief is also facilitated by these canals with the general concept that all things nasty simply wash out to sea where a more conveniently unseen issue is created. However, these canals have a tendency to get blocked as they tend to facilitate a means of garbage disposal as well as makeshift vegetable gardening...lots of nitrates. So, when the rains come heavy and prolonged, these canals fill up very quickly and join with the more shallow tributary sewage ditches lining the roads, flooding everything in between to make one big brown river...Mmm! I'm lucky. I live in a high rise with a mini grocery and cable TV (at least until the power goes out). I have a healthy cache of rice, pasta, and meat, so I should be all right in case this lasts a few days...did I mention it's the rainy season?


So, while the lesser valued real estate turns into a post apocalyptic water world with small children floating around on stacks of used nasi goreng styrofoam plates, those of us more fortunate get to wait it out in our high and dry environs. This is where the karma issue should kick in. How secure are the pipes bringing us our tap water? Ought we shower? I'm looking forward to growing an additional limb. Or, perhaps, a new cancer that brings me special morphine-induced powers for about six to eight months. In actuality, I'm waiting for the zombies to gurgle up from the chunky depths and begin to wet their appetites with the well-to-do. I think I could last through about five or six of them, maybe, with my new campung machete that was ground from a suspension ribbon. Yeah, that'll stop the zombies. Them fuckers ain't gettin' my brains!


Oh, wait, there's the alarm...it's a quarter after cocktail! Enjoy!

"Haters" Unite with the O'Riley Factor

Yo, why you hatin' b?

Before I begin, throughout this piece, you will randomly see the text phrase "Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban"...please treat it as an annoying piece of code you would normally ignore in any other IT situation. Its use is simply a desperate means of attracting web hits.

My intent is to, perhaps, prove Bill O'Riley right on one account...explanation below.

I looked up from the computer a moment ago and noticed that Fox News was on...*shudder*. Completely accidental, I did not have control of the remote. I hopelessly reached for the remote control, digits flailing, but the laptop was too heavy. The bitter irony here is, living in my new location of Jakarta, I actually pay for my cable service (no more climbing telephone poles for me)...I pay to receive Fox News. - Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban - There is actually a transaction that takes place - yes, voluntary exchange - that includes my being able to watch this programming (word choice intentional). Today's smattering of intelligence insulting banter was a predictable deluge of slander against the "liberal" media.

Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban

The word "liberal" has become a popular tool of criticism, used by the political right to describe anyone who exhibits even a modicum of tolerance for anyone whose life style or political point of view differs from what Pat Robertson might slur between highballs and lines of coke off a 14-year old boy's bare ass. - Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban - It's one of those inside jokes that took me a while to get, not because I'm an idiot, but because I'm not on the inside. I know people who take offense to this usage of the term. I've always found this interesting because such media is not directed to a general population, but a to demographic of people who explicitly identify with this brand of rhetoric.

Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban

I don't take offense for three reasons:

1. These "liberals" they speak of are a little too far right for my own flavor. I'm a registered socialist...and even those green schmucks come off a little candy-assed for my taste.
2. If I were listening to one of these programs, it was by accident and I deserve to be insulted.
3. The root of the word liberal is "liberalism", an early 18th century brand of political-economic thought that most closely resembles the present "conservative" political right. Knowing this rather obscure bit of trivia, I even find self-proclaimed "liberals" a little silly...one of my own little inside jokes that nobody gets.

Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban

The O'Riley Factor is apparently a rather popular show. I'm not sure if it amounts to dedicated viewers, or the addition of horrified passersby who can't tear their eyes from the bloody, twisted wreck of intellectual integrity displayed before them. Anywho, the phrase which caught my attention this evening was not "liberal", but the use of a current nomenclature of popular culture: Bill O'Riley, completely straight faced (not sure if I could even do it) replaced the word "liberal" with "hater". Upon hearing this, I looked up to see a picture of Al Franken as a radio show host with the tagline of "liberal media", or something like that. I promptly lost interest in delving deeper. However, I couldn't shake the "hater" comment...especially when he used it repeatedly throughout the segment while interviewing a communications professor from a respected university.

Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban

So, how is Bill O'Riley right? Generally, intellectually arrogant people (like myself) have a rather grim outlook on the level of intelligence of the general population. I believe Grand Old Bill (B has a P sound in the Arabic language...another inside joke) feels much the same way. This is why he, and his "news" colleagues, devote such considerable effort to thought provoking dialogue and critical political commentary.

Bill O'Riley transcends sub-urban

I am of the belief that he thinks his audience is a touch slow, and I tend to agree. So, to better with those less literate, he's loosened his power tie just a little bit, turned his ball cap to the side, and started droppin' k-nowledge for all da shorties out there. Good job Bill. Way to honor those rating points.

...as Bush openly supports murder, freedom reigns

“He pulls the weeds and he does the chores,

runs both ways to all the stores,

he works up an appetite that way.”

- from “Roly Poly” by Bob Wills

So, it’s something like this: An afternoon out shopping with the family, right? Ok, fulfillment of the American dream in the consumer’s paradise. Mom and pop stores are a thing of the past. Jerry’s Hardware has been closed for years ever since Nick Johnson bought into an Ace franchise option. But today, even Nick is thinking of throwing in the towel. First, it was a Pep Boys. Then, a Wal-mart moved in just off the interstate. Then a Home Depot moves in on Portage Rd…and now a Lowe’s. Nick’s alright, though. His retirement is near, the college trust funds have long since been spent, the house on the lake is paid for…life is good.

It doesn’t make much sense to take the kids for a trip to Nick’s. It’s a small shop where kids simply have difficulty relating to the concept of community.

“Mom! I found…”

“Honey, I’m talking to Mr. Johnson, just a minute.”

“MOM!! C’mon! Hurry up! I wanna show you sumthin’!”

Children don’t recognize boundaries anymore. A broken 27-button video game controller has replaced the age-old errant flying object that went into the neighbor’s yard, on their roof, through their window, etc. Unplugged downtime represents a maddening absence of external stimulation that indirectly keeps pharmaceutical shareholders and customers grinning from ear to ear. So, how do we accommodate? We build them “safe” and organized spaces to run.

Public parks are simply NOT an option anymore. Swing sets, teeter-totters, and jungle gyms equal broken bones and the inevitable braining. Those wide open fields where the children could run free and truly release could have a hole where the little precious could turn an ankle. And, don’t get me started on the perverts. Besides, in a public park, who do you pass the blame to if your child gets a bump or a scrape? The 1950’s construct of the nuclear family and suburban living is downright barbaric and uncivilized. At all times, a suffocating radius of fifteen feet, from parental unit(s) (the nucleus) to the brat(s) (electron(s)), must be maintained for the vain pretense of parental control. In today’s progressive age, such proximities in open public might actually require actual participation in play…no, no, no…what if you’re seen!? Note to self, refill Xanax script. Nope, a proper “family” environment requires separate and easily discernable activities for each, child and adult.

We return to Nick’s Hardware. Chances are, he doesn’t have a foam box or urine soaked ball pit in which to deposit the electrons. And you don’t need to get just a paint brush or a length of two-by-four. You need to restock the toilet paper and juice box supplies. The Lunchables and Hotpockets are also getting dangerously low. The lawn appears to need fertilizer and most importantly, you must NEVER forget, any atomic movement that does not result in a mini-breakdown requires positive reinforcement (toy/video game/fast food, or any combination of the three if not satisfactorily included in the kid’s meal). And the toy store is on the other side of town.

Traveling from one small shop to the next simply isn’t feasible in this new age of renaissance suburbia, acreage, and consumerism. One-stop shopping, discount prices, the geriatric greeters at the door foreshadowing your own pathetic destiny, the delicate ballet of SUV’s and minivans in a prefab, over-planned corporate nightmare “intended” to make life better. Lovely. The kids just don’t give a shit. In this day and age their time requires more external stimulation than the world could ever promise. Eventually, their intelligence becomes more sophisticated, though, short of an understanding of economic efficiency, and so do their reactions to inevitable boredom. The result…well… Columbine. But who’s thinking long term these days? Ya know?

So, fuck it! Let’s build the biggest goddamned store we can…one you can see for miles (half of which is parking lot), and it has EVERYTHING. Sam’s Club, Costco, not just Walmart but Super Walmart…what used to be satisfied by modest department stores now requires sprawling monoliths of consumer opportunity. Fifty years off from the last slurp of the straw in Saudi and we still can’t get enough. It’s a vicious cycle, larger vehicles are required to carry the increased sizes in packaging, and these larger spaces encourage greater purchasing in an effort to fill them. I find it interesting that the level of obesity in children is increasing as the surroundings only promise bigger and bigger portions.

One could ask, “Is this increase in consumerism and corporate growth dogmatic?” Buddha always appears rotund very content when depicted. Classical descriptions of Heaven promise endless human pleasure and consumption. The opposite end of the road has been illustrated by tales such as Tantalus, who is forever reaching for grapes that are always just out of reach. The Greek gods consumed ambrosia, of which the Betty Crocker equivalent is a marshmallow and fruit cocktail casserole. The very foundation of capitalism is consumption. Consumption directly influences and guides politics and governance, which is steeped in religion. So, with the transitive property…OK OK! My logic is critically flawed. But one has to ask, what drives this?

The greatest irony is this: the ultimate store has already been built. The Internet is acquiring new vendors at a blinding rate. So, when we finally drain our fossil fuels and those carbon guzzling vehicles sit dead and leaking in our manicured driveways and streets, will demand still require those stores and their parking lots? Will the empty husks be cast away and lands recycled for community and recreational purposes? Goodness, will the children of tomorrow actually be able to play outside if the land isn’t used for cars, trucks, SUV’s, minivans and shopping centers? For those of you with children who do play outside, thank you. Don’t ever let them lose that.

VOTE BUSH/HALIBURTON 2008!!!

Yet another mile marker on the road to Hell

One can get to know their neighborhood simply by waiting for the bus in the morning on the way to work. Though a formulaic methodology, the worker drones plugging along in their daily routines can present a nice and predicatable cadence you can depend on for structure and assurance that the fabric of reality, though threadbare, maintains its integrity. You see the same faces, behaviors, quirks, etc.

Every once and a while, the picture changes a little. A new face appears. An old face is no longer seen. You might make an association that you never noticed before, such as family dysfunction or, if you're really lucky, a seedy love triangle (this type of thing is more akin to life as a retail clerk in a shopping mall).

My neighborhood is a rather upscale collection of people and their stories. The one I pay closest attention to is the market for private education as the various busses from a variety of language, international, IGCSE, and American diploma schools (all with their names in bold lettering and color combinations on the sides) weave a complicated knot through the web of streets in my area. Busses in various stages of depreciation give a keyhole view into the marketing strategies and levels of success experienced by this growing market of proprietary educational instituitions.

One such bus, the school must be a national one as the lettering is in Arabic and I'm to lazy to learn to read it, is an older model and tells me that the school is likely underfunded. It's in dire need of a new paint job, the balding tires could probably be replaced, it has a layer of filth coating the unusually large windows...likely a leftover import from European communist block nations. Air conditioning and curtains are obviously not an option with this model. Every morning, near my own bus stop, it picks up a teenage boy with Down's Syndrome. My guess is that this is a school for children with developmental conditions.

Ok. The going to Hell bit.

It's the retard bus! The short bus. The little yellow straight jacket that SPED through the neighborhood. It, but mostly its passengers, is the object of insidious ridicule by cruel teenagers and the tragically uncultured. But if you've ever been there, laughed at a joke, donned a particular mug mocking the challenged to make a friend laugh, launched a spit-wad, WHATEVER! You're not that far removed! No matter how much professional training, maturation, the number of relationships you've developed with the challenged and their families, regardless the breadth of your politically correct vocabulary, you are going to see something that will make you laugh (though it might only be internally). I'm sorry, I don't buy the whole "I left that part of me behind" bullshit. It's part of your development, it's part of you. Nobody bought the jive when David Duke made a run for office. Charles Colson is still rubbing elbows with his brethren. I know I saw something this morning that made me laugh. Two boys were in a fist fight on this particular bus as it waited for the child with Down's. All I could do while watching was giggle under my breath,

"The retards are fightin' on the short bus!"