The Random Spoon

The Female Hall of Fame: Rock and Roll vs. Country

2011-10-05T19:18:00.002-07:00

In general, Rock and Roll tends to be regarded as left-leaning, both its audience and its performers. Likewise, Country music is usually regarded as right-leaning.

Of course there are exceptions, but I decided to assume the position and do an experiment. I compared the numbers of female Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductees with female Country Music Hall of Fame inductees.

Here's what I found...

The number of female soloists and all-female groups inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: 21 (out of 253). If you include mixed groups (like ABBA and Jefferson Airplane) as well as duos (like Ike and Tina Turner), the number increases to 32.

The number of female soloists inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame: 15 (out of 125). There is one mixed group and one duo, which would move the number to 17.

Female soloists and all-female groups only:
RRHF: (21/253)*100 = 8.3%
CMHF: (15/125)*100 = 12%

With mixed groups and duos included:
RRHF: (32/253)*100 = 12.65%
CMHF: (17/125)*100 = 13.6%

The numbers seem fairly close, but they do suggest one thing: the conservative value of individualism appears to be more apparent in country music.

If you are a liberal, then it would makes sense to go with the number that includes all women wherever they appear in the Hall of Fame, since they are more about equality than individualism. That would also suggest that there is no political leaning whatsoever. If we actually count heads, however (i.e. Jefferson Airplane = 1 woman, 5 men), then the percentage would likely be much lower.

(Of course if you actually are a woman, you’re probably just pissed that the numbers are so damn low to begin with.)

My Take on the Tea Party, and 4 Tea Party Myths Debunked

2011-09-29T21:51:00.005-07:00

I have to admit that my strong interest in politics has had a big relationship with the emergence of the Tea Party. I became disillusioned by the phony Democratic opposition to George Bush in 2004, and slowly shifted my beliefs to the right. I never let Bush off the hook in my mind for running up the deficit, expanding foreign militarism and turning America into a police state, but I began to see the Democrats in a new light as well.

It seemed to me (and kinda still does) that their heart was in the right place, but they lacked a basic understanding of the fundamentals of economics. They are made up of intellectuals, not businessmen, and so they cannot understand how to create profitable systems that actually work. Everything works in theory for them. That is why, unlike businessmen, they don’t see why an unsuccessful system that they love dearly should have to disappear – not when there’s oodles of money to throw at the problem in the vain hopes that it will fix the problem.

On the other hand, it also didn’t seem fair that corporations could or should get away with becoming unstoppable giants that are unaccountable to anyone, and actually help to eliminate what could potentially be great products that I’d want to buy. I had so much hatred of private markets programmed into my understanding of how the world works, that it took a lot of research on my part to eventually grasp the fallacy of this line of thinking. The more I looked at the actual problems – corporations sending jobs over seas, polluting the environment, taking advantage of tax loopholes and killing mom-and-pop businesses – the more often I would see the work of the government that actually caused it.

The relationship between big business and the government, as it turns out, is like peas and carrots. Politicians getting their backs scratched with campaign donations in exchange for special handouts, lobbyists spearheading legislation that is favorable to their constituencies (like Big Tobacco), and companies (like Monsanto and Pfizer) promoting the kind of regulation that would be more costly and thus harmful to their smaller competitors. These are just some of the unintended consequences of a government that has far too much shit to give away.

But should the government really be involved in choosing which companies get special attention? The Solyndra scandal is only the most recent example of why the answer is a resounding no.

This all has to do with redefining the role of government, which we as a nation are now doing. I never would have thought that changing the way business works in Washington would ever really be possible, but then during the last election cycle, I noticed a guy that was saying all of this. He articulated quite well the new role the government should play, and he was pretty darned consistent about it. I checked him out, found him to be legit, and I know many others did as well. Many of them became the Tea Party. And the man I’m talking about is Ron Paul.

TEA PARTY PATIENT ZERO AND BEYOND

You can’t really begin an analysis of the Tea Party without looking at Ron Paul. He hasn’t gotten as much flack as the Tea Party, but he’s certainly portrayed as Crazy Uncle Jeb by most of the media. It’s believed by many who have heard of him that he is unelectable, and that his beliefs are too radical to be taken seriously.

It is my hope that soon Ron Paul will get the Republican nomination, but even if he doesn’t, he will have been the first to begin the discussion we are all having right now about just how big of a role the government really ought to be playing in our lives. He may be Tea Party Patient Zero (as Jon Stewart calls him), but that does not mean he speaks for the Tea Party and he has never called himself its founder. He is the only candidate that doesn’t need to mention their name to add credibility to himself, as all the other candidates have done.

I remember watching the first Republican presidential debate in 2007 with my friends at a community house I was living in at the time. Everyone in the room with me – most notably my Pakistani friend Haseeb – immediately took a liking to him, just as I did. Towards the end, Haseeb said to me, “he’s the only guy up there making sense.” We all became fans.

At the next debate, we saw Giuliani try to trip him up by calling him un-American for “blaming Americans for 9/11,” and forced him to apologize. I was quite tickled two days later when Ron Paul gave Giuliani a “reading list,” which included the 9/11 Commission Report. The report found – as Paul was criticized for correctly stating in the debate – that our military occupation of Arab holy lands in the Middle-East was probably the biggest reason why our enemies wanted to attack us.

Nevertheless, I knew he was doomed when I talked to my dad about him (who watches Fox News regularly), and he sided with Giuliani. After he later accepted that Ron Paul was actually correct, he had already formed the opinion that he was unelectable.

So when, during all of this election stuff, did the Tea Party come about? Most pundits didn’t register the Tea Party existed at all until around Spring of 2009, but it actually started much earlier. The first big event was probably the protest of Bear Sterns in NYC during April of 2008 People traveled from all over the country to protest the banker bailouts, and it was an early reflection of a growing wave of frustration over Wall Street corruption. And with a Republican administration still in office, one which actually supported the bailout, it is hard to even see how this was a partisan response. Put simply: everyone was pissed off.

Another event happened in Washington that Glenn Beck took credit for, even though it was planned months in advance of him finding out. Later, Ron Paul had a money bomb on Guy Fawkes Day, raising 4.2 million in 24 hours, followed by another on December 16 – the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party – which pulled in 6.2 million. The whole idea of sending a tea bag to your congressman came later.

The Ron Paul run was fun, but I sort of sat it out after that. The Tea Party kept doing their thing, I went back to focusing on my schoolwork and I became increasingly worried that the Tea Party was morphing into some quasi-fascistic nebula of right-wing crazy-talk. How couldn’t I? All of the people on Fox News that I had grown to despise were now praising them, they seemed to be talking about regulating personal business and supporting anti-immigrant bigotry. I didn’t know what to think about them anymore.

So recently, I jumped back in and did some research. I wanted to know: does a real, genuine Tea Party still exist, or has it been absorbed by the RNC with RNC talking points and Faux Tea Party figureheads like Sarah Palin? Well, yes and no.

A FEW THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW FIRST

First of all, any time a “Tea Partier” talks about anything but money, he is off-topic. You can spot a Faux Tea Partier by the scope of his conversation. All of the genuine Tea Party issues concern money: fixing the monetary system, cutting spending, balancing the budget, simplifying the tax code and eliminating unnecessary and costly regulations that hamper private businesses. There should be no talk of Obama’s birth certificate or SB 1070 or gay marriage or any of that crap. Even anti-war discourse has no real place in the Tea Party, unless it’s to point out how much money we are spending on militarism and nation-building.

So with that said, it should be clear that there seems to be either a disconnect within the Tea Party itself, or a grave misunderstanding of it by outsiders and the media. I think it’s both.

At this point in time, the Tea Party has never been more feared and despised. Joe Biden likens the Tea Party to terrorists,
Rep. Luis Gutierrez called them arsonists and Barney Frank compares them to schoolyard bullies who drive teens to suicide. Rep. Emanuel Cleaver called the whole debt deal a “Satan sandwich,” and Maxine Waters wants the Tea Party to “go straight to hell!” And Teamster head Jimmy Hoffa even declared war on the Tea Party, saying: “President Obama, this [the Teamster union] is your army. We are ready to march. Let's take these sons of bitches out and give America back to an America where we belong.” To which Obama responded with great praise, expressing how proud he was of Hoffa and his “army.”

These are all grown adults, and I would hope they would not be saying such things unless the evidence of Tea Party bullying and racism was overwhelming and could cement the notion that the problem is not just a few lone nuts but one that is systemic. I hope that is the case because these are all huge accusations, and they are being echoed by most of the liberals in the media.

THE MYTHS

I’m not going to get into specifics here, I’m just going to summarize. This list of myths is by no means an exhaustive one, but it contains the ones I feel knowledgeable and confident enough to debunk.

1. They are racists.

Anyone who has spent time with the Tea Party would be absolutely insane to believe this. There are at least two big reasons why anyone believes this. The first is the Tea Party protest of Obamacare early last year. It was from this event that most of the rumors began that the Tea Party was racist. Democratic House leaders walked right through the Tea Party to the Capitol building (instead of taking the underground tunnels between the building that were designed to be used in just such a situation) and their aides reported live via Twitter that they were being spit on and called the N-word. The news spread like wildfire, and pretty soon everyone in the media was reporting that some Congressmen and –women were being harassed by Tea Partiers.

Thing is: there’s no proof this actually happened. Several videos have surfaced of the event, and none of them show any evidence that these things happened. In fact, the Weiner-scandal guy has offered a $100,000 bounty to anyone with proof that these things actually happened. And looked at this way, it isn’t hard to imagine why these Democrats (under the leadership of Nancy Pelosi) would want to do such a thing as provoke a confrontation with their political adversaries and fabricate one when nothing ends up happening.

The other reason people might think the Tea Party is racist is a phenomenon known as “nutpicking.” This is when someone with a camera goes to Tea Party events (or scours the web for Tea Party videos) and picks out the nutjobs holding very bizarre and offensive signs and spouting nonsense. These people do exist, and the Tea Party is quite efficient at weeding them out.

Sometimes the Tea Partiers even use force to remove these crazies from events, but not before they’ve left their mark for the evening news. Unfortunately for the Tea Party, one sign reading “Obama is a babykiller” is going to turn more heads than the thousands of “Taxed Enough Already” signs. Added to this are people (usually liberals) who try to make a laughing stock out of them by pretending to be bigoted and ignorant Tea Partiers.

But I have a stress test for you, in case you want to be scientific about your efforts to expose the Tea Party as the racists you think they are: why don’t you find the video of a Tea Partier taking the podium and getting cheered on while he spews his racist filth? At many of these protest events, there is a podium that is made available to anyone who wants to give a testimonial. All kinds of people usually step up to the mic and its open to all, usually. Surely there must be one video or two of some nutjob running his mouth to the adulation of his peers? That would be nice to see. And that brings me to…

2. Sarah Palin is the Tea Party’s leader.

I can see why you might think she is, but she is as far from the Tea Party message as you can be and still be in the same room. She supported TARP – which, if you recall, is the very thing that the Tea Party was founded to protest! Furthermore, she ran on the presidential ticket with a mainstream, establishment Republican, champions military spending, is on the payroll at Fox News and supports the economically dreadful cap-and-trade. And notice that none of these things have anything to do with her character, or the fact that she keeps the guys over a FactCheck.org busy working overtime. These are positions that are antithetical to the Tea Party itself, and anyone with a search engine who had five free minutes to compare her positions to that of the Tea Party would discover the discrepancy.

The same goes for Michelle Bachmann. She is a former government bureaucrat that has profited from government handouts herself and is beloved by the very sort of Wall Street bankers she claims to be opposing.

This is what leads people to believe this next myth…

3. The Tea Party is just Astroturf for the rich.

There may be many well-off people in the Tea Party, but that is a far cry from acting like all of its members are bought and paid for. It is difficult to prove that each and every member of the Tea Party isn’t representing someone else’s interest (although simply going to a Tea Party event and meeting with these people in person might seem like a good place to start). But setting aside the figureheads I’ve just discussed, and the many others like them whose rhetoric doesn’t quite match their record, I’m going to use simple logic to dispel this nonsensical myth.

As I mentioned, the movement began with the banker bailouts, and who but the rich stood to gain from those bailouts? When the common man runs out of money, banks foreclose. When the banks run out of money, they get bailed out. It hardly seems fair.

So carrying this argument further, if everyone who still had money tied into banks, whether it be savings or investments, suddenly saw their banking institution fail, who would lose the most? Those with the most money involved (i.e. the rich). Are we catching on?

As I stated at the beginning, corporations and government are like peas and carrots. If the government were smaller, the super-rich would not be able to profit off of the kinds of crony capitalism I described. They would lose.

At least, the unfairly and unjustly rich would stand to lose. Class warfare doesn’t even need to enter the conversation to see this logic. Genuine Tea Partiers recognize that corporate handouts are just as bad as socialized handouts, and they both lead to class warfare and division.

The argument for limited government is usually and correctly limited to the federal level. No one should be saying that the government shouldn’t be relied upon to maintain our roads and monitor air traffic, the water table and many other things. But why do we lack faith in local governments to handle these matters? It doesn’t make much sense to involve people 3,000 miles away in the decision of what your child learns in school, or what schools to send him to. Even if the argument for government involvement in medicine or education or energy is a good one, why not leave the matter to the states? Not because the constitution says so (although that is a good reason) but because it actually makes sense?

The point is that the super-rich actually depend upon a strong, centralized government to remain super-rich. If government were smaller and more localized, it would become quite difficult to obtain the kind of handouts that make a company like Pfizer a top Fortune 500 company.

That having been said, the fact that the majority of Tea Partiers are middle class Americans is the biggest reason why the Tea Party is a conservative movement, not a liberal one. The middle class represents a big chunk of government revenue – albeit, not as big as the rich, who, despite their efforts, have failed to fully evade paying. It stems to reason that they would be concerned with how their tax money is being spent, just like it’s reasonable to see why those who pay less in taxes would have their sights aimed at those with yachts. But they both are upset about the same things: those who are benefiting from money they didn’t earn and don’t deserve.

If liberals would come to see that their fight and the limited-government fight of the Tea Party are really working to fix the same problem, then real change can happen.

Unlike, say…

4. The Tea Party halts progress.

The Tea Party has become the scapegoat for any failed piece of legislation. Here’s an example of the Tea Party getting blamed for shit, and here’s why that’s stupid. It is as if anytime Congress doesn’t come together on something, the response is now to look around for the Teabagger that got in the way.

Or take the FAA debacle, for another example. Here is just one article reporting on how the shutdown was eventually averted. Notice how it makes it appear as though one lone Republican named Tom Coburn is somehow to blame for shutting down a major government agency, putting over 70,000 airline sector workers out of work for two weeks and costing the government $400 million in lost tax revenue? That seems like an awful lot of blame to place on the shoulders of one man. Certainly there’s more to the story.

And as it turns out, there is. There already was a bill that was set to be voted on, but the Democrats didn’t want to vote on it because it had a GOP provision that would have cut $16.5 million in subsidies. They went on recess refusing to vote on a bill to temporarily fund the FAA knowing that it was going to shut down, and then blamed the Republicans for playing politics! To be fair, they assert that the GOP inserted the provisions on purpose because they knew the Dems would have to vote for it to prevent a shut down, and they’re right. But is this where you want to draw your line in the sand? Letting a much-needed government agency fail just so that you can make a point? Isn’t that exactly what you are accusing the Tea Party of doing? Good job, Dems.

For all of Obama’s talk of changing the way business is done in Washington and how much fanfare he received for saying so, the Tea Party represents what it looks like when you ACTUALLY change the way business is done. Every Tea Party candidate knows that he is scrutinized like hell by his own constituency, and if he tries to turn on them by going along with another stimulus or bailout or any other kind of over-reaching, wasteful spending legislation, he will have to pray for a miracle to get re-elected.

A big tool for this accountability is the CATO Institute’s No Tax-Hike Pledge. Every member of Congress was given the opportunity when running for office to sign a pledge not to raise taxes. Now, they are faced with breaking that pledge to get something done and risk losing re-election. (If you can keep up with it, you can watch a debate here on whether or not this pledge is helping or hurting our current financial situation)

When Congress has approval ratings routinely in the 20's despite re-election rates of 80-90%, you can see how accountability is lost as a priority. Now, with game-changers like the Tea Party involved, politicians, for better or worse, are held accountable. And just as well.

SO NOW, THEN

In summation, I would just like to give you my definition of what the Tea Party actually is, based on my experience and research:

The Tea Party is a legitimate and effective grassroots movement made up of well-educated, hard-working, mostly-middle-class Americans who are rightly outraged by the perpetuation of a flawed monetary system, uncontrollable spending, crony capitalism and over-taxation, and is a movement which, in the absence of any sense of direction on the part of the Republican Party, has become an empty vessel into which to place all of the hopes and dreams of an increasingly fragmented, paranoid and politically impotent conservative right that nevertheless endeavors to continue joining the left in its abuse of government power.

What are your thoughts?

Donkey Kong For President

2010-11-15T02:48:00.002-07:00

Barrels for Baghdad became the slogan for the Great Ape’s foreign policy. It created the most tenaciously petty rivalry between those who wanted an ape who was tough on terrorism and those who wanted Iraq to have some of what they were calling “oil” and what he was calling “a thousand dead Yoshi’s.” The meaning of this latter was not clear to the pundits at the time, but they suspected he might have been a Japanese spy.

Donkey Kong was an unlikely hero in the greatest story ever televised. The (mostly) mute protagonist failed to respond to early allegations of sexual assault on a member of royalty, but not many had realized how exponentially his popularity had already grown up to that point. His candidacy was known to some as early as two summers before the famous election, but it was never officially declared. Most of his positions, in fact, came through the grapevine and never from him directly. His early fans liked it this way. They thought he was a “genius” and a “world wonder.”

One ambitious journalist set out to catalogue the hundreds of positions that had been floating around in the year that followed, and his op-ed became the unofficial platform for what was being called the Konga Line Party. No one was surprised to learn that he was in favor of equal rights for non-corporeal citizens. He also wanted to convert the official US currency from dollars to bananas, as that had been one of his childhood dreams and, he argued, would be far more stable of a currency. He thought that paid mercenaries deserve unemployment benefits when they are between jobs and, according to one very vociferous philanthropist, unpaid ones as well. He wanted to relocate the nation’s capital to a place in the south Pacific, but, of course, no one knew where exactly.

Generally, he was very friendly with everyone who met him and threw parties at his mansion in Maui on a pretty regular basis. When his popularity became evident, he was offered the chance to debate his opponents in a televised debate but declined, instead, to host a party for the now-legendary boxing match between former rivals Glass Joe and Little Mac.**

Not accepting the invitation to debate was considered by all the commentators as a concession and they proceeded as though he was not in the race. It wasn’t until New Year’s Eve, when Time Square was overtaken by thousands of banana balloons the size of small houses, that the press could not afford to ignore the movement. That year, as the ball dropped, the Jumbotron blinked rapidly with the words in 8-bit font: “The Year of Kong.” Millions watched, some to their great horror, as the largest gathering of bipeds since the Million-Man-March cheered and screamed “Kong” beneath a sea of yellow bobbing clouds.

After that, every reporter from here to Timbuktu wanted an interview with the famous hominid that now had such a cult of personality behind him. Most failed, instead turning their efforts to interview what they called “his people.” Garfield, for one, remained mostly apathetic, except that he wondered why the ape didn’t have a sidekick. Kong reportedly hates Garfield, though, as his love for lasagna reminds him of his intense hatred for Italians. Not much is known of the origin of this hostility, but one Sicilian blogger who got too close was given the message by one of Kong’s associates: “if that guinea pipe-fucker takes two steps I’ll rip his ugly wop face off!” The blogger decided not to continue correspondance.

The phrase “a thousand dead Yoshi’s” caught the attention of Dino, which lead Fred Flintstone to become a fan. Gumby, Oscar the Grouch and Crusty the Clown were all reportedly rooting for him as well. The only one to say anything profoundly negative was Mickey Mouse, who, some say, was mostly jealous because he had failed repeatedly to run for office in the past. ***

But as for the tangible voters, they became increasingly confused over the talk they began hearing from the leading opponents. Both seemed to think that they could do a better job than Donkey Kong, and in the eyes of the anti-Kong mentality, this became the only credential necessary to win a vote. No more talk of “appealing to one’s base” or “remaining moderate to gain independent votes” continued. The only issue on anyone’s mind in the final debates was: Can he beat The Kong?

But it was not only Donkey Kong they had to beat anymore. His running mate, Strawberry Shortcake, was much more open to interviews, though the scope of her platform seemed to be limited to one issue: fixing the budget deficit with a bake sale. The public works project, she argued, would create jobs, revenue and love. It was later revealed, though, that she did not realize she was a running mate at all, she just really wanted people to bake more.

Still, she was one tough cookie that the opposing candidates could not bring down with posturing, mudslinging or even debate. “Kong/Shortcake” was the bumper sticker to honk to that summer, resulting in a serious attempt by both candidates to undermine the validity of Kong’s bid for office. Officially, his origins were traced back to Skull Island. However, because this is not a recognized nation, he was declared a refugee until it was decided that U.S.-born Universal Studios owns the property to Skull Island, making Kong a U.S. citizen. Confident that the ape is probably older than anyone alive, he met the 35 year age requirement, and because no law has ever been written barring non-corporeal beings from taking an oath of office, there was nothing for the court to do but to legally grant the ape’s wishes to run for office.

But then a little more than a month before election day, in perhaps the best political strategy ever adopted by any political candidate since Mel Carnahan, Donkey Kong disappeared completely. He had been giving daily addresses to those in his lair, which were being televised on Spike TV every night. But one night, the secretary announced that the Ape would be discontinuing his appearances “here and everywhere, indefinitely.” Those closest to the King seemed to think his departure had something to do with the word “plastic,” but couldn’t tell if this referred to a sought after upgrade, a desire for a corporeal existence, or some obscure reference to Andy Warhol. Plastic seems to have been a Rosebud of sorts for the increasingly depressed ape, and he was wont to withdraw from everything.

So, having burned up so much airtime with anti-Kong ads, both rival candidates suddenly found themselves quite wanting of an image the public now so desperately craved. Kong was hip, he was smart, and above all: detached. All of these characteristics demanded by the clowns with the banana balloons trotting down the town square. Life would most surely go on, whether Washington had a digital leader or a tangible one. It was only after a day or two of mourning for the sudden loss of their new leader that the people began to realize that, present or not, Kong would still have been a better leader. This, coupled with the promise he had already made of a free Slurpee to anyone who voted for him, meant the race was still far from over.

On election day, both candidates offered to bus people to the polls in hopes that they would have their vote, but all of the buses now had Donkey Kong’s smiling face painted on the side. The only thing kids drew in art classes all around the country was a familiar brown furry creature, and the same appeared on high school football fields, bathroom stalls, T-shirts, mountainsides and even the skies. It would not have been uncommon that day to find the rising sound of drums pouring out of the thick trees and parking garages and into intersections and apartment complexes any and everywhere you went.

If there had been any doubt at all that year that Donkey Kong would be the unlikely winner, those doubts ended with the taking of Texas, Colorado, Arizona and the whopping California, which put Kong over the top. He had not only reduced his rivals to losing any chance at a simple majority but, in fact, obtained himself approximately 53% of the vote.

He won.

Pip Lapierre, the campaign manager to the Democratic candidate, had apparently, that day, defected, and was seen that night at the Kong victory celebration in a Hula skirt and jamming on a ukulele. Also, too, were many prominent figures from both campaigns as well as the networks. MSNBC cut their losses and chose a very ambitious and eager janitor to anchor the day’s election results; FOX covered the results on a big board, behind which were two hundred men crying; and CNN mostly deferred the matter to Youtube, where most of its correspondents had relocated.****

There was no military coup that year as the White House made preparations for the primate. Washington didn’t lie in ruins as the revolutionary government began its historic decline toward permanent irrelevance. Donkey Kong didn’t reappear until much later, just before the end of his term. For the interim period, the face of Strawberry Shortcake served as a comfortable but necessary face; a figurehead for the voie nouveau. She did nothing, and she became the best nothing-doer Washington had ever seen. She did nothing better than all but the Kong himself, who remained the truest inspiration to his countrymen for having done so.

When Donkey Kong returned, his address was brief and concise:

“Thank you for electing me. It made me very happy.”

Although he didn’t announce his candidacy for re-election, Donkey Kong won another term in a landslide.

**It was said that the numbers in attendance to the gathering far exceeded those who actually watched the debate.
***Even if he had wanted to endorse Donkey Kong, he had signed a gag order with Disney preventing him from saying anything that might jeopardize the sales of a new gaming console set for release later that year. Nevertheless, the console was a huge failure, due in part, to the concurrent release by an independent competitor of a new PC called the Banana.
****It should be noted that Youtube users “titil8memanparts,” “beiber4prez,” “juicylucy69,” “godluvslolcatz,” and “gbeckfan1984” swept at that year’s highly prestigious Peabody Awards.

To Whom It May Concern

2010-10-26T22:50:00.000-07:00

I always told myself I wouldn't write a personal blog about stuff no one cares about because who likes to read those, really? But nevertheless, To Whom It May Concern, here's a slice of a problem that's been rising steadily to the surface since I don't know when.

Lately it feels like I’m flying out of control. Not my life, though, just me. I’m paying my bills, I’m being happy as a Cheerio to everyone I see, I’m somehow managing to successfully draw together what little plans I can for the future. But ME? Me Proper is losing his mind.

I find myself going crazy, once again pining over questions about who I am, what I’ve accomplished, what’s it all for and what what what. I don’t know why I’m worrying myself with questions that should have been sorted out when I was 16. Everyone figuring out Who they are and knowing for damn sight sure that the acne and the bad sex is just part of growing up. They all get themselves in a straight line: Goths will hang out in the shade, Jocks will be off somewhere showing off their whatever, Drama kids will do Drama and make drama and the Nerds are around somewhere (but surely on campus). I had a worse problem then knowing where I fit or didn’t fit; I barely knew what any of these groups were. I had a sort of vague understanding that one could expect certain behaviors out of people from different groups, but for some reason, just didn’t get them at all.

I didn’t get anyone, actually. Maybe it is explained by how many bullies I had growing up in New York, but I was always just happy to be friends with Someone. In retrospect, I don’t know how many friends I really ever had in New York. Maybe one.

But boo hoo. I sucked it up, because I also thought that THAT was a part of growing up, too. So much of my misery I attributed to growing pains, and coupled with my willingness to just go with the flow and accept any abuse, it was a formula for social retardation. I never learned how to deal with people on any basis, so I choked my way through it. Mostly. I did have, and do have, good instincts about people now and then, which I get from my father, but Christ if I didn’t see anyone and everyone as an absolute fucking question mark. Did he just make a joke? Did I offend him? How? I was just standing here. I JUST DON’T GET ANY OF THIS.

Why does it have to be so goddam hard to connect with someone? I usually assume this is me and, when I’m feeling really pissed, I sometimes don’t. Sometimes, I imagine that everyone is just as pained and alone as I so often feel, but this can’t be true, can it? I see what appears to be happiness in others, and between others, but am I just kidding myself? Are people just mechanical beasts hopelessly bound to simple conditioning and learned defenses that carry the empty promise of delaying the inevitable? It’s at least possible, but I can’t bring myself to believe that. I just can’t.

I didn’t just blindly accept to be a selfless person, though. Not even close. I was raised to be generous and mostly selfless toward others, and that’s how I try to be. I know how awful people (and especially kids) can be, I’ve been through a lot. I don’t usually talk about it (for some reasons that are obvious and some that aren’t), but it’s taught me that if I give into that hatred, it will fester like a weed. I would drive myself to such outrage that I would scare myself and do or say something I’ll regret. That sometimes makes me hate myself, because it’s as much a part of me as the lasagna recipe I learned from my mother years ago. I choose to nurture those parts of myself that make me a nice person, both to me and to everyone else. I chose to believe in others and their individual and collective will and power to do good. I chose this, but there are only two possible reasons why. Either I choose this because it is true and man does possess these qualities which I want to see strengthened, or it is not true at all and I deny this to myself for the purpose of self-preservation. Because if I give in to this latter, how could I continue finding the will to live? Then, who am I kidding? I’m not saying that good deeds don’t exist or that people are incapbable of doing them, but only that there may merely be only selfish ends to be met. Like buying chocolates and flowers because you want to get laid. I don’t like thinking this way, but I just can’t help it sometimes.

I can live with the nightmarish things that happen all the time, and I can accept that even the best men and women possess vices which can drive even them toward the most cruel, heartless and brutal of acts. This is pretty tough to live with, but I can live with it. But what’s getting harder to live with is the cost of this unrequited selflessness of mine. I may see someone in the deepest hole of anguish and pain and want to help them, but it's only going to hurt me in the end to try. Who the fuck really cares if I offer to help? No one wants my help, and there wouldn’t be any reward if I did help them. I would just be risking my dignity for the possibility of even the tiniest ounce of reciprocation or recognition. The universe is presenting me with a mirror, and in it I see a child who just doesn’t get it. At most, I see The Fool. I see Prufrock.

If there was a mathematical equation that would explain to me the variables necessary for answering my social quandary and elevating me to everyone’s social level (and I would gladly accept that I’m the one who needs the lesson), then I would hear it at once. I would learn it immediately, so that I may balance the equation for myself and receive this boon which everyone else besides myself seems to possess.

Just what is it that I am missing? The knowledge about how to appropriately and correctly interact with total strangers? I think I do this just fine, actually. I didn’t used to, but I’m consciously aware of social norms now in a way that was once foreign to me. Yet if I disagree in a group setting, such as a classroom in which everyone seems willing and able to voice opinions (many of which opposing), I always seem to be regarded as the sole individual who mustn’t speak. Even once getting to know me, still there seems to be this black cloud around me that says, in no uncertain terms, “Dear Onlooker: Nice guy, but stay away. Stay far away. Nod and walk away. Sincerely, Your Best Friend.” I’ve seen this revelation evidenced in someone’s face right before my very eyes. They walk away, and I needn’t ask if they have any intention in getting that close to me. Sure they smile and pretend to be interested, but it ends there. No phone calls. No visits. Our social interaction will go no further than perhaps Facebook (from whence my only Happy Birthdays came, save for one), through no lack of my trying.

It is torture, coming to expect this in every social interaction. I go out a lot more these days, but I find myself less close to people, not more. I assure you I make no half-assed efforts these days when meeting new people, but to no avail. My recent trip to Colorado gave me a new zest for life, and something to look forward to, quite frankly. But this is being replaced by a dreadful thought, one that maybe all of my happiness is as illusory as the human connection I crave.

It’s not that I have never been close to anyone. Most of my really close friends are in my past now. And that’s a bit of a cosmic joke, isn’t it? To make something of yourself, you may have to move on, at the cost of those you love. How fucked. I don’t want to go back and live in the past, I just want to know that there are people waiting for me in the future who want to share some great times. I don’t want the mask of the person, I want the genuine person. I’m tired of this modern masquerade, I want real human moments. I want to believe that there are other people who think and feel what I do, people I can get close to. I want to know if everyone else is insane, or if it’s just me.

If I am crazy for feeling like any of this, someone please show me why. I just don’t know…

A Case for Optimism

2010-01-11T21:01:00.003-07:00

I was at work the other night when a gentleman came in looking for a gift card we didn't have. We then started talking about a book I was reading at the time, which spawned an hour-and-a-half-long discussion about all sorts of things. The man seemed vaguely familiar to me, like I'd seen him somewhere. I think if my life was a TV series, this guy would have been a reoccurring character, because I've known and become close friends with many people like him. As a result, I felt I understood this guy inside and out. Thing is: that guy had kind of a fucked up life. I gathered he probably got picked on a lot during school, dropped out of high school, and due to neglect and lack of guidance, drifted through life until finding the bottle, which consumed him until just before he came in to see me that night. And along the way, he had a kid who's now ten. Yet he kept repeating things like, "don't let anyone tell you you can't be who you want to be," and "people just have to be open-minded." I sensed no ill in anything this guy was saying. They were words of pure optimism and forward-thinking, even if a bit misguided and naive on some things. It was refreshing to see someone trudge through life as he did and still find the will to try to be a good person.

Then, after he left, my co-worker began to tear into him. Called him boring and moronic, and all manner of other things. Had not one good thing to say about him or the conversation (and it was a conversation, not just some self-involved guy wanting to hear himself talk; contrariwise, he was quite respectful). I kept thinking, "Him? Really? You go through life and build up an offensive against those who conflict with your worldview, and he's your example?" It baffled me.

It's quite a fishy thing when someone feels compelled to tear to pieces another human being and the work to which he has devoted his entire life and substance. You have to wonder what his motives are. I do, at least. I criticize as much as the next guy, don't get me wrong. The ability to discern one thing from another, and to judge those things according to one's principles, is a large part of what it means to be human. But for me, criticism and the exercise of judgment aren't simply to separate the good from the bad -- it also shows you when you ought to change. In fact, I'd say this is the chief end of judgment: To show you when you're being a dick.

Think about it: how else would you form the beliefs that you do about the world except by learning from the patterns you see in it? You believe in a force called gravity because you see evidence for it in the world. It'd be pretty hard to criticize the belief in gravity, since there is so much supporting evidence of it.* It'd be hard, now, to criticize heliocentrism for the same reason, but it would be easier. Unless you have looked through a telescope yourself everyday for a year and done all the calculations that Brahe did, and worked out all the Kepler's mathematics, then you are pretty much taking a lot of it on faith anyway (and it's not like the earth really moves from where you're standing). You could do all of that to confirm it, and if it is foundational to your belief, as it was to the religious folk at the time of its discovery, then maybe you ought to. But when I use the term fishy, I say that one should be suspect of the attacker's motives to do so, because he might not want to know if he's wrong. Even if he's right, he'd rather say to the offending person, "educate yourself, so I don't have to."

I think a person has already decided if his belief has the potential to change before he even begins his hunt for evidence. Usually, and quite unfortunately, he is more interested in making the world conform to his views than changing his views to reflect the way things are. This is stupid. I don't so much think there is a sinister cause for this, I just think it's fucking hard. Still, though, some people do aim to control the knowledge of the way things work, and feebler minds will follow, always. They follow, usually, because they know no better. They are ignorant. We are told by our leaders, for example, that there exist people who are willing to take their own lives carrying out a violent act of terrorism because they hold the fanatical religious view that we are evil. We get a few quotes from the Qur'an and some dodgy edited video and suddenly everyone's a believer. The most well-intentioned saint falls for it, too. However, a little bit of research reveals how little religious views actually factor in. It turns out, U.S. Military occupation, where Jihad is concerned, is responsible. And one can quickly imagine how it would indeed be easier to bring people to that cause than the one given: These occupiers just don't get how much we don't fucking want them telling us our business. And would you? Of course not. But it takes, first, the courage and willingness to change that belief in the Muslim = Boogeyman way of thinking, if one is to be enlightened on this issue at all. Some have invested quite a lot in that belief, though. If they admitted that it was wrong, then it might challenge other beliefs as well. Could they still hold to the belief that America is a great nation? Does this mean I was wrong to look at that girl in the Burka like she was some backward creature from the black lagoon? Can I continue trusting the voices from Washington and the Television on these matters?

This even applies on a small scale, too, making this issue extremely important. Suppose I've had lasagna five times in my life, and I've hated it every time. Your promise of good lasagna is going to fall on deaf ears. My life has taught me that lasagna is the bane of all existence, and so why would I subject that belief -- and by extension, my ego -- to further testing? Well, try some good lasagna for once, and you'll find out. Contrary to popular belief, I think the ego likes to be proven wrong, but only after the fact. It'll be a grueling and bitter fight to the very end, but once over the hump, you'll find the valley on the other side just a little bit higher than the first. I wouldn't even say courage is all of it either. Training yourself to welcome new ideas with a cautious but respectful outlook is something that takes time. Weeding out false premises and bad foundational principles requires much investment. For me, beginning with doubt helps. Find a primary source and read it start to finish. When asked about his "extensive" research into Adam Smith, Noam Chomsky replied, "I didn't do any research at all on Smith. I just read him. There's no research. Just read it." Say what you will about the man's interpretation of Smith, at least his interpretation is his own.

And it would be hard to form any opinion without cross referencing with the memory of your own experience. What lessons did life teach you? Do you think those lessons are personal or universal? How often are those lessons challenged, and how do you deal with the conflict? Do you ever lose? Can you ever lose? Are you a juggernaut of intellectual prowess and divinity? Why, then, has the mass of society succumb to the greatly cynical and pessimistic notion that humans are rightly doomed to extinction for being the pieces of shit that they are? How does one marry his inflated ego with this Orwellian New Age propagandist mantra? Is there a point beyond which we can't accept the obvious manipulation, here? Who stands to gain from this horse manure of a philosophy other than the leaders and ruling elite who hold vast amounts of knowledge hostage, fueling the fire of our own fears of inadequacy, shame, guilt, resentment, grief and insanity?

I think Roland Emerich epitomized this with 2012. As in the film, there is no science needed to explain the necessary impending doom that humanity is destined to experience. You're only going to get five minutes of that information, maybe, before moving on to the carnage, because you're not here to learn how the world works. You're here to learn that you shouldn't be here. When you see millions of people eradicated in one ten minute action sequence, you better get used to it, because there's two more hours of it coming. There is no hope, except literally the last five minutes. By then, though, you've only been hoping the movie would end, because it stopped being fun hours ago. And yet this is what we have grown accustomed to: The value of the human experience is as worthless as a human can be. The president giving his We're All Going To Die And There's Nothing We Can Do About It, So Just Sit Back and Fuckin' Die speech is the lesson to be learned here. Why do anything at all? But hey, that's entertainment in our modern culture.

It's not that this sense of nhilism and hopelessness is a new thing, but 2012 shows us where it leads. Can you sit by and watch that many people get wiped out and not feel at least a little miserable? Some people are just a little too enthusiastic about the realism of the film's many screaming, dying extras. I think nhilism and dadaism and all the other sad ism's came out of a time of real insanity: The First World War. Everyone was fighting and no one knew why. We still don't know. We think it was because of some Austrian who wrote a really cool indie-rock song, or something like that. So I grant surely that the WWI generation was a traumatized one. They had to ask themselves, "is our bickering and fighting becoming more childish or less?" We quickly polarized and tried it again, without the annoying mustard gas. Maybe it was the efficiency of the Second War that got us to decide this matter. We really did have the power to destroy ourselves, and still do. I believe man has chosen wisely on this matter. The Cold War proved it. Nobody really wants war, and we probably never really did. War must be sold by very persuasive people, and with very compelling evidence. Furthermore, empires and monopolies are becoming more and more impossible. There are no nations and peoples left to conquer or discover, no lands to grab, no resources to monopolize. The taking of either from anyplace in the world is, at this point, out of the question. The last vestiges of this more primitive way of doing thing rests in that which made it possible in the first place: the elite (collectively, the government and corporate elites).

I believe Locke and many other Enlightenment thinkers were wrong about something: there is no "state in nature" of man. Giving rise to the theory of the noble savage, this idea of a man in his natural state is, I think, a falsehood. Man has no natural state. Locke and his contemporaries, for all the progress they did make in grasping at the forbidden ideals of giving rights and freedom to every man**, nevertheless failed to see man as the constantly evolving person he is. The evidence of this evolution of his character emphasises rightly his potential rather than imposes some possibly false ideal (i.e. noble savage). He is an ever evolving being, working in a symbiotic relationship with his world and his environment.

There are clearly greater lessons to be learned, still. Let's not forget how far we've come. You can focus on the Crusades and the World Wars, or you can look at the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution and Einstein. For every miserable circumstance, there is ignorance behind it. I don't think that enlightening oneself to free himself is a cliche at all: It's a fact. Learning stimulates the imagination, and the imagination leads to progress. It is the most disillusioned and hard of heart that can't see the beauty in this process. That we are capable of such things is all the proof I need to pursue them.

*That it exists, and not what it is, is all I'm talking about here.
**Even giving rights to EVERY MAN is something that took time, as well, as the issue of slavery divided even them.

An argument for the future of TV

2009-08-24T15:07:00.005-07:00

Today's entry is about Television. I've been mostly dissatisfied with Television for many years now. Until recently, the only shows that I still watched were South Park and The Daily Show. It's not so much that I think there's nothing but crap on TV (though that's mostly true), but it is very similar to why I don't play many video games: I, like most people, want to feel like the things I do with my time are worth the time spent on them. To some people, playing video games for hours on end achieves that goal nicely. For me, it's movies.

I think it's related to why I'm finding it more and more difficult to draw the line between entertainment and art. If art is defined as a creative piece of work intended to inspire and change us through its beauty and expression, can't we also find that in things that only set out to entertain us? No one who goes to see a hypnotist perform on stage for the first time can truly walk away from it thinking the same way about human psychology, yet those shows are strictly for entertainment purposes only. You need not look further than Buster Keaton, Donkey Kong, Star Wars and Domino's pizza to see just how much simple entertainment can become a part of who we are.

And so in the end, is it just a matter of taste? A preference for one escapism over another? In my opinion, the difference is this: Art seeks to stimulate creativity, while entertainment only provides the experience of it. It's like going to an amusement park and seeing all there is to see. It's all made for you. There's no dialogue, just buckle in and enjoy the ride. In a way, it stimulates the inherent sense of wonder and thrill that we all have within us. No one goes to an amusement park expecting to respond to its sights by making an amusement park of their own (unless you're Michael Jackson), and in their own way. You're not being asked to comment on anything deep or meaningful or emotional, except maybe to yourself. You're giving up the reigns on your imaginative white horse, and riding in the stagecoach for once.

TV and film are both technically passive - neither have its participant actively engaged like video games or participatory culture. But an artistic movie or show is a lot like an essay, putting forth an argument for how it sees the world, and does beg the question, "do you agree, or disagree?" Rather than responding with, "remember that one part where X thing happened to Y guy?", a viewer might instead ask something like, "how does this compare with or conflict with my worldview?" "If I had made that movie, I would have done X, because X is what I believe." "I wonder if we could have/avoid a world like in that movie." A thrill-seeking movie would not inspire such questions.

You might have already realized that according to what I've said, few films are either/or. Most films are artistic AND entertaining. As for TV, I sort of got used to the idea that they ALL must be entertaining. If they aren't, they wouldn't get as high of ratings, which is the bread and butter of television. It is due to this emphasis on entertaining that the natural tendency for a network is to lean towards shows of a formulaic and simple nature. Anything that will get the masses to tune in. The trend, it would seem, is getting far worse, given that one only needs to turn on the TV and find five hundred channels with rarely anything good on. They all follow a formula. This show's got a gimmick. That show has a gimmick.

I didn't realize that many of the shows I watched growing up, like Roseanne, All in the Family, The Simpsons, Fresh Prince and Ren & Stimpy, are all fairly formulaic (and good). Something changed in me, I suppose, to reflect that formulas are bad. It's not true, though.

I suppose it was somewhere around my senior year of high school that I was completely turned off altogether. I was still into a few shows, but I watch them online, and to this day do not own cable.

This feeling started to change dramatically last summer when my friend gave me the entire series of Deep Space Nine. I didn't have anything to lose except exorbitant amounts of time, so I started on the first season. I was pleasantly surprised with the results, and so began season two shortly thereafter. I ended up finishing the entire series that summer. Having voraciously devoured every single episode (with a few exceptions, of which fans know I don't have to speak), I felt like I had experienced the awesome power that long-form cinematic storytelling can have when done right. It is so rare to find a show filled with such interesting characters, incredible situations and ideas, and high production quality. And to continue to put out such great quality consistently is where most shows fall apart. It's hard to keep a good thing going in TV land. Even the best shows fall apart if no one's careful (see Roseanne).

But when a good thing does happen, TV networks don't just sit around and go "look at the pretty birdie" with a thumb up their asses. They take to the streets and monopolize every paper boy from here to Timbucktoo and get them the go meet every single person in the civilized world and tell them "you MUST watch ER NOW!" until finally, they say to themselves "well, Boss, I just don't know why no one's watching the 15th season. I guess it's time to abort." At this point, though, there will be 10 other fetuses to abort too (see Medical Investigation, Third Watch, 3lbs, Inconcievable, Heartland, Saved, and a score of others that are probably going to get the plug pulled soon).

TV likes formulas. They are safe. Got a good crime drama? Let's here it. "Well, it's like all the others, except the guy in this one's kinda different." Alright, Monk. Sold. Next. Got a new sitcom? Famous comedian whose life becomes the subject of a sitcom? That's safe enough for us. According to Jim it is. Next. We want something gritty and raw. Yeaaaah. Let's do NYPD Blue for the umpteenth time. In fact, let's create a network called F/X, which will be like our own little sandbox. We can have all the toys we want, because we have father Murdoch's plastic and permission to make all kinds of pseudo-edgy controversial shows (which is, in fact, OUR formula).

It's a joke, mostly. But that's how it works. Nevertheless, sometimes a show comes along that peaks, amidst all of this tele-political nonsense. Buffy, for example, was quite original when it came along and, for the most part, remained fresh all the way until the end. It had its own share of beauracratic nonsense, having to switch networks of all things, but finished on a good note. Along the way it developed a fan base which could only conceivably be rivaled by Star Trek and X-Files. And it turned a pretty good profit as well, while helping to launch the careers of several of its key players. A pretty successful show all around.

That sort of thing is long gone, though. Today's audience is far too manic and hyperactive to stay tuned in to anything for long. If every show is not grab-you-by-the-balls amazing, there is surely ten other things you could be watching instead. There's just TOO DAMN MUCH on TV these days to be this choosy.

THEN, there's HBO and Showtime. They don't have to answer to advertisers or affiliates. There is no concern about FCC violations or some parent who doesn't want her child seeing this or that. They really ARE free to experiment, and they are not economically beholden to anyone else than their own shareholders. No show's fate hangs in the balance of those who might be offended. There is viewer reception, sure, but none of the unreasonable cancellations instigated by random Baptist ministers in Buttfuck Arkansas (see Book of Daniel). They are free to be more artistic.

Also, because they are paid by subscribers, they can afford to throw everything but the kitchen sink into their programming. Though I'm still not entirely fluent in how it all works with those networks, needless to say, they've got a good theory in play, and it's working for them.

My whole point in writing this article is to say one thing: what keeps networks like HBO and Showtime in the up-and-up these days is likely going to reflect the future of television's economic viability and sustainability. All of the other networks have learned that their shows are inevitably going to become available on the internet, and so are making steps to provide their own outlets via sites like Hulu. ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX have really no choice at all. There is becoming no way for them to make money anymore, since viewers are circumventing every advertising-sponsored medium by means of things like DVR and downloads. Their stuff HAS to be free, or else no one will watch it.

With HBO, it's assumed that you're getting what you paid for. Even if there are ways to find it online, the point is to make people want to come to YOU and watch what you have to offer. They are not producing a product to be passed around willy-nilly. They raise the bar, because it is an evolutionary necessity for TV's survival. The old scheduled-programming-and-paid-for-by-advertisers formula isn't working anymore. It isn't enough. And the premium programming works.

It is this that has partly restored my faith in the television format. There are some economic and aesthetic finetuning demanded by such a format. Most shows on premium networks are not very long. They are short and sweet, usually 13 episodes per season. A whole season is more like a miniseries, with a much more well-rounded arc. There are fewer throwaway episodes, or filler episodes. They are less likely to stagnate, as formula-driven basic television is prone to doing for the benefit of the network's ratings. The incentive is to be bold and experimental, not like Starbucks, where every cup of joe is what you'd expect it to be. Basic and Broadcast networks make their money in syndication (advertising is more like startup capital), and so a show with 24 episodes has stronger "legs" (syndication value) than a shorter show. This pressure for elongated programming is a hindrence if the story would not be helped by doing so. Some stories needn't be that long. Lost is a good example of this, and they know it now, since the final seasons will be and have been made shorter.

The shows I've recently watched included both seasons of Dead Like Me, the first season of True Blood, and half a season of Six Feet Under. Of these, Six Feet Under is far and away the best. I'm loving the experience of watching premium television so much, that I want to document my experiences in a new blog.

I'm not saying HBO and Showtime are perfect. I certainly think they, too, have a tendency to be a little too conspicuously bold, if you know what I mean. Just because you CAN show what you want, doesn't mean you always need to. But, that complaint is far easier to deal with than that of a 7th Heaven-style sedation of free thought. Not everything is roses.

6 June 2009

2009-06-10T18:47:00.001-07:00

When I say that June 6, 2009 was one of the most important days in my life, I don't mean it lightly. I normally write for this blog as though it was a collection of essays regarding random thoughts and ramblings about my perspectives and philosophy on life. I rarely tell stories or anecdotes about my actual life, and I usually don't mention names. I suppose this fact is telling, which is what I came to learn on this very special day. I am now going to break some of those rules.

It actually began at 4PM on Friday, the night before. I woke up when my friend Ben came over, as planned, and my roommate, Brad, he and I went to Bumsted's for some dinner and some drinks. We drove on over to the swap meet (the last remnants of pure capitalism left in this world) and spent what little time we could there before I had to go to work at 8. And after working an 8 hour shift, I went home and watched a movie and waited for my roommate to wake up. We normally chat for a good hour or more about any dreams he and I may or may not have had, and about random conspiracies and sometimes groceries and bills, too.

We ordered a pizza and watched a movie, and then, something magical happened.

I picked up his guitar and began playing a few chords. I had only gotten my first real lesson just two days prior, and having a good idea of the basics, began putting chords together into a progression. I played with it for a little while longer until Brad became so enamored with what I had been playing, that he tried something. He began playing the chords I had chosen, but with extra notes, picking strings here and there, and adding nuances. He created an actual song. Then he began to sing words as well, writing the lyrics freestyle. We had effectively written a song together.

At this point, I was all jazzed up and ready to keep going. My fingers were crying out in pain because they weren't used to playing, but I didn't care. I was in good spirits. It was then that my friend Hallie called me. It was her birthday, and taking me up on my offer to hang out when she was free, she came over for a little while.

She played some music, too. She only knew one song that an old friend wrote, but she played it well, and Brad enjoyed jamming along with it. I was seeing music-making in a whole new light, and one that I oddly enough thought I had already seen before. It felt like I had discovered some new never-before seen color.

I had hardly realized by five o'clock that I had been up for more than 24 hours, but I oddly didn't feel that tired. I felt something on the verge of tire, but not quite there yet. And that is why, when Hallie told us her very peculiar idea for the night ahead, I leapt at it.

Hallie had a plan for the evening, and it was something resembling a mission. Only, like a mirage, the closer you get to it, the less clear it seems. It involved purification of some sort, I thought, and although I don't quite recall how she explained it or how I failed to understand it, I was attracted to the oddity of it. So she left to have dinner with her folks and we waited. We had some time to play a little more music, and I realized just how much more work would go into our little song than I had originally thought, and then got ready.

By 9, she hadn't called and I was beginning to wonder if she would. This planted the seed in my head that perhaps I should heed my body's growing call of sleep and pass this opportunity by. I began to think of every Saturday I've spent for the last few weeks. It being my day off and all, I usually return home upon finishing my Friday shift and sleep some 16 hours away, and before I know it, my whole day off is gone before it happened. I thought of what wouldn't have been possible if I had slept in today, and so I decided I wasn't about to stop while I was ahead. I called her myself. Twenty minutes later, we were taking our startup shots of Cognac at her place.

The first destination was Che's Lounge on Fourth. She explained along the way that there were a series of bars and clubs which, for one reason or another, she was going to enter for the last time. Che's ended up being a sort of footnote on the journey, though. But when we got to Hotel Congress, it all changed.

Now I'm not huge on the nightclub scene, but this part of the night was just fucking fun. And the old me would not have been down for it, I'll tell you that much. When we got our drinks and they decided to go dancing, I found a spot off to the side like I always do, just chillin' and sippin' my fruity-ass little cocktail. But she wasn't having it! It wasn't two minutes before she came and grabbed me and pulled me onto the dance floor.

Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was her, or maybe it was the music, or maybe it was any one of a million reasons why the universe told me to go with the flow that night, but something inside me crept up and said "fuck it!" And that was it. And with her patience and knack for the art of dance, two hours and three cocktails later I was movin' and groovin' and I didn’t care how bad it looked. It might have been a most unholy emission to witness, but by god it was fun as hell.

As we were cooling off outside, we had a most hilarious conversation. I don't really remember what it was about, and it's probably because it was a mix of free expression and complete and utter nonsense. Because, there is one element of the evening which I have forgotten to mention and it ended up becoming a sort of theme for the night.

Back when the sun was still up that day, I introduced to Hallie the ridiculous philosophy known as Pataphysics. To try and explain it, you might as well explain nothing at all. It is the unexplainable, the unthinkable. It is literally nonsense, and its essence is the flatulence of Ubu.

And it was the gasses of Ubu that was on our minds as we began our trek thereafter to find two gallons of water to pour over her troubled head at the night's end. The night took on an extra level of meaning and importance when, after a long cathartic monologue, we baptized her in the name of Ubu.

But more than Ubu, I was inspired by this act of purging emotional baggage that I began to assess my own life in the same way. I also began to reflect on the events of the day and how they highlight my growth as a person, and artist, and as a friend.

I won't go into all of that here, but suffice it to say I learned quite a deal. I often hold myself back by self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy, but now I'm pleased to say they just aren't warranted. I've proven myself capable as an artist before, and the fact that I show promise as a musician after only seriously working at it for a matter of days says something. I'm not just the passerby, the critic, who watches all of those around him continuing on to greatness and excelling in seemingly everything they put their mind to while I sit in the backseat the whole time.

My most cherished philosophy, that of humanity's ability to rise to its potential, I've seen reflected poorly in my own life up until now. I've struggled to make this the cornerstone of my life, and while I've usually felt like I was failing in this regard, I'm ready to be tested. When I embark on my last year at college and attempt to make my thesis film the best it can be, I will prove what I'm truly capable of.

If nothing else, I sure as shit won't sleep through it.

The Brew: A Fictionalized Documentary in Three Acts

2009-03-26T02:32:00.002-07:00

I have taken upon myself the very difficult task of attempting to create a satirical essay film using only archive film. The film is actually for a documentary class, but I'm starting to realize that if I'm going to succeed, I must think of it more as a fiction.

That sounds contradictory, but it actually isn’t. Because, what is a documentary, anyway? Let’s start there. A friend and I once debated the subject for several hours and arrived at this definition: An internal narrative that tries its best to reconcile with external objectivity. The "internal" can mean any number of things, but the important thing I want to use for this post is the term "narrative." Anyone who is a documentary enthusiast will tell you that documentaries have narratives just as fiction does, and so the two are much more closely related than one might think.

The film I'm attempting to make is an assemblage film, compiled from old educational videos, cautionary tales, news reels, PSA's, etc. The subject is alcohol. Specifically, the education regarding the substance which children and young adults receive through media. I started this project with a vague sort of agenda about misinformation, and now I feel like I'm narrowing my scope and my argument.

I said at the beginning that I must think of this more as a fiction, and the reason is two-fold. The obvious reason is that a three-act structure is a strong and helpful framework upon which to build and tell most stories. The other reason is that most of the images in the film I plan to make are in fact originally from works of fiction. The interesting irony about doing an archive film, I've noticed, is that in "documenting" images in the media, works of fiction become real enough that their status as imaginative pieces of fiction dissipates and the images are then treated like artifacts that are functional as well as artistic, and in many ways just as truthful – if not more so – than those purporting to be nonfiction.

This can go both ways, too. For example, prior to the making of Atomic Café, the famous Duck and Cover footage was meant to be nonfiction. It was educational. But when it gets cut in with the other images and sounds in Atomic Café, it acts as a sort of cinematic vocabulary that transcends this original meaning (nonfiction). It is as if the makers of Atomic Café are now communicating with the elements of society that created the original video, and doing so through the use of media.

I believe that, as an artist, you have two approaches to expressing your point of view to the world. The first approach is to simply create something unique and original that did not exist before. Some may quibble over this by saying “there’s nothing new under the sun” and condemn this kind of thinking by calling it simple minded and naïve. In many ways, they may be right, but largely I think they would be missing the point. If I take a photograph of something, say a bird flying above me, it would be safe for me to assume that no one has ever stood exactly where I’m standing at the same moment and seen the world through that lens. Some may endeavor to recreate it, but the fact that I was there to begin with is the point. You may have been over there feeding a dove or walking your dog or arguing with your spouse while I was taking that photo. And that is why I show you the photo at all, isn’t it. You may not see something so special in a bird’s flight as I might see, and after viewing the photo you may not still, but you may.

And it’s not about me telling you that you should care about this moment, but just that you can. And perhaps more importantly, we can. Art of this kind allows us to share our experiences in ways that normal modes of communication (i.e. talking, technical writing, etc.) can’t. If you look at a painting and you “get it,” then there are no words necessary. If you read a poem and you “get it,” you need not write an essay about it.

In any case, that is the first approach. The second approach, the one I’ll be using for my doc, is for the most part kind of the opposite. An artist may instead look to elements that exist in his world already and reinterpret them, and mold them. Whereas the first approach asks the question: “This is how I see the world… do you agree?” The second says: “This is how you see the world… and I disagree (or agree).” In essence, the first is a question, and the second is a response.

I am not seeking to ask anyone to look at how I see the world with my doc. They may get a little of that anyway, but that is not my focus. I feel that we are bombarded with media everyday, which we did not ask for. I never roll down my car window as I’m driving down the freeway and shout, “I wonder where I could get a good deal on a cell phone!” just moments before passing a billboard with a cell phone advertisement. It just doesn’t happen. I may be signing a sort of contract by turning on the television, with the understanding that if I expect programming, at least network or basic cable programming, I must sit through advertising. It gets slightly more nebulous on the Internet, where any click may bring you face to face with media you didn’t ask for.

But what about non-commercial media? I know that most of the videos shown in my classes growing up were presented against my consent, and I was unable to opt out. I never really saw a reason to, of course, until after the fact. But I’m running the risk of sounding like a misguided hippie with all of this countercultural rhetoric. I’m of course not suggesting that we enter a world in which no media content can be shown without everyone’s consent. That sounds like a nightmare of different proportions. All I’m saying is we should be aware of it.

Now I told you that story to tell you this one: I want to respond. I want to respond to all of the melodramatic fear mongering that dominates the education of our youth.

I could do this by getting interviews, say from business owners, parents, kids, legislators, teachers, or a score of others. I could sit in on classes and record exactly what drug education looks like today. I could document the legal history of youth-centered liquor laws and map them out for my viewer. But all of these things, I feel, would not be in aide of my goal.

I am not going to focus on the reality, because it is not the reality that I want to critique. It is the fantasy. Among other things I could mention, this fantasy version of what we seem to think alcohol is affects reality in drastic ways, and ways I hope to make clear in my film.

Now, as for structure, Atomic Cafe used a chronological one. The only thing I see when I look at the media pertaining to alcohol education as far as time is concerned is finesse. Over the years, it seems like the message of "just say no" has become a bit stealthier. PSA's now may claim to be encouraging kids to think rather than outright telling them what to think, but only if they come to the right conclusion. Though these thinkers may be less likely to admit it, “What would you do if someone handed you a joint?” is a question that has a definite CORRECT answer; and if you don’t circle “C”, you fail in life.

And so I've chosen a different structure for my film. It is a Problem-Reaction-Solution structure, and it goes like this…

A problem arises. No one knows how or why, it just does. Maybe it's a conspiracy, maybe it's an accident, or maybe it isn't even real. But real or perceived, the problem demands a reaction. Think Pearl Harbor. For the best current example, look at global warming. The dangerous element in this whole equation, though, is how fear is often the driving force behind the reaction. Think about it: the problems that are easy to solve are the ones that are understood. We know how fire works, so we can prevent it and put it out when need be. We have maps to keep us from getting lost, traffic lights to maintain transportation efficiency, and calendars to keep track of time. These systems are not perfect, of course, but think about what would happen if we suddenly did not have one of these things, or if you lived in a time that had no concept of them. Lord knows what would be proposed as a solution.

But what about immigration? Or the economy? Or the management of healthcare? These things are not so easy to understand, and so the public outcry on these issues will undoubtedly be premature, irrational and probably detrimental. The first answer to almost any problem in a society seems to be: create a law, so it never happens again. It is my humble opinion that laws are only created when society is faced with a problem which it doesn't know how to fix. Some are new and some are as old as we are. The issue of murder is one we still have not dealt with fully, in my opinion. I offer as a simple observation the notion that people who are more civilized and – to put it bluntly – pampered are probably less inclined to resort to barbarism than people to whom survival is the imminent priority. But I digress.

Having said all that, it should be clear that the premise of my doc from the very beginning is one that is debatable. I understand this, and fully accept that the burden of proof rests inevitably on my shoulders. I only hope that it is at least clear, to any to whom it may concern, exactly what my aim is. Essentially, it is to show that the reaction to the problem known as “alcohol” in the United States has been one of poorly thought and mostly fear-driven reactionary responses based on a fictional version of its desired place in our culture, and that the ones who are most affected by this are young people. There is a perspective percolating in this society that is disseminating bad information in the name of what they feel is a moral cause. Unfortunately for those young people, it is impossible to make a good decision with bad information. The how of my doc will remain to be seen, but hopefully this puts to bed a lot of questions about the what or the why.

A Brief Review of an American Taboo

2009-01-18T02:51:00.005-07:00

I was at work one night waiting for my shift to end and, having nothing else to do, I picked up the latest issue of Playboy and began flipping through it. I haven't been too impressed with it these days, but one thing did catch my interest, and that was a collage of photos from each decade since the magazine's first issue.

The first women to pose for the magazine, to my pleasant surprise, were not all the qualified "perfect 10" that we expect today. Currently, there seems to be a certain very narrow list of criteria into which playmates must fall in order to be considered sexy enough to photograph. Age is a big one. There were pictures from the early issues of women who seemed to be well into their forties. Things like hair, tatoos, piercings, and anything less than the hourglass figure and perfectly shaped breasts are also enough to disqualify you from that "perfect 10" designation nowadays.

I always had something of a love/hate relationship with Playboy that I could never put my finger on, but now I think I know why. Playboy was born out of a social desire, not by men but by women, to be able to express themselves as sexual beings and not as sexual objects. Women's only place in the world was derivative of man. She exists for his sake, not for her own. If she has pleasure at all, sexually or otherwise, she isn't to speak of it to anyone. You can even see traces of it today, by how films are rated by the MPAA. If a man orgasms on screen, there's no problem. But a woman -- very different story.**

Having said all that, I believe Playboy's purpose has been served and is now doing very little in the way of promoting this idea of feminine sexual freedom. In fact, I've realized that its depiction of women is evolving into some strange hybrid of glamour magazines like Vogue mixed with equal parts Girls Gone Wild and one of those sleazy porno fliers you find on the Las Vegas Boulevard curbside. It's as if it's returning to the day when women wanted to be like the women in the magazine, and men wanted their women to be like the women in the magazine, too.

Even if it seems to have lowered the bar a bit, I believe it's for the better. I believe that a good sign of social progress is the chipping away of taboos in order to facilitate a more open and communicative environment. Unfortunately, when members of society deem something offensive, they don't try to remedy the situation by providing alternatives or understanding; usually they just throw everything they can at it to make it stop speaking. "Stop saying those things that are making us cry."

In any case, where Playboy left off, other things like Suicide Girls will take its place. And the truth of the matter is that, despite all of the arguments I've made for these different viewpoints, I really think the most interesting and telling part about the whole thing is how society responds to these things. I suppose that's the crux of it, isn't it? Would a naked baboon in the woods offend anyone? Probably not, unless there are people in the woods, and chances are, they wouldn't be. What about a naked baboon in a movie theater? Well, that would certainly be odd, and the audience may share a mite of discomfort if it started flinging poo. But for the most part, probably not.

What about a naked man at his brother's funeral? There's a toughy. He probably knew the guy better than anyone in the room, and yet every single person would no doubt be thinking "someone needs to tell him to leave and put on some clothes." That's just how we are. We can't let things be. That is because whenever something like that comes along, we think, "stop that! I have a viewpoint, and you're making it very hard for me to have that viewpoint when you're around, so won't you go away?" It's much more than a censorship issue or a moral problem. It has to do with society's fetishistic tendency to want to regulate perspective. For better or worse, the fear that everything will breakdown entirely if this one thing is given free reign motivates us to cut off certain ideas entirely.

In the case of sexuality, what exactly is it that these intolerant motivators of moral regulation are trying to accomplish? What do they propose instead? That we revert to abstaining from sex entirely until marriage, at which point she is given by her father to her groom -- with or without a dowry -- to live out the rest of her years in his bed? If this isn't the biggest elephant in the room, I don't know what is. I realize this may offend some people, but only as much as the idea of this so-called moral high ground from which they approach me: To cling to this mode of thinking objectifies the female considerably more than the sexual freedom they fear. Keep in mind, I'm only referring to the scenario I described three sentences ago.

And lets look at that, shall we? Abstinence until marriage. Really? Well it turns out that what I have always believed to be true in fact has be documented in a recent study by Johns Hopkins University: those who make a pledge to abstain until marriage are statistically just as likely to have sex before marriage as those who don't abstain; those who make the pledge simply delay it longer. In fact, the biggest difference is that those who choose to remain abstinent are more likely to have unprotected sex, and thus more likely the contract an STD.

So choosing to wait seems like a statistical bluff, but the marriage part, that's still up there on the moral high ground right? Wrong. Realize that if you want your father to give you away, it's because you acknowledge that you are his property and that he MUST give you away AS SUCH. Furthermore, you are being handed over to, shall we say, your new Owner. If you are fine with this, great. Perhaps marriage is for you. But I don't think it's a stretch to say that someone living in denial about this should not be telling ME how to live my life. If I was gay, I would be one of the many sad Arizonians who can no long get married because of confused Mormons who thought of nothing better than spending $20 million to make sure I can't.

The whole notion of chastity is grandfathered in from an era dominated by patriarchal traditions. Even the idea of wearing white and having the most expensive and elaborate ceremony is an aristocratic tradition that was assimilated by the revolutionaries from the British royalty they were supposed to be fighting. Society operated better to them when women were loyal to their masters. What more has to be said? The idea that Playboy objectified women, at least in its early years, seems ludicrous when propounded by women who willingly become objects themselves.

I'm not saying, "let's all go fuck like rabbits." If you wish to hold off for personal reasons, go right ahead. If you want to fuck, that's fine too. It's your body after all, you can do with it what you want. Just don't sell it.

That would be illegal.

**Rent This Film Is Not Yet Rated for more on how sexual content is rated by the MPAA.

How to create films that don't suck

2008-12-21T16:37:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to post these for some time now, and with the semester finally over, I can do just that. The great David Mamet has put together an excellent book called On Directing Film, which has pretty much everything a director would need to know about how to direct a film, and many more things that any artist may benefit from. I've read quite a few books during my time in school, and this is far and away the best among them. I've pulled the twelve best lines, for anyone who wishes to meditate on them.

Here they are, in no particular order…

1. It's unimportant that the audience should guess why something is important to the story.
2. If you find that a point cannot be made without narration, it is virtually certain that the point is unimportant to the story: the audience requires drama, not information.
3. The purpose of technique is to free the unconscious.
4. The audience will accept anything they haven't been given a reason to disbelieve.
5. To get into the scene late and to get out early is to demonstrate respect for your audience.
6. You cannot hide your objective.
7. The only reason people speak is to get what they want.
8. In film or on the street, people who describe themselves to you are lying.
9. Anything that is not based on things that are within your control is not a real technique.
10. The problems of the individual films will not get easier -- they only get easier for hacks.
11. The task of any artist is not to learn many, many techniques but to learn the most simple technique perfectly.
12. It's not your job to make it pretty. It's your job to make it correct.

Some honorable mentions:

"Almost all movie scripts contain material that cannot be filmed."
"Studio executives do not know how to read movie scripts. Not one of them."
"All you have to do on the set is stay awake, follow your plans, help the actors be simple, and keep your sense of humor."
"They always talk about the character out there in Hollywood, and the fact is there is no such thing. It doesn't exist. Character is just habitual action."
"The effort that the dramatic artist spends in analysis frees both him and the audience to enjoy the play. If this time is not spent, the theater becomes the most dreadful of marriage beds, in which one party whimpers "love me," and the other pouts, "convince me."
"They (producers) are like the white slave owners of old, sitting on their porches with their cooling drinks and going on about the inherent laziness of the Negro race."
"The film industry is caught in a spiral of degeneracy because it's run by people who have no compass."
"I defy anyone to act where they just came from.

Don't Get Run Over

2008-11-16T05:12:00.002-07:00

I often ask myself the question: How many of a person’s decisions are actually his? I mean, after all, whether he is aware of it or not, he has preconceived ideas about every situation. If I’m in another city for the first time, my actions might be more dictated by the stories I’ve heard about that city. And the more I think about it, I’ve decided that not all decisions are made this way. Even if you reach the point where you acknowledge that you are nothing more than a machine processing information, and that you are the sum of memories and experiences which collectively determine your every next step, even then, there is still something missing from the equation.

You’re crossing the street, which was clear in both directions when you started. Halfway to the other side, something inside you tells you to move. Fast. You hear nothing, and you see nothing. No information that logically tells you to move your ass, yet you do so anyway. And it is only after the fact that you learn that had you not done so, you would have gotten hit by a truck.

This is not a logical decision, but rather an intuitive one. I think of intuition as a nonlogical process (not an illogical one). Intuition is, as Ian Xel Lungold predicted (using a very different approach), the next stage in human evolution. I believe these instances will no longer come in fleeting moments, but will come to be about as typical as following a map to grandma’s house.

And we can sure as shit use it now, more than ever. We are bombarded with information constantly everyday. Stress and paranoia are now social and cultural glues, and it would seem alien to not have to think about things logically anymore. Our minds don’t have time to catch up with it all. And advancements in technology are only going to make things worse. We still have teachers who don’t know how to set up a damn Yahoo group.

But I doubt that logic will fade away entirely, at least not for a while. Hell, the age of authoritative figures is still with us to a small degree, but is dying. Before people learned about logic, they depended on leaders for their answers. Before that, well, they probably didn’t know how to ask questions yet. But when logic provided them the possibility of finding out truth on their own, they were initially a bit skeptical.

They continued to be so, until information started to become more available and easily accessible with the invention of the printing press. The early stages of print media really stimulated an interest in finding out your own answers to questions you’ve always had. The pope’s approval ratings dropped, and though there are still millions of people who would jump off a bridge for him today, he has mostly become just another talking head in a whole warehouse of talking heads. Only the most simple-minded people still look to one person for all their answers.

Now we see another game unfolding. Everyone from Joe the Plummer to Ahmedinejad is an authority figure on something. Consequently, they are really the authority on nothing. They are simply symbols and icons. Conversation pieces. Added to that, the voices of the media themselves have become a louder clamor than the subjects they’re discussing. It seems that Rush Limbaugh, Rupert Murdoch, Oprah Winfrey and even Michael Moore have a stronger voice in this country than the people they comment on. The act of talking about someone famous is more informative and entertaining, it would seem, than the actual opinions of the leaders and celebrities themselves.

The ideological sway of powerful men is reduced to soundbites which are thrown into the media mix along with advertising, pamphlets, seminars, websites, and further complicated by an exponentially increasing number of laws and regulations on what can and cannot be said, shown or even done. It can be pretty scary, being caught in a torrent of media, especially when most of it is negative. As a result, not only can no one person be looked to for answers, the well disciplined, structured and sound codes of morality that you grew up with appear to break down all around. Every ethical construct becomes threatened, leaving a society with bags under its eyes because it can hardly rest. No longer does anyone have the time or resources to find out if genetically modified foods really are bad for you, or if Avian flu is really going to spread to America, or if your identity can really be stolen so easily, or if a food shortage will create riots in your neighborhood, or if rising gun sales will lead to a more trigger-happy populace, or if my job will be lost to an illegal immigrant, or if crazed fundamentalists are going to attack us again, or if the stock market is on its last legs, or even if we are possibly destroying the whole damn planet. There’s just no time to learn the truth about any of these things, and the media sure isn’t going to help you since it’s actually the problem.

This is why answering the question of what is right or what is true is such a challenge now. There’s just too much going on right now that one HAS to be told what to think in order to think about it at all. But I’m finding myself relying on my gut more than my brain. Sometimes I can’t explain why something is bullshit, I just know it is. If I feel like I shouldn’t be eating something, somehow listening to that instinct seems more reliable than spending a whole day researching FDA conspiracies to find out what’s being covered up.

I could spend a lifetime, in fact, researching alternative medicine, joining anti-war movements, or studying the history of the church, and all in an effort to make sense of the world’s bullshit. And if I pick one area that I’m most involved in, I might. But for everything else, my gut serves as a great bullshit-detector. And perhaps that explains my initial queasiness about a Barack Obama presidency.

I do have a plethora of logical arguments for why I am just a tad worried about the Black Messiah taking office, but it started as just a hunch. Back when there were ten Democratic options, I knew the next president would be either Clinton or Obama, and my money was on Obama. Though this is admittedly better than a McCain administration, I knew I couldn’t trust Obama. Back then it was just a hunch. Now it’s a reality.

In any case, what’s done is done. Realizing that my world is not quite as big as the television makes it out to be, I don’t have to live in panic and hysteria all the time. I’m worried, but I also know that a lot of it doesn’t even affect me, and most of it is out of my hands anyway. I would LIKE him to bring the troops home, sure, but what I REALLY want is a reversal of Arizona’s absurd new liquor laws which are going to force me to go to a class every two years to learn how to do what I’ve been doing for the past five. A class I have to pay for, by the way. I’m more concerned with who will be my next roommate than my next president.

This blog isn’t really even an argument for intuition, though, as an argument for such would be impossible. It’s not something one can argue. But I can say that if you feel it coming on, if you experience a moment where something is telling you not to do something, don’t do it. That doesn’t mean, “gimme a lotto ticket, Charlie, I’m feelin’ lucky!” That’s not intuition, that’s wishful thinking.

The best way I can describe it is to say you’ll know it when you feel it. It might happen during a job interview (on either side of the desk) or while you’re crossing the street. If it does, listen. It’s the only way to pacify the madness of this world.

The New Awkward: A Safety Manual

2008-10-11T04:36:00.007-07:00

When I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my shitty life in that nebulous period between my high school graduation and my clumsy transition into the shitstorm that is the world, I considered at one point a career in teaching. I thought I was good at it, and so while attending a local community college, I took my first and last class on the subject. Introduction to Education. I quickly decided that a future in colonic irrigation seemed like a viable alternative.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the part where I got to sit in on classes and observe, and that was when I had a rather lengthy discussion with a teacher about students’ inability to articulate themselves and to form arguments for believing what they do. The example he used was regarding one student’s high adoration and love for his Jeep, claiming it was “awesome” and “tricked out.” When asked to explain further what he meant, the student appeared to have no idea what he was talking about or why he even liked the Jeep in the first place. He just said, "it's cool."

Relating this to film (and bear with me here, there’s a point coming), he said a person who goes and sees a film which he doesn’t like should be able to muster up something just a tad more coherent and specific than “it sucked.” Tell me why it sucked, you asshole. That was when he brought up Zoolander. What he pointed out to me was that, after all of the trails and conflicts and adventures the protagonist takes us through in the film, when it comes time for the climax and the resolution, the character hasn't learned a thing. There is no lesson or moral, and to him, the film failed horribly for that reason.

What I extrapolate from that meeting in the dimly lit afternoon hallway four years ago is that if we do not promote change in our characters, or at least in our audience, then what the hell are we doing? Something might be funny, but what is it worth? We can laugh when a character falls, because we fall too, but we shouldn’t be laughing at them but with them, right?

And this brings me to my main point – what I really want to discuss – and that is the possibly detrimental trend in comedy that now seems to encourage this sort of behavior. That which makes us laugh at, rather than with, the characters. The kind of comedy that creates empathy for the characters in the story seems less popular than those in which the main character is mean, taunting, conniving, immature, selfish and bitter towards those around him.

I’m talking, of course, about The Office.

I have often felt uncomfortable watching The Office, in part because I don’t understand what’s so funny, but also because every ounce of laughter that I do have ends up leaving a bad taste in my mouth. For a long time, I thought it was just me. It is a new kind of comedy that Rolling Stone has dubbed "The New Awkward," and The Office is one of its greatest examples. But by comparing it to another show, I am going to argue why The Office, indeed, "sucks."

So let’s begin…

*****

After premiering on March 24, 2005, The Office got off to a shaky start. NBC’s previous attempt to convert a British comedy, Coupling, had been a train wreck, and other single-camera sitcoms like Scrubs and Arrested Development were struggling to find an audience. Thing is, those shows were funny, and were getting rave reviews. The Office, not so much. Some people liked it and some people hated it, but despite its shift from a golden Thursday night position which lost many viewers, the network ordered a second season. And the rest is history.

Michael Scott (Steve Carell) immediately makes his presence known on the show as an arrogant, immature, incompetent, unfunny office manager of Dunder Mifflin, a struggling paper company. There is nothing likeable about this character, and he has pretty much no redeeming quality that I have been able to detect.

Then there’s an office full of losers who put up with his bullshit for no real reason at all. Secretary Pam, for instance, would be the perfect candidate for walking out, and yet she puts up with a superior that belittles her at every whim. Her engagement to a warehouse worker named Roy serves as the office’s only real interpersonal conflict, as salesman Jim has the hots for her. Haven’t we seen this before.

I say only conflict, because Jim’s immature torture of brown-noser Dwight can hardly be called a real conflict. More like a candy-coated speedbump at the bottom of the grand canyon.

Dwight is perhaps the most pathetic creature of a person ever to grace the TV screen. He is a sycophant who exerts his non-authority for our amusement, all the while playing fireant to our boyish fetish with seeing such beings burn under a magnifying glass with silly little office pranks. But hey, that’s funny!

Oh, there’s also Token Black Guy, and Token Ugly Fat Chick, to go along with all of the other caricatures on the show. The Hot Chick introduced in the last episode has more depth than any of the ones I’ve mentioned.

Having said all that, you might be thinking, “but Spoon, you’re oversimplifying. These characters are deeper than that. Honestly.” Let’s see about that.

For anyone who hasn’t seen the show, let me give you an idea of the kind of characters I’m talking about. In the pilot, a new office temp named Ryan is learning the ropes about the company. We’ve already found out that this office’s branch might be getting downsized or even axed completely, so the very notion of hiring a temp is dubious already. But whatever, let’s go with it.

Right after Michael, in his unfathomable self-love, has just explained to Ryan that he thinks of the office as his “family,” and that the morale is always high, he calls Pam in for a little “joke.” He tells her that she is fired for stealing post-it notes, and she begins crying. This continues for a few moments until Michael begins laughing at her, and tells her she’s “punk’d.” She calls him a jerk and storms out.

Three things to note here. One, the strange absence of a scene following this or even one of those cutaway interviews to suggest that Michael is sorry, or that he even cares about what he did. It’s possible he cared only because it happened in front of Ryan, and God help us if anyone thinks Michael isn’t the most awesome guy ever. Two, Pam never vents, or considers quitting, or even ponders going to corporate. And three, Ryan seems to think there is no problem working at this office, because he keeps the job. When did it become acceptable for a boss to prank fire you? But wait, we’re just getting started.

An entire episode is devoted to diversity. The writers of The Office decided that the best way to deal with this subject is to have its vilest character organize a diversity meeting of his own whereby employees are encouraged to be separatist to each other. At one point, a black man wearing a notecard that says “BLACK” and a woman wearing one that says “JEWISH” are supposed to treat each other like the race on the card. As if this premise wasn’t the most awful exercise in comedy already, the anxious Michael adds, “c’mon! The Olympics of suffering here… Holocaust versus slavery!”

You can see now why this show is a recipe for sadness.

Even Jim, who might be regarded as the moral center of the show (as well as Pam), isn’t free from the shackles of excessive character flaws. Not only is he something of an office bully to Dwight, he has a lot of vanity and cockiness about his work, and isn’t beyond using male machismo to win the affections of a certain secretary who is currently engaged. I don’t even need to watch the show beyond its first season, which I have not yet done, to know they will be married before the show is off the air.

And what about Pam? Innocent victim, or naïve submissive? I’m leaning toward the latter. As if being with an asshole of a boyfriend wasn’t clichéd enough, continuing to work for a man who will call an attractive purse peddler “new and improved Pam… Pam: 2.0” right in your face is perplexing to say the least.

I am a writer, and though I still have a lot to learn, I do understand that characters must have flaws if they are to seem vaguely interesting to us. But part of that interest comes in seeing change. I watched the entire first season, and even though there were only six episodes, I didn’t see even a trace of development or change in any of the characters. On top of that, the characters are not even aware on any level that they have flaws, except for possibly superficial ones.

In addition to this lack of change, I noticed a lack of real problems and situations. Building a whole episode around a girl who is trying to sell purses to employees which leads to predictable superficiality and contrived plot twists isn’t exactly the most interesting way to create conflict.

And that seems like the perfect place to begin my comparison with another show, one which takes a group of equally vile characters and does conflict and character development RIGHT.

*****

STARVED was a series which only lasted seven episodes. FX pulled the show when it was forced to chose between it and It’s Always Sunny in Philidelphia (a lesser triumph, in my opinion). The decision probably had more to do with its controversial nature than with the quality of the programming, and we all know to whom advertisers place their loyalty.

The truth of the matter is the show has more to do with self-love and narcissism than with eating disorders. Let me tell you what I’m talking about.

Our four beloved characters are seated at a booth having lunch in a resturaunt. Billie, a recovering anorexic, talks on her cell phone while cleaning her food scale, which prompts an argument with main character Sam about her sexual lifestyle. He constantly vies for Billie’s attention because he secretly has a crush on her. She punctuates many of her responses to Sam's trivial drama with assertions that the only concern that is important to her is not winding up 82 pounds and hospitalized.

The third breakfast plate arrives for Dan, a three-hundred-pound overeater who has put off gastric bypass surgery several times. He justifies his extra helping by saying he “had” to have sex with his wife last night. “You don’t want to have sex with her?” Billie asks him. “Not when the Cowboys are on. Thank God it was only the Bucks they were playing. See, next week, it’s the Eagles, and I’ll get to see that one, cuz I gave it to her last night.” To which Sam replies, “maybe you need a divorce instead of surgery.”

A messege pops up on Sam’s laptop from a girl who is interested in Sam. He is excited at first, until he learns that she is 5’9” and 140 lbs. “You think 5’9” 140 is fat?” asks Billie. She provides her well-thought out theory on how the fashion and food industries have conspired to make 5’9”/120 the standard, but is laughed at by Sam, who thinks her estimate that his waist is 34 is ridiculous (he will measure it later, and it will be 34).

Billie runs off shortly to wash her carrot, and while she’s gone, Dan ponders if he thinks Sam’s dick weighs more than her carrot. Adam, a black cop with bulimia, agrees to the challenge and so, with something to prove, they all proceed to weigh their dicks on her scale. This last part of the scene is really what the whole show is all about. The extent and depth of their superficiality and competitiveness is distilled in such crystalline acts as this. The writers of this show don’t need to rely on conventional bragging and childish bravado – they bring in the hammer. They say, “when people are insecure and have a constant need to reassess their greatness, really all they are doing is prick-waving. So let’s have them whip out their pricks.” The whole show is written like this.

This theme of insecurity runs throughout the entire show as well, and makes very strong connections between things like male machismo and latent homosexuality. It also addresses, at first directly and then indirectly, the sexualization of food. “Don’t eat that girly food,” one commercial says, for example.

And I’m sure you remember that bit I mentioned about the characters in The Office not having real problems? Well, by episode three, Dan will be kicked out of his home by his wife and be living with Adam, and just before the finale, will have a heart attack which will nearly cost him his life. Adam will find his end when Internal Affairs finds out he’s been abusing his authority by extorting food from innocent citizens, and they fire him. Billie will nearly backslide into her eating disorder, and before the show’s cancelled will realize she’s becoming an alcoholic. And Sam’s every effort to start a relationship will turn into an obsession that blows up in his face, leaving him with a bleeding scrotum, swollen testicles and orange Oompa Loompa skin.

Sometimes the characters get better, sometimes they fall deeper into the hole. But there is very real development, and a hell of a lot we can learn. They fail repeatedly, but they try. And most importantly, they know they’re fucked up. This is why they attend Belt Tighteners: “Belt Tighteners is not affiliated with any 12-step or dieting program. We believe we need a more radical solution to arrest our eating problem. By creating a community of accountability and shame, we don’t act out.” This is why the title of the show at the beginning of every episode includes the audio of the group saying “it’s not ok!” This line is actually the essence of the show.

*****

I want to stress that the major difference in the comedy lies in the awkwardness of the situation. In The Office, it is the characters who feel awkward. Every time Michael makes an ass of himself, the characters look pretty much the same: like someone just opened a beer in church. And whether it’s Michael or Dwight or whoever, this makes us laugh AT the person making things awkward. To a lesser degree, we are also laughing at those who have to endure this nightmare as well.

On Starved, the people who feel awkward are we the audience. No one on the show gives a shit how depraved or vile their actions are, but we have to identify with them anyway. There are no moments for us to identify with the spectators in the show, the minor characters who have to put up with this. Usually, if they are there at all, they speak up.

For example, in the first scene after Sam gets rejected by a girl online, he digs in the trash out back and finds a chocolate cake covered in laundry detergent, and just as he’s eating the underside of the cake, a trash man walks up. In The Office, he might have just made a face, the scene would have included prolonged silence as Sam chows down on the cake, and we would have identified with the trash man, thinking something along the lines of, “My god, how disgusting,” making us in turn think something along the lines of, “man, that poor trash guy… must be real awkward.” Instead, the trash man actually asks, “aren’t you afraid you’re going to swallow some of that detergent?” He asks this as if morbidly curious. He might have passed judgment immediately, but instead engages him. Most of the characters on the show do this, in fact. Though the characters are all fucked up and are trying in varying degrees of success to curtail their flaws, there is a degree of openness which removes from the audience the pleasure of being able to see these hopelessly flawed characters as separate from themselves. The end result makes us, the viewer, feel awkward, because we just might possibly relate to the flawed ones.

One doesn’t have to have an eating disorder to relate to the characters on this show. But who wants to admit that they might possibly be as narcissistic, obsessive, confused, perverted, desperate, lonely or naïve as a character in the show? Because the problems they face, for the most part, are their own doing. They are not the result of contrived circumstances and plot devices. You can’t just say “ah, they have a problem which was not their fault… such is life.” The whole premise of The Office is contrived from the start: we’ll take some people, put them in an office, and make them put up with a manager who does no work and is cruel to everyone. Wait, did I say “make them” put up with him? I must have forgotten they can QUIT AT ANY FUCKING MOMENT.

It is possible that The Office improved, but I doubt it. I’m certainly not going to spend another four seasons to find out. In fact, the only other episode I’ve seen, “Dinner Party” from the fourth season, proves that not only do Jim and Pam still work there, they are willing to have dinner with their obnoxious, racist, sexist boss. Starved did more to prove its worth in the first episode than The Office did in six. And I’m still not convinced there is any value to watching the show.

*****

One last note on satire: Despite my disgust of the show, I begrudgingly admit that The Office does qualify as satire. Some might say I’m misjudging the show on that basis, but I ask you to tell me exactly how apparent is the satire when you’re watching it? When you watch Stephen Colbert, it’s pretty damn obvious. But The Office? Not so much. So on that alone, I would say it’s BAD satire. If the viewer is not aware at all times that the program is satire, then it’s failing. It is, in fact, the other thing – the thing it’s trying to satirize.

And what about that? What is it satirizing? Office life, I suppose. But can’t we say Dilbert has done a far better job of that without the constant mean-spiritedness? I have never in my entire life worked for a boss as horrible and vile as Michael Scott. I’ve worked for bosses who were one or two of many terrible attributes: ignorant, strict, patronizing, power-crazed, over-confident, immature, gossippy or lazy. Sometimes even racist or sexist, too. But they all, for the most part, had good qualities as well. And usually only one or two of those bad things at a time, if any. To make the boss a hodge-podge of some of the worst things a person can become is quite unnecessary, and at the very least unfunny.

And the worst part about it is the notion that it is ok to laugh at these things. It seems to be ok to laugh at these people when they fail, rather than with them. It’s nicer to know that we are not like the people in the show when they are at their worst. The distance is comforting. It allows us, like the characters on The Office, to fuel our egos and believe that there is nothing wrong with us. We can go to school the next day, or to work, or to a friend’s house, and reminisce over the moment when Dwight pedantically tried to define a hero like the loser he is, or when he paid a homeless woman to be his date just so he could be included. That’s funny, right? No. It's just sad.

A Note to Self

2008-09-04T04:32:00.001-07:00

Where have you been? You don’t call. You don’t write. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You left without warning or provocation. No card or vase of flowers or mint to place on the bedsheets. All I hear from you are vague stories of who-did-what-now, and none of it seems real to me. You went into hiding for, goodness, seems like ages now. There is so much that I’ve wanted to say to you, and if you’re listening, please don’t take any of this the wrong way.

We have unfinished business. I know we may never come to reconcile our differences, but you must know that I feel a part of me is being chipped away slowly, and has been since you left. There are so many clichés and recycled metaphors I could blather on about here – the lights are on… the house is a cold shell… etc, etc – but that is why I need you here. Nothing is genuine anymore. It has all become a clever set of parlor tricks and illusions. Sure I could tell you that there is a bucket of acid in the pit of my stomach, but even that is borrowed, probably from Yeats or Joyce or someone out there with something meaningful to say.

But I have nothing meaningful to say. I am like a cardboard cutout of some character in a story. I have taught myself how to get by in this world by tricking people. I am a salesman – a charlaton – a faker. I convince people to enter my home and look at my little nick-nacks and conversation pieces. Some stay long enough to try my lemonade, but learn fairly rapidly that the scene is hastily deteriorating into an episode of Seinfeld. I win over those enraptured by light shows and do-hickeys and gismos and spy gadgets and spectacle. They stay long enough to escape the minutae of their own lives by joining briefly the Tupperware Party that is my life. This grand Bundt cake.

All of the meaning in my life is gone, and has been for some time now. I get by, sure, and some people in my situation might rather maintain the company of their boring selves to the greatest lengths, just so that they won’t have to face what they’ve lost. I need the conflict you bring me, because with it comes the meaning I seek. I am willing to sacrifice my comfort, because I have nothing left to lose.

But what about your life? Are you going to hide forever? There is much we can learn from each other, you know. I wish I could say I enjoyed our talks together, but its no secret that they were fun for neither of us. But we were younger then, all caught up in the mix of figuring out how shit works and why everyone seems to want to keep us down. The more disconnected we became, the more empty and sedated I felt. The more I thought that simply taking it would be the easiest way to deal. I could have used you then, because you are stronger than I am. I have the brains of a fox, but possess the courage of a doe.

And so what now? I have no idea if you will ever get this message, but I just want you to know that as long as you are not here, I’m wasting my time. The story of my experience is incomplete without you, and I think that it’s about time we have ourselves a little cup of coffee and talk.

People should be more selfish, not less

2008-07-23T23:37:00.004-07:00

Humans are the masters of mediocrity. They live in the happy median between two extremes and will do anything in their power to remain that way. Whether it’s the Pope, the Jihad or the President of the United States of America, the extremists will eventually lose when they remove the majority from its comfort zone.

There was a great moment in the new Batman film – a film that should be applauded for its dark, moral complexity alone – where Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne are having a dinner conversation about Rome in its time of peril and domestic tumult. One man stood up and took charge of the city when no one else would and for a time took matters into his own hands, and it was considered a public service. But this man eventually kept the power for himself, and became the first in a long line of Ceasers to gain and maintain power. And maintain they did, for a good 400 years, at least.

That seems like a hell of a long time for people to just follow self-appointed rulers. But the truth of the matter is no one really gives a fuck what’s going on around him unless it affects their ability to acquire food and take a shower (this may be coming to a head in this country real soon, but don't expect any revolutions until then). They prefer comfort over action. Ask anyone today why he wants more energy alternatives such as ethanol or hydro-electric, and the number one reason you’ll get is money. They’ll play ball if it saves them money, but no one, save for a small minority of – you guessed it – extremists, really gives a shit about the environment.

We are so used to thinking of this kind of mentality as “apathy,” myself included. But I now think the matter runs much deeper. A person’s inability or unwillingness to act should not be couched in such language that makes him appear to be right or wrong for doing nothing. It shouldn’t make him think that he has to write to a congressman, or lobby against a tobacco company, or lay down in front of a Caterpillar tractor to save an Oak tree, or donate money to a campaign, or solicit pamphlets and books about nutrition or drugs or crime or pot or God or whatever – it shouldn’t make him think that if he doesn’t do one of these things that he’s a bad person and that he cares about nothing and no one but himself.

If people actually cared enough about themselves, they wouldn’t constantly place burden and blame outside themselves. “Oh, the police didn’t get here fast enough,” says someone who doesn’t care enough about his own safety. “The doctor gave me the wrong diagnosis,” says the person who doesn’t care enough about his own health. “The mechanic broke my car,” says the ignorant man who doesn’t care enough about anything that he owns. Be your own mechanic for a change. Be your own doctor. Be your own security guard.

The point is, if people cared just a little bit more about their own lives, the world would be much better off. They wouldn’t rely on every Mexican or shop clerk or waitress to give them what they need. This doesn’t mean being heartless and uncompassionate, it simply means being responsible. The trick is this: whatever you CAN do for yourself, do for yourself, or learn. Don’t blame our leaders for your problems. That’s how Rome ended up the way it did. Not that Rome didn’t have good leaders, because for a time, they actually did; there was no war and everyone got along great – for a while.

Having leaders is good when times are bad, but they’re just people who can’t be expected to handle everything, and certainly shouldn’t be granted limitless power and authority. Besides, the kinds of people attracted to leadership are usually very idealistic extremists of some sort or another; just because they aren’t Islamic extremists (the only thing we seem to think of when that word comes up) doesn’t mean their views aren’t extreme. Someone stands up and says “I believe what we need is a theocracy,” and if enough people agree, then it stands, and it works. To them it’s not extreme, but to others, it very much is. And we bomb those people. Because we’re extreme, too.

Being mediocre at a lot of things is what made men like Einstein, Newton, Franklin and Edison so great. They weren’t one of a kind people, they were simply ordinary men thinking outside of the box. We made gods out of them with our teachers and our textbooks.

And that is why man is not usually seen as the mediocre person he is: the in-between doesn’t get nearly as much ratings. People want to believe in something bigger than them, because it gives them hope, not to mention a sense of self-worth. I can't imagine why, since it in turn makes them powerless. Were they to realize that great men are actually common in this world, they might be forced to become great themselves. And that requires sacrifice. It’s easier to believe that one day some deus-ex-machina-like hero will decend out of the clouds and save them all in the end.

There Were Bombs Over Tucson Today

2008-07-05T08:26:00.003-07:00

Today was special. At least, when I woke up this morning (or rather, this evening), I sensed that today was a special day. Was it because I had spent the second night in my new place, and now, having gotten most of the work done on the apartment, I may now relax and prepare for my pseudo-housewarming tomorrow? Or perhaps it’s a special day because the monsoon which has been inching its way in our direction for the last few days has finally caught up with us, hence giving me that little burst of creative inspiration which always comes with such weather. Or maybe, I’m just happy to be alive, knowing my friend’s girlfriend just suffered a heart attack.

Actually, I’m told that this day is a special day because 232 years ago, our ancestors said fuck you to a greedy tyrant. That was when, by the good graces of our Lord, our brave men fought against the oppression of insatiable bankers and gluttonous monarchs on the other side of the Atlantic. God bless America.

Well, they did fight a good fight, anyway, and win they did. A whole lot of blood and tears went into that revolution, which was followed by a desperate attempt to learn from past mistakes by creating a system of government that was most fair and reasonable to all who were willing to play ball and make sacrifices. It wasn’t easy then, and it’s not easy now, but at least they understood what was at stake.

Now, in the 21st century, I ride my bike to work as the storm clouds continue to hover over Tucson. It’s nighttime, but the utter lack of stars in the sky is somewhat ominous. God bless America? Well, as long as you don’t count Tucson this year.

There are still, however, hundreds of fireworks going off all over the city. All around, people are on rooftops and parking garages watching in awe at the light show. It’s probably the most exciting thing they will see or do all month, and so they put all of their eggs in this basket. Lucky for them, they probably won’t disappoint themselves.

It does say something about how far we’ve come in ten generations that the most iconized Fourth of July tradition is still the very expensive re-creation of wartime explosives going off – as entertainment. As if the most fun they had during the revolution was blowing shit up.

Granted, traditions exist for the purpose of reminding us of things we’ll eventually forget; namely, “that one time that awesome thing happened to those probably-cool people.” Whether it’s the Super Bowl party you have every year or whatever, it’s still that one time we had that awesome party. Let’s not forget that. Great. Sign me up for two. But what does it say about us that we need these things to progress? How are we to become better people if all we do is reminisce? Not that nostalgia is bad, but when it’s all we are, how can we possibly move forward? And if we pin all that we are to a day, like we pin all that we are to a book or to a person or to anything, then that thing rules over us. It becomes sacred, and we become submissives to it. (god bless america)

And so this day will pass for me like another rung in life’s ladder. I know in my heart what made America great over two centuries ago. It wasn’t a perfect system then, but it was the best they could come up with. And it was pretty good. I’m the last person to talk it up nowadays, of course, but I don’t passively wave a 99 cent flag and think that makes me a patriot, either. I still believe in what makes America great, even if it is dying. I don’t need sparklers and pinwheels to remind me. In fact, they only remind me of how truly fucked we are.

As planned, I’ll have my friends over tomorrow evening. It’s not a birthday party for my friend who’s turning 34, or a Fourth of July BBQ, or even a housewarming. It’s just a party. A gathering of friends and acquaintances, which doesn’t need a reason at all. It’s more genuine if there’s no reason anyway. I shouldn’t need an event centuries ago to tell me if I should have one or not. And I’m sure God would agree.

How many good people go to Hell?

2008-04-24T13:21:00.000-07:00

Folks, I have something to get off of my chest. Perhaps I’ll get a lot of hate mail for this proposition, but I want to challenge anyone to consider what might be described as a spiritual Gedanken experiment: Is modern Christianity really the best way to becoming a better person?

I just got done hearing a sermon being preached in the backyard of our neighbors who have a soup kitchen for the homeless everyday at five. A black man was shouting very loudly, and no doubt passionately, about who is going to hell and who isn’t. “You must repent and turn from your wicked ways… God sees what you did… You’ve been listening to the devil, the father of lies, the breeder of evil… You’re running out of time… Don’t wait until you die to repent, because when you die, you’ll know how much time you had…” On and on and on. Oh, and I think he said “God loves you.” I’m pretty sure he said that. Maybe.

After spending time to consider this, I thought, “is it really the sign of an honest faith that you must frighten people and make them feel ashamed, in order to thrust upon them a doctrine of love and peace?” Because when you get down to it, is this not a lesson we can learn without such bells and whistles? Do we not possess the capability of becoming better human beings without a barrage of verbal lashings from those we suppose are trying to help us?

This is pretty common knowledge, granted. If a person doesn’t claim to be a Christian it is usually because they don’t see how it will help them to become one, or because from their perspective, it hasn’t appeared to make a lick of difference for the hypocritical Christian ramming it down their throat. At times like those, I would rather take advice from the side of a Drano bottle.

But I’m less concerned about the more public notion of the boisterous and vain Christian, and more interested in looking at that core belief which every Christian must hold to: the only way to find salvation is by submitting to and accepting Jesus Christ. Now some may desire to nitpick at how I characterize what they believe, but again, I’m trying to figure out if it makes you a better person. Regardless of which Baskin Robbins’ flavor of Christianity you like, they all have in common the idea that your willingness to submit to God is crucial.

It’s not hard to see why this kind of “now I have the answer, now I just have to tell everyone about it” mentality spawns self-rightousness, vanity and pride. Most Christians compartmentalize this, as if it’s akin to a child screaming his head off in a candy store: “That’s bad behavior, and we don’t condone it.” Is that true? Isn’t every Christian doing that by virtue of your very own creed? Isn’t your God telling you that there is only one way, and if your friends and family don’t follow, they are going to cook in the oven of eternal torment? Aren’t you being self-rightous right as soon as you declare me to be unworthy of eternal life, or of God’s love?

Please stop me if I’m missing something. It just seems like if any such benevolent version of Christianity existed, either as Rosacrucianism, Gnosticism or otherwise, today’s edition needs a lot of work. If there are any people out there who honestly believe their purpose is self-fulfillment and personal enlightenment and who claim that Christianity is the path they've chosen to do so with, then kudos to you. But regardless of your faith, Christian or not, do everyone a favor and look in a mirror. Find out within yourself if you really have the right to call another human being a “lost soul.”