Monday, December 31, 2001 :::
 

Parting Shot for 2001...
I spent some time with a guy a few days ago who just missed making it out of 2001 alive.

It is a known fact that I don't put a tremendous amount of weight in the changing of years and calendars, but when I come face to face with the fragility of morality then, as a human, I am subject to certain psychological side effects.

The other afternoon, on Saturday the 29th, I was on patrol with the Denton County Sheriffs Department. I do this on a semi-regular basis and always on Saturdays. I hope to spend a little more time in 2002 talking about societal degradation I witness from the vantage point of a patrol car. This is the first time I have mentioned it and this will be brief.

The first assignment the other day was a floater in Lewisville Lake. There was some question as to the actual jurisdiction of the area so the department brass decided that it wouldn't hurt to have a county presence on the scene. We were dispatched directly from briefing to go baby-sit the floating corpse and hold off the media until the medical examiner arrived.

Once on the scene I was surprised to see no media whatsoever. There had been limited radio chatter about the event on the public frequencies that local law enforcement agencies use, so it was likely that they never even heard about it. By the time we had arrived, the Lewisville Fire Department had already begun putting the body that had spent the past 12 or so days underwater into a body bag. The bag, in addition to having a broken zipper, was cumbersome to maneuver up the embankment due to its extremely waterlogged occupant. I know this because immediately upon arriving I was asked to help drudge this corpse up out of the lake.

I don't really want to go into the details of what it was like to pull a dead body out of the lake. I will say that he was remarkably preserved for being almost two weeks dead. This was attributed to the cold water and its preservation abilities once under a certain temperature, according to the M.E. Had this been July.... it would be a different story entirely. While I don't want to focus on the condition or appearance of the corpse I will say that he looked tormented. I knew this even before I found out that he had shot himself with a small caliber handgun shortly after killing his mother and her two neighbors that same day in North Dallas. It was like his soul departed to hell directly through the bottom of the lake and twisted up his face on the way out.

Only a handful of days shy of a new year and he decided that his only option was the two most popular varieties from the -cide menu: homicide and suicide.

As we hoisted his body up on the shore and uncovered it for the medical examiner I remember thinking that he and I were destined to meet. We were both moving through the obstacles of our adult lives on a collision course to that point where we would make an association. He was a murderer. He was a psychotic. It is for these reasons that I felt relieved that our collision came as a chance post mortem meeting with me on the outside of the body bag with the broken zipper.

::: posted by Mike at 11:53 PM

Friday, December 14, 2001 :::
 

Ann Landers Panders To The Pretty

The circulation of Ann Landers columns is a fairly common practice. Before the age of vapid talk shows where pregnant lesbian acrobats were kicking their heroin habit to try to get back a lover that dis'ed them in high school, Ann were here. Anonymous letters from socially dysfunctional readers wondering what to do about the live-in brother-in-law that steals toilet paper and masturbates 13 hours a day or poems from 14 year old girls urging other teens to stay virgins. Like a Far Side cartoon, there was something for everybody. Despite the fact that there hasn't been an original situation or question presented in probably 20 years, the column has thrived. I don't want to spend too much space talking about the column itself because this is supposed to be about a specific column.

The following Ann Landers Column is from December 12, 2001. Part of the fun of reading Ann Landers is predicting exactly which piece of timeworn old-bitty advice she is going to pull from the well of limited responses. This takes some talent and sometimes some luck, but most of the time I can hit it right on the head. This time I was wrong, dead wrong.

Dear Ann Landers: Please say something in your column about appropriate work attire. There is a young woman in our office who has a nice figure, but she shows entirely too much of it. Everything she wears is skin-tight and low-cut. She favors skimpy tops with spaghetti straps, even in the winter. Sometimes the tops she wears are cropped a few inches above the waist, and her pants are slung a few inches below, so her belly button shows.

I could live with her exhibitionism, but when the weather is cold, she complains that she is freezing and turns up the thermostat in the office. The rest of us can't stand the heat. Don't tell me to complain to her supervisor. He thinks she is great looking and likes to see her prancing around like that.

I can't take one more day of 80 degrees in this office. Please tell me what to do. I am beside myself. -- Overheated in Denver

Ok...before I get to Ann's response I want to share what I thought she'd say. I thought her over-conservative- and probably ultra-republican- sentiments would get the best of her and she was going to tell "Overheated" to complain to management about the work environment being harassing because of favoritism to a pretty employee. But what she said was quite the opposite. When I read the letter it sounded like it was written by an insecure, under-sexed battle-axe with a poor self-concept and fat ankles. I have no way to prove this assertion; it was just a gut feeling. I was sure that Ann was going to hear this too and, knowing this is a key demographic for her, rally around this cry about unfair treatment. Ann's response threw me.

Dear Denver: It is apparent that the supervisor is on her side, so complaining will do no good. Have you spoken to the woman directly and explained the problem? She might be cooperative. If not, wear summer-weight clothes, preferably something with a jacket that can be removed, and if possible, a small electric fan on your desk might help. Ask your colleagues for their ideas. Maybe they can come up with something better.

The message was clear....the world gravitates around the needs and wants of pretty people. Pretty people are the movie and pretty people are the song. The rest of us are just fucking set decoration or backing vocals! Ann told "overheated" to dress in layers and while she was at it to prepare to conform to this world that rewards attractiveness as much as it punishes ugly. Not fair, not right, just true. Pretty will get the boy/girl. Pretty will get the promotion. Pretty will get what pretty wants. And, Pretty will determine the setting of the thermostat...even in hell.

I am guessing even "Overheated" was enraged by the response. I hope if Ann's response made her (or him) hot under the collar that the collar was attached to a removable layer...The hot babe is comfortable so forget about changing the room temperature to adjust to swelling rage!

::: posted by Mike at 9:55 AM

Thursday, December 13, 2001 :::
 

Freedom Of Speech on the Internet*

I am not a 1st amendment zealot. Even though I take very seriously my rights as they relate to my written or spoken word, I am not one to jump at shadows finding examples of tyrannical suppression in every fold. I just write. I don’t fear censorship. I revise myself to be correct only in terms of quality and accuracy and never in the name of social politics. And I avoid situations and/or venues where I feel like any of the freedoms to which I am entitled are threatened. This makes things simple and, for the most part, I like simple.

My buddy Joey called me up at work the other day to discuss web hosting. I happen to like my web hosting company quite a bit and have never had a problem or failure with their service. Joey had found a service company that he was interested in signing up for. He gave me the web address and I went for a look of their offerings. I was disturbed by what I found, even if it didn’t bother my friend.

The company was called Christian Web Host (aka ILOVEJESUS.COM) and as you can no doubt surmise from the name, they are run by Christians for Christians. Let me say plainly that I do not have a problem with Christians of any order or degree. I think that spiritual faith is a very personal thing between a person and their God. I am even a bigger fan when that God does not tell the worshipper to kill me and eat the flesh of my pets. That having been said I do want to point out something that a post from a few days ago illustrates: In order to receive favor from followers of Christ you must be prepared to forfeit something in return. More often than not that something you have to forfeit is your freedom.

The following lists some of the terms to host with Christian Web Host:

Policy and Service Guidelines

We want to provide the best possible service to our customers and to do so, we have to set forth some guidelines for everyone to follow. In the following terms, if you happen to see "ILoveJesus.com" or "Christian Web Host", it is the same as Christian Web Host, Inc. Even if you place your order by phone, you are bound by these terms and conditions. These terms and conditions override any email, chat session, or contact of any kind with any Christian Web Host, Inc. personnel. This Registration Agreement ("Agreement") also sets forth the terms and conditions of your use of Christian Web Host, Inc. (also known as Christian Web Host) to register a domain name on the Internet. This Agreement will become effective when accepted by Christian Web Host, Inc..

Christian Faith:
You agree that your site will not have anything on it that contradicts this:
§ the Bible is the only authoritative Word of God;
§ the only means of being cleansed from sin is through repentance and faith in the precious blood of Jesus Christ, which is essential for personal salvation (and not through our works)

Content:
All services provided by Christian Web Host, Inc. may be used for lawful purposes only. Transmission, storage, or presentation of any information, data or material in violation of any United States Federal, State or City law is prohibited. This includes, but is not limited to: copyrighted material, trademark, intellectual property, material we judge to be threatening or obscene, or material protected by trade secret and other statute without proper authorization. The subscriber agrees to indemnify and hold harmless Christian Web Host, Inc. from any claims resulting from the use of the service which damages the subscriber or any other party…

This terms of service goes on to say:

"Your site cannot promote demonic, occult, satanic, new age or anti-Christian values or beliefs; cannot promote pro-choice or pro-abortion views; cannot promote gay or lesbian lifestyle views; cannot promote a distorted view or faulty interpretation of the Holy Bible (we are not talking about disputes between KJV and NIV, we are talking of obvious misconstruing of God's Word such as saying that Jesus was not God) Not only can you not have offending material on your sites, but you cannot have links to any sites with offending material on them or material listed above. If links to any offending sites are found, we will ask you to remove them and if you do not comply, we will then have to remove your account from our server."

I think that I was speaking across a philosophical disconnect with Joey when I shared my feelings that a good deal on web service is not such a good deal when that deal circumvents your right to post whatever you want. He didn’t seemed to bothered by it largely because Joey is not what I would consider controversial by any means. The likelihood of him actually posting anything that would violate the terms of service is low, but that does little to change the fact that he couldn’t if he wanted to. In fact, in accordance with the terms of service, he would be unable to link to my site that has, on rare occasions, called the legitimacy of the Bible and organized religion into question.

In the end, this hardly seems like a good trade…10 bucks a month to be denied rights intended to be inalienable. Good thing there is that other right about choice.

::: posted by Mike at 10:16 AM

Wednesday, December 12, 2001 :::
 

Rage Renewal

I learned yesterday that there is a tape floating around the higher ranks of our nation's leadership in Washington. The tape apparently displays this year's - and possibly this decade's, though I can't see myself giving him credit beyond that - Front-page Boogieman, Osama bin Laden, showing pleasant surprise at the full devastation brought to bare against the World Trade Center. As I listened to the talking heads doing their spiel, it occurred to me that the leaders of our nation have recognized the growing disinterest of our nation in an event that was so long ago (3 months is an eternity to our flashbulb attention span). This leaves the government in a tight spot.

Remember back when a fever of patriotic pride was pushing the mercury up into the Hot Zone? Back when Big Business was falling all over themselves to release commercials that told us how much they cared about us. Back when millions of Americans dressed themselves in cute little pins, painted their cars in the war paint of the stars and stripes, and adorned their homes with flags. Remember way back then when we were afire with nationalistic pride? Well, our government remembers it too. They remember it because it was in that eruption of pro-America fervor, in that public outcry for "Don't Tread On Me" spending packages that sacks of money were being churned out of the Congress on a conveyor belt of legislative catharsis. Now, with that swell of gusto subsiding, we are on the verge of the kind of deficit spending that hasn't been seen in years. They wrote the checks that make folks who run for re-election nervous.

So far this war has cost us billions. That is all right for now because public sentiment, while not anywhere near where it was 3 months ago, is still behind the war. But if the brain trust of advisors that run our government are anything, they are forward thinking. They are all about making moves that look good today and that will still look good on the cover of Newsweek tomorrow. What if American voters just stop caring or, worse, are forced to face a tax hike. Enter this tape that shows the sadistic and murderous grin of the mad scientist of social chaos.

How is it that now, all of a sudden, there is an issue with showing this tape? Why are there conversations at high levels about whether to release the tape or not when only a few months ago every opportunity to put video of that man on television was met with enthusiasm? It is because back then we needed an enemy to blame for our pain. Back when the shit was still turning on the fan blades we needed a face to assign to our new enemy so it was Lights, Camera, Action! It is a different story now as government scrambles to craft public opinion.

You see our rage is all but gone. Our fire to seek and destroy at all costs is wavering so if the government leaders are going to keep this thing alive as a resume entry for re-elections then they have to make sure that the rage lives on indefinitely. Every once and awhile they need to stoke our coals of hurt and reinvigorate our desires for vengeance.

The first step is to secure the tape in such a way that the media cannot or, if strong-armed properly, will not show it without a green light from the White House. The next step is to tell the people of America, through the media, the old “I Know Something You Don’t Know” and then say they can’t show us because we need to be protected. Well, Americans aren’t going to stand for this. No, they are going to bang down the door of the White House demanding to see it. How dare anybody keep this from us! With blood already up, we see this tape and our rage is renewed. Where before it would have slipped and slid down the river of sound-bytes and Internet video clips, now it’s an issue and a matter of democratic principle. I have to say; it’s brilliant spin doctoring.

This tape does not show the devil. It does not give us anything we didn’t already have. It is simply a tool put to work by talented opinion shapers who want to make sure our rage doesn’t die.

::: posted by Mike at 9:48 AM

Thursday, December 06, 2001 :::
 

Speaking of fear-mongering, not only is it monetarily profitable - evidently it can result in a knighthood, too!

...and me without my soapbox and my ultra-conservative, ridiculously closed-minded, bullshit opinions!

::: posted by MetalCat at 1:58 PM

Wednesday, December 05, 2001 :::
 

My friend writes to me:

To quote FDR's dictum: "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself". Do you believe that Mike?

Surely there are truly fearsome realities (possibilities for now, but realities sooner or later). Right?

Pain, failure, tragedy, costly mistakes of those with roles of social responsibility, even romantic letdowns are all fearsome things.

But what attitude should we take in the meantime, until we are struck down? Should we cower in fear and resignation? If we surrender the fight before a single blow is dealt, waiting for these terrors to do us in, we fall prey to their advancing shadows before they even break the horizon.

We might decide to venture out despite the lowering clouds of future death and disappointment; to gain as much ground as possible before we become another notch on the Reapers scythe. We might exult in the triumph of being alive even as the chill mist of death begins to gather.

Or we might cop out and sell our souls to those who will trade empty promises of comfort for security and obedience. These are the authoritative establishments, especially the religious authorities. They claim to protect us from things we fear.

Do we fear death? No problem. They will issue us a reserve ticket to heaven. But the price is high, Mike. The price is our freedom. We must do what these religious bigwigs command for fear of losing that ticket! It is an empty, fraudulent deliverance from fear that they promise.

It is funny how fear escalates. Fear of death becomes fear of eternal hell!

I need some feedback.

My Response To My Friend:

You see (NAME WITHHELD), it's like this....

Fear costs nothing. It costs nothing but if managed properly can reap wealth beyond measure. Everything you have described is the calling card of the fear-mongering highwaymen who seek to profit by exploiting yesterday's realities into tomorrow's insurance premiums.

It's a business, pure and simple.

That goes for saving souls as well. The principle remains the same whether discussing a dented fender or an externally damned soul. Pay the piper and dance all the way home.

My Response To Myself:

I hope I didn't let my friend down.

::: posted by Mike at 10:48 AM

Tuesday, December 04, 2001 :::
 

The Compulsion To Tinker

It wasn't broken. And if there is an elder King to all "old sayings" it would have to be the one that says if it is not broken, don't fuck with it. But they don't listen to old sayings, do they? They don't listen to old sayings any more than they study their own history. Because if they did read their own history they would see that tinkering with the tried and true formula that has consistently spawned success ends badly. Instead, they gather up idiots that no one else will listen to in real life asking them proactive questions of modern consumerism and, in the end, announce them to be a most helpful "focus group" just before running off to plague the nation with another half-baked gimmick that caters to the incredibly short attention span of the America consumer.

I am speaking, of course, about the soft drink industry's newly rolled out brainchild...the cola with a twist of lemon. My dear sweet and precious God, what are they thinking? I know this is not in league with the decision in the 1980s to make a New Coke, but it is still pretty silly.

The soft drink industry is not telecommunications, or computer engineering, or even internet porn...it is not supposed to be a breeding ground of innovation and advancement. It is suppose to be the mindless manufacture of gallons and gallons of caffeinated sugar water. Take away the impressive global headquarters buildings, the private jets, and the endorsements to hard body pop stars and that's what you get: gallons and gallons of a product that the world could survive without. So why is it now, after all these years of cola consumption, that we need lemon flavoring dumped into the mix? Why the urge to transmute a standard into a bitched-up version that panders to a small percentage of the population? Enter the "Market Research Group", always the first step in the perversion of any product.

Market Research indicates that lemon will track well in key demographics of cola consumers between the ages of 2 and 72.

Market Research has shown that Americans need another movie about Vampire Teenagers and their problems adjusting to college life.

Market Research strongly suggests that America needs a breath mint so strong that the tongue will actually be afflicted with frostbite.

In the interest of a little research of my own I bought a 12 ounce bottle of Diet Coke Lemon. It tasted like someone dumped Ajax into my Diet Coke. It tasted like a chemical burn. I could be wrong, but a year from now I don't see Diet Coke Lemon on the shelves, I don't see it in the restaurants, and I don't see it in the vending machines. I do see it, however, in the necropolis of all other failed marketing gimmicks of the soft drink industry three plots over from Clear Pepsi, six over from New Coke, and right next to massive sepulture that houses the remains of Jolt Cola.

::: posted by Mike at 8:59 AM

Thursday, November 29, 2001 :::
 

At the behest of the hoo-ha that runs this rag, here goes...

Here I sit, in my little cubicle on a conference call.... This call is a followup call from the meeting that I attended in Dallas at the beginning of the month. I've run up against a type of person at these meetings that baffles me. This type of meeting participant - I call them The Formulator disscussionus stupidus interruptus.

The Formulator is that person (I've only run into males that fit into this category - but I don't necessarily believe that it is gender specific, yet) who is mentally in left field for the course of an entire meeting because they are trying to formulate extremely insightful and smart questions to ask so that they appear sharp and useful. They seem to have a mental image of themselves as the business-guy that walks around on the 'fast track', cutting a wide swath through the dull and unwashed populace. Their view of themselves includes others watching their upward progress through the ranks of the business with the same sort of bewildered awe that is reserved for the Bill Gates' of the world. Yet, what is painfully obvious to everyone but The Formulator that they are uniformly regarded as silly and worthless fucks who are always bucking for a promotion.

The Formulator's natural habitat is the conference room or the management office - it is only around more than 5 people that they are most comfortable. Their pelt is varying shades of last season's fashionable business attire or 'business casual' taken just far enough to not be taken seriously. You can recognize The Formulator by their distinctive calls, "...Let me make sure I understand correctly..." and "...Is this the direction that the business is taking". They are most vocally active in meetings where someone higher up the food chain than they are is in the room. The sure sign that you have found a Formulator is when they interrupt a meeting to ask their version of a smart and insightful question about 15-20 minutes AFTER the group in the meeting room has closed the issue.

If you find a Formulator in the wild, ignore them. They don't matter anyway.

::: posted by MetalCat at 1:15 PM

Tuesday, November 27, 2001 :::
 

Landmines Buried In My Calendar.

Without looking I stumbled into a landmine the other morning. As my limbs went flying violently in many directions all at once I remember thinking that I didn't even hear the click of the mine arming itself. I don't know whether I snuck up on it, or if it - malicious and sadistic as all memories about the war- snuck up on me. I suppose it doesn't matter when you are lying disseminated in a pile of your own regret, but that, my friends, is the folly of emotion.

Do the math and the layout of the mine grid becomes apparent. A world population in excess of 6 billion, only a finite number of situations people can find themselves in, and the whole of our activities segmented into 365 approximate doses of existence. Not such a big field after all.

Life does not happen in a straight line. It is a continual loop over the same timeworn ground over and over and over again. The scenery changes in a predictable pattern like the weather, the sunrise and sun set, and even the habits of the people. Segment 150 of this batch of 365 will, on average, not be appreciably different than segment 150 of a block of 365 segments some 1,825 segments ago*. Same time, same ground, but each time we leave our different marks. Each of us have our segments of significance that mark a variegated menu of emotions. We record them, and then, we live for them.

So here I was minding my own business immersed in a book written in such a way that I knew I could scarcely do better. I looked up in just enough time to catch myself fly to pieces. Land Mine...segment 329, never saw it coming unless you count vague notions sometime previous when it occurred to me 329 was approaching. I was forced to put down my book about German Decipherment and to put my various pieces and parts back into order. Not a long chore but one that gave me pause. And in that pause blossomed a thought that I had grown tired of thinking about even before it became unfashionable. The thought: A ghost is not a soul. It sounds like rubbish, I admit, but it means something to me; I think I read it in a book. It means that where you might see the wispy outlines of a thing doesn't mean you are seeing a thing that has substance. It is simply a recorded message left after the beep and etched into the terrain on a previous pass through.

I eventually came to my senses and got back to my book, but not after having to endure a flashing landmine of my own design. Reminds me of a Sting song, as I think about it.

* = This does not account for intentional shifts in the segmentation every 4th 365 segment cycle.

::: posted by Mike at 11:00 AM

Monday, November 19, 2001 :::
 

Was This Trip really Necessary?

So I go and see Harry Potter this weekend. Why? Because Time-Warner told me to and I'm a good little monkey.

Anyway, they spent a lot of money on it and it shows. There was good production design, the effects were OK (every thing except the Quittich Match), the actors all hit there marks and gave their lines, but there was something missing. After two days I think I've put my finger on it.

At this point I feel you should know I'm going to give away the ending. But the film made 93 million dollars this weekend so if you haven't seen it your A) in a coma; B) destitute; or C) not one of Time-Warner's little monkeys.

After the final battle, Harry wakes up in the infirmary in the school and it's reviled that only a person who did not want to use the sorcerer's stone would be able to obtain it. So...this begs the question, why bother with the whole movie? If the bad guy who wanted the stone more than anyone else had no real chance of ever getting it, why go through the motions of this futile exercise? I could be missing something, maybe there was something in the book that the bad guy was powerful enough that he could have gotten the stone anyway, but that seems like one of the important things that you would not want to leave out. With a running time of 2 and half I don't think they left a whole lot out to begin with. And maybe this is Harry's greatest trick, to make millions of people give $7 and almost three hours of there lives so that in the last 10 minutes they make the plot disappear.

Now it is true that the story is set in a school so perhaps having Harry risk his life and the lives of his friends for a pointless adventure is kind of like Algebra. It's not necessary but it's still mandatory. As plot holes go this film has to be in the top 10, but with all the records it's breaking it will never take the Plot Hole Crown away from Star Trek: Generations.

It would be in poor tact to put too much energy into tearing up a story that has been the reason so many children have recently picked up a book to read for fun, and maybe, just maybe, the ones who have only seen the movie will decide to read the book in hopes that it has to be better than this exercise in printing money for Time-Warner.

::: posted by Anonymous at 3:33 AM

Sunday, November 18, 2001 :::
 

In 1985 Hasbro must have brokered some sort of Faustian deal with the devil. I mean, it's not as if they were hurting for profits with the sale of toys that promoted the enchantment of warfare in all its form. Those toys were doing well. But apparently that sort of profit just didn't appeal to them. They had to conquer more market share. So, in keeping with this lust to capture new demographics, they simply put themselves in a partnership with the Prince of Darkness and consummated this sick pact to corner all segments of the market with one toy that made it unsafe to be a male man-cub in the mid 1980's.


I still think back to those days and shutter. My blood congeals in my veins and my brain rings and vibrates a theme song that is best described as infectious. But that was the black magic Hasbro marketing intended. I was supposed to hear the song. Then, I was supposed to learn the song. And finally, like some soon-to-be-veal baby cow being lead to the death chute, I was suppose to live the song. I was supposed to just sit back and let that Goddamned commercial jingle burrow itself deep into the developing tissue of my brain until I stood up and demanded my parents to buy me a My Buddy(™ HASBRO TOYS 1985). If I was a good little American consumer that was supposed to be the plan.

I must admit, they thought of everything. The song said it all. A perfect friend, this My Buddy™. Where I'd go, he'd go. I'd teach all the things that I know (which at age 10 wasn't a helleva lot, but still). My Buddy™ and me we could climb up a tree. My Buddy™ and me could be the best friends that could be. Think about it. Not only did I get the opportunity for friendship as true and pure as un-cut pharmaceutical grade cocaine, but I could mold him. Yes, mold him in my own image. And it would stick. It wouldn't be some bullshit failed experiment of free will versus divinity like some leading brand messiahs, this would be the real deal. A buddy that would listen and learn. Hasbro even tried to make it where all the kids could play along regardless of race with the inclusion of the colored My Buddy™ (with a single skin tone, Blacks and Hispanics had to share, of course). While the other kids were digging in the dirt making GI Joe overthrow Cobra Commander and then celebrate my fondling the plasti-form parts of a naked Barbie, I would be instilling universal principles and infallible truths in My Buddy™. But it didn't work.


I knew it immediately. I don't know if this made me special or a grossly inappropriate demographic, or both. But something didn't sit right with me. Something seemed unnatural, hell immoral, about carting a doll around. Because, let's face it, that's what it was. Forget for a second all the implied euphoria of the joy-laden images from the commercial, this boy running happily with My Buddy™. Clear your mind of the promise that being a backyard Master Deity entails. When you do all that and break it down, in the final analysis it is a boy playing with dolls and a boy playing with dolls is pretty fucking gay. The commercials promised so very much, but remember, the Nazi's used to make commercials for kids too!


Knowing at the age of 10 that I was not, nor did I wish to be, homosexual given to bouts of mad delight while thrusting my boy-toy about in gay pleasure, my mind and spirit remind impregnable against the diablerie of Satan and his corporate flunky, Hasbro. The attempt to steal my manhood and leave future mankind vulnerable to the beguilement of evil had failed.


Boys will always play with toys, a fact of childhood this is. Army soldiers, futuristic star crusaders, and other forms of combat-oriented figures and themes. But a line is crossed when boys are asked to forgo their normal curiosities about carnage and conflict and they are asked to change doll cloths and be a life mate to a 2 pound Chinese-made sack of foam. Not a day goes by that I do not thank my maker that I did not fall prey.

An update of that devilish partnership. Hasbro and its underworld pact did finally come to an end. In the 1990's Satan, always looking for a way to undermine the moral foundation of children and idiots alike, joined forces with Saban and bankrolled The Power Rangers where seemingly ordinary teenagers donned campy outfits and drove around ostentatious tiger-cars. This was just following the introduction of Barney, a purple dinosaur that only children could see, and years before the multinational phenomenon of Pokemon.

If the Baptists are to believed, Satan is currently working on projects such as Harry Potter, but I think he has more fiendish plans to dupe in the weak-minded. Stay tuned.

::: posted by Mike at 9:43 PM

Monday, November 12, 2001 :::
 

What a sad lot are we.

I am hearing more and more talk about changes that are being made to our entertainment landscape, specifically where the World Trade Center is concerned.

The first I heard of this was a report that the Spiderman trailer was pulled because of the way it prominently featured the WTC. Then there were other movies that were due to open around the same time as the attacks. These were being changed because of their NYC backdrop that included the WTC. Films such as Serendipity and Don't Say A Word . There was even a case where a punk band had a CD pulled from shelves; its cover featuring the WTC in flames. This CD was released before the attacks, before it became in bad taste to depict an American landmark under the duress of violent attack. I could have fun with that premise, but it is another issue entirely.

These changes bother me. After the sucker punch that was dealt to the nation I can understand that we might need some space. We might not need to be reminded immediately that what was is no more. And it might not be beneficial to rub our noses in the fact that people are lost and buildings are smoldering as they spit ash and death into the atmosphere. I get that, I do. But as with all things that involve the molding of perception in America, it gets taken to ridiculous extremes. The idea of providing space that wasn’t that bad of an idea somehow gets perverted into an effort to surgically remove our hardship. Sort of like amputating your left arm because of the Mother of All Hangnails on you left hand.

Let me make this as clear as I can. It is wrong to go back into artistic history and change it to conform to the modern world. I am going to type this again to make sure I didn't screw it up the first time. It is wrong to go back into artistic history and change it to conform to the modern world. Art (be it paintings, writing, drawings, sculpture, photography, or motion pictures) stands as a monument to the world at thatmoment. While I realize that including a sugary-sweet chick flick about John Cusak being fatefully in love is a monumental broadening of art's definition, I think you understand my point. Everything that is created makes impressions, regardless of how overt or how subtle, upon the world around it. To reach back into that creation and re-work it on the sole grounds that it makes the art more comforting is bullshit. Total Bullshit.

There is a movement starting that I fear might culminate into action. It is the belief that in addition to the changes we have already made to give the nation space there must be further action to make the world safer and life better. This is going to be accomplished by going back, into film specifically as it is the most pervasive example of imagery, and take out the WTC. That's right, just wipe it out. Take it out, like the digitally re-touched skyline that removes the twin towers will actually bring people back to life and erase the collective pain of a nation. I say again, Bullshit.

Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that we expand this preposterous theorem. Suppose we applied this rule to the events of history. Our history is littered with examples of carnage and death whose survivors did not benefit from musical tributes of John Lennon songs and grave-walking celebrities. Further suppose that we are not a shallow generation of Americans that believes our more modern pain makes us interesting; makes us special. What changes could we make to erase the hardships of loss?

Mein Kampf – This was no fairy tale. This was a book Hitler wrote in prison years before he was ever in a position to command the atrocities that have been attributed to him. Guess what, this story does not have a happy ending. Hitler went on to share the opinions and ideas contained in this book and then move a civilization of patriots to challenge the world. This was part of the schematic for genocide. Genocide is not something we all get the warm fuzzies over. So why don’t we just obliterate this offering to historical literature from the earth. Round up all known copies and (to complete the metaphor) burn them? Better yet, why don’t we just re-write the parts that remind us of the Third Reich’s crimes against humanity?

Texas Schoolbook Depository - Every generation or so has that event where a nation loses its “innocence”. This is a popular term used to impart the enormity of the moment so that it might speak from history into the future. In 1940’s it was Pearl Harbor that wore this mantle. The 1960’s also had one of these moments. It’s said that every American who was alive and able then can tell you where they were when Kennedy was shot. It was another one of those red-circle days. On a baby-kissing tour through Downtown Dallas, JFK took one for the team. The shooter allegedly fired from the Sixth Floor of the Texas Schoolbook Depository. There is no doubt this was a major blow to the confidence of a nation. And to further say that the nation’s innocence was lost is no small thing. I mean innocence from a nation whose cherry was popped by decades of beating down civil rights movements and trampling the liberties of its citizens because of their skin color is a hard thing to extract. So why didn’t we, recognizing the national agony felt by the assassination, just bulldoze all of Dealy Plaza. Why didn’t our fathers and grandfathers at the time use heavy equipment to rip out the structures that have found permanence in our memories?

A less deadly example…

1986 World Series – Game 7- The Boston Red Sox had it all but won. Their first World Series Title since 1918. The curse of the Bambino was putting on its coat to be ushered past the threshold of history. But then, as if he had made a contract for his soul with the black artists of diablerie, Mookie Wilson hit a gimme groundball through Bill Buckner’s legs at first base and the game, ultimately the series, was lost. To this day, Shea Stadium, the backdrop for this indignity, still stands some 15 years later.

These are trumped up examples, I know. But the fact remains that our history is just that. Whether better days or worse, pretty pictures or not, what lies behind us has got to be captured and locked into our memory of what the world was like.

Take a walk through any art museum with a wealth of classical European art. More Christ than you can count. If the entire body of European art from about 1575-1700 were a radio format, it would be All Crucifixion All The Time. Regardless of our religious principles, we cannot paint over the nails just because we don’t agree with the politics of Pontius Pilate or because it makes us sad.

I wrote earlier of Hitler and his book. There exists no better-publicized example of the effects of human depravity than images of concentration camps such as Auschwitz. Yet today, half a century later in the Polish countryside Auschwitz still stands. It stands as a reminder of pain and hardship and as a monument to the healing that can come to a people when they are not fixated on the pettiness of a panacea.

Whether or not these WTC changes will be made is still yet to be determined. But just the mention of them speaks volumes about the emotional intelligence of our nation. To answer my own question put forth earlier about why our fathers and grandfathers didn’t lay ruin to Dallas’ most inauspicious landmark I can say only this: Sometimes it takes more strength and is more meaningful to rise above suffering in the shadow of that suffering than it is to run and not learn anything at all.

::: posted by Mike at 2:11 PM

Sunday, November 11, 2001 :::
 

Harry Potter and the True Evil that is America

I am a member of an Absolutely Fabulous discussion forum. Someone from England had posted that they saw the new Harry Potter movie and they talked about how they had liked it. Lately I've noticed flipping though channels on the religious stations that they have been critisizing the movie, books, and everything that is surrounding this phenomenom. So out of curiousity I had asked if they had heard any of this: that Harry Potter is evil. Well anyway I turned the tables on the actually topic. Someone from America had posted that it they are saying disparaging comments about it because it deals with witchcraft. It just got me thinking how incredibly ignorant and judgemental they are being about something they probably never even bothered to read.

I don't understand there reasoning of what makes it so horrible. I mean those books have led millions of kids to take up reading. In America, we're lucky that something has actually made a difference in children to make them want to pick up a book. It has promoted imaginative and creative thinking for kids. There is nothing evil about it. Why should the whole witchcraft thing matter? If the truth to you is Christianity, and you have placed this belief in your children it shouldn't be a problem as long as they can distiguish the truth from imagination. It is a way for them to escape, to not have to think about their problems. It also helps them relieve their stress which we adults tend to not acknowledge. So why is it so bad? I don't think that there are children everywhere taking up witchcraft on the account of reading Harry Potter.

There was a very interesting review of the movie that someone had posted a link to. It is a british magazine called The Observer. A critic named Julie Myerson wrote about the new movie and she made comments about how Harry Potter isn't exactly an original movie. She points out that many of the scenes were from classic movies and stories that many probably people wouldn't label as evil. She basically says that it's a combination of movies like Mary Poppins, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland, and Oliver Twist. So really JK Rowling hasn't created anything new, she has cleverly incorporated the magiacal things out of other stories into one Harry Potter.

I guess I should get to the point of why I titled this the way I did. I've been thinking more in depth than just Harry Potter. It makes me angry that we live in a society where people feel the need to bitch and moan about anything and everything. I am mainly talking about movies. We are always hearing of groups telling people to boycott movies because a movie might make fun something that offends them, most recently Shallow Hal. This crap goes on all the time in America. I spoke of this on the forums and many of the British people on there can't understand why we have to read so deeply into movies and books. The movie Shallow Hal was an okay flick, and it did poke fun at obese people. The main message of it though wasn't about making fun overweight people. The message was clear: outer appearances shouldn't matter, it's inner beauty that does. Really, I think the group who has a problem with it ought to be promoting it, not boycotting it! Besides how can you make a comedy and not make fun of something? I mean isn't that what comedy is? All comedies make references to: race, age, sex, intelligence, and everything else we could think of as discrimanitory. People are too uptight and take things too seriously. People need to be realistic and realize that we all have biases whether we believe it or not.

I felt the need to vent my frustrations about this. There are too many Americans that are ignorant and I can't stand it! I do love being American, it's just that there are so many that are so incredibly narrowminded and flat out stupid by their own choice. I will end this by saying a line from the britcom Absolutely Fabulous which probably most won't get:
"Just tax the stupid people!"

::: posted by Anonymous at 3:45 PM

Saturday, November 10, 2001 :::
 

Quick Note:

I was waiting for Rob to show up to a movie yesterday. We were meeting to see HEIST. That is what it turned out to be. David Mammet should have just jumped out of the shadows of my stables and held me up for $5 bucks. It would have been quicker and I wouldn't have had to sit through a weak story that was propped up by dialogue doing its best Aaron Sorkin impression, i.e. fast and intelligently crafted. Notice my use of the word impression. This is best left to a Random Noise review.

Anyway, I was waiting for Rob, when all of a sudden this little boy about 2 years old started running at me saying "MAN, MAN". He was laughing as he ran and was running with only one sock on. By his mother's reaction, the other sock was apparently MIA. So this kid just runs up and gives me a big (for 2 years old) bear hub on my leg. After a moment of awkwardness, like when your neighbor's dog humps your leg, I picked him up and handed him off to his mother.

"He really likes men," she said to me.

"Let's hope that enthusiasm fades with age," I said in a joking "Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Homos" tone.

She didn't get it. I didn't try again.

The mother then went on to tell me that she had four other kids. Four, making this little leg-hugger five! I told her I applauded her patience. I didn't tell her I was scared by her ability to turn her female sex organs into some kind of fantastic conveyor belt of human procreation. She seemed proud. I let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, I let it be.

Rob showed up as she was finishing some story I don't remember and the two of us went inside. He asked me who she was and I told him I didn't know. Just some lady who has shouldered the responsibility of keeping the species thriving.

::: posted by Mike at 9:42 AM

Tuesday, November 06, 2001 :::
 

Where I work there is a phrase that confounds me.

We are a company of many processes and systems. Each of these systems and processes are designed to be a check and/or balance to an already established Master Process or Master System...I know, I know, sounds like the Federal Government. We actually employ as many if not more people than the Federal Government so that should tell you the level of needless complication I am immersed in on a daily basis. But that was my choice; I didn't have to work here.

Now, understanding that these systems and processes are designed as checks and balances, it doesn't require too much stretching and bending of the imagination to believe that if these processes and systems are manipulated, an unfair advantage could be realized by the manipulator in certain situations. This is getting boring, I know, but bear with me...there is a pay-off on the way.

OK, the management at all levels of the company realizes that the manipulation of the grossly aforementioned systems and processes could lead to the already referenced advantage for those who manipulate the processes and systems, but what can they do? I mean these systems and processes are the checks and balances of Master Systems and Master Processes. On the one hand their vulnerability to manipulation is known and documented, but on the other they are necessary to maintain equilibrium of not only the Master Processes and Master Systems but also every subsequent system and process that feeds into the whole mechanism. I repeat, what can they do?

Here's what they do and this leads to the phrase that confounds me (promised pay-off is forthcoming).

Every once and a while when making reference to measurements (metrics, if you prefer) or results that are the product of these processes or systems, they mention to one and all that these results and metrics (measurements, if you prefer) are of vital importance and in order to maintain the integrity and value of these results it is important that no one who these results impact do anything to consciously affect their outcome. To do so would taint the end results. To do so would compromise the system or the process. To do so would be unnatural behavior. And we can't have unnatural behavior. Rome was destroyed by unnatural behavior. The terrorists have won if we engage in unnatural behavior.

Here's the rub.

Human activity can be measured in a one to one scenario fairly successfully. One input, one outcome, one theory attributed to said outcome. But as you begin to increase the number of inputs you invariably increase the number of outcomes...so, in order to get a more "model friendly" set of outcomes you have suspend certain factors of the inputs so that you can control the appearance of the outcome. This is basic statistical modeling...and did I mention boring. Dear God it’s dreadful. So I'll get this out quickly.

This attempt to control inputs and outputs and then make a generalization about the results is simply just looking at the results in aggregate. They do this all the time like when they try to figure out the relationship between Red Meat Consumption and Porn, or which state buys the most avocados at a certain price range. The problem with all of this is the assumptions you have to make and the things you have to suspend to arrive at that aggregate model. The biggest thing suspended right off the bat is the reaction to all other inputs EXCEPT that one which is being tested. This makes looking at human behavior in the aggregate impossible and that is what vexes me about the statement "unnatural behavior".

Simply put, if a person has a proclivity to behave in a certain fashion, then in most situations that person is more likely behave that way than not. So...if put in a position where he can push and pull certain levers to achieve a specific outcome that is in his favor, and he has reason to believe he will be rewarded for that behavior, then irrespective of the admonishments he receives to behave to the contrary, he will, in fact, conform to his nature and behave in that natural way.

What’s worse is the paradox that exists if he actually follows the intention of the rule rather than the rule itself. The rule is designed to keep people from willingly and knowingly altering the inputs of the processes and the systems. So if the person follows that intention and does not alter the input they are acting against their nature are engaging in unnatural behavior. But wait, there’s more. Suppose that they did follow the stated rule and ceased in the commission of unnatural behavior, wouldn’t that mean that they were following their nature and changing the inputs of the systems and the processes?

This is just one example of what happens when you get a group of seemingly intelligent humans together and tell them to be successful. In the end, in addition to whatever successes or failures that are achieved, there exists a whole paradoxical language that, much like this whole essay, says absolutely nothing!

::: posted by Mike at 8:37 PM

Monday, November 05, 2001 :::
 

This post is a few days late…but bear with me.

A few days ago I bought some candy. I didn’t do it for me, mind you, but for the throngs of kids that I just knew were going to be knocking my door down demanding tricks or treats. But, much to my dismay, they never came. Not one. At 10pm when I switched the porch light off I glanced over to the candy bowl and there it sat as full as that night’s harvest moon. Not once did the doorbell ring. Halloween was, well, hollow (pardon the stretch to make the pun complete).

I accept the fact that living in the country automatically limits the number of kids I am going to be exposed to. I mean, my town has 1500 people in it for Christ’s sake. Add to that the fact that I am on the last street in the city. Then consider that my front door is about 50 yards from the street. When you take all these things into account it is understandable that I might not see that throng I was expecting…but none? Zero? Not a single Pokemon, or witch, or ghost, or dead president? Then I remembered we are a nation under siege being subjugated by our own deepest fears. Then it all made sense.

I remember a Halloween that used to be more wholesome and easier to negotiate. You knew that the people with their lights off were Satan worshipers who ate the flesh of children and to not go knocking there. You new which houses gave the cheap candy so you only knocked when you were desperate. You even knew exactly where all the dentists lived in the neighborhood because you avoided them worst of all. They didn’t even give candy; they gave toothbrushes and dental floss…Dental Floss! You were better off taking your chances at the door of the unlit devil-worshiping house than getting dental hygiene appliances. Point is, you knew, you just knew.

Back then you even expected some foul play. There was not a child alive that wasn’t given the old “straight-pins in your apple” speech. But that was OK. It was the only time of the year when the adults would actually dissuade the consumption of fruits and encourage eating pre-packaged candies. And we all knew that kid that got the pot brownies or got home and dumped out his bag to find a hypodermic needle and a dirty, burnt spoon. We expected it as the occupational hazard of tricking and treating. Trick, Treat, Or Aids Infected Syringe the kids would scream in my neighborhood.

These are different days indeed. Sure we fear straight-pins in the apples, and we are fearful of the syringe just used in an overdose cocktail, but I don’t think there has ever been a time when we fear everything to the point of total suppression. Anthrax in the mail? Sure a little. Anthrax in the Capitol? Yeah, but less than in the mail. But Anthrax in the Snickers Bar or Small Pox in the Kit Kat bar…please. Overreaction becomes sweeping paranoia in an instant…beware. And don’t scare the kids. It’s not fair to them.

Kids are not daft and they know when Mom and Dad are scared. But when Mom and Dad start measuring them for a bubble they might not know that they are being position to live a live of fear that flinches even in the face of legitimate movements. They might not realize that the sunlight can’t kill them. They might not realize that suspicion of your neighbors because of their skin tone or religious practices is a wrong thing, an immoral thing.

I hope next year will be different. I hope to have the throngs return to my doorstep under the harvest moon so I can fill their bags with Anthrax-free Snickers Bars and Small Pox-free Kit Kat bars until my bowl runs empty. They can say what they want about our nation recovering, but until my doorbell rings and I answer it to find Abe Lincoln demanding tricks, treats, or straight-pin Apple Strudel, I will question the reality of that recovery.

::: posted by Mike at 9:43 AM

Friday, September 14, 2001 :::
 

Moronic Pseudo-Intellectuals Take To Makeshift Podiums

There are some who confuse having a point-of-view with having a transponder in their head, a transponder whose sole purpose is to regurgitate, word for word, the opinions of the broadcast set. No thanks pal, I’ve heard it already.

I work in a building that has in excess of 800 people. As I have walked these halls I have yet to hear anything approaching independent thought. All I have heard is the latest from CNN once removed and through the mouth of an unenlightened echo-box.

We must accept that people grieve in different ways. Some do it silently while others gather together in bands (I think is the phrase) and talk, share, rumormonger, and work themselves into a frenzy of speculative and unfounded trauma. These bands need a leader. The leader, as in some of darkest entries in history’s living encyclopedia, are not those whose rhetoric is the truest but whose voice is the loudest.

I find myself, in the wake of these events that barley fit into the scope of my comprehension, silent and reticent. While some around me scream for blood, I hold my words. When people with more luck than common sense scream for justice; I turn inward and have conversations with my own better angels. Blood will spill, bones will
crack and crush under the tonnage of our military might, but I question if justice will be done.

I stand the risk of sounding unpatriotic. I can handle this perception because it would be a perception held by uneducated minds. Minds that confuse bloodletting with justice and prejudice with patriotism. These are the minds of the Soundbyte Regurgitating Pseudo-Intellectuals that round up the usual suspects of mindless servitude and preach a doctrine not founded on anything beyond fear, ignorance, and conjecture. They are all accomplices to that push-and-shove, stampeding herd mentality that degrades the ordered democratic process into mob rule.

There is no simple fix to our current position. We are ramping up and engaging. Those in power react and respond leaving the rest of us to wonder. I am fearful that the before mentioned degradation of order will find itself on more and more lips. Lips that transform from whispers to screams into the ears of our leaders. I am fearful of the result when our capacity for restraint is expended and the collective thirst for blood from our nation becomes the guiding principal of our foreign policy.

I am not a pacifist. I, like millions of my countrymen, need decisive and unequivocal action to bind my parts and to be the tunicate that stops my psychological bleeding. But I don’t want the description of our decided action, when broken down to its bare elements, to mean “An Eye For An Eye”. I do not want us to use our superior weapons of mass destruction to take lives that are just as fragile as the ones we lost Tuesday. We cannot act in such a way that we mimic the actions or terrorist while hiding behind a shield of righteous justice. The old proverb says that you cannot wash innocent blood from your hands with more innocent blood.

Very little, if anything, can be done to halt the Soundbyte Regurgitating Pseudo-Intellectuals from shrieking and wailing. They are as much a part of this as anyone else. They will march on. They will spread fear and misinformation, not always to be malicious but always to have something to say. They will warn of plummeting financial
markets, of economies in ruin, and of $5/gallon gasoline. And just as we cannot prevent their speaking we cannot prevent their being heard. A great many sheep in this flock will follow. They will sell stocks, they will withdraw money from their banks, and they will line up around the block and on for a mile to get gas “before the hammer is lowered”. Ignorance is and always has been its own reward.

So, preach on, preach on, preach on. Once your canned goods supply has dwindled, your bottled water has run dry, when you crawl out of your bunkers we will be here to welcome you back.Yes planes fall out of the sky, and yes buildings crumble, but No chicken Little, the sky is not falling.

::: posted by Mike at 8:27 AM

 

Note This is being written on 9-14-01

I was originaly planning on writting a funny little piece on how I loved to watch Religious programing. How I always get a chuckle when I see These guys with $1000.00 suits stand in front of a flow chart on how to get in to heaven. But as I was getting ready to come in to work I saw a religious nut on T.V. saying that the attacks on New York were the results of Americans actions. And what got my blood boiling was that the nut was not some on the other side of the world, It was Pat Roberts.

This tool had the nerve to say that " God was lifting his protecting from America" because of porn on the internet and that women have the right to abortions and that's why 5000 people are in a concrete tomb. I had know that Pat was a little off ever since I had seen this man diagram the lyrics to the song "Imagine" and point out how it was the most damaging rock songs in history because it ask people to the unthinkable and question God.

I'm Not quite sure how to file a complant with the F.C.C. but I think This jackass needs what ever broadcast license he has pulled. He doesn't seem to realize that it is this same mindset to blind unquestioning fath in who has the "Stronger Kung Fu" that would lead someone to fly a plane into a sky scrapper.

I know a lot of people reading this find a comfort in the Idea of a God, and in small amounts I have no problem with that. But as far a large organized religions go. Fuck um. For the last 2000 years the only things we've got from them were holy wars, and bake sales, And I for one can make my own cookies.

::: posted by Anonymous at 2:59 AM

Wednesday, September 05, 2001 :::
 

Combat

Wear this. Don't wear that. Buy this. ...and that. ...and the other. Look like this. Don't look like that.

Do this. Do that. Organize. Re-organize. Accessorize.

Be different. But not that different, goddammit.

Think for yourself. But don't go out on a limb where there's nobody to catch you when you fall.

Don't be ugly. Don't be fat. Don't be mediocre. Don't be angry. Don't be naive. Don't settle. Don't build castles in the air. Don't be out of style. Don't be too "in" style. Don't show outrage at the Machiavellian manipulations of your own government. Don't believe everything you read. Don't jump off the Brooklyn Bridge even though all of your friends do it. Don't sass me. Don't walk by yourself after dark. Don't be afraid of your death. Be afraid of everybody else's.

Make sure at the end of your life, you can look back at the zombie that was you and say, "I led a full life".

...but don't ever wonder what it was full of.

Stop arguing with yourself. You have to be your biggest supporter.

::: posted by MetalCat at 2:15 PM

Tuesday, August 28, 2001 :::
 

Delusions of Individualism

I was on the way to work yesterday morning and saw something that saddened me.

It was a late model Mitsubishi Eclipse who's owner thought it keen to use his back bumper to lay some heavy ideology on me. I mean, what better way to speak out in an outspoken world than to craftily affix your life-guiding mantras to the rear of your vehicle. But then I read the words and was suddenly struck by a deep pity for this driver of the late model eclipse.

It Read (capitalizations as noted):

"You ALL laugh at me because I am Different...but I laugh at ALL of you because you are all the SAME"

Now, examining this profession of singularity a few things immediately occurred to me and added to my pity for this guy/girl (moments after seeing them at the red light, I took a right,they went straight).

1) Uniqueness needs no modification or amplification. If one is truly "different" they stand out to all as a blaring contradiction to the norm. Their every action and interaction breeds a sort of irreverence and lack of conformity, their whole life is an unintentional opposition to regularly accepted truths. (you notice I am using a lot of concepts that mean different?)

2) How different can a person be when their taste in cars gravitates towards a model of vehicle that is one of the most plentiful on the road?? If I had 5 bucks for every Eclipse on the road this observation wouldn't have ever happened because I would not have been going into work because I
would not have to work! Different people drive tricked up hippie vans, cars from Former Soviet Block Nations, or VW beetles customized to look like rodents or insects.

3) The factory that produced this bumper sticker must have obeyed the laws of common sense as they pertain to economics and general accounting. It would have been a losing proposition to gear up the machinery, pay the man-hours, the rent, and other fixed manufacturing costs to only produce 1 sticker. These laws of elementary accounting dictate that as you produce more of a particular good in mass, the average cost per item decreases therefore effectively increasing profitability of said item....so...they must have produced in excesses of 1 million....even with 20% of them going unsold, unstolen, and unused, that still leaves 800,000 of these sticky-backed delusions floating around. Sharing a vapid, fundamentally flawed, and virtually pointless thought with 800,000 other people does not make one different...any way you slice it.

A character name Tyler Durden once screamed from a rooftop through a bullhorn "You are not unique,you are not as individual as a fingerprint or a snowflake."

Some people prefer the delusion.

::: posted by Mike at 11:03 AM

Wednesday, August 22, 2001 :::
 

I cannot write today....couldn't yesterday...and have little hope for tomorrow.

I cannot find any explanation for my sudden and inexplicable loss of process. This happens. Over the course of my creative life I have known this to happen and every time it does I float in this pocket of suspension wondering when (or if) the words will return. Bad Poetry usually gets the mill churning...not this time. I sit for hours frustrated, staring blankly into universes where I have proclaimed myself God. Nothing...static on all channels...ground control to Major Mike.

Perhaps this block is a result of some imbalance in my life...? I am having difficulty finding such a breakdown but that does not mean that it doesn't exist. Humans fry circuits we never knew we had all the time.

I have a deadline to keep...part self-imposed, part not...and I find myself beneath it and angry about it. I am whining now. This is not some sort of proclamation to be damned. Not a cry for help or understanding. Sometimes life's cat gets your tongue. Sometimes you get it back.

I am writing a new front article for Sept's version of the website about a common man who let ESPN piss in his cornflakes so he attacked a baseball player. If the high drama of a beer swilling slob hell bent on the destruction of an overpaid athlete doesn't get the juices pumping I will have to go back to the joking about fake-teen porn or getting into losing battles with close friends about Hitler and his divisible shame. Either way...I will be O.K.

::: posted by Mike at 8:47 PM

Monday, July 16, 2001 :::
 

I need to understand why there is pain in the world. This is not the question of an emotionally immature person - nor is it the cry of a victim, looking for catharsis after bearing strain. This is a question of general puzzlement. I need to understand why people get ill - why they get cancer - why they overdose on drugs - why they commit suicide - why there is suffering - why there are heart attacks - why people's mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, acquaintances die and why we're left to pick up the pieces. What purpose does it serve? ...and don't stand there and smugly lecture me on the balance of good and bad or the importance of natural selection. And for christ's sake, if the words "god's will" even begin to come out of your mouth/fingers - I'm going to go ballistic. That's bullshit.

I've seen and heard nice words about the Goddess (or God, if you prefer) holding us all in the palm of her hand while she keeps balance between positive and negative forces...Based on what I've seen that's not the case at all. We are held firmly by the Goddess while positive and negative forces tug violently on each arm. ...and if blood is spilled, so be it. That happens to me quite a bit. Except that it's spiritual blood, not actual blood. I think I've been bled dry, too.

The grief process causes a ripple effect that takes its toll on people. You've heard the term, "always a bridesmaid but never a bride" - how about "always support, never supported". Not that I'm signing up for tragedy in my life, far from it. But I think that in a perverse sort of way, those whom tragedy touches directly have more outlet to mentally/spiritually sort it out. See, they're allowed to scream and cry and throw a big fit - and those of us on the fringes, who may be touched only briefly have the added guilt of "how can I scream and cry and throw a big fit when he's lost his mother - or she's lost her father?" without the catharsis of actually screaming and crying and throwing a big fit. My pain is worth less than your pain. That's what I mean by spiritual bleeding. ...and again, I'm bled dry.

I've had my share of pain in life, who hasn't? But I feel like I've had more than my share of spiritual bleeding, made more vivid recently with the cancer of someone that I've met, but am not close to. But she is close to someone that I'm very close to and it hurts to watch my friend suffer. It hurts so bad that my eyes are burning as I type this and my chest is tight. I want to cry for her so bad - cry for her, for my friend, for me. But I can't. So, if medication will take this feeling and replace it with me, throwing open the shutters of my two-story mind and embracing the sunlight of a new day - then, so be it.

::: posted by MetalCat at 9:53 AM

Wednesday, July 11, 2001 :::
 

The High Cost of Mental Health

The scene opens when a woman throws open the shutters of her two-story home and embraces the sunlight of a new day. The intended message is that this woman cannot perform an task as simple as opening a window without sharing her unadulterated joy about being alive. So I, ever the cynic, immediatly think to myself This is America, no person can be that happy unless there is premium grade pharmaceuticals involved. Imagine my total shock to discover that this was a Prozac commercial.

I am not against Prozac, Zoloft, or any of the drugs that even out the wrinkles in the brain. In fact, that this commercial was a Prozac commercial didn't phase me...I have seen plenty of those type of commercials, including the one that promises people with severe social anxiety a chance to get out in the world and all they have to do is accept dry-mouth, abdominal cramping, mild seizures, anal seepage, andcertain sexual side effects (I find this last side effect peculiar because that is a primary motivation to go OUT...TO GET LAID!!). No, the product itself was not what caught my attention...what did was the latest innovation with the product: PROZAC WEEKLY.

I thought is funny that people who need a medication to remain stable and functioning members of our Great Society can't be bothered to swallow a pill every 24 hours. I am aware that this is a (to over-use and over-used statement that people think they are witty when they throw it out in conversation) FAST FOOD CULTURE with convenience as its crown jewel, but Jesus, it is almost as if a daily regimen of chemical balancing is a terrible burden that cannot be squeezed into one's busy schedule.

I thought this was odd and I thought I would share it. File this away in the “Lose-Weight-While-You- Sleep-Perfect-Eyesight-In-An-Hour-Increase-Your-Bust-By-Two-Cup-Sizes” Convenience File.

::: posted by Mike at 12:01 PM

Thursday, July 05, 2001 :::
 

Candy For Weak Minds

Metal Cat is inching her way towards one of the biggest land mines buried in
the sand of society's playground. Propaganda is the cattle call for all the
drones inhabiting this consumer plantation called America. But what it is now
is not the same thing it was. In fact, it is a different animal altogether whose
movements are stealthier and whose teeth are a wicked kind of sharp.

It used to be, back in the good old days of America, that the government held
the monopoly on propaganda and perception altering misinformation. MetalCat
referenced a wonderful example of this in her previous post "SOMEBODY TALKED".
The posters in question told the viewer that to leak secrets about the goings on
within your great nation's backyard would bring about death that YOU would take
on your résumé with you straight to a flaming hell of unpatriotic murderers.
THAT was the magic and power of governmental propaganda. There were no
subtleties or soft mentioning in causal conversation. YOU WERE A MURDERER. YOU
WERE A COMMUNIST. YOU WERE A DISIDENT HELL BENT ON THE
DESTRUCTION OF LIFE IN THE US OF A. End of list, That's the Ballgame,
Say Goodnight Gracie.

Times change and so do the motivations to corral and shape the minds of a
nation. With all the wars having been fought, the threat of communism fading
with the dismantling of the former Red Soviet Block in the late 80's, the
government lost its impetus to maintain and control the thoughtscape of its
citizenry. This left a huge population whose weak minds had been trained to hit
the bar for a delivery of mind-numbing candy. Some evolved, others joined
cults, but most wandered the wilderness of shopping malls and micro-breweries
looking to fall in-step with the beat of a new drummer. Any drummer. Enter the
mass media.

It is not my assertion that media hadn't already been a major force of
molding the ideas of the masses, but when compared to the government they were
mere amateurs. The medium of television started small by giving what appeared
on the surface to be genuine information between the commercial product ads that
promised the country wizz-bang products with easy credit terms. In the grand
game of casting new mind molds, however, this brand of methodology was benign
and innocuous against the churning machine of managed information created by the
established regime. But as the aforementioned decline of the government's
"need" to manage information became apparent, the media was ushered into the
seat of power.

The country needed direction to replace the dissipating song of that famous
cattle call. The media was faced with a dilemma of how to round up the strays
and divert them to the feeding troughs of this new brand of Candy. They answered
this by engaging the age old vehicle "sensationalism" known to you and me as
"hype".

Superman has the Krypton sun. Lenny had Squiggy. And the media has as its
source of momentum and energy: the runaway freight-train of Hype. Hype is in
watercooler talk. Hype is in the talkshows. Hype is a staple ingredient of
what a friend of mine (one far smarter than me) calls "The Dateline Effect".
Hype makes heroes out of the mediocre and ordinary people into villains. Hype
tells us to wear green when we prefer blue. It makes us spend when we know we
should save. Hype is the most inventive smoke screen every to curl away from the
fire of propaganda.

From where we sit today the government is out of the propaganda business.
They might occasionally get involved in a cover up or two, but at the end of the
day they are in the business of counting dollars and hiring mercenaries, not the
wholesale brokering of hidden messages carrying hidden agendas. They have
outsourced that job to the most able mercenary body on the planet, the media.

This is a new age of Propaganda we live in. One whose reach is not obstructed
by borders and not limited to old methods of communication. The internet was
once a geek network of high level techies...now pre-schoolers send e-mail and
grandmothers log-onto porn sites. This medium, like all before it (save
CB-RADIO...good buddy), has succumb to that Darwinian pull that evolve all things.
Dot Coms harbor their own blend of misguidance with unknown drivers at the wheel.
It is now only in small pockets in the dark under-belly of the internet where
anything unbias still exists. Take this site for example. mikehaddon.com is
nothing more than me trying to warp the lens of reality and make my self seem
something more than what I am....propaganda is a human thing.

There is much more to all this than can be covered here. Look for my article
about "The Booming Real-Estate Market of the Mind" on the main page
of my website in October. I hope to drill a little deeper into this topic...
either that or I will just rehash everything I have said here.

I Welcome all those to my attempt at a BLOG and I openly invite anybody to
join. Thanks to Rob and Metal Cat for being the first to sound off. I hope to
have a few more folks on board soon.

::: posted by Mike at 3:13 PM

Friday, June 22, 2001 :::
 

"...SOMEBODY TALKED!!!"

I mentioned in an earlier post that I spent last weekend with family in Tennessee. Actually, it was Oak Ridge, TN. If you're not familiar with Oak Ridge - I wasn't - it has a very interesting history. In WWII, Oak Ridge built the atomic bombs that were dropped on Japan - The Manhattan Project. I'm sure that someone will be along presently to correct my specifics, but for now, this is the story in the Reader's Digest Condensed version.

Someone in the military got the idea that the Germans were holed up in some wilderness chalet, chuckling over a schematic and shoving atoms at other atoms with the desired end result of building a weapon with unprecedented destruction capability. So, in true American fashion, we skittered around doing precisely the same thing with breakneck speed. Sometime in the 40's, the military acquired 59,000 or so acres of the barely-inhabited Tennessee hills for this purpose. Local farmers were given a short time to pack their shit up and get outta Dodge. So then, they built a town. The government built 2 or 3 big nuclear plants, houses, a few town buildings and off they went. When people were hired to work in these plants their hire letters said - We're pleased to offer you this unspecified job in this unspecified area of the country. Be on the train Tuesday and welcome aboard - well, not that exactly but you get my point. Suffice to say that living conditions were spartan - the town was not on any maps at all so a lot of companies wouldn't ship there and the townspeople seemed to be completely subsidized by the government. If grampa and grandma would go on their Sunday drive and happened on the town, the first thing they would be greeted with would be tall guard towers, a gate, and armed guards. (the towers are still there, it's kinda creepy)

There were 2 other research areas in the country - one was Los Alamos, the other I can't remember. As best as I can tell, not being very smart in the history department, one plant made the plutonium/uranium stuff, sent it to Oak Ridge to be made into explosive material, then sent the whole kit and kaboodle to Los Alamos for testing/bomb-making. While all this was going on, the fighting continued with America taking huge losses. There was the famous Trinity test and then in August of 1945, the bombs were dropped on Japan and the war was over in less than two weeks.

This is all leading up to my visit to the museum when I was in Oak Ridge. Oak Ridge is a beautiful town, nestled in the hills - not far from Knoxville...and the houses and barracks that were built in the 40's are still there and still lived in. A comment that Linda made some time ago has stuck with me because it blows my mind. "Every house in Oak Ridge was either built in the early '40s or the early 70s." When I asked her why, she told me that the town was not opened to the public for building until the early 70s!!!! Am I the only one who is blown away by this??? And it's true - I've seen the houses. The plants are still there, of course, but they're not making weapons anymore.

While there, I went to the museum that's in town. It's a hybrid between a cool science museum with lots of stuff for kids (and Cats) to play with and a town history center. I was really interested in the town history so I started at the beginning. I have to admit that I was steeling myself for lots of patriotic propaganda, designed to steer your brain away from the horrific destruction and loss of life. But I was remarkably surprised that the information was so well presented. It put the facts out there in a very clinical way and spent more effort focusing on the people behind the work and the life they led in Oak Ridge at the time. One fact that made me chuckle was that little girls who were in the Girl Scouts had to travel to Knoxville, where the nearest troop was. They had to be enrolled by first names only due to the secrecy of the project. Sheesh! ....with Girl Scouts, even!

What was even more interesting was the WWII propaganda that was peppered through the exhibit...the title of my blog is taken from one of the more heavy handed of them. The picture was of a choppy ocean, dark skies and a shadowy ship-type figure in the distance. In the foreground, a hand is emerging from the whitecapped ocean. Straining upward, the hand reaches for the rescue that will never come *insert dramatic music here*. The text reads in large scary letters, "Somebody talked!" There was another one that had a figure of everybody's favorite mother, receiving the telegram from the War Dept telling her that a loved one had been killed. Her sobbing face is turned toward the viewer and the text reads "Her son is dead because YOU talked!"

To the eye of a girl who has never lived in a world where a whole town could be secret and young men volunteer to go to war, knowing that chances are good that they'll be KIA - these were laughable. But the power of propaganda is undeniable. It is the most effective tool that a government has...however they choose to use it. I think that as a society, though, we've decided that we're wayyyyy too smart to be taken in by it. But I'm not so sure we are... I'm interested in what would constitue propaganda today..and how it would be used. Since I went to that museum, I've paid just a little more attention to the news items that I watch, articles that I read, and the websites that I visit.

In the latter half of the nineteenth century, propaganda sowed the seeds of nazi anti-semitism in Europe - posters showing olive-skinned, dark-haired men and women scuttling off into the woods with German babies that would, undoubtedly, be killed to make bread for passover. Leaflets, papers, newspaper articles spread these through the educated elite - who then spread it through those who couldn't read by word of mouth. To anyone who's ever played the childrens' game "Gossip" or read any of the Urban Legends books like The Choking Doberman know full well the power of word of mouth transmission. Is it even possible that here, in the twenty-first century, we are still as a whole susceptible to the ravages of made-up tales. And doesn't it seem weird that no one really knows how these things get started? If we were to be swayed by powerful groups with political agendas, how would they get to us?

I am of an age where I can still remember life before remote controls, microwave popcorn, and - yes - the internet. But I know that there are folks out there who have embraced the internet as the penultimate voice of truth, just as our parents embraced Walter Cronkite and later, Dan Rather, as that voice over that newer medium of television. Is the internet truly the last bastion of unclaimed, virgin minds? I think so, to a certain extent - but I also think that television out classes the internet as a propaganda vehicle. Note some fairly recent examples. When the Russian sub went down in shallow water, the news media continually repeated statements about the countries that had offered help - but were refused. Doesn't that smack painfully of the Cold War picture of the stoic Soviets, looking unfeelingly at the camera while their children and their pets froze, starved, or were shot to death? Then, do you remember the photos that were circulating of the one distraught mother being subdued by several huge, young, strapping men in uniforms (read: KGB) while being shot up with a hypodermic? To my shame, I was taken in by that and made loud comments to anyone who'd listen about how horrible it was. What about the recent arrest of the Bush-girls (I've wanted to call them that ever since that hoo-ha took office) for the unpardonable offense of underage drinking? How much you wanna bet that the next we hear of this is the girls taking their punishment 'just like any other girl'??? And don't even get me started about the US's pet barking dog over there in Iraq? Isn't it funny how often he barks when something else is going on at home, like ...maybeeee....could it be.....an impeachment trial??????

I would love to say that our government or other groups aren't trying to lead us in a blatant way like in Wag the Dog or Bob Roberts but I'm not sure that I would be telling the truth. I can say that I'm disturbed by how little control I have over the information given me. I am unable to accept that what TV station A tells me but I am equally unable to believe what station B tells me, either. In fact, I've got it in my head that the only way for me to find out what's going on in Croatia is for me to hop on a plane and go there! Either I'm really stupid or there are others like me out there. BUT - just in case you're lost on the mis-information highway - try this. These folks help sort through the muck...

::: posted by MetalCat at 2:06 PM

Monday, June 18, 2001 :::
 

I'm not usually a "double-poster" but a few things struck me today that I found noteworthy.

1. This month's Rolling Stone contains a multiple-page article on Dale Earnhardt Jr. Since when has NASCAR been fodder for the penultimate guide to pop culture??? And, for that matter, since when is NASCAR the only thing that NC is known for???? Oh yeah, I forgot hurricanes and pigs. *sigh* It was a good article, though. That kid swears more than I do. Fuckin' - A.

2. The cast of Starship Troopers all look like they were hired directly from the Abercrombie and Fitch ads. Tell me again how we're supposed to live in America and have a healthy self-image??? Evidently, only those with chisled features (or small and perky breasts), artfully tousled hair, and a six-pack can have one...

3. Last, but certainly not least - I saw the video for Weezer's cool song from their much anticipated new album, Hashpipe on MTV. It was censored. They erased "hash" from the audio and the little snip at the beginning and the end of the video that identifies what the hell you're watching says Weezer - H***pipe. That sucks.

The above rant has been brought to you by the letters "F" and "U". (I stole that from SNL - I'm not even that clever).

That is all.

::: posted by MetalCat at 8:18 PM

 

"Eastbound and down...."

I have to mention my Smokey and the Bandit moment from this weekend's trip. I travelled to Tennessee with my sister-in-law and my nephew to visit her mother this past weekend. We drove 'cross-state in her Durango, which is properly outfitted with state o' the art radar detector and CB radio. On the way home, we were stuck in traffic jams no less than 3 times. The jams were due to construction and involved 4 and two lane highways merging to one lane for a short period of time. Having said that, I have to say that today's Punch in the Nose award goes to most highway drivers. At one jam, the left lane was merging in to the right and there was an exit about a mile and a half ahead of us. I can't tell you how many "4-wheelers" (that's trucker talk - we had the CB at channel 19 and were listening to the chatter) decided that it was an appropriate course of action to zip it over into the breakdown lane and cruise there for the couple of miles to the exit. Whereupon, aforementioned "4-wheelers" further decided that it was appropriate to motor up the exit and back onto the other side, thereby gaining a couple of dozen car lengths. Needless to say, I was filled with the outrage of the highway-innocent.

Fast forward...(the following comments are paraphrased but rendered as faithfully as I can remember)

Durango: "Break 1-9. Hey Eastbound Warner back there"

Warner: "Come back, driver."

Durango: "How 'bout running some interference with these Eastbound 4-wheeler yahoos - need you to back me up if I get hung out to dry"

Warner: "You got it, driver. 10-4"

So, I proceeded to ride half in and half out of the breakdown lane, causing quite a commotion behind me to the many folks who were denied their illegal activity and their dozen or so car lengths. I think that was the closest I'd ever come to becoming a victim of road rage.

That sound you hear is me, still chuckling. Good buddy.

::: posted by MetalCat at 12:37 PM

Saturday, June 16, 2001 :::
 

There is a very beautiful movie that has a line that goes some thing like this" I've seen things you people wouldn't believe" and today I feel I can say the same thing. For the first time today I attended a "SCI-FI expo" and saw some of the best examples of what I like to call the socially retarded. These would people that run on the faster end of the IQ highway but could make an 80 year old nun tell them to " shut the fuck up and get a life " in the the first five minutes of knowing them.


I in no way mean to imply that I am the measure of cooness that all beings should be messaured by ( I did pay hard american currency to get in to the place after all), but I do think I manage to keep my inner geek in check. and I would like to share some wisdom to any of those unluckly souls who stumble into this site.

1. For christ sake by some tee shirts that don't have some sort of licensed character on them.

2.Threre is one day of the year you can dress up in some costume from your favorite movie, that would be Oct. 31 any other time it's scary/sad.

3. Two words bath regularly. I'm not being mean but my girlfriend had to walk away from a sales table due to this problem.

4. Lastly this piece of advice could be used by more and more Americans every day. The Triple meat and chesse at Wendy's is more of a yearly indulgence than say a viable diet plan for eveyday life.

And to wrap this up I like to say I know making fun of these people is like shooting fish in a barell ( who by the way shoots fish? stupid things that get stuck in the lexicon)
and I am at heart one of them, and were not any bigger losers than people who put NASCAR stickers on there car for free. There called sponsers for a reason people.

::: posted by Anonymous at 6:30 AM

Wednesday, June 13, 2001 :::
 

Well, it looks like I have the daunting task of starting this one off. I skip around on the weblog lawn every once in a while - I'm always interested in how other people's blogs look and feel. The title and page are a good indication of the kinds of things you might see there.... In the case of Societal Nosebleed, I'm thinking that this might be a good place to be extrospective (is that even a word?) for once.

To begin. Thought for the day. How many people are walking around right now with the capacity for thinking/doing something completely outside the realm of what society considers acceptable? I know that not a day goes by that I don't relish the thought of going buck-wild and alienating myself - like pretending that the drive home is actually a demolition derby and clipping as many cars as I can. But does that mean that I'm in my own little world? Are there others like me out there? Is there anybody in there? Helloooooo - hellooooooo...

It's the phenomenon that I call "The Dateline Effect" and its recent resurgence in the wake of the media circus that was the execution of Timothy McVeigh that's prompted me to consider those around me and how many of their thoughts are original. The Dateline Effect is best illustrated by this: All of the ladies in the office troop home on Thursday night to watch Dateline, who informs them that the FDA allows .02344% of rat feces in their hot dogs. Whereupon all the ladies reel back into work the next day and screech and yowl, "OMIGOD, it's HORRIBLE!!! I'm never going to eat hot dogs again!!!!!", forgetting that they've been eating the same freakin' hot dogs their whole lives with no ill effects. So now, all of the aforementioned ladies (and gentlemen, too) are chittering madly about the world going to hell in a handbasket and that this McVeigh guy is driving the thing. They have elevated McVeigh to this extreme level of psychopath that is far outside the realm of normal human thought. Admittedly, the guy committed a horrible terrorist act and his ideas were very extreme- no one disputes that. But, in my mind, the only thing that makes him radically different than most other people is that he had the balls to carry out what he, in the extremity of his thoughts, decided what was the appropriate course of action.

::: posted by MetalCat at 1:42 PM