Live In The Now!

“My dick would make a better vice-president.”
“My wife’s bush doesn’t fuck me so hard.”
-Scrawled backwards on a bathroom wall

I’m currently taking an undergraduate-level course on social psychology. I didn’t want to take it, but a last second shift in my schedule left me with few options, and here I am today. Our class is in a sad state of affairs right now. We have two weeks left in the term, and our professor is running out of things to talk about. She is too conscious of ending class early, and that means we end up doing a lot of little activities that end up wasting time, and teaching us very little.
It’s kind of weird reverting back to that kind of class. None of the students want to be there (but for the required attendance, I don’t think there’d be more than ten people in each session), and when we have group activities, the discussion quickly veers from what we’re supposed to be talking about, to impassioned debate about the pointlessness of group activities.
I am one of those who believe that working in teams is great. When you get several people together who are interested in doing something useful, the results can be quite inspiring. But no one in our class seems to care about our activities, and why should they? The transparency of our professor’s efforts to fill time is pretty demoralizing, and I think most of us would rather be assigned extra reading and homework than have to sit there and babble on about inanities. But such is life for the undergraduate. The graduate level courses have been much more interesting, and the students are easier to get along with. They want to be there, and the professors are usually much more engaging. I look forward to a time when I don’t have to waste my time with multiple choice tests, and mundane text books. But until that time comes, I’m just going to have to bitch about my current position in the educational world.
Speaking of bitching, we had a tense moment in class last week when one of our students took a strong political stand. School and politics usually mix with touchy results. Political science courses will always force some sort of opinion, but taking one side too vehemently can be disastrous, as was the case a couple of weeks ago.
This particular incident included a student who was still coming to terms with Bush and his handling of the Iraq “situation.” Probably thinking that an urban college would be a safe place to make a liberal view, he asked our professor where the psychology of the recent war fit in the current thinking on aggressive behavior. Our professor was quick to assure him that he was thinking on the right track, at which time, the student in question put to rest any doubts of where he stood. “WHAT THE FUCK!” was all he could muster. The ambiance grew tense that very second. More students chimed in, all agreeing with the offending student. After about five minutes, someone had the balls to ask if we could get back to the subject. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but you could tell by the sound of her voice that she was very annoyed.
And so was I for that matter. I agreed with everything said, but I’m just so sick of hearing this bitching, and I certainly don’t want to waste anymore time sitting in class than is absolutely necessary. A wise man once said that his education was disrupted many times by school. I think this is what he meant. I also think it is time for us to start focusing on the present issues. Iraq happened, and it was terrible, and it still is terrible, but there’s not much that can be done about it now. Marty destroyed the time machine at Eastwood ravine, and no one’s made a believable time machine since. We can talk about how pissed we are in four years, but right now, there’s fighting to be done.And that’s what these people do. While we’re fuming about the last atrocity brought on by this president, he’s out committing another one behind our backs. We need to focus, and fight the wars at our front door. This whole filibuster thing couldn’t be more important, and what the fuck happened to Tom Delay? We didn’t just let him off the hook, did we? Anyways, I have to cut this short tonight, but rest assured, we need to keep our eyes on the prize. It’s the only way to get there. Good night, and good-bye.

A New Hope...

I woke up this morning with the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I had a sudden rush of energy, and my heart started pumping rapidly. I was sure something was wrong with me. What else could it be? I ran to the mirror in the bathroom to make sure everything was in order. I wasn’t missing any body parts, and everything was where it should be. So I went back to bed, and huddled in the fetal position. I laid there for over an hour, going over the various possibilities. But it then hit me like a sack of moldy tangerines; I was feeling optimistic.
Yes, it was the first time I’d experienced anything like this in a while, and I still can’t say for certain what exactly I’m feeling optimistic about. But I was vibrant the rest of the day. Even the evil queen of the mailroom couldn’t ruin my mood. I was floating on air.
But as the haze, and excitement of this ordinary day wears thin, I am left wondering what it was that could put me in such high spirits. I’ve been weighing the possibilities, and nothing is for certain as of yet.
It could be that the third Star Wars film is coming out, and everyone thinks it’s a good one. A.O. Scott of The New York Times said it was incredible; even better than the first. Like so many other people who grew up with the original trilogy, I was severely disappointed in the last two. I was always planning on watching the third one, just to see how Lucas decided to wrap it all up, but I wasn’t going to wait in line with the “there but for the grace of Obi Wan Ken obi go I” crowd. I’d done it once at the release of the first movie. It was what our older generations liked to call a happening. I called it the biggest let down of my way too-short life (which has been filled with many, many let downs, mostly self-fulfilling). But this one is to be different. There’s no hype for this one because of the last two. Any review given to it is as objective (if not negatively leaning) as possible, and it is with that knowledge that I so look forward to seeing it.
But let’s not kid ourselves. Lucas still has one foot in the shitter with a lot of people, including me, and I’m not throwing my life’s dreams away to see this thing. I’ll wait until I can get a ticket and sit in a reasonable seat like a civilized person, and then we’ll see how this thing adds up. Plus, I’m interested in hearing what the nerds have to say about it. Flip on any news channel tomorrow morning, and you’ll see all kinds of stories gauging reaction by the few and faithful who wasted the last six weeks of their lives sitting in front of a theatre outside a suburban strip mall without a shower, job, or any sense of pride for an event that will last two hours, and will be viewable many more times over the next few months. These will be the true critics, because they’ve got so much invested in it.
How do you tell your kid that you spent six weeks in line to see the unbelievable piece of shit that was Episode One? It won’t be easy, I assure you. They need to come away with a story that doesn’t sound like they received countless strawberries from ignorant bullies in high school, and Episode Three is going to be their mother’s milk. I almost want the movie to suck, just so I can see the look on their eyes when they come to the realization that they’ve just wasted another month on total shit. Call me sadistic, but I say that’s where the real fun lies.

But I have a hard time believing that this sudden rush of happiness came from this upcoming major motion picture event. After all, I have bigger things coming up on the horizon. I can’t wait for the Republicans in the senate to pull out the nuclear option, and ban filibustering. We’ll see a shut down of government that hasn’t been experienced since the Republicans decided to stop the wheels of democracy in 1995. Clinton had luck on his side that day, and the spinsters wound up in his corner.
The stakes are a lot higher now. The President is holding all the chips, and like Matt Damon said in Rounders, once you’re in that position, all you have to do is lean on the other guy. There’s no doubt that this petty bickering will result in little more than an all out public relations war. In the past, the Dems have had the upper hand, mainly because we’re better people than they are, but we’re playing against a real pro this time. He plays for keeps, and you’d better be prepared to go all the way, or you’re going to lose. We’re talking about abortion, guns, taxes, and the whole shebang. It may sound like I’m exaggerating here, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Historically, second-term presidents have been slowed down due to lack of trust. The same thing was happening with this President, but he isn’t going down without a fight. This fight is the political equivalent to losing a gun battle, but saving whatever strength you have left to raise your arm, and take your opponent down with you. Bush doesn’t want to win, but he certainly isn’t going to be the only loser. They’re playing a game with our lives, and in the end, we’re all losers.

Despite that last negative part, I am excited about the fight. But it can’t be why I’m so excited. The truth is, I’ll probably never know why, and that should be okay. I may wake up feeling like shit tomorrow, and the least I can do right now is bask in my happiness. These things are always unexpected. I bottomed out emotionally two years ago thanks to our lovely unemployment rates. You all know what I’m talking about. But the turning point for me was so concise that I can place the exact time and location that it happened. I had given up on the idea that Bob Dylan had anything new to offer me. But a slew of albums I had previously belligerently disregarded as crap showed me that there are no limits to the things we can do. Monkeys will head up SWAT teams, Mexicans and rednecks will get along together, I’ll stop complaining, the moons of Jupiter will align, and we will all achieve that unspeakable goal of beauty, accomplishment, and great sex. Then, we will all be winners.And if you buy any of that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you. Tip your waitresses.

I'm Down There With The Rest Of You

I just had to write a one-page paper on what causes road rage for a sociology class. That’s right, one page. Don’t tell me that scholastic standards are falling. That shit was double-spaced as well, and our professor will take points off for being too verbose. What a bunch of bullshit. It’s impossible to be too verbose. I read a story about how Harvard standards are falling down the tube as well. While this isn’t very surprising, you’d think something would be done about it. But there’s a lot of pressure on the professors coming from all over. The students are giving them shit about the assignments being too hard. The parents are spewing irrational crap about being unfair, xenophobic, sexist, snobbish and all other manners of sin. The administration is coming down on them to raise the profile of the school’s intellect, while actual intellect becomes a thing of the past. No one goes to Harvard for the great education; they go for the stigma that goes along with it being Harvard.
But I’m preaching to the choir here. None of this is new, and we’ve once again strayed away from the subject. The question originally put forth was about drivers and road rage. What causes it, and why? Sure, there are the obvious things. Heightened frustration and stress as a result from a number of different things can increase aggression while driving. Heat can also add to this frustration, making something like air conditioning a welcome inhibitor. But I disagree with that. Air conditioning is nice, but I think having abnormally cool air shot at your face while the sun is beaming down on you actually has the opposite effect. It’s like a little five-year-old poking you repeatedly. The frustration gradually builds up, and you just explode without warning. Air conditioning is nice, but it still pisses me off.
Another factor involved could be the phenomenon of deindividuation. I know, it’s a big word, but you’ll probably never have to use it again, so don’t worry about it. Deindividuation is the idea that giving a person the feeling on anonymity will cause him or her to lose his or her inhibitions, something that could affect his or her driving while he or she is alone in the car. It can also occur in large groups where one’s presence is less noticed. It explains the riot caused by hundreds of men in New York one day. They got drunk and increasingly belligerent until all heck-fire broke loose. They fondled women, tore their clothes off, and didn’t even buy them a drink. It’s a pathetic breakdown of moral standards, and I won’t stand for it. But I think the media has done a good job of putting the fear of psychotic drivers into our hearts to the point where deindividuation is impossible. I know I’m scared of the time when a big, greasy, shit-kicking redneck decides to cut me off and I flip him off. He’ll run me off the road in his Toyota F350, drag me out of the car and proceed to beat the living shit out of me, ending it with a curb job (there’s nothing that scares me more than a curb job). This fear and one or two close encounters have kept me from being too demonstrative behind the wheel.
But the same can’t be said for everyone. I once saw a man get cut off downtown by a woman in a mini-van with two infants in the back seat. The man was so pissed off that he rolled his window down and started screaming at her while her children were watching. I saw a guy so pissed off once at his tail-gater, that he pulled into a Safeway parking lot, waving at the other guy to follow so they could kick the shit out of each other. I have a friend who is willing to double back when he gets cut off just so he can scream at the offending driver. Madness in every direction.

But I think it’s time we all look at how ridiculous this all is. Think of Coolio, and how cool he looked while cruising in his drop-top caddie on his way to the beach. He certainly was on a fantastic ride, and we can all be that way if we realize how petty our little frustrations can be. I think much of this is posturing. Our society (for men anyways) is very much dependant on having implied social rules, and when those rules are broken, one has to stick up to the rule-breaker. If he doesn’t, he feels like a coward and a pushover. No one wants that next to their name. I was at a Dylan concert when a fan wanted to stand and dance. It seems pretty obvious that people would want to stand at a rock concert, but those sitting behind him didn’t agree. They spent half the concert yelling at him. These pathetic bastards couldn’t get over such a small inconvenience, and they were more than willing to let it ruin their evening instead of ignoring the small annoyance, and appreciating the concert anyways. Getting cut off in traffic is frustrating, and you want the offending driver to know he pissed you off, but is it really necessary to have an aneurysm every time someone slows you down by less than ten seconds? I didn’t fucking think so.
I’m starting to sound like my parents, and that’s the last thing I want. But it’s important to remember that it’s mostly the adults doing these things. There’s nothing more frustrating than driving in the West Hills and being slowed down by some middle-aged jackass who thinks he can make the world a better place by driving twelve m.p.h below the speed limit. I’m begging all of you people to stop that, it’s not working. But these people are doing the same thing. A juvenile driver once wronged them, so they’re going to take it out on all kids who come across their path.
I must be becoming an honest to god blogger now, because I have officially started bitching about the pettiest things. I always said I wouldn’t become one of those people who write these inane posts about shit no one cares about. They try to be like Jerry Seinfeld, finding humor in everyday situations, but they aren’t anywhere close (I assure you none of the Portland to Taiwaners fit this description, except me, perhaps). I was going to have fun with this shit, and I knew that taking myself seriously even just a little bit would spell doom, and I still believe I’m right. I was thinking about discussing next time why smokers don’t get a fair shake in life, but it would only get worse after that. Next up would be my tirade against companies who produce right handed scissors, as if scissors have to have a hand preference. I apologize for this tangent, and I hope not to do it again. As vox populi, I have let you down. But even the voice of God isn’t perfect. He leaves that up to the big man himself. Until next time my friends.

Heroes And Villains

I spend a lot of time bemoaning the terrible traits of our government and our people. Week after week I bring you sad stories about evil people out to ruin us, and I am left with the impression, as I’m sure many of you are, that this country is filled with a bunch of lying scum; dirty swine that would step over their own mother to get their hands on even a small piece of the proverbial pie. These people rape and pillage, both figuratively and literally, and there’s little that can be done about it on our side.
So it is with great pleasure that I introduce to you a group of people on the other side of the moral spectrum. How many of you are asking yourselves why we have to endure this savage disease that is illegal immigration? I know I spend my evenings in thought, wondering what my life would have been like if I hadn’t been laid off to create work for Paco, or Jose, or whomever. This terrible scourge is running a burn on our fair nation, and there are few who are doing anything about it. So we can only thank God that we have the Minutemen looking behind our backs and across our borders to keep the great Mexican threat from realizing itself.
These tireless freedom fighters give up time from their obviously busy lives to patrol the southern borders of our sacred land in hopes of catching the godless infidels who reside directly below us in the act of tyranny to freedom. We are, after all, the greatest of the great nations; the city on the hill. And no one should have to endure the pain suffered in losing his or her bean-picking job.
Oh no, the INS isn’t enough these days. We need twenty-four hour patrols of our virgin lines, just waiting to be penetrated by some criminal, some thief in a poncho. So there they sit, just waiting for the chance to call the real law enforcement on some dirty miscreants, frothing at the mouth over the idea of living in a land such as ours. These patriots are doing us all a favor. They sit there on the line, facing danger, but never wavering from the fear one can only feel when faced with the possibility of fighting a national security threat. Don’t let the fact that they’re tired, weak, and starving fool you; these guys came to party.
I know I couldn’t do such difficult job. I go knock-kneed at the very thought of it. And yet, I can’t help but be thankful for the service being provided by these men, these heroes, these modern day titans of the south. Why, only the other day I saw one on television. There he sat, on his pedestal atop is 1979 Toyota pick up, nothing but beer and a transistor radio to keep him company. His war-mask was his facial hair, which he let grow out in an effort to seem scarier, and boy did it work. His mullet was an obvious homage to one William Wallace, the Scottish freedom fighter, not unlike our own, who wanted nothing more than the English to go home. And like the English, the Mexicans shall not prevail. The William Wallaces of Texas, California and New Mexico will not allow it.
And how can we thank these people? I am reminded of my time spent two years ago in the depths of unemployment. I applied for every bean, grape, strawberry, blueberry and huckleberry picking job this side of the Mississippi, but to no avail. Undoubtedly, there would always be a less qualified Mexican there to take the job that was rightfully mine, and all in the name of affirmative action. Fucking Kennedys with their liberal, communist ideas. Didn’t they know that some people are just better than others, and nothing’s going to change that? I guess not, for they otherwise would not have decided to mess with God’s ultimate plan.
But, there I waited for a job. Eric Schlosser knew the pain of immigrants all too well. His well-documented history of working in slaughterhouses exposed the pain to which good old Americans such as myself have been exposed to. Upton Sinclair also knew of the greatness of American slaughterhouses. Don’t listen to the naysayers. They’ll try to tell you that slaughterhouses are unhealthy, even deadly places to work with an injury rate triple the national average. These are happy fun places that provide a steady employment and lifetime support for the whole family. The middle class was built on slaughterhouses, and now the Mexicans have those as well. They’re being bussed in by the hundreds; taking our money and our benefits.
I really can’t say enough about these people. They obviously work hard all day at their fortune 500 companies that are being taken over by Mexicans, and they probably get a little frustrated when some crazy Mexican cuts them off in a Dodge Dart filled with fifteen of his family members. Who among us hasn’t known the frustration of going to Taco Bell and not being able to understand the guy at the take out window? Sure, some of it is because of the reception, but Chet at Wendy’s comes through 5X5 when I take the family there, and he talks better American than anyone I know.
So lift your drinks to your local Minuteman. He’s fighting the good fight, and if he succeeds, the world will be a better place. The essence of God will return to our hillsides, women will go back to the kitchen where they belong, Toby Keith day will replace Martin Luther King Jr. day, and we will all be able to wear ten-gallon hats without being subjected to public ridicule. Are you an urban cowboy? I know I am.

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I think it’s time we address a serious topic. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any, so I’m going to regale you for the next few minutes with some stories that nobody cares about. This one will crack you up. Apparently, in the event of a nuclear attack, the United States has insufficient protocol for how to react. Our first strike response is woefully behind the times, according to some senate investigative committee. But I am again forced to ask the question; in the event of a nuclear attack, won’t we all be pretty much killed instantaneously? It’s like hiding under your desk during a bomb raid. Your fucking desk isn’t going to do shit. The fact is, when the big one drops, we will all die before we’re able to turn to CNN to see what’s happening, which won’t matter because CNN will likely be one of the first things to go. But you have to be happy about that. If it happens, it happens and there’s nothing we can do about it. So why not just sit back and enjoy the light show. I should have a pretty good view from my bedroom window.
One more thing, I live near a hospital, and I frequently hear ambulances speeding by my place. Being that my mind has been trained by television to think crime when I hear an ambulance, I get the picture of my neighborhood being some dirty ghetto full of gang violence and other unmentionable acts. But that simply isn’t the case. My neighborhood is as safe as any place in Portland. So, my question is, when people make movies and they use an ambulance siren to paint a picture of a crime-ridden neighborhood, do they ever consider that those ambulances might be going somewhere rather than arriving from somewhere? I think not. It’s one of the many things in life that I’ll have to worry about (there goes an ambulance right now! And I can guarantee you it’s going somewhere, not arriving from someplace) whether I like it or not. I’ll leave you people with that thought. Sleep tight knowing our borders are being protected by the few and the brave.

Woe Is Me...

Last week was a rough one. I won’t beat around the bush, though. I’ve abandoned you people. I left you without a voice for a week, and God only knows what kind of damage was done in the process. Once again, I was wrapped up in my own pathetic little life, unable to look at the big picture, and incapable of making the ultimate sacrifice for the people.
Midterm week is now over, and I can’t say I’m very happy with the outcome. I already know I’ve failed in one of my classes, and I’m worried that I’m about to hear the same thing about the other one. I do have to say that the idea of a number two pencil makes me sick. When we were in school, we always heard about the dangers of not using a number-two pencil. We were told to fill in the bubbles completely and leave absolutely no marks outside the lines. Most kids worried more about creating some number-two pencil catastrophe than they were thinking about their own studies. No one thinks about who signed the Declaration of Independence when they’re gearing up to take a history final anymore. They’re too busy planning the route to the pencil sharpener should some unthinkable disaster occur.
I was lucky enough to avoid any such mishap, but an essay exam left me with a crippled left-hand, and I was shat on by a bird right after the drama had ended; the perfect end to the perfect day. But my troubles weren’t over after that. It appears that I may be homeless in the next few months, and that’s to say nothing of the fact that I’ve spent almost $3,000 on schooling that may turn out to have been a waste of time. Like I said, it’s been a rough week.

But you didn’t come here to hear this shit. My problems are my own (and mostly built up in my head) and after all, I’ve been neglecting the faithful thousands who have done so much to make me the great man I am today. So let’s talk about what’s going to affect you.
I was reading an article about the noble deed the senate ethics committee did this week: their job. Apparently, they’re going to rescind a law that would have provided Tom DeLay some cover from his problems. It will probably be the second time in three years that DeLay will have been reprimanded for his sins. The bastard certainly has it coming, and now even the Jesus that Republicans have adopted as their new poster boy can’t save DeLay from the frothing vultures that is the House Ethics Committee.
And what about Bill Frist last week with his sermon to the people on those nasty, reactionary, liberal, tree hugging, godless, homosexual, transvestite, drug using/dealing, judges who have taken the law into their own hands? That’s right, folks. Nobody has to worry about the Klan coming around anymore. Instead of worrying about the men in white robes, we should worry about the ones in black. They have no regard for the Republican agenda (the agenda of God) and they even think it’s wrong to force religion on others. I’d like to know where the hell in the U.S. Constitution, that little piece of paper we put so much faith in, does it say that we are not a Christian nation. Seriously. Where does it say that? What? Oh…right at the beginning? But isn’t it obvious that the framers had Christianity in mind when they wrote this constitution? No? SINNIER!
But, seriously folks, I know the constitution was written along time ago, and the people from that era kind of talked a little funny. But I don’t think the first amendment’s that hard to read. After all, most people can understand what they say on Fraser. It seems pretty self-explanatory to me, and yet, some of our most tenured leaders are having a hard time seeing it. Senator Bill Frist sure as shit can’t see it. He sermonized on the liberal judge epidemic on a Christian television broadcast from a “Mega” church. Where the fuck is the senate ethics committee when you need it. This fucking guy makes me want to puke.
President Bush made his own news this week when he announced that he’d be trying to screw us over. What I don’t get is that every poll I’ve seen in the past few months has said people oppose the privatization of social security by at least 60% of the population. That’s a lot, and I guess I just don’t see why no one is calling this fucking guy on it. I’ll accept that there are some things that we aren’t smart enough as a nation to grasp. I’ll admit that social security is in trouble, and I’ll even admit that Bush has balls for bringing it up at all (although he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t granted a “mandate” by the people), but what I’ll never get is that the press lets him get away with this shit without so much as a whimper of opposition. The President himself has said that privatizing would lose people money, it is almost a given fact that privatizing would do more damage than good, and yet the Bush Administration is rolling on like a machine, and no one’s trying to hit the “off” button.
I’ll leave you with that. I’m pretty pissed off now, and frankly, I’m a little disgusted with all of us. Selah.