Where's my placebo effect?!?

I truly hate being ill. It saps my creative energy, and my ability to sleep. I've taken enough of a combination of pills to kill a healthy horse, drank so much tea I've absorbed an English accent, and all to no effect. Not even a placebo effect.
The problem is, I rarely get sick, I'm normally quite healthy (physically, anyhow), so I have no need to stockpile the necessities of cold-sufferers. I will not go buy cans of sodium-laden chicken soup, Mentholatum, a humidifier or anything else used in the treatment of the occasional bug.
I can't afford to not work, so I rick the possibility of spreading it amongst my co-workers, which may have happened already. I definitely can't go to the gym, they see me sneeze or cough on something and I'm out of there. Why can't they just invent an illusion drug that makes you feel fine while your body still fights your illness? Or maybe I could get some hypnotherapy, like Peter did in Office Space.
Going on with day six of this affliction is starting to wear me down. I've slept so little I'm starting to see things. I'm not seeking pity, just empathy. Give me a big 'harumph' if you feel the same way. Thanks for listening, cyber-peoples.

Marlin Tacos and Margaritas

It's a well known fact that food on cruises is usually quite varied, plentiful and delicious. But we went to Mexico, so of course we needed to try the local fare. Our first stop was the verdant and sultry Puerto Vallerta, the southernmost stop on our trip. We got off the boat and just started walking, running into a small clan of wild iguanas on our way downtown. It was hot, but the walk was worth it, we ran into a very friendly and helpful Information lady, who pointed us to a 'clean' restaurant right on the boardwalk.
The place was small, but the food smelled good and they had an assortment of liquors so this satisfied everyone. It was called Malecon. Me and my only male travel companion ordered the marlin tacos, and of course, they were AMAZING. Wahoo's may have just gotten knocked down as my favorite fish taco. Me and someone I will refer to as my 'drink buddy' got the two for one margartia's and proceeded to get a nice healthy buzz. These things were the size of my face, like 20 oz easy and loaded with alcohol. Drink buddy didn't have anything but tortillas, and we both managed to walk out of there under our own power. Our group proceeded down to a river island covered with shops and gardens, purchasing nothing, but having an interesting chat with a shop owner about our new president and the economy, while drink buddy played with his dog.
We wandered back to the tip of the boardwalk, the other two took a cab back to the ship and me and drink buddy went back to Malecon and got some Jack Daniel's shots, then took our own cab back to the ship, stopping at the bar across the way for one more shot. Within minutes, drink buddy turned from friendly- to mean-drunk, striking me repeatedly without provocation. So I dragged drink buddy back onto the boat and put said buddy in their stateroom. Drink buddy then slept for most of the next twelve hours. But it was still worth it. I can't want for a chance to head back to that beautiful town and have some time to really learn the area. Beautiful.

Back from the Salty Seas

I only know of one person whom actually noticed my absence, but only because she is obsessed with my pointless rantings and sub-par poetry. But for anyone else who didn't notice, I was on a Mexican cruise for a week, breathing the clear sea air and overeating in prodigious amounts. Puerto Vallerta is an amazing place, and Cabo is quite beautiful for being so barren. And although I miss it and wish I was still out there, I'm glad to be back, and I have plenty of stories and general complaints to record upon this virtual tome.

*Irony Alert*

'Shopaholic Dies in Avalanche of Clothing' sounds just too amusing to actually be true, right? Not according to a story picked up from the UK, where an old-maid shopaholic was found buried under three feet of unopened goods in her home, after being reported missing. She had so much stuff here garage was apparently filled to the rafters. Why would someone buy so much stuff they didn't use or even really need? Well, it appears that 'compulsive spending' is actually an addiction, which is usually classified as a mental disease. People spend money and acquire goods to fill some hole in their being, or as a temporary cure for another problem. For these people, spending money feels good, relieves stress and temporarily fills whatever void is in their life.
This can lead to other obvious problems, among the more obvious is massive debt and the ruination of personal relationships. We all like spending a little money now and then, usually to get something we desire, or to achieve some arbitrary goal that boosts our self-esteem or confidence a degree. But where do we draw the line? How do we draw ourselves out of a spending addiction? I'll be damned if I know, I just re-post and comment on this stuff, I don't have all the answers. Join Shopaholics Anonymous or something.

American Sin

Once again, the scourge against music known as "American Idol" has returned fro it's eighth season, and people once again lined up, so desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame (or infamy) that I an again reminded why I believe this show is a condensed and apt epitome for much of what is wrong with America.
There is this idea that something in American culture must be like a shooting star (although far too often it turns out to be a comet, returning periodically), brilliant and shining for a few minutes, then dissipates and vanishes, leaving public consciousness forever. This disposable idea of our culture is what churns out these top-forty one-time wonders, who change as often as their styles. The music is banal and uninteresting, recycles top hits from past decades and creating more safe, non-thought provoking tunes to be heard for the next six to eight months, only to end up in rotation on the budget pop radio stations for the rest of their miserable lives, perfect for people who have no taste in music and don't care to develop it.
It's always the next new thing, leaving nothing to chance, crafting an image they can sell instead of letting creativity flourish naturally. Many talented singers/musicians/songwriters carved out a piece of popularity for themselves, it wasn't given to them on a Primetime platter. And they have staying power. The Rolling Stones and AC/DC still rock (and are still rocking) today, decades after they began. Does anyone remember what happened to the first winner of American Idol? The second? Last year's? The only reason Claiken is still in the news is because he finally came out of the closet, and now he will wash away into the sewers of has-been's and disposable stars.
The only thing sadder than the people who become obsessed with this show are the ones who try out, so deluded with the belief that they belong on the show that they will risk mass public humiliation at the hands of Cowell and his talentless cronies for a chance at some invisible means of success.
The only reason me or anyone I know watches the show is for the morbid curiosity of the impending train wrecks of the first episode. After that, it's all a pointless joke, a bunch of basically talentless ids with stars in their eyes ruining classic songs for the sake of FOX's ratings and some royalties for aging musicians, if they ever own the rights to their songs anymore.
And now I will have to avoid our local FOX affiliates almost daily story's about Idol and "Idol Mania," a nefariously bad term and idea. With so much going on in the world, is it truly necessary to have weekly segments about a popular TV show? Is it so important that we can put off talking about the important, harder things in life to expend time and energy on a fluff piece that makes me feel ill just thinking about it? Apparently so, when you feel you need something safe to draw in viewers.
I really hope that and fence-sitters on the Idol 'phenom' will please consider this and not waste another moment of your life on such a waste of airtime. There is nothing I would like more than to see this thing go away, resigned to the annals of TV history as another pop show finally deemed boring and useless by the American public. I better hope I live a long, long time.

Daily Douchebaggery

I don't think I can honestly call Mrs. Palin a douchebag. I mean, she's a governor and a hard-working woman, and all. How about a douchebaggette? That will have to do.
In a recent interview with John Ziegler for his documentary "How Obama Got Elected"( which I'm sure I'll rush out to see, since I-and the rest of the world-wasn't paying attention the first time), she has the nerve to complain that the media wasn't fair to her in the lead up to the election, since she was only after the second most important position in the US government. Despite her avoidance of the media, softball interviews, and her frightening lack of knowledge about how our own government works, sure, they were unfair to her. No one accused Biden of hunting moose from a helicopter or being a sexy hockey-mom. Gee, I sure hope not. Sarah sealed her own fate, in my opinion, when she failed to explain the details of the job she was hoping to be elected to. I could care less that she was a creationist, an abstinence-approving mother of a teenage, unmarried, pregnant daughter, that she turned her town into a haven for box- and chain-stores under her Mayoral tenure, and that she was married to a secessionist; none of this really matters if she could competently do her job to the best of the ability for the betterment of the nation, but tie and again she proved that she could not. Do I wish her any particular harm? No. Am I glad that she isn't going to be my next VP? You betcha!

The Way of the Dodo

Being the English major that I am, this article easily caught my eye. It would seem more interesting to a communications major or someone who studies calligraphy, orthography, typography or some other area to do with writing or the manual creation of letters, but as I like to write, I feel I have some stake in this possible dilemma.
This article by Anne Trubek points to the slow disappearance of handwriting as an applicable and necessary skill. I remember back in grade school when they vainly tried to teach us good penmanship skills, focusing more the structure of your lettering than the importance of your words. This had little effect on me, as I took my poor handwriting and wrote anyway, creating barely legible but readable stories as early as the first grade. I can still write in cursive if I need to, but see no real use for it when I can Ctrl+i and write in italics right here, if I want to emphasize something. So I can definitely see her point in proposing that these skills are no longer needed. But, as an art, should handwriting go the way of typewriters, papyrus scrolls and clay tablets?
Comics and graphic novels often rely heavily on text for meaning, (good) graffiti is all about textual representation, and kanji tattoos are still quite popular. The art of writing isn't quite dead, but maybe handwriting may be. Even newspapers are succumbing to the information age as everything goes online. It's much easier to search for information on Google than by digging through reams of microfiche (does anyone really do that anymore?). Nearly everyone in my generation is digital. I don't know a person below the age of fifty that doesn't have a blog, a web page, a myspace/facebook page or an email account.
Yet, when I do my real, intensive, meaningful writing, it's sitting in bed at three am with a notebook, scribbling phrases and general accusations with a pencil, making notes in the margins and editing with my eraser. I do feel some nostalgia for putting a pencil or pen to paper rather than typing on a cold, uncaring machine, making my eyes go blurry from staring at a monitor. But maybe I'm just the last of a dying breed of writer. Maybe everyone in twenty years will pour their souls out onto cyberspace, hammering away at keyboards in the middle of the night on word processors wondering if voice-recognition software and brain-analyzing scans that record their dreams will take the place of the keyboard.
So what of handwriting? Will our children or grandchildren learn to type instead of writing out the alphabet? Will they send their homework to a teacher through a wireless tablet instead of turning in sheets of scribbled answers? I surely don't know the answers, but we may see. As the anachronism of the daily paper slowly fades into history, maybe writing will follow it, or maybe not. Who knows?

*Note: I was going to use a classic Gary Larson Far Side comic on my page, but his lawyers have been tracking down every unauthorized usage of his comics and forcing capitulation or else.*

Will you be having steak or kitten, tonight?

Just when I thought the people at PETA couldn't get anymore asinine, they pull this out of their collective ass. In an effort to restrict fishing and their inherent hope that people will stop eating fish altogether ( but, Kurt said fish don't have any feelings!), turning the country into a group of vitamin-deficient, weak-wristed namby-pamby's more worried about the digestive tract of the bear who killed a man than the man who got e't. I'm not attacking the ideals of vegetarians or vegans out there (not directly, anyhow), but those who choose and attempt to force their views about animals on others (and quietly support terrorist organizations like ALF), whilst purchasing freezers to store euthanized pets after chastizing state-run facilities for the very same thing, just need to keep their opinions to themselves.
Calling a fish a 'sea kitten' isn't going to stick, nor is it going to have any effect on the vast majority of the population. A fish is nothing like a feline, and if you remember, they are the stereotypical meal for said animals, and have you ever seen a grouper? Not the cutest thing in the sea. 'Sea chicken' is a more proper moniker, an has already been around for decades. Mmm, I could sure go for some sea chicken right now. Except, I just had a big, medium-rare piece of 'pasture cat,' otherwise known as cow.
PETA, if you don't mind, keep your nose off of my plate, and I'll keep my hate mail out of your inbox.

Daily Douchebaggery

Today's is such an easy candidate, I about had to be talked into it. It appears Mr. Vice President Dick Cheney believes himself to be a 'lovable' person, demonized by the media (that damn Liberal Media!) and intimates that he never pulled any strings in the White House and let Grand Poobah Bush run the show, funny hat and everything.
Anyone who sneers as much as this man does has spent a lifetime acting like a dick, not being ol' Uncle Dick. I'm sure his friends think highly of him, all those in Halliburton and the oil industry. Just don't cross him while quail hunting. I'm afraid of this man, in the sense that I have a good idea of what he is capable of, and how much leverage he has behind the curtains.
I'm sorry, Cheney, you're not a nice, lovable person. You're just a douchebag.

Wont someone please think of the children?

What's the first thing you quick, intelligent people think of when you walk into a Chili's? If you said, it's "Hey, this place looks like a bar," you'd be correct. Or so State Senate President (elect) Michael Waddoups thinks. Apparently, he is so disconcerted at having to stand the sight of the bar area where drinks are mixed and alcohol is stored, he thinks everyone else in the state must be too.
He seems to think that if children can see the bar area they will suddenly be overcome with the urge to sneak away from their table, reach over the 18 inch barrier and slyly swipe the mixed drink they assume to be there, since we know all ten-year-old's are constantly hard up for a drink. I remember the first time I saw an alcoholic beverage mixed in my peripheral vision, a sexy little number known as a Cosmopolitan. I couldn't have been more than twelve, and that alluring ruby color of the cranberry juice shaken with vodka and triple-sec mesmerized me, and the lime garnish on the rim totally hooked me. From that day on, I knew I was destined to become a raging alcoholic.
Seriously, I know most of us are smarter than that, at least those of us that aren't his constituents. What he is proposing is the forced remodeling of every restaurant with a bar/mixing area that can be seen, to the tune of about $100 k a restaurant. Not only is this completely unfair and absolutely ludicrous, I see it as a veiled attempt to set up another hurdle to the acquisition of liquor licenses and another reason to yank them with as little cause as possible.
I'm getting tired of these Mormon repub's trying to force their views on the entire populace by legislating from the pulpit. I don't care if 50% of the population is LDS, 30% aren't even active, and the rest of the state have to sway to the whims of a bunch of rich, white, conservative, Mormon men, with little recourse. Most of the time, us heathens just roll our eyes when we hear the next fantastic idea from one of our voter-appointed asshats, which almost invariably gets shot down, but I'm starting to get pushed to the edge. Even local conservative radio personality Doug Wright sounded bewildered this morning at the comments from Waddoups. He hoped that this was merely a laboriously back-handed attempt at stimulating the construction industry in Utah instead of the fearful, intolerant, illogical ranting that it seemed to be. My words, not his.
He already has a long list of votes or lack thereof on issues that even fellow conservatives disagree with him on. Knowing the general political atmosphere in Utah, I'm not particularly surprised that this man has been elected several times, and I expect he will continue to be re-elected, thanks the obdurate, close-minded idiots in his district. There's little more that a closed mind fears than change. May Darwinism save us.

Revolution, Tonight at Nine

I break my skin daily, sweat,
blood and fear--like my forefathers,
to sustain a ideal I cannot attain.
And what do I get for all my pain--
an illusion of safety, an unseen bounty-
replaced quietly by a stray desire
to throw it all away.
A small triumph over the idea of possession,
hoping my spirit can avoid recession--
waiting for the poor to rise from their
sofas & tv sets, sick of the invisible lash,
and become turncoats against their master,
provider, mother--the establishment status quo
is falling apart, right now is the time
to mobilize.
So tear away your eyes, your soul doesn't need
Prime-time to nourish your languidness,
throw away the comfort foods and remote controls,
turn away from that which saps your intellect--
march out into those streets you despise unfettered,
ignore the commercials--nothing is getting better,
and never will, until people act.

“Every generation needs a new revolution.” - Thomas Jefferson

Mother, do you think they'll like this blog?

During one particularly chilly evening in San Diego last week, I got lassoed into a 'discussion' with my mother and grandmother about the issue of gay marriage. I call it a discussion only under the terms that there were two sides to an argument being 'discussed.' I am of the pro persuasion, and they are against. I consider myself informed on the issue, knowing both sides of the argument. I am postulating that my mother and hers are only informed of the anti aspect, and both being fervently religious, designate it as a moral issue. I do not.
A few minutes into the 'discussion' my grandmother attempted to ascertain my sexual orientation, and learning that I wasn't gay, seemed satisfied and gave up control of the conversation to my mother. Apparently, if I believe that any adult should be allowed to marry another of their choosing, I must be gay. I'm afraid not. I know many straight people that do not care whom marries whom, mostly because they realize it does not affect their life. These are people young and old, with children or without, from all walks of life. The few I know that do care, fall into a narrower category. They are overwhelmingly religious Christians, conservative and fairly politically ignorant. Some are worshipers of the Republican deity Sean Hannity, and that explains plenty.
I tried to explain why I felt the way I did about the issue, delving into the social, legal, political and even economical impacts of 'gay marriage.' But for my mother, as with the others I have 'discussed' this with, it always comes back to the 'moral' and religious aspect. They never say it, but I can hear the 'God Hates Fags' chanting going on somewhere in the back of my head. And even though the research overwhelmingly shows that most homosexuality is caused by a genetic aberration showing up in many species, particularly mammals and birds, I could not convince my mother that most homosexuals do not choose it merely on a whim. And it never ceases to amaze me how quick people are to pull out the 'but in the Bible' or 'God said' defense, and almost none of them can quote or even reference a scripture to back it up. Some people cannot make a division between homosexuality being a 'sin' and the legal right of people to marry to their preference. I reminded my mother how it used to be against the law in many places in this country for people to marry across race lines up until 1967, for which she had no reply. The Nazis had a similar law, as did Apartheid South Africa until 1985.
After much personal reflection upon this, I have come to the conclusion that this is the religious majority imposing their beliefs on an entire state (Nation soon to come, they surely hope) by turning a legal issue into a moral one, and forcefully denying rights to a segment of the population; which, as far as I am concerned, is against the Constitution. So once again, in our 'free' country, the minority is being repressed by the Christians, who are acting oh, so Christlike. Hint: he never said a word about homosexuality. Don't believe me, Look it up. I have read my Bible.
At the conclusion to this 'discussion,' the tension was palpable as I attempted every reasonable justification for my belief, and finally was released from my defendant position by a phone call notifying us that my uncle was in the hospital. Then there was a completely different tension in the air, this time not coalescing about my shoulders.
Another word was not breathed about the subject afterward, but I'm sure it will come up again in the future. And since I know I will not change my mind, hopefully I planted a seed of doubt in one of their minds. It was the best I could do. It isn't always easy being the minority.

You do not need the Bible to justify love, but no better tool has been invented to justify hate. - Richard A. Weatherwax

The Living Dead Economy

The way I see it, Capitalist Consumerism is like a terminally ill cancer patient who enjoys decade long spans of health and vitality, who has regular relapses, occasionally sudden and life-threatening enough to have the need to be hooked up to life support, the Federal Government. His body is constantly feeding on itself, and when it looses it's vigor, the feeding becomes worse, sometimes catastrophic, as is being seen right now.
The value of our dollar has dropped significantly, millions of homes have been foreclosed on or are in the process, our own automobile industry is crashing because no one can afford new cars, unemployment is at a near two-decade high, two million jobs disappeared this year, and many more are expected to vanish next year, and businesses are vanishing nearly as fast.
Bailouts and economic revitalization packages are the common lexicon going into the new year. I know our patient will still put out of this--for now--but how long can be keep this up? Our economy will crash again and many, mostly the poor will continue to suffer the fallout. I am by no means an economist, but I am intelligent enough to know when something is amiss, and CEO's getting paid millions for running their company and our country into the ground is a sure sign something isn't right.
The only way I can see that our ailing economy may be revived (although not necessarily cured), is by some serious government regulation of the potential problems that can cause situations like this, currently the unmonitored and de-regulated lending practices in America. Consumers overall are too stupid to monitor their own own spending practices, so you must guide them into the necessary avenues for responsible use of their paychecks, whether they like it or not. Mortgaging a 250 k house, two vehicles and other toys on a 60 grand salary is asking for trouble. But they think they 'deserve' it, giving the illusion of freedom of choice, believing they are free because they can decide between a grande latte or a mochachinno. Hint: not the same as the choice between oppression and tyranny and a truly democratic nation with laws that protect ALL our citizens.
But isn't this leaning toward *gasp* fascism? Isn't socialism a virulent evil that needs to be stamped out before it ruins our beautiful nation? Not if you still have a free, open market, where the choices are not controlled by the government, and credit is monitored, not given freely with pages of fine print really to destroy your economic life with the first slip up. And we need to get rid of those pesky paycheck advance services with their 400% interest rates. Not even the mob does that to people, however uninformed and desperate enough to believe such a service is going to save you in the long term from the financial practices that got you into the mess in the first place. I'm sorry, consumers, but you're not smart enough to spend your own paychecks, and the companies you give it to are too greedy to be trusted with it. Something must be done, before our patient, currently in the throes of impending death, isn't able to be revived.

Happy New Year!

Let us all hope 2009 will bring us a better life than the last year. And 20 more days until Bush is gone, woo-hoo! But seriously, thanks to everyone who bothers to visit my quiet little corner of cyberspace, and I wish you all good health and a pleasant year.

Thanks, Jeremy