Daily Douchebaggery

It's been a while since someone has pissed me off enough to blog about them specifically, and mister Beck has been on my list for a while. There have been a few things, very few things, that I have agrees with him on, and he's gotten a pass, I suppose, because he isn't as hard-nosed as Hannity and O'really, but when you start attacking kids, you've gone too far. I could care less about Al Gore, and his Inconvenient Truth, you can stack information and statistics to support pretty much anything. Just read 'State of Fear' by Michael Crichton, this book refutes 99% of the supposed 'facts' in Gore's documentary, and he was goddamn doctor and author. Whether or not you believe global warming is real, there is such a thing as climate change, and it's a natural part of nature. Taking an interest in the climate and environment isn't anti-American, you douchebag. Just because the Conservative line is to disbelieve global warming and strive to dig up all the coal and oil we can doesn't mean you should follow it. Don't even dare calling yourself patriotic when you constantly attack other Americans who have different belief than you and wonder what happened to 'your country.' I'm sorry, but the conservative-white-Christian power structure you pine over is a veritable House of Usher. It is already coming down, so realize you live in a melting pot, not pure-white, Christian Republican nation where Mother Nature is our bitch, and it's not okay to brainwash kids with anything other than Christian intolerance and a love of capitalism. Get over yourself, buddy.

Less Death on Wheels Pt. 2

It appears my indignant ranting may be having some type of osmotic effect on the internets, seeping down into the hate-mail strewn in-boxes of our state legislators. There is a bill in the works that would ban texting while driving, a move that is years behind the times. California passed a similar bill last year, and went into effect at the beginning of this one. It seems that our law-makers were able to pull their collective heads out of their hindquarters long enough to catch a hint of a problem far more serious than private clubs and visible liquor mixing in restaurants. I seriously hope that this gets passed, and if it does, I promise right here that I will actually obey this law, not only so I can feel a sense of smug superiority over those that don't and the ones who get busted. Oh, the unbridled self-satisfaction I'll feel if I see those bars light up behind some inconsiderate text-er weaving on the freeway. I'm getting a little excited just thinking about it now. Let's all hope that this becomes law, and not too far in the future. Seriously, our roads are dangerous enough as it is.

Well, I don't know. . . maybe?

I recently stumbled upon a beautifully written article by Sultan Knish, so well-crafted that it's biting satire could easily be read as an honest approach to 'moderatism.' That's my word, I'm officially creating that and defining it, so don't try to steal it. Anyway, I got to thinking about this, and I noticed that most Western religions do not preach moderation or any sort, you must be with them or you are against them. No place for fence-sitters. And you you don't entirely agree with some aspect of it? You had better get on your knees and start praying until you do agree. Can this lead to staggering levels of cognitive dissonance? Possibly. Can people that do this still respect themselves every time they look in a mirror? Sure, you can force yourself to believe anything; that you're doing God's will, that people want to do good, that you are a good person, that Diet Mt. Dew tastes just like regular Mt. Dew. No, no it doesn't. I have a shark's sense of taste when it comes to aspartame, dammit. Ahem.
Moderates are people that are afraid to offend anyone. They get the vegetarian meal just-in-case. They watch the movie they've already seen twice so as not to take a chance. They don't anyone getting worked about about an idea that can't be evenly discussed in the blandest and most inoffensive way possible--from both sides. These are people you don't like talking to because they never have an opinion or never disagree with you in any emphatic way. They are the plain, non-dairy yogurt-like dessert of society. No one really cares for them, but they will abide if they must. It can't really hurt you, it's just flavorless. These people will say that Sean Hannity is a very emphatic speaker, and electric cars are a nice idea.
Okay, I'm running out of analogies, so I'll just end here. Please, for whatever god you look to's sake, have a damn opinion and don't be wishy-washy. Form some convictions, and please, grow a spine.

Please turn to chapter six, the Fashions of the Nineties.

I came to a startling and depressing realization this morning while shaving my face. No joke. I was shaving, letting my mind wander, and I had an epiphany, almost causing me to drop my razor into the sink.
I am a fan of learning, and history; therefore I enjoy learning about history. Looking back at how American culture has evolved, you can see that the most important people that we remember are the ones who caused change, for better or worse. We all know who Christopher Columbus was (at least the fanciful, heroified version of him) and President Lincoln, despite being dust for many years. We don't know much about the famous actors (with the exception of John Wilkes Booth) and fashion trends are often only curious side-notes, with few exceptions. We only talk about beaver top-hats in history because of the impact they had on the fur trade and the exploration of what is now North America.
Now, our teaching of our own history in this country is by far inferior and poorly executed, attempting to drill countless boring dates and names into our tender, ADD-ridden kids. No one asks question, no one teaches WHY things happened, just when an where, oh, and America is great and does nothing wrong, but that's a subject for another post.
This isn't my life-altering thought, though. I have this belief that popular culture is not important in the long run, believe it or not. Things as disposable as American Idol contestants and fashion styles that change tri-monthly should not be focused on with so much scrutiny. Our local Fox affiliate runs a segment at least weekly on Idol, in prime-time. This is how important this stuff is to our sheeply consumers. And thinking this, I know that it wont matter in a year, much less twenty or fifty.
But then I realized, what if I'm wrong? What if, in fifty years time, this is the stuff they are teaching our grandchildren? That instead of a chapter on the presidency of George W. Bush, there's a chapter on the various marriages of early 21st century celebrities? Brad and Angelina instead of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay. The Iraq War could merely be a backdrop for the return of large brimmed sunglasses and the popularity of low-rider jeans. Escalade's instead of the skyrocketing then plummeting fuel prices and the horrendous amounts of money made off of it by oil companies.
Could our future generations learn about Hilary's pantsuits instead of her real potential for the presidency? It thought it so possible that it has been bothering me the rest of the day. Just to think that history textbooks could soon be filled with pictures of Jennifer Lopez's green dress and Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction runs a shudder up my spine. Charts of population increases and ethnicity could be replaced by pie charts of who thought Cruise and Cruz made a good couple or Mac vs. PC distribution.
I have abruptly lost my hope in the future, and I'm not sure when it will return. We may be heading for a time when cancer is a thing of the past and we have space cruises and underground freeways, but all our posterity might be forced to memorize the winners of all twenty seasons of American Idol instead of the presidents. Sigh.

Who wants seconds? I sure do.

There appears to be some good coming from this (sic) recession, aside from plummeting gas prices and the comeuppance received by companies like GM for poor business practices, people are eating at home again. Yes, this practice, which had been nearing extinction in America's immediate satisfaction, drive-through, let-someone-else-do-it society, seems to be returning home. When you're worried about foreclosing on your house, it doesn't seem as important to try that new Thai place downtown or pile your screaming brats in the car and head for the Golden Arches. As their wallets get lighter, people are starting to realize that yes, they can cook at home for less than a meal for five at your favorite Italian restaurant (Olive Garden for the white folks) with appetizer and unlimited refills. Dusting off the frying pan might also make some of us feel nostalgic, remembering when we were in college and actually had to figure out how to survive on forty bucks a week, and becoming creative again. Maybe this will also revitalize our love with food, and not just eating. I always feel a little bit of pride after I've prepared a meal and I hear nothing but utensils and chewing. It's not even necessary to hear the almost obligatory "That was awesome," from one of my comrades. I hope this lasts a few years, so kids can learn to appreciate what they have in life, and maybe even learn to cook a little, creating something instead of pulling it out of a grease stained wrapper. Optimism is hard for me, so just play along.