November 27, 2008


As we all know, the Boogie Man is a fan of good food and copious libation. Both things that can be facilitated at one's friendly liquor store. And seeing as Thanksgiving is at the backdoor, and knowing I would be needing a bit of bourbon to spice up the T-Day ham and a bit of some other stuff to keep me in a tolerable mood. A trip there was very much in order.

I am a T-Day eve shopper. I run to the stores to pick up most, if not all, my ingredients on the day before the holiday. I've done it every year since I took over feast duties in my home, so I guess it's technically a tradition. Mostly, it's procrastination. Not a big deal, since my needs are few. And clearly, it's not an uncommon thing.

I'm sure we're all familiar with the mad rush that brings otherwise rational people into our nation's grocery stores, and has them run around like crazed lunatics. People trying very hard to be composed as they walk down every aisle, and yet are fully prepared to rip the arms off of any passerby who might dare take that last package of marshmallows. Grocery stores pre T-Day are kind of like walking into a den of sleeping lions. No matter how light you tread, your ass is going to be gnawed upon.

I have done this Thanksgiving ceremony thing long enough to expect this sort of behavior. It's all part of the ritual, we fight long and hard getting those last bits of edibles, and then stuff ourselves sick the next day. So, none of this was surprising. At least not until I got to the liquor store.

You see, I've never had to stop by the ol' booze market on pre T-Day. That's one of the few things I typically keep well stocked for months in advance. But, on this auspicious year, I neglected my escapes. And as such, I was going to have to tackle the crowds that were, like me, preparing to give thanks in an altered state.

I pulled up to the store, fully expecting to see a packed parking lot and rushed individuals with brown baggies. And in this I was not disappointed. However, I was quite surprised with what I saw once I got into the store.

There were lots of people, no question. And they were, of course, hurredly rushing through the store buying large amounts of high proof alcohol. But the vibe was different. Here, there was a sense of.....dare I say it.............courtesy.

People made their selections, and quickly moved out of the way of others. Everyone stayed very close to the edge of the aisle, leaving ample room for others to negotiate through. And when I stood in front of a shelf considering my options, the people who walked passed me, did so with great haste, and all uttered a hushed and very polite "excuse me." And it wasn't like they were taking up huge amounts of space in those aisles, nor did they stand and linger in front of my field of vision. But because they instinctively knew that the decisions I made in front of these glass lined shelves, would completely affect the quality of my holiday. And they were giving me the wide berth so I could operate with the least amount of distractions.

Compared to the freakish insanity of the grocery store, getting booze was quite calm. Very pleasant. The people I was with weren't heavily tattooed ruffians, nor were they swaggering, slurring menaces who had already taken one too many hits off the sauce. These were regular folks, still dressed in classy clothing fresh out of their jobs. These were everyday people with husbands and children, who lived responsibly. One mother actually brought her sleeping child with her while she picked out a couple bottles of Chardonnay. And I couldn't fault her for it. Because I knew that, odd as this may have looked, this woman would most likely be stuck in the kitchen all day cooking up a huge meal, and trying to make nice with all the other moms that would be coming to her home. I knew what she was going through, and if she wanted to keep her child close while she picked up some incentives, so be it.

Once I had made my choices, I stood in line with my new friends. All of whom stared out the big bay windows of the liquor store and into the night with a glazed expression on their face. Every few seconds, they'd take a big breath and let out a quiet refrained sigh. They knew, just like I did, that everything from this point on would be hectic.

Now, I openly admit that the big T-Day isn't nearly that much of a strain on me. Oh sure, I get grouchy in the kitchen, and expect that everyone should be ready to eat the minute the bird is pulled out of the oven. But I don't have the stresses that many do. Others have to deal with more than food on this day. They have to deal with family. Strained relationships that people avoid like the plague, except for special days like today. Trying to make small talk and stay pleasant in small, overcrowded houses with people you're not especially comfortable around. All the while, screaming children run around you playing with your appliances and breaking shit. These are tough times, and for four or five hours out of the day, it's all you can do to not start strangling people and screaming, "Tell your kids to sit down, shut up, and behave already you vindictive, overly dramatic twat!" This is family, all at a family function, and such overly dramatic bursts of relief cannot happen. And this is why so many turn to the booze to lighten things up. A couple sips can, and often do, make things just bearable enough.

So I find myself in a new tradition now. Visiting the liquor store every pre T-Day, even if I don't need anything. Just to spend a little time with my overly stressed and exhausted companions in this wacky holiday. A holiday that should be far simpler than it is. Thanksgiving is supposed to be about eating, enjoying, and getting the hell on out. And yet, it's been blown into something overly dramatic. Something that people dread. And I don't like that. I'm here to eat well, have some laughs, then sit in a pile of fat and grease, slowly slipping into a endorphine-fueled coma. I don't need the stress of other people's emotions, or the need to make a moment of family magic on a day like today. Just let me enjoy myself, and try to enjoy it with me. Even if that means watching bad television half dazed on a couch, if you and I are having fun, then it's been a good day.

So, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope you eat well and completely waste the day on laziness, sloth, and goofiness. May your families be not nearly as annoying today, may the children be a little more quiet. And may your newly purchased alcohol be used sparingly to fuel a good time, instead of liberally to escape a bad one.

All the best.

November 21, 2008

Gas And Memories At $1.81

This was an exciting day.

Today I stopped at the gas station to refuel my noble steed, Senior Truck. Now, I admit that refueling a vehicle by nature, isn't all that exciting. I don't encounter pulse-pounding situations or frisky women in tight clothes during my gas station stops any more than you do. In fact, much like you, the highlight of the whole thing is slipping in the credit card and pulling it out with great speed before the machine starts bitching.

Today was no different. I hit all the requisite buttons, washed the windshields like normal, and internalized the sense of throwing money at people who don't deserve it, just so I can get to work on time. However, it was after the whole ritual was done, that my day took a turn for the better.

For you see, when the gas nozzle clicked off after filling the tank, the numbers on the machine read: $19.81. That's right, Boogie filled up his vehicle for less than 20 bucks.

And you may be saying, "Yeah big whoop. Gas is cheap everywhere dumbass." I admit, lowered prices on the petrol is nothing new. Still, this is not something we've seen for a good long while. I remember on my escapes in Santa Fe, that I was getting excited for finding the stuff at $3.63 a gallon. And now here I am, topping off for less than a Jackson. Quite the change if you ask me.

And admittedly, it made me a little nostalgic.

I did what many of you probably did: I looked up to the sky and said to myself, "I can't even remember the last time gas was this low." And then, I kept thinking about it for the rest of my drive home. And I'll be damned if I didn't actually pull up some memories.

I remember the fella I used to be, back when gasoline costing $1.80 was considered high. A naive young man, not too far out of college who had a proper big boy job, and figured the world was going good. I paid precious little attention to politics, didn't know much about anything, and my only real presence on the interweb was hosted by Geocities. The dream was pretty much still a dream, and Fuzzy was a body of work that only existed in the imaginations of many, and my hard drive. I remember assuming in those days, that by the time I was near my third decade, that all the woes of my life would be long since gone. Bills would be paid, I would own my own home, and all the successses I had wished upon myself would come to pass.

I miss that guy, he was a lot of fun. Straight-faced and dedicated to the art of musicmanship on all levels. This is a man who truly believed that bludgeoning Jessica Simpson and Britney Spears with a heavy instrument would have solved all the world's woes. A man who never had to see the dark looming shadow of Hanna Montana. Who could never anticipate that there would one day be dog food with Rachael Ray's face on it.

Admittedly, there are things I don't miss about those days. For example, the hair. Believe it or not, losing the pony tail has been more liberating than anything. I certainly enjoy some of the new endeavors I've pursued lately. I definitely know more shit. I can talk entomology, literature, and culinary stuffs with folks now. Something that young buck a few years ago could've never done. And surprisingly, I piss less people off. That's kind of pleasant.

But I certainly have lost some of the daydreaming through these gas price fluxuations. I don't really see the world as my oyster anymore. These days, it feels like this planet and the people in it, are something I have to overcome more than inspire. I definitely worry a lot more and sleep a lot less than I used to.

Seeing these gas prices fall back to old levels has revealed the older, wiser Boogie to the young punk. A prococious little scamp filled with piss and adrenaline grew to an equally cynical bastard with a broader vocabulary and more acceptable social skills. Sure I still bitch and moan, but I'm more sophisticated when I do least compared to those days. It's been a hell of a ride to get to the point where twenty bucks was enough to fill a truck with gas, but I can definitely say that it hasn't been boring.

It's amazing what gas can inspire isn't it?

November 17, 2008

Proposition 8 And The LDS Church

It has been a long and difficult week my friends. Loaded with trials, tribulations, and assorted gibberish that pushed the levels on mental exhaustion. As such, I couldn't think of anything to write, leaving the ol' blog dry and neglected for a whole week. This has been very frustrating, considering that there has been a great deal of things to write about lately. Interesting occurrences have been firing off all around me, just begging for my gentle sense of literary finesse.

Things like, oh gee, I don't all out assault on the Mormon church perhaps?

Apparently, LDS facilities have been the targets of vandalism, protests, and the occasional bomb threat. And all because of a little thing known as Proposition 8. A California supreme court ruling which had the power to reverse same sex marriages being accepted as legal. Imagine, a law two states away from my little corner of the world, has created hostility and a small amount of pandemonium. You see, the LDS church helped built support, and finance the campaign to have Proposition 8 approved. This has made them somewhat unpopular with those individuals who wanted nothing more than to see the continuation of legal same sex marriages.

This is my backyard people. The place where I work and live. I call Utah home, and the Mormons my neighbors. And to watch the assaults and the tensions rise between people, all because of something that is happening in another state? Well, it's something I can be silent about no longer.

So to those of you who have attacked the church. You individuals who have committed physical acts on the institutions of the religious majority in this state, those who have spoken with harsh tongue and harsher action on all that is LDS, I have but one thing to say to you.....

Have at 'em.

Go ahead and teach them a lesson. Show them how pissed off you are, I don't mind a bit.

Now, don't walk away from this thinking that I personally endorse property damage, or that I am a fan of frightening innocent people with violence, whether it be active or implied. Aside from my outspoken tendencies, I'm a big advocate of peaceful leaving. But, given the circumstances, and the clearly blunt statement that the LDS church has taken with regards to the legality of homosexual marriage, well I'm all in favor of the current spectacle.

For those who don't call Utah their homes, and really don't deal with the Mormon society on a day- to-day basis, let me explain a little something to you. The LDS community thrives on gossip, and the sticking of noses in other people's business. The religious docterine encourages the flock to meddle in the lives of one's friends and neighbors, in order to keep them on the right track. It is through fear of being discussed, that people lead more righeous and wholesome lives. And If you are caught doing something wrong, then it is a sure bet that everyone will learn about it. You would not be a good Mormon if you didn't tattle to everyone on the block.

Those of us who live here have learned how to grudgingly adapt. This is a trying thing, particularly when you're as guarded with your personal life as I am. Every day, I step into an environment, where people want to know stuff. And they will take anything. How well I slept, what I really think of certain people, or what things make me weep into my wee little pillow at night. They'll take all of it, and eventually spread it around. It's how the circle works, and one learns how to protect their vital information while continuing their residence in this state.

It is this quirk of the Mormon church that has them in the pickle they're in right now. What goes on in California has precious little effect here. And yet, they decided to throw in their weight and money on an issue that is irrellevant in the lives of the average Utah person. And while I can accept that this kind of meddling is going to happen to me because I chose to live here, I think them Mormons may have gone a little too far.

First off, I'm of the thinking that I needn't give too much of a fuck about what gay people do. Homosexual men and women are going to be engaging the world and forming relationships, whether I leave the house or not. And unless I happen to know these people personally, and am actively involved in their lives, it doesn't seem to have any effect on me.

Does it bother me that a gay person can walk into a church with another gay person and marry them? Absolutely not. Because as far as I know, the whole purpose of a wedding ceremony is to tell God that, "I love this person, and I'm gonna be with them for the rest of my life." Thick or thin, better or worse, and all that jazz. And I'm pretty damn confident that a gay person takes their wedding vows just as seriously as a straight person. In fact, if I look at the statistics for divorce in this country, I would dare say that a gay person might take them even more seriously. So, if you're talking to the highest authority and saying you're gonna spend every day with the same person until you grow old and die, well shit. You've got my support.

Naturally, a better-than-thou religion like Mormonism doesn't have this philosophy. Fair enough, it's not for everyone I suppose. But there are things that they need to consider.

First, Utah isn't California, it's Utah. And as such, what goes on in California, really shouldn't be any of our fucking business. California runs on a level of ethnic diversity and socio-economics that we can't even begin to comprehend in this part of the world. Face it Utah, we're in a hick town. Oh sure, we've got culture, we've got some spunk, but we're still not much more than Wilford Brimley and Beef commercials. Perhaps if this tidbit of information was acknowledged, then maybe they would know better than to get involved in the matters of some state that is far grander, and more intense than us, simply because the black and white of things is not agreed with.

Secondly, Utah has a pretty healthy gay population of it's own. It's not discussed much, but we all know it's out there. And while I don't expect the church to be setting up social events inviting the homosexual world to come over for bland food and choruses of Cumbaya, I'd say that it needs to be acknowledged that they are out there. I acknowledge it daily, and you know what? I'm a happier person for it. At the very least, acknowledging that they exist might have kept this whole shit storm from happening.

So to you pissed off supporters of gay rights, I tell you to keep protesting. Continue to make noise, spray a little paint, and remind this state that you exist. As long as people aren't getting hurt, I'm all cool with it.

And yes, I said don't hurt people. Because while the believers and the supporters of the ideology that homosexuals do not deserve eternal matrimony are clearly in the wrong, they are still our neighbors. And when we start to wound and scar them, we only do that damage to ourselves. Windows can be replace, buildings can be repainted, but lives are not mended so easily. And the minute we start strongarming them, is the minute we lose our credibility.

So, rebels and supporters, go out there and vent some steam. Make your point, and then go home. Your voices are still needed, and the hard part is yet to come.

November 6, 2008


It was an interesting experience voting yesterday. The process was naturally the same, the venue of course ever-changing, but the people.....well that was something to behold.

In years gone by, I had gotten accustomed to sharing space with your regular breed of people. Hard working men and women who had families and managed to squeeze a few minutes out of adequately paying jobs to do their civic duty. And of course, there were the old and graying elders who were taking their time to vote, while manning the voting poll posts to keep the wheels of democracy spinning. These were the die hards, those who were committed to the electoral college and the system. And as much as I appreciated their resolve, I never managed to feel completely comfortable around this bunch. Between skin complexion, facial features, and my insistence on wearing all things black, I tended to stand out in the crowd. And while these folks were completely cool and generous, It was clear who the odd man out was.

However, yesterday's election was different. I saw people I never expected to ever see at a voting facility. I saw a young man with baggy pants, sideways baseball cat and requisite g'sta strut walk into my voting locale while his very young, extremely pregnant girlfriend waited in the car. I saw a husky unshaven man smelling of cheetos and pot smoke with an "I Voted" sticker on his flannel lapel. I saw loafers and ramblers, and people I wouldn't trust with my lunch, all lining up to vote.

This was a pretty trippy thing for me. To see people that many would have disregarded as being "unsavory" participating in this shin dig. Getting involved in a system that up until this point, most have probably ignored or neglected in the past. As though the forgotten and misspent decided this morning, "I have fucked up and pissed away a lot, but damnit, this is important. And I ain't letting this one get by me."

And I find that pretty hopeful. It makes me feel like a lot more things can happen better around this craphole. And yeah, I know, voting is a ten minute process that involves nothing more than pushing some buttons these days. But hey, these same folks could have just stayed in yesterday. Had a few triscuits, caught some Ninja Warrior on the tube. But they didn't, they thought and reasoned long enough to decide to get involved. I have no idea who these people voted for, and I don't want to know. They got involved, and that's plenty good for the likes of me. For the first time in my life, I was not the only black sheep outcast at the polls. I saw a new generation of strangers and weirdos get up and make a choice. And that, makes me feel pretty darn good.

Okay, so I admit I've generated two politically based posts now. Yeah, ol' Boogie's been out of character, I know. But don't worry, I'm done. Coming soon, more bitching about shitty bands and stupid celebrities.

November 5, 2008

The Choice For Our New President

I have greatly avoided making any kind of strong political stance on this blog. I didn't bring up the election, nor did have I ever made any particular stance on one particular party or candidate. It's not that I don't have my preferences, I do. But it seems wrong to use this space as a means of expressing those preferences. I can knock on celebrities and piss poor bands all I like, because they're public domain. But government isn't just me, or the handful that agree with me. It's all of us. And it's all of our responsibility to make sure it's doing the job we pay them to do.

Voting is a choice, one of the few we get. And it's a personal thing, something celebrities, musical types, or nutjobs like me shouldn't be influencing. Ben Affleck may get a vote just like the rest of us, but tossing around where he stands on things just doesn't sit well with me. I'm all about getting people involved. My sole interest is just to get you to vote. If you step into the polls and make a choice, even one that I don't agree with, then all is well. It's altogether possible that the rest of the country sees something in a particular candidate that I don't. Something that is truly better for this country. I'm biased, and I need to acknowledge that. I've got my choice in the matter, and everyone else has theirs. So long as they express that choice by voting, then I must be respectful of it and stay as neutral as possible

But, now that the polls are over and the country has made it's choice, I feel that I can safely say the following:


Things really do work around here, it's amazing! The system isn't flawed, the operation can actually work like it's supposed to, and people can recognize that there are problems going on. And goddamnit, they went out there and did something about it. Record numbers I hear, it's fucking fantastic!

The people I have to share this particular rock with went out and managed to look past the colors on a man's skin, the colors on his building, and actually listened to what he had to say! Then they voted for the man too! It's like people really do understand! I'm not alone in all this!

I know ol' Boogie has been a grouchy old coot. Pessimistic and cynical to no end. But I tell you good people, now that this is all over, I feel a little better. In fact, I feel positively giddy! Not because we got rid of an old system of malfunctioning baggage (although that's a pretty good feeling too,) but because a lot of people in this happen to agree with my assessment of this country and what's been wrong with it lately. I feel that despite my heated opinions of Shia or Miley, we can all agree on at least one thing. And that's a good feeling my friends. A warm fuzziness I wasn't sure I could even feel again. Life is almost, dare I say it, good again.

Anyhow, I'm off. Boogie is gonna sleep so good tonight.

November 4, 2008

Work, Costumes, and Comedy

You may have noticed that I tend to have a pretty dry sense of humor. My comedic qualities (or lack therof) are always pretty straightforward, overly verbose, with just a hint of violence attached. And I've made no apologies for it. I like my attitude, and get a certain satisfied grin to my face whenever I send one of these things out into the world. Like I've somehow made the world a truer, more real place. Granted, I don't really think anyone (or the legions of no one) who read this pulp really think these things, but I don't mind. At the very least, I'm amused by it.

Still, I suppose that I have to acknowledge that a good chunk of the world isn't familiar with this sort of humor, and damn sure don't read this blog. People with a more clearly outlined sense of comedy, and a more rational personal belief structure. People like.......oh I don't know, the folks I work with for example.

So, let me set the groundwork here. It was this last Friday, Halloween. I was scheduled to stay until 7pm that night, and naturally, was none too happy about it. So, I'm walking about my facility in my uniform (since, as I mentioned before, I'm not one to get into costume too often, and certainly not around people who drive me crazy,) simply trying to make the day go faster. I bump into a group of my colleagues who are dressed in your usual assortment of costumes: cats, princesses, you know the basics. One of them looks at me and says sarcastically, "Ooh! I know, what you're costume is! You're a worker!"

I respond in a fashion that is very typical of me. It wasn't overly rude, nor graphic, mean nor hostile. In a way, it was sort of generic. In fact, it's probably the kind of comment anyone in my position would have made (except, maybe not as poetic.)

All I said was: "Yes, I've dressed up as a disgruntled employee who has to close on Halloween night. If you wait until later, I'll show you the neat trick I do with a clock tower and a high-powered rifle."

Clearly, they don't get my sense of humor. They didn't say anything and kept a wide berth around me for the rest of the day. I think I'm beginning to understand why those family assistance brochures keep coming my way.

November 3, 2008


Ah, another Halloween come and gone.

As you may have guessed, Boogie's a big advocate of Halloween. The traditionalists and the hippies can have Christmas and Arbor day all they want. I'll stick to a holiday with a little hair on it's chest, thank you very much. And Halloween, of course, has all the elements that keep a guy like me smiling. Dark undertones mixed with the changing of the leaves, the unknowing sense of whether you will be treated with candy and high fives, or tricked with cruel pranks and harsh jokes that are funny for the rest of us. All of it set to a soundtrack that is both creepy and unnerving. This is a holiday for the kids and the kid in all of us that longs for just a few hours, to be the things we never get to be. Many slap on the pirate garb or those superhero outfits you just had to have when they showed up on eBay. Others wander the path of dementia with gory-looking latex and fake bloods. And an even rarer breed like to mix a little sexual connotation with their candy. These are the things that if you wore on any other day, you'd be locked up, laughed at or killed. But don these attires on Halloween, and you can be a legend.

I admit, I'm not actively in Halloween as much as I should be. I rarely am in the party scene and I almost never get into costume. Perhaps it stems from a childhood where Halloween was made more complicated than it needed to be, or a lack of comfort with my identity as a whole, or maybe it's the fact that I spend most of my days bouncing between my mild-mannered persona and this particular alter ego, that I have no need for a day of escapism. Either way, I don't participate in the craziness so much.

But that doesn't mean I'm not into it. There's nothing I enjoy more than to walk around on a Hallow's night watching perfectly normal people pretending to be stuff.

My favorite type of person in the world is the one who truly gets into their costume. And by get into it, I don't mean they spend a lot of time creating it or adding details to it (although this is admittedly very cool as well.) No, my interest lies in those people who truly believe in what they're wearing. For example, I stopped by my local media store and bumped into an individual who donned a white beard and horned rimmed glasses. He called himself the "Gaming Wizard" and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he meant it. He was so die hard in his dedication to this apparel, that I couldn't help but smile. If I had the sort of strength and determination about anything in my life as this guy had about his Halloween costume, I'd be near unstoppable.

Not long after that, while collecting some last minute Halloween grub, I met a woman at the checkout counter in a full body plush frog costume, complete with green face paint. She walked around that store with those oversized feet, back straight and head held high. Clearly, she had no shame in this. When I complimented her on her outfit, she simply nodded and said "I like green." Now that's resolve people!

I admire these folks, and anyone like them. It takes a certain, special kind of youthful optimism to let yourself play. And knowing that everyone else out there is living their fantasy for 24 hours, even if it is just tights and makeup, is a wonderful thing. And when I see these individuals, dedicated to their costumes and their persona's, part of me will always hope for them that at some point during their Halloween, that costume will truly let them escape, mind body and soul. That through customers, hassles, and the day to day grind they can let themselves go enough to be their costume, and maybe for one second out of the day, they can truly feel like Superman.

I hope you all had a happy one.