At Some Point, They're Just Best Described As Dumb

I'm a man of pretty even temper.

Though these pages may never reveal it, I do try hard to think critically before I speak. I'm someone who puts a lot of emphasis into observing the world, and tries very hard to maintain perspective. People take a lot of interesting paths to become who they are, and it's that willingness to walk the journey that defines someone, not where they end up. And I know full well that money, job title, or education can never define a person as good or bad. You are what you make yourself, and how you choose to let the world view you. So, I do my best to avoid judgment, and always make an effort to hear the folks of the world out. I really don't want to dislike anybody.

Still, there are those things that I simply cannot abide by. The clear point where education and experience are no longer a factor, and you are making a purposeful attempt at being an idiot. We've all seen these things, quirky marks of jackassery caused by grungy, overly hormonal people with something to prove. And you sit there watching them do these things, and the whole time you think to yourself "C'mon! There's no way in hell you don't know any better!" Perhaps they smoke cigarettes on their porches while their kids run amok, or blast their way too loud car stereos at inappropriate times.....you know the little things. Those annoying acts that the dumb-fucks and dipshits of the world do, despite being completely pointless and somewhat dense. It's unforgivable in this day and age to be so dumb.

Witnessing such acts gets me in a bit of a rage. And I tend to fall into a pattern of retribution when I do them. Most of the time, my violent tendencies don't go too overboard. I've never set a house on fire, nor have I ever taken hostages. But they definitely are within a legal gray zone, and the world would probably be all the better if no one drove me to this point to begin with.

I'm speaking to you good people of this, because I just so happen to have one of the aforementioned idiots commiting one of these unforgivable sins outside of my home. And it's got me in a revenge-minded state, so I figured I'd use this time to issue a polite PSA on the matter:

People of the world, be warned: If you are the type of person who sits in their driveways and revs their ridiculously loud engine for more than five seconds, I will pee in your tailpipe.

PS3's, GB's, And The Generation Gap

These are surreal times my friends. The quick advance of technology has changed our landscape for good or ill, and even things like the generation gap aren't readily as apparent as they used to be. My mother texts, and does it well enough to know the appropriate slang. Most people I know "Google" with wild abandon and have a working knowledge of certain Apple products. And interesting thing when you consider that these same people couldn't tell the difference between He-Man and Thundercats not so many years ago.

I've watched these changes with only bemused interest, since I know that this is just how time works. These people still need to function in the world, and have to adapt to these new ways as a result. Life cannot be done successfully if you don't have a working knowledge of web browsing, GPS, and the more interesting functions of cell phones any more. It's hard to expect people to stay old fashioned when knowing that doing so means getting torn to shreds by the tides.

And I'm okay with it, since I know full well that those who do not have to function in the world will continue to remain as antiquated as ever. The grandmas and grandpas of the world, who spend the twilight of their lives in simple pursuits, have no need to understand this crap. Life is all about the basics at their age. And it's comforting to know that the fogeys and geriatrics of the world will continue to be mystified by all this newfangled gadgetry. Those old fashioned home fires will continue to burn for yet another season.

Or so I thought.

I found myself wandering the aisles of a local Wal-Mart, glancing at flatscreen TV's, when a young lad noticed the new PS3 slim display behind me. He was your usual adolescent, dirty blond hair, pimply in all the right places, and armed with a pair of thick rimmed glasses that could make ants shudder. To his right, was his grandmother, who I was able to recognize by her stature, personality, and the fact that he kept calling her "Grandma."

The conversation went as all these conversations tend to go when a young person wants the latest and greatest thing, and tries to appeal his case to the elder with all the cash. "Wow, look Grandma! It's the new PS3 slim! That's so cool!"

What threw me for a loop wasn't his enthusiasm, but by Grandma's response:

"Wow 120 Gigabytes. That isn't too bad."

Holy shit, grandma knows about gigabytes? How is this even possible? I mean, If I told my Grandma that I was packing 120 GB, she's have probably tried to offer me some crab shampoo and a fine toothed comb.

It's like I don't even know the world anymore.

A Profound Question

Life is all about limits. How far our character will drive us, and what the tipping point is before we snap like a twig. In light of this, we must all analyze our own tolerances in life. And one of the questions I feel we must all ask ourselves at some point in our lives is;

What situation could be so profound, that it makes an otherwise rational person scream, "If I had a fuckin' bazooka, I'd pound your ass with it!" at someone else?

I now know that to reach this point, all it takes for me is a crusty-haired woman driving a powder blue Dodge Caravan with handicapped plates who won't let me merge into the lane of traffic.

What's yours?

The Student Is The Teacher Is The Student...

...or something to that effect.

Today was my first day of school. I haven't had a first day of school in over ten years, so this is quite a bizarre experience for me. One would think that after a ridiculous amount of grade school, and a substatiantial amount of time to get a bachelor's degree, that one would be used to the heightened state of panic that accompanies a first day. Not so my friends. I found myself just as apprehensive as I remember being back in Kindergarten. Possibly even more so.

And while I could go into great detail over my first day as a student, I think I'll save the brunt of the experience for another time. For you see, there was an even greater experience I had today that rivaled all others: being an educator, and being taught by another educator.

When you spend a lot of time in a trade, it becomes a habit to study how your colleagues perform. Musicians for example, are always keen to watch the hands of other musicians during a performance. are always watching the hands of other musicians, studying how they play. In fact I would suggest to never watch a music-based movie with a musician in the room. We can spot it when the actor with the guitar is just "faking it" and make a habit of calling it out every single time. Then there is conversing with other musicians, where dangerous questions often linger. Things will be asked, like your preferences between single coils or humbucklers, or where you sit on the issue of vacuum tubes over solid state equipment, and god help you should you answer wrong.

Writers tend to do the same thing when reading the prose of another fellow writer, and I'm pretty sure cooks do it to other cooks as well. So of course, being someone who does all of these things anyways, I'm naturally going to be in study mode when another teacher walks in a room.

The downside to this mentality is that any mistakes that happen are going to attract your attention the way a park and a pile of drums attracts the hippies. From the moment my teacher presented themselves, Every slip of the tongue, every stutter and mumble, every second that class got slowed down by unnecessary crap, I saw. And I'm not the type of person who lets things like this slide easily either. There were a few moments where I wanted to jump up, grab the dry marker from her hand and say "YOU SHUT UP!! THESE PEOPLE PAID A LOT OF MONEY TO LEARN THIS SHIT, AND YOU'RE CONFUSING THE PISS OUT OF ALL OF US!! NOW SIT DOWN AND WATCH HOW THIS WORKS!" And I would've taught the class. Despite not knowing anything about the subject matter, I would have found a way to get a point across. I'm not sure it would've been the right point, but it would be a point nonetheless.

Now, I'm not going to dare say I'm Mr. Teacher extraordinaire. Chances are good I do a lot of very bad things when I conduct a class, and there is probably an aircraft hanger's worth of room available for improvement. But I feel good about the folks I teach. I manage to keep a group of people interested in the subject matter for several hours, and they walk out looking pretty confident about things. So, I'm not the best by any means, but I do alright.

Plus, this is new subject matter to me. I'm already walking into this kind of nervous. I want a teacher who's gonna strut into the room, talk her shit like she's fucking god, and pump me up so high with adrenaline, that I'll sucker punch the door if asked. I want someone who's gonna stand in front of me and say, "YOU WILL LEARN THIS AND LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT!" So I can sit there all wide-eyed and sparkly, screaming "FUCK YEAH I WILL!" And to my disappointment, I didn't have that moment today.

Again, maybe the standards are too high. Maybe years of doing this sort of thing have set a pair of horse blinders over these aging eyes. Maybe I'm even a little biased, I don't know. But if anything, I suppose this will teach me to take other forms of educating into consideration. This teacher may eventually knock my socks of and drop a ton of fantastic knowledge, so long as I keep my mind open to the prospect.

And if not? Oh well. At least I can go to bed at night knowing I'm a fucktastic educator, even if I'm the only one who believes it.

Jon & Kate: Part 2

Apparently the breeders aplenty had a bit of a legal scuffle yesterday. Best as I can tell based on the information I took from lazily browsing one article, Kate Gosselin appeared at the home of estranged husband Jon, where she was denied access. She contacted the police, who informed her that this was a civil matter, and she had no legal jurisdiction to enter the Jon's home, nor have contact with their multitudes of children.

Frankly I don't know or care about what took place. Whatever drama is occurring between that family is none of my business and holds even less of my interest. The only thing that remotely caught my eye to even comment on was this video.

For those smart enough to avoid the link, here's a summary: It's Jon Gosselin, discussing what took place, and sounding like the world's biggest douche while he does it.

Seriously, watching this guy talk is pure hell. He has the face of someone who you just want to punch repeatedly, just because. It's a constant self righteous deer in the headlights gaze. I have few doubts that this man would stand in the middle of traffic because he's too stupid to move, but would think he's still better than you when you smacked him with your car.

I was drawn by my sheer annoyance of the photo, I stayed for the commentary.

I have never heard anyone use the phrases "I mean...," and "...and stuff," more than this prick. He's like a frat boy who likes to talk about how cool mountain biking is. And this guy's popular no less! And I don't think the fame offends me nearly as much as the fact that this bastard reared a shitload of kids who are now going to develop into adults based on the example of either an overbearing drama-queen or a horny dumbass.

I really have nothing else to say about this, other than how badly I want to smack him around. Seriously.

Miley Cyrus......Yet Again!

Some people juggle, others play with fire......Miley Cyrus seems to like hitting hungry lions on the snout with a newspaper.

Last night she performed at the Teen Choice awards, where she unveiled a new single, and won herself a smattering of awards. But it was the performance that has my otherwise peaceful interweb all a'chatter, since it appears that Miley was a wee bit racy.

Racy you say? From Miss Miley Cyrus? Where have we heard that before?

So this is how last night's programming went down apparently. Miley strutted out on stage in what MTV.com refers to as "extra small booty shorts" and spent a little time performing a kid-friendly pole dance (if there is such a thing.)

So I watched the video at the above link, which was agonizing but thankfully short, and took a few notes. Here's what I came up with:

First, the shorts. Booty shorts, extra small....whatever. I don't deny that they're a bit skimpy, but they're not something all that shocking either. Frankly, I found the cover of Elle with Miley on it this month to be a bit more icky than this (oh, and thank you very much Barnes & Noble for putting that at eye-level. I'll be back later to burn your magazine racks to the ground.) To me, these are the kinds of shorts I associate with gymnasts or dancers. So, the most offensive thing I can see is that she's wearing dancer clothes, dressed similarly to the pro dancers behind her, and still can't dance worth a shit.

As for the pole dance thing, well here's where it gets problematic. You see even a child of great innocence can only think of three people whose occupation involves a giant pole: firemen, strippers, and Batman. And it's pretty damn clear she's not representing public service or masked vigilantes, which only leaves the one option.

I haven't seen it, MTV.com doesn't have a video of this event, and I'm certainly not going to go scouring the bowels of Youtube to find it. But I can do the math:

Teen showing ample skin + pole = suggestive behavior.

There's really no two ways about that.

And I can already hear the aftermath of this little incident. People will be talking like it's the darkest scandal in years (which it isn't......but that's people for you,) and Miley's camp will take a huge step back and pull some ridiculous fucking PR that will probably read off like this:

"I had no idea that my performance that night would happen that way. I was supposed to walk out in a fitted Amish skirt that was designed to show no more than 3 millimeters of ankle. And for some reason, for which I do not yet understand, they made me wear those tight skimpy clothes. And while I was trying to dance and sing about Britney Spears, those awful mean dancers threw me on that pole! I kept trying to stand up, but my boots were slippery, which is probably why it looked like I was gyrating on the thing. That mean nasty pole! It took away my innocence and made my fans think I was a whore! I protest the pole!!!"

Yup, and big daddy Bill will stomp around and yell at everyone for making his baby girl look cheap. It'll be a tween clusterfuck the likes of which you've never seen.

I warn you people, this is only the beginning. Disney breeds this kind of insanity, and once their clean-cut, buzz word chirping stars discover their hormonal dark sides, they unleash it on the public with a fury usually reserved for hurricanes. The nutfuck tendencies of Spears will be nothing compared to what this child will unleash. The bomb will fall big and loud on this one.

You have been warned.

A Poem Of Inadequacy At 4am

You ever sit back and think about the people you know, the people you read about, and the people you link to? Ever notice how their lives are taking off, and they're making great personal discoveries about themselves that are leading to successful places? Promotions, new careers, awards and rewards aplenty. Things are going well for these people.

And yet here you are, sitting at home staring at a screen, watching the world go by. Seated firmly in the middle of a self-imposed purgatory, wanting to reap some of the successes of these people, but lacking the motivation to try. Maybe you've sampled a few endeavors, but got unsure of the results, or where that inner fury is supposed to come from that makes you do this and nothing but. And now, here are people who know you. Shit some of them may even like you. And they're out there, kicking a bit of ass in the big game of life. And here you are, watching them. Envious of their bright future. Hell, you even find yourself hating them a little bit don't you? You do, despite the fact that they've worked hard and deserve all the rewards that are coming to them, it bugs the shit out of you knowing they're sitting alright while you continue to do jack. It doesn't make any sense to hate on these good folks, for doing what they're supposed to do. Hell, the smart thing to do would be to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and start doing something productive. Anything productive would do really, so long as it wasn't burning property or injuring people. You might just find that slice of pie you were looking for.

But you don't. You continue to sit there, staring. And feeling real pissed off.


Does that sound like you? Well no, it probably doesn't. You're probably one of those people who's on the high road to the promise land.

And I fucking hate you for it.

Biography

I will never go so far as to say that I am worthy of a biography. Great people get biographies written about them, as do witty celebrities and I am well aware I fall under neither category. I suppose anything is still possible, and that I may, someday in the near future, stumble into my local B&N and see my ugly mug staring back at me, underneath some well chosen font. And I know that should that day come, it'll be surreal as all hell. But if it doesn't, c'est la vie. I'm a pretty content guy, even without the knowledge that somewhere out there, some die hard fan is writing books about little ol' me.

That said, I am fairly convinced that if I ever became worthy of a biography written about my existence, that it absolutely must contain the following phrase:

"Learned a lot of his philosophies on life from an animated turtle."