MURDERER. HELLBOUND. SOULLESS. NAZI!
This is just a small sample of adjectives in which a certain group of people on campus would describe me. For the first in my life, I felt not only uncomfortable, but offended when I was standing in front of the pro-life tent on the USF campus. Day after day, it is not uncommon for there to be one or two die hard crazies roaming about Tampa wearing warning signs of damnation, or corduroyed clipboard people asking for money and signatures to stop suburban sprawl. So this type of in-your-face approach to have your voice heard is not uncommon. Unfortunately in this case I could not just turn up my Ipod and keep my stroll on. This is PRO LIFE.
Walking from the Library, I was intrigued by a black sign with splattered red paint, reading "WARNING, DISTURBING IMAGES AHEAD". Naturally, I walked farther. 2nd sign read: "GENOCIDE PICTURES AHEAD"... how could I turn around now?
As I turned the corner, there stood a monster display of red, white, and black. Oversize images of human beings piled together in a mass heap of flesh, atop which stood a Nazi flag, next to other images of alike horror. Littered in the holocaust of images were pictures of babies, either happy and smiling, or dead and fetus-y. Throw a couple of = signs between the two, flash a couple "pro-choice" labels, and there you have the Tampa, Florida pro-life awareness stand that haunted me for the rest of the day.
I don't understand.
Am I a Nazi?
I don't think I'm a Nazi.
I'm Jewish.
But I am pro-choice?
Isn't pro-choice Nazism?
I stood in front of this as I thought myself in circles for too long, trying to comprehend the logic behind this master display.
I understand that they don't approve of abortion. I understand that they like babies. I understand that they don't want them dead. I understand that they think anyone who supports choice also supports Nazi's and Genocide and the slaughtering of over 6,000,000 people. But I don't understand why the extent of in-your-face graphic vulgarity. Are they trying to convince me that I am a Nazi? Is this to make me feel guilty, and partly responsible for the Holocaust? Because I don't, and I'm not. Or is it a ploy to make other people think that about me? Because if that's the case, then fuck you.
My ultimate conclusion is that these people have an opinion, which is good. Opinions are an aspect of humanity that gives each special person something that separates him/herself from everyone else. It's beautiful. Except these people, in addition to having their opinion, aren't satisfied with just having an opinion. They need their opinion to be shared by everyone, and try to persuade with good a modest serving of FEARRRRR. I've seen this style of persuasion before, as I'm sure we're all familiar with the old guy we find on campus those special days wearing the billboards around his chest yelling at people walking by about how they are going to hell, no matter what... unless they confide in Jesus.
Relating that guy to the people I was standing in front of today lightened me up enough to turn around and get on with the day. I decided not to take offense to them, but instead be proud that not only do I have an opinion, but I have the grace to not shove it in people's faces as they're trying to walk to class.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Greasy Spoon
My job requires me to travel to areas that are normally not tourist hotspots. Places like Medina, Ohio, or Tusculum, Tennesee. Blips on the map, places that you only accidentally drive through and can miss in a blink. I'm constantly moving from one cookie cutter hotel room to another, rooms that look so much alike that it feels like I've never really left the one before.
The only thing that I've found really ties me to these out of the way places I go to are the places where I go to eat. 9 times out of 10, I throw out the little complimentary list of eateries that are handed out to every hotel guest and go to the local gas station. There, I ask the clerk where the local greasy spoon is, and eat there instead.
The greasy spoon is something that I feel is an important part of this country. They are places that can be found on roads called Turkeyfoot Lake Road, places with old neon signs that are slowly fading. Places that don't use fancy computers to type in orders, but instead still rely on old waitress pads and the furious scribble of food shorthand. They are places with menus that look like they were printed in the 1970's at the latest, with an ambiance to match.
And I love them. I love them for their greasy food and their daily specials and for the America they represent. Because that's what I see in them whenever I step through their doors. I see America. I see Elk Lodge meetings being discussed, I see trophies from Little League teams that these places have sponsored. I see local people, real people, blue collar people that have just gotten off from the kind of jobs that used to be respected in this country but now seem antiquated. People that want to get out of the cold and enjoy a hot bowl of chili or the best hot wings in the county.
I don't get that feeling at a chain restaurant, and I don't like that. I don't like that I can walk into an Applebee's and get the same Fiesta Lime Chicken in Cleveland that I can in New Orleans. I don't like that there's the same Southwestern Egg Rolls being served in Chili's from San Fransisco to Boston. I don't like that a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam at any Denny's you go to at any point in this country.
I feel homogenized. I feel boxed in. I feel like I'm out of options. I feel trapped.
And I feel like I've lost something. I feel like ALL of us, in fact, have lost something. It's the thing that made a group of rag-tag Vikings leave their cold Scandinavian shores and head for greener lands. It's the thing that made people cross the land bridge from what is now Russia to what is now Alaska, thus peopling this continent. It's the thing that made Spanish conquistadors and explorers defy what was known: that the world was not flat and that there was something out there. It's the thing that made a group of Puritan settlers seek a new life in a new world; it's the thing that made millions upon millions of people come to these shores. It's the sense of adventure. It's the sense of wonder. It's the sense of exploration.
And we don't have that anymore.
We've lost that when this country got too fast for its own good. We lost it when Manifest Destiny brought us across this land, full of courage and purpose, only to find the real edge of the world waiting for us. We lost it when we found out the even though the world wasn't flat, there really was an end to it and we gave up looking for something beyond it.
Think about it. How many people refuse to go see a movie based on the opinions of critics? How many people won't pick up a new album or try a different kind of music because there is a certain kind of label or stigma attached to it? How many people make choices now simply by appearance? How many books are now judged by only their covers?
We're scared, and so we retreat to our sure-thing Tom Hanks movies and our American Idol CDs. And we seek refuge from the wild and wooly world in Bob Evans, and in Olive Garden, and at the Outback. We do this because it's safe, because we know that no matter where we are, the biscuits will be good and the bread sticks will be never ending and the onions will be bloomin'.
I'm gonna make an effort to not be afraid. I'm gonna make an effort to try new things. I'm gonna listen to music I never thought I would. I'm going to unplug my GPS, which I, like many others, have become addicted to, and try the back roads. And I encourage you to do the same. Explore. Look around. Take the long way. Skip shortcuts. Get lost. Get found.
And if you ever find yourself on the outskirts of Akron, OH, take a turn down Turkeyfoot Lake Road and head to MT Pocket's Pub and Grill. It's right on the cold and frozen waters of Turkeyfoot Lake, but the people are nothing of the sort. They're warm and happy and friendly. They'll let you in on their local jokes. They'll let you listen to their stories. And they'll call you by your name when you leave, like you've been coming there for years.
Go there. And try the reuben. It's delicious.
The only thing that I've found really ties me to these out of the way places I go to are the places where I go to eat. 9 times out of 10, I throw out the little complimentary list of eateries that are handed out to every hotel guest and go to the local gas station. There, I ask the clerk where the local greasy spoon is, and eat there instead.
The greasy spoon is something that I feel is an important part of this country. They are places that can be found on roads called Turkeyfoot Lake Road, places with old neon signs that are slowly fading. Places that don't use fancy computers to type in orders, but instead still rely on old waitress pads and the furious scribble of food shorthand. They are places with menus that look like they were printed in the 1970's at the latest, with an ambiance to match.
And I love them. I love them for their greasy food and their daily specials and for the America they represent. Because that's what I see in them whenever I step through their doors. I see America. I see Elk Lodge meetings being discussed, I see trophies from Little League teams that these places have sponsored. I see local people, real people, blue collar people that have just gotten off from the kind of jobs that used to be respected in this country but now seem antiquated. People that want to get out of the cold and enjoy a hot bowl of chili or the best hot wings in the county.
I don't get that feeling at a chain restaurant, and I don't like that. I don't like that I can walk into an Applebee's and get the same Fiesta Lime Chicken in Cleveland that I can in New Orleans. I don't like that there's the same Southwestern Egg Rolls being served in Chili's from San Fransisco to Boston. I don't like that a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam is a Grand Slam at any Denny's you go to at any point in this country.
I feel homogenized. I feel boxed in. I feel like I'm out of options. I feel trapped.
And I feel like I've lost something. I feel like ALL of us, in fact, have lost something. It's the thing that made a group of rag-tag Vikings leave their cold Scandinavian shores and head for greener lands. It's the thing that made people cross the land bridge from what is now Russia to what is now Alaska, thus peopling this continent. It's the thing that made Spanish conquistadors and explorers defy what was known: that the world was not flat and that there was something out there. It's the thing that made a group of Puritan settlers seek a new life in a new world; it's the thing that made millions upon millions of people come to these shores. It's the sense of adventure. It's the sense of wonder. It's the sense of exploration.
And we don't have that anymore.
We've lost that when this country got too fast for its own good. We lost it when Manifest Destiny brought us across this land, full of courage and purpose, only to find the real edge of the world waiting for us. We lost it when we found out the even though the world wasn't flat, there really was an end to it and we gave up looking for something beyond it.
Think about it. How many people refuse to go see a movie based on the opinions of critics? How many people won't pick up a new album or try a different kind of music because there is a certain kind of label or stigma attached to it? How many people make choices now simply by appearance? How many books are now judged by only their covers?
We're scared, and so we retreat to our sure-thing Tom Hanks movies and our American Idol CDs. And we seek refuge from the wild and wooly world in Bob Evans, and in Olive Garden, and at the Outback. We do this because it's safe, because we know that no matter where we are, the biscuits will be good and the bread sticks will be never ending and the onions will be bloomin'.
I'm gonna make an effort to not be afraid. I'm gonna make an effort to try new things. I'm gonna listen to music I never thought I would. I'm going to unplug my GPS, which I, like many others, have become addicted to, and try the back roads. And I encourage you to do the same. Explore. Look around. Take the long way. Skip shortcuts. Get lost. Get found.
And if you ever find yourself on the outskirts of Akron, OH, take a turn down Turkeyfoot Lake Road and head to MT Pocket's Pub and Grill. It's right on the cold and frozen waters of Turkeyfoot Lake, but the people are nothing of the sort. They're warm and happy and friendly. They'll let you in on their local jokes. They'll let you listen to their stories. And they'll call you by your name when you leave, like you've been coming there for years.
Go there. And try the reuben. It's delicious.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The St. Valentine's Day Massacre
It's become the norm nowadays to take a shot at today, being St. Valentine's Day. People have labeled it such things as "Single's Awareness Day" and have taken to boycotting it. It's become a shame, a fraud, a corporate bastardization of a celebration.
And I feel like I should throw my two cents into the mix.
For 364 days (or 365 in the case of this year), people can go about their lives and not care about love, relationships, or the fact that they are pointlessly with someone or hopelessly without them. Life goes on, the wheel keeps turning 'round, light spreads through the day, gradually fading off into night.
And then today happens. And "love" is crammed down our throats.
I put "love" in quotations because its not really love. It's an excuse. Thats all Valentine's Day is, an excuse. It's a male "get-out-of-jail" free card. A guy can be a dickcockdouchebagfuckface the whole year, but if he shells out enough to buy some flowers and chocolate he can somehow convince his girl to spread her legs and let him get up all in dem guts.
Ladies, it's also an excuse for you to believe that your relationships aren't a farce. It's a way for you to hold onto the notion that you're living in a Kate Hudson movie and Hugh Grant is coming in to sweep you off your feet. Two things: you're not and he would probably just shag you and never call you again. I know thats what he did to me...
And let's talk about the flowers for a second. Nothing says "I love you" like a unique bouquet of flowers that you thoughtfully picked out. You can read "unique" as "mass-produced" and "thoughtfully picked out" as "double-clicked on at the FTL website because it was on special". Here ya go honey! A special bouquet just for you...and all the other girls that got the same one.
Now, for all you that go around smarmily shouting that its actually "Single's Awareness Day"...go fuck yourselves. Honestly, whats the big deal with being single?
Think about it. You didn't have to go to a store today and read card after mind numbing card and try to pick one that sums up how you feel in your relationship. (Here's an idea: Just buy a blank one and write "Fuck Me while you're ripping out my soul" because thats really what you want to say anyway).
I guess my "bitterness" (if you want to label it that) stems from today being everywhere. You can't escape it. So here's my plea. If you're in a relationship today, wonderful. Good for you. I'm happy for you. But this is the thing: NO ONE ELSE GIVES A FUCK. Nobody cares how sweet he was for you. No one cares how great she looked in that thong (ok maybe I do somewhat care on this point). If you're in love keep it to yourself. And also, celebrate that love everyday of the fucking year, not just when it's on sale at the CVS.
And If your single today, revel in your singleness. Be glad that you can buy a case of beer and get shithoused. Be glad that you can curl up with your favorite book or tv show and not worry about anyone else. Be glad that you can order a bunch of hot wings and be a slob on your couch and let the buffalo hot sauce drip all over you.
Maybe that's why you're single afterall.
And I feel like I should throw my two cents into the mix.
For 364 days (or 365 in the case of this year), people can go about their lives and not care about love, relationships, or the fact that they are pointlessly with someone or hopelessly without them. Life goes on, the wheel keeps turning 'round, light spreads through the day, gradually fading off into night.
And then today happens. And "love" is crammed down our throats.
I put "love" in quotations because its not really love. It's an excuse. Thats all Valentine's Day is, an excuse. It's a male "get-out-of-jail" free card. A guy can be a dickcockdouchebagfuckface the whole year, but if he shells out enough to buy some flowers and chocolate he can somehow convince his girl to spread her legs and let him get up all in dem guts.
Ladies, it's also an excuse for you to believe that your relationships aren't a farce. It's a way for you to hold onto the notion that you're living in a Kate Hudson movie and Hugh Grant is coming in to sweep you off your feet. Two things: you're not and he would probably just shag you and never call you again. I know thats what he did to me...
And let's talk about the flowers for a second. Nothing says "I love you" like a unique bouquet of flowers that you thoughtfully picked out. You can read "unique" as "mass-produced" and "thoughtfully picked out" as "double-clicked on at the FTL website because it was on special". Here ya go honey! A special bouquet just for you...and all the other girls that got the same one.
Now, for all you that go around smarmily shouting that its actually "Single's Awareness Day"...go fuck yourselves. Honestly, whats the big deal with being single?
Think about it. You didn't have to go to a store today and read card after mind numbing card and try to pick one that sums up how you feel in your relationship. (Here's an idea: Just buy a blank one and write "Fuck Me while you're ripping out my soul" because thats really what you want to say anyway).
I guess my "bitterness" (if you want to label it that) stems from today being everywhere. You can't escape it. So here's my plea. If you're in a relationship today, wonderful. Good for you. I'm happy for you. But this is the thing: NO ONE ELSE GIVES A FUCK. Nobody cares how sweet he was for you. No one cares how great she looked in that thong (ok maybe I do somewhat care on this point). If you're in love keep it to yourself. And also, celebrate that love everyday of the fucking year, not just when it's on sale at the CVS.
And If your single today, revel in your singleness. Be glad that you can buy a case of beer and get shithoused. Be glad that you can curl up with your favorite book or tv show and not worry about anyone else. Be glad that you can order a bunch of hot wings and be a slob on your couch and let the buffalo hot sauce drip all over you.
Maybe that's why you're single afterall.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Seriously, anyone else but you
Everyone in the world has things they don’t really like about themselves. Thoughts and feelings that deep down they know are irrational, egotistical or just plain childish. I have such thoughts and feelings on a regular bassis. For instance I cant stand it when something that I really like becomes popular, overused and then ultimately deemed “uncool”.
For example when I first saw the trailer for the movie “juno” I couldn’t help but notice that it used the moldy peaches song “anyone else but you”. At first I thought this was awesome. The song was one of my favorites to listen to and since it's made up of just two chords, also one of my favorites to play on guitar. Then the movie became a huge hit, thus making the “indie” soundtrack (which recently reached #1 on the u.s. album charts) the cool thing to listen to. The moldy peaches are now re-releasing the song as a single, and have played it on the morning talk show "the view". It's also well on its way to becoming one of the most covered songs in history.
I know I shouldn’t feel any ownership towards something that I had absolutely no part in the creation of, but in a weird way I still do. If something is good sooner or later its going to become popular, weather its an instant hit or it gets discovered 30 years down the road. I guess sometimes you just have to except the fact that you are listening to the same music as girls in junior high. Even if it is a bummer.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Go Rake Your Leaves.
I feel as though 9 times out of 10, when you ask the question: "What's your favorite season?" people answer Fall/Autumn.
I feel as though 9 times out of 10, when you ask the question: "What's your favorite season?" people are liars.
Why fall? The colors of the leaves? The weather? I can somewhat see that, but by the end of Fall those tree's are bare. And with everyday that gets colder from September to December everyone becomes increasingly more annoyed and wishes it was still summer. No one can deny this. Fall is damp, wet, and dreary. It's the prelude to the holidays which are full of stress and worries. It gets darker earlier! Fall usually entails the end of the summer, which I would also argue is the utmost favorite season of nearly everyone in the world, but they refuse to admit it due to feeling cliche.
I think I should change my favorite season to summer, but like you fall lovers, I don't want to be that cliche. But why not? No one is stressed it seems in the summer, you go out everyday and night and it still feels like you're missing out on everything and there is never enough time. No one hates summer.
Spring is my favorite for the following reasons.
1. I ski, you get the best of skiing in the beginning of Spring with the best winter conditions, and by the end of Spring you're in prime warm skiing soft snow weather.
2. The days are warm and nights are cool. I like it when all I need is a t-shirt and a sweatshirt if it gets chilly.
3. no mosquitos.
4. no humidity.
5. first freak rain-showers/thunderstorms. fun at first, by end of summer they're played out.
i could argue more points, but it would just be rather trite and what i really am trying to find out from this post, is why people do in fact love fall. I've heard countless answers but I've never heard a convincing argument.
I feel as though 9 times out of 10, when you ask the question: "What's your favorite season?" people are liars.
Why fall? The colors of the leaves? The weather? I can somewhat see that, but by the end of Fall those tree's are bare. And with everyday that gets colder from September to December everyone becomes increasingly more annoyed and wishes it was still summer. No one can deny this. Fall is damp, wet, and dreary. It's the prelude to the holidays which are full of stress and worries. It gets darker earlier! Fall usually entails the end of the summer, which I would also argue is the utmost favorite season of nearly everyone in the world, but they refuse to admit it due to feeling cliche.
I think I should change my favorite season to summer, but like you fall lovers, I don't want to be that cliche. But why not? No one is stressed it seems in the summer, you go out everyday and night and it still feels like you're missing out on everything and there is never enough time. No one hates summer.
Spring is my favorite for the following reasons.
1. I ski, you get the best of skiing in the beginning of Spring with the best winter conditions, and by the end of Spring you're in prime warm skiing soft snow weather.
2. The days are warm and nights are cool. I like it when all I need is a t-shirt and a sweatshirt if it gets chilly.
3. no mosquitos.
4. no humidity.
5. first freak rain-showers/thunderstorms. fun at first, by end of summer they're played out.
i could argue more points, but it would just be rather trite and what i really am trying to find out from this post, is why people do in fact love fall. I've heard countless answers but I've never heard a convincing argument.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Yo BIG BLUE
As I just have returned from a weekend in New York City, I thought I would take a second to post about a thought I had upon entry into the city on Friday and another I had leaving the city today, Monday.
If you haven't read the previous post from Larzman, and have no interaction with anyone or any media source, but yet still found this article...Well the '07-08 Patriots lost their precious perfect season and are now known as the team that was "almost perfect".
What struck me the most on my way into the city about this Superbowl match-up, was how the roles were reversed. I'm talking about the eternal rivalry between Boston and New York; more exclusively about the past few years, with the almighty pristine military fashioned Yankees against the down and dirty rebellious Red Sox.
,
The Yankees have always been this team with all the money and power that perform how they are expected to, until recent years when the Red Sox started giving them a run for their money in 2003, and again in 2004 in which they became the World Series Champions. The Yankees always would be on and off the field, clean-shaven and never showing emotions. While the Red Sox were notorious for their dirty helmets, beards and long hair.
Now, the New England Patriots seem to appear very much so like the New York Yankees. They are off the field and into the locker rooms in rapid fire after games. They keep their interviews formal, and seem to keep a well-mannered appearance. When the Giants won the NFC Championship however, they seemed to be much like the Red Sox in the sense that they were caking each other with champagne and ecstatic with emotions of making it that far.
I am upset for the Patriots, more in the sense that they came so far and were one game away from it all. How does one not think about that everyday for the rest of their life? At the same time I find the Giants deserving of the victory. And I like to witness upsets.
If you haven't read the previous post from Larzman, and have no interaction with anyone or any media source, but yet still found this article...Well the '07-08 Patriots lost their precious perfect season and are now known as the team that was "almost perfect".
What struck me the most on my way into the city about this Superbowl match-up, was how the roles were reversed. I'm talking about the eternal rivalry between Boston and New York; more exclusively about the past few years, with the almighty pristine military fashioned Yankees against the down and dirty rebellious Red Sox.
,
The Yankees have always been this team with all the money and power that perform how they are expected to, until recent years when the Red Sox started giving them a run for their money in 2003, and again in 2004 in which they became the World Series Champions. The Yankees always would be on and off the field, clean-shaven and never showing emotions. While the Red Sox were notorious for their dirty helmets, beards and long hair.
Now, the New England Patriots seem to appear very much so like the New York Yankees. They are off the field and into the locker rooms in rapid fire after games. They keep their interviews formal, and seem to keep a well-mannered appearance. When the Giants won the NFC Championship however, they seemed to be much like the Red Sox in the sense that they were caking each other with champagne and ecstatic with emotions of making it that far.
I am upset for the Patriots, more in the sense that they came so far and were one game away from it all. How does one not think about that everyday for the rest of their life? At the same time I find the Giants deserving of the victory. And I like to witness upsets.
Monday, February 4, 2008
And the hits just keep on coming...
If you noticed from my previous post, it just kind of ends. Thats because I accidentally posted it before actually finishing it. Wonderful. One more thing in a list of things that makes me think life, humanity, and existence has all been one big joke that no one gets and even the hip, chic kids that understand the "undergroundness" of its comedy can't laugh at.
Fuck.
I digress.
There are three things that I would like to discuss this go around. First and foremost, let's talk about the Pats. They blew it, there's no way around that one and Patriots fans need to accept it. I unfortunately count myself among you, but I have come to terms with the fact that we just didn't bring our game that day, and that the Giants made the plays when it counted. I mean for fuck's sake, how can you not tackle Eli Manning. The guy looks confused every minute he's on the field.
But hey, they won, good for them and all you Giants fans out there. And I mean GIANTS fans. Not fucking Jets fans that wore a Namath jersey at the Superbowl party that I was at but still rooted for the upset (I know you're probably not reading this, douchebag, and I don't care. After this, I will feel better because it's off my chest, but you sir will ALWAYS be a douchebag fuckface cuntwhore).
If you're a Jet's fan, you don't root for the Giants...PERIOD. I don't care if it's the Giants versus Hitler, Satan, Osama Bin Laden, and Lord Voldemort. If you're a Jets fan, looks like you're into killing Jews, living in Hell, hating freedom, and being so EVIL that you can't even be named.
The Patriots were the most hated team in the NFL this year because for some reason, the pursuit of perfection is something that should be despised instead of honored. What's wrong with this country? Why couldn't people with no vested interest in the game (meaning non-Pats, non-Giants, non-fans of teams that are rivals of the Pats) cheer for a team that is striving for the impossible? The answer is that mediocrity is the name of the game. We are a nation that has settled for doing as little as possible to get by. Hooray for apathy, being average and under-achieving.
Secondly, the film epic "Meet the Spartans" opened at number one at the box office. I really don't have a comment for that, other than to say if you encourage these filmmakers, they will continue to poison our cinemas with this shit.
Finally, I was at a store the other day called Steve and Barry's. For those of you that are unaware of this place, its a discount clothing store where nothing is over 20 bucks. The clothes are chintzy, but hey, for what you're paying it's not that bad (see, even I've succumb to being ok with average).
Anyway, I'm about to head out when I hear the jubilation of a child. There are few things in this despair filled, bleak, hopeless world that can part the clouds and let the sunshine in like the happiness of a child. And this kid was motherfucking Moses with those clouds, he was making them part and the sun was shinning down upon Sarah Jessica's new clothing line. I wondered what was making the kid, which I placed around 5 or 6 years old, so fucking happy. I moved in to investigate.
The kid, a moonfaced child with a head too big for his body and eyes that bulged from their sockets, was standing in front of a rack of WWE t-shirts. And he was in heaven. Couldn't believe that such a thing existed. Yelling over to his mom, he wanted to show her his favorite.
"OH...MY...GAWD!" the boy drawled with southern perfection, "MOM! Take a looook at this wun! It's the BEEEER DRINKIN' CHAMPYUN! STONE...COLD...STEVE...AWESTIN! He's...the BEEEER DRINKIN' CHAMPYUN!"
Taken aback, I figured the mother would reprimand the child, or at least tell him that life isn't a drinking contest and there are more lofty goals to obtain. Instead, what I got was:
"I know hunnnnny! He's soooo great at drinkin' beer! Now thats a REAL champyun right therre!"
And that's the problem with this country. It's not that there are people that flip-flop and want to squash perfection, or people that make shitty movies number one, or people that idolize a skill that most college kids take for granted instead of hard-work, education, and classiness.
No, it's that these people are breeding.
Fuck.
I digress.
There are three things that I would like to discuss this go around. First and foremost, let's talk about the Pats. They blew it, there's no way around that one and Patriots fans need to accept it. I unfortunately count myself among you, but I have come to terms with the fact that we just didn't bring our game that day, and that the Giants made the plays when it counted. I mean for fuck's sake, how can you not tackle Eli Manning. The guy looks confused every minute he's on the field.
But hey, they won, good for them and all you Giants fans out there. And I mean GIANTS fans. Not fucking Jets fans that wore a Namath jersey at the Superbowl party that I was at but still rooted for the upset (I know you're probably not reading this, douchebag, and I don't care. After this, I will feel better because it's off my chest, but you sir will ALWAYS be a douchebag fuckface cuntwhore).
If you're a Jet's fan, you don't root for the Giants...PERIOD. I don't care if it's the Giants versus Hitler, Satan, Osama Bin Laden, and Lord Voldemort. If you're a Jets fan, looks like you're into killing Jews, living in Hell, hating freedom, and being so EVIL that you can't even be named.
The Patriots were the most hated team in the NFL this year because for some reason, the pursuit of perfection is something that should be despised instead of honored. What's wrong with this country? Why couldn't people with no vested interest in the game (meaning non-Pats, non-Giants, non-fans of teams that are rivals of the Pats) cheer for a team that is striving for the impossible? The answer is that mediocrity is the name of the game. We are a nation that has settled for doing as little as possible to get by. Hooray for apathy, being average and under-achieving.
Secondly, the film epic "Meet the Spartans" opened at number one at the box office. I really don't have a comment for that, other than to say if you encourage these filmmakers, they will continue to poison our cinemas with this shit.
Finally, I was at a store the other day called Steve and Barry's. For those of you that are unaware of this place, its a discount clothing store where nothing is over 20 bucks. The clothes are chintzy, but hey, for what you're paying it's not that bad (see, even I've succumb to being ok with average).
Anyway, I'm about to head out when I hear the jubilation of a child. There are few things in this despair filled, bleak, hopeless world that can part the clouds and let the sunshine in like the happiness of a child. And this kid was motherfucking Moses with those clouds, he was making them part and the sun was shinning down upon Sarah Jessica's new clothing line. I wondered what was making the kid, which I placed around 5 or 6 years old, so fucking happy. I moved in to investigate.
The kid, a moonfaced child with a head too big for his body and eyes that bulged from their sockets, was standing in front of a rack of WWE t-shirts. And he was in heaven. Couldn't believe that such a thing existed. Yelling over to his mom, he wanted to show her his favorite.
"OH...MY...GAWD!" the boy drawled with southern perfection, "MOM! Take a looook at this wun! It's the BEEEER DRINKIN' CHAMPYUN! STONE...COLD...STEVE...AWESTIN! He's...the BEEEER DRINKIN' CHAMPYUN!"
Taken aback, I figured the mother would reprimand the child, or at least tell him that life isn't a drinking contest and there are more lofty goals to obtain. Instead, what I got was:
"I know hunnnnny! He's soooo great at drinkin' beer! Now thats a REAL champyun right therre!"
And that's the problem with this country. It's not that there are people that flip-flop and want to squash perfection, or people that make shitty movies number one, or people that idolize a skill that most college kids take for granted instead of hard-work, education, and classiness.
No, it's that these people are breeding.
Dear Humanity,
There are times in one's life where disbelief, annoyance, and frustration all converge into one, a "perfect storm" if you will.
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