This column was responsible for my first two death threats. Yep, when it was published, I received my first two within two days, each one coming via email, and each one telling me how I was going to die and for what reasons (the usual - anti-American, unpatriotic, liberal, and so on...) Upon reflection, I think they mistook the term "hate mail" at the bottom of my blurb for "death threats." At the time, people hated everything I wrote (not the columns - just my opinions), and were happy to send in four or five pieces of hate mail a week. I decided to mention hate mail that week. The results were death threats. I never again mentioned hate mail; it seemed a bit short-sighted to do so. But I never backed off my anti-war position and I never toned it down. I also didn't live in fear. I turned over the death threats to the sheriff's department. I received four or five more (I honestly can't remember how many it was) and didn't worry about it. None of these twerps ever killed me, so I got that going for me, which is nice.
The US people can feel proud. We’ve put one in the “Dubya” column, against a third-world enemy with antiquated weaponry and an army made largely of non-soldiers. Dozens of American and British soldiers have lost their lives in this illegal war, but hey! That’s okay, since it means cheaper gas for all of us, right? Now, all that’s left to do is to send our POWs home, install our own puppet government, and make sweeping trade agreements for millions of barrels of cheap oil.
Oh, yes. And find those pesky chemical weapons. These weapons are important to the White House, more important than some people realize. These weapons, which were labeled “Weapons of Mass Destruction,” are the reason for this war. These weapons, not yet found, are the justification that the Governor of the United States used to attack Iraq. And nobody’s found a single one yet.
Right now, most of the world’s population hates us, because of this insane war we’ve undertaken. But there are some who are waiting, giving us the benefit of the doubt, wondering where the chemical weapons are. If we don’t produce any, we will have been proven wrong; and we will find it harder to hold onto allies.
At this point, the White House is so desperate to uncover chemical weapons that any substance in Baghdad which cannot be readily recognized as sugar, salt, or Tabasco sauce is being sent off to be tested for chemical content. They have to. If we are unable to find any chemicals, then we have to admit that the reason we went to war is bullshit. This will not go over well with the Europeans, Arabs, Asians, or in fact with our allies – the few we have – who genuinely believed our intelligence.
I find it highly unlikely that there are any chemical weapons of any sort in Iraq. As many Iraqi POWs as we have taken, and as much information as we have gained, we have not uncovered a single shred of evidence, not a single vial of sarin gas. Just recently, our military managed to find a group of trailers buried in the sand, miles out from the nearest city, in which were found elements of a laboratory. Of course, the White House proudly announced that they had found the proof they were seeking. That is, until US military scientists admitted on CNN that there was no way that these were used to make chemical weapons of any kind. Munitions, yes. Chemicals, no.
Let’s look at it this way. If you were an Iraqi who knew about the chemicals, and you were captured, wouldn’t you offer up the location and contents of these chemical weapons stores for any better treatment you might get? So far, captured Iraqis have spilled the beans about quite a few things, including the buried laboratory equipment. Is it possible to believe that not a single captured Iraqi knows where these Weapons of Mass Destruction are? It is possible, but it is not likely.
Next time, class, we will be discussing Syria. Avoid the rush! Send your hate mail to: yahoo.com.
Showing posts with label from the extremes column. Show all posts
Showing posts with label from the extremes column. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2009
"Santa Claus's Political Affiliations (with Footnotes)"
There is no reason for this, but this is one of my favorite columns of all time, bar none.
I always wondered what Santa Claus’ political beliefs are, and yes, I know that’s weird. I figured it to be easy to work out what he believes by what he does. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even easy figuring out where he originally came from, but I did a little research and I think I may be a little closer to the answers.
Some say Santa Claus began as St. Nicholas, a Turkish priest and saint, who gave toys and candy to the yard apes of Asia Minor 1700 years ago. He was canonized and became very popular, becoming the patron saint of children, sailors, and several countries. When the Reformation swept Europe, those pesky Protestants made any celebration involving St. Nick illegal. As usual, the Dutch did their own thing and kept Sint Nikolass part of their festivities. When they came to America and snagged the last remaining parking spots in New Amsterdam, they brought a devotion to Sinterklass, as they called him here. When the Dutch were evicted in the 17th Century, their English landlords turned Sinterklass to Santa Claus.
Let’s see: Santa is Catholic, at least partly Dutch, and he settled in New York. He believes in giving gifts to everyone and he works with (ahem) a small minority. By golly, he’s a Blue Stater!
But, honestly, it’s not that simple. Mr. S. Claus is also a shining example of conservatism. He is pro-business and –industry* and it’s a no-brainer that the elves are not unionized. His current look – red-and-white suit, black boots and belt, sack full of toys – was actually created by a Southern corporation (Coca-Cola hired artist Haddon Sundblom to create Santas for advertisements from 1931 to 1964 – it’s his design that children today know). And Santa Claus is in a long-term heterosexual relationship with Mrs. Claus. He is a family value.
He could be an autocrat, the mythical “benevolent dictator” that has so long been debated. We don’t hear about a parliament of elves or that reindeer get to vote. In the same vein, the North Pole could be a theocracy. He is a saint after all, and the Vatican only has a pope.
But this only works if his Catholic origins are correct, which they almost certainly aren’t. No single piece of evidence exists to back the claim of St. Nicholas as a living person. What most folklorists believe is that St. Nicholas was a pagan god ‘christianized’ by the church and given some of the aspects of other pagan gods, like the Greek Poseidon and the Teutonic Hold Nickar. The Church commonly took pagan beliefs and folded them into Christianity, a habit they swiped from the pre-Christian Romans**. He’s not a real saint, so theocracy must be out.
He also can’t be a communist. True communists don’t believe in individual ownership and Comrade Claus certainly does. He can’t be a fascist or imperialist, either. Both require a tough military and a drive to expand. Any military that can use faster-than-light sleighs would have at least invaded Canada by now. I also doubt he’s a monarchist. He’d have to be a king or an emperor, and those types don’t let pee-soaked youngsters squat on their lap.
The North Pole could actually be socialist. Assuming that Santa is the government, he would own the factories (toyshop), means of transportation (reindeer), and the produce (goodies). He would also handle negotiating prices (free to good tots). Further backing a socialist claim is the fact that he lives in an extreme environment**** and must take care of his elves’ needs himself, since no medical insurers have yet opened up North Pole branches. There is also at least a hint of the redistribution of wealth in his ways. But it’s only a hint.
No, Santa is a capitalist. No one affects a fiscal year like old Kris Kringle. He is great for the economy and he puts money in the pockets of retailers, wholesalers, and producers. With the amount of money that changes hands because of him, his belief system cannot be denied. And he is a benevolent capitalist, a strong supporter of charities, and a believer in taking care of those who need help. He is a representation of everything good, not just economically but spiritually. True, he misses the homes of some Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, and Buddhist homes, but not all. Santa Claus has allowed Christmas to come into non-Christian homes and he himself does not insist on a particular belief to be held, to believe in him.
He is appreciated by those of a religious or spiritual nature, and by those who aren’t. He is a benevolent capitalist, doing what he can for those who need it, and for those who simply want it. He has some conservative elements, and some liberal elements. He is complex, nuanced, and not easy to categorize.
Just like a Planet Weekly reader. Merry Christmas to Mr. Claus and to the rest of our complex, nuanced, and hard-to-categorize readers.
--------------------------------------------------
* Of course, he’s also outsourced some of his work to Mattel, Hasbro, and Nintendo, but I suppose that’s part of his bottom-line conservatism.
** Yes, the Church swiped pagan beliefs, but pagan Romans swiped their entire pantheon of gods from the Greeks and renamed them, adding some lame deities like Janus, the God of Doors and Beginnings***, and Flora, the Goddess of Flowers.
*** But Janus is where we get “January,” so he is by default the God of New Year’s Eve. Let’s hoist a glass to mighty Janus!
****. Living in the extreme north means he is no vegan, either. Santa Claus is a meat eater. He and the elves must have much protein to survive. He also uses an endangered species as beasts of burden. This will bother none but the vegeterrorists of PETA. Santa snickers at your Tofurkey.
Next time, the Bipolar Santa will offer up his annual list of who’s been naughty and nice. I’ll take nominations at http://www.writersownwords.com/fckeditor/editor/%22http://www.planetweekly.com/%22.
I always wondered what Santa Claus’ political beliefs are, and yes, I know that’s weird. I figured it to be easy to work out what he believes by what he does. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even easy figuring out where he originally came from, but I did a little research and I think I may be a little closer to the answers.
Some say Santa Claus began as St. Nicholas, a Turkish priest and saint, who gave toys and candy to the yard apes of Asia Minor 1700 years ago. He was canonized and became very popular, becoming the patron saint of children, sailors, and several countries. When the Reformation swept Europe, those pesky Protestants made any celebration involving St. Nick illegal. As usual, the Dutch did their own thing and kept Sint Nikolass part of their festivities. When they came to America and snagged the last remaining parking spots in New Amsterdam, they brought a devotion to Sinterklass, as they called him here. When the Dutch were evicted in the 17th Century, their English landlords turned Sinterklass to Santa Claus.
Let’s see: Santa is Catholic, at least partly Dutch, and he settled in New York. He believes in giving gifts to everyone and he works with (ahem) a small minority. By golly, he’s a Blue Stater!
But, honestly, it’s not that simple. Mr. S. Claus is also a shining example of conservatism. He is pro-business and –industry* and it’s a no-brainer that the elves are not unionized. His current look – red-and-white suit, black boots and belt, sack full of toys – was actually created by a Southern corporation (Coca-Cola hired artist Haddon Sundblom to create Santas for advertisements from 1931 to 1964 – it’s his design that children today know). And Santa Claus is in a long-term heterosexual relationship with Mrs. Claus. He is a family value.
He could be an autocrat, the mythical “benevolent dictator” that has so long been debated. We don’t hear about a parliament of elves or that reindeer get to vote. In the same vein, the North Pole could be a theocracy. He is a saint after all, and the Vatican only has a pope.
But this only works if his Catholic origins are correct, which they almost certainly aren’t. No single piece of evidence exists to back the claim of St. Nicholas as a living person. What most folklorists believe is that St. Nicholas was a pagan god ‘christianized’ by the church and given some of the aspects of other pagan gods, like the Greek Poseidon and the Teutonic Hold Nickar. The Church commonly took pagan beliefs and folded them into Christianity, a habit they swiped from the pre-Christian Romans**. He’s not a real saint, so theocracy must be out.
He also can’t be a communist. True communists don’t believe in individual ownership and Comrade Claus certainly does. He can’t be a fascist or imperialist, either. Both require a tough military and a drive to expand. Any military that can use faster-than-light sleighs would have at least invaded Canada by now. I also doubt he’s a monarchist. He’d have to be a king or an emperor, and those types don’t let pee-soaked youngsters squat on their lap.
The North Pole could actually be socialist. Assuming that Santa is the government, he would own the factories (toyshop), means of transportation (reindeer), and the produce (goodies). He would also handle negotiating prices (free to good tots). Further backing a socialist claim is the fact that he lives in an extreme environment**** and must take care of his elves’ needs himself, since no medical insurers have yet opened up North Pole branches. There is also at least a hint of the redistribution of wealth in his ways. But it’s only a hint.
No, Santa is a capitalist. No one affects a fiscal year like old Kris Kringle. He is great for the economy and he puts money in the pockets of retailers, wholesalers, and producers. With the amount of money that changes hands because of him, his belief system cannot be denied. And he is a benevolent capitalist, a strong supporter of charities, and a believer in taking care of those who need help. He is a representation of everything good, not just economically but spiritually. True, he misses the homes of some Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, and Buddhist homes, but not all. Santa Claus has allowed Christmas to come into non-Christian homes and he himself does not insist on a particular belief to be held, to believe in him.
He is appreciated by those of a religious or spiritual nature, and by those who aren’t. He is a benevolent capitalist, doing what he can for those who need it, and for those who simply want it. He has some conservative elements, and some liberal elements. He is complex, nuanced, and not easy to categorize.
Just like a Planet Weekly reader. Merry Christmas to Mr. Claus and to the rest of our complex, nuanced, and hard-to-categorize readers.
--------------------------------------------------
* Of course, he’s also outsourced some of his work to Mattel, Hasbro, and Nintendo, but I suppose that’s part of his bottom-line conservatism.
** Yes, the Church swiped pagan beliefs, but pagan Romans swiped their entire pantheon of gods from the Greeks and renamed them, adding some lame deities like Janus, the God of Doors and Beginnings***, and Flora, the Goddess of Flowers.
*** But Janus is where we get “January,” so he is by default the God of New Year’s Eve. Let’s hoist a glass to mighty Janus!
****. Living in the extreme north means he is no vegan, either. Santa Claus is a meat eater. He and the elves must have much protein to survive. He also uses an endangered species as beasts of burden. This will bother none but the vegeterrorists of PETA. Santa snickers at your Tofurkey.
Next time, the Bipolar Santa will offer up his annual list of who’s been naughty and nice. I’ll take nominations at http://www.writersownwords.com/fckeditor/editor/%22http://www.planetweekly.com/%22.
"Run, Rudolph, Run!"
This was one of my 'angry' political columns that attracted me attention from a certain fringe group I'll call neo-conservatives. They're the ones that sent in letters, demanding I be 1) fired or 2) killed. They went online and bravely called me anti-American, communist, and all that noise. At this point, I'd had half a dozen death threats, and I was enjoying pissing them off every week. I will say, though, that when this story broke, it infuriated me like little else had since the war started.
“People around here, they take care of their own. You can't put a price on a man's head, and I don't know anybody who would have given him up, even for a million dollars.''*
This person is speaking of whom? Osama bin Laden or Saddam Hussein, you might say? You would be wrong. This person, Sarah Greenfield of Marble, North Carolina, is referring to Eric Robert Rudolph, the alleged Olympic Park bomber. Rudolph is suspected in four bombings between July 1996 and January 1998. He also is reported to belong to the fringe religion, Christian Identity, which is outspokenly opposed to abortion and homosexuality and is vehemently anti-Semitic.
The Christian Identity religion stresses that northern Europeans are the “true” Israelites and that all other races are “mud people.” They also espouse the idea that the Holocaust never happened.
Rudolph has been in hiding since the end of January 1998 in the Appalachian Mountains, avoiding any and all attempts by federal agents to bring him in. In western North Carolina, he has become a mythic figure, featured famously on the “Run Rudolph Run” t-shirts and supported outwardly by some of the region’s fundamentalist conservatives.
When Rudolph was found and arrested by a rookie police officer in Murphy, North Carolina, he was dressed casually, in clean clothes, and was by all accounts presentable and neat. The overwhelming belief in the area is that he has been given support by some of the residents. Signs in front yards profess outward support for the man who has killed two and wounded nearly one hundred and fifty individuals.
Let us recap. Eric Rudolph is a terrorist, a man who detonated explosives and has killed people who did not agree with his personal beliefs. He belongs to a fringe fundamentalist religion that embraces hateful ideals. He has received support from the people who live near him and agree with his “crusade.” He has hidden in the mountains and avoided capture by U.S. government forces.
Does this sound familiar yet? It should.
The only real difference between Eric Robert Rudolph and Arab terrorists is the color of their God. Both sides think that they are justified in taking lives to further their own causes. Both sides’ beliefs are grounded in conservative religions; one Christianity, one Islam. Both sides have been given support by people who agree.
President Bush has pounded the podium and announced to the world that the United States would go after any country that harbored terrorism. By his broad standards, this means that the United States could go after any nation that had individuals who harbored terrorists. Which includes us. The signs in the front yards of Murphy, North Carolina are proof. The statement of the woman in Marble is further proof. The fact that Rudolph has survived five years in hiding – in nice clothing – is plenty. Is it possible that the man bought groceries, gear, and clothing in a region where his face is peppered across t-shirts, and no one noticed? It is possible, but it is not likely.
*Quoted from a Tim Whitmire AP story of 6/1/03.
----------------------------------------------------
Will the 101st Airborne drop into North Carolina? Will the feds find Weapons of Mass Destruction outside of Asheville? E-mail me at: yahoo.com to make your opinion known.
“People around here, they take care of their own. You can't put a price on a man's head, and I don't know anybody who would have given him up, even for a million dollars.''*
This person is speaking of whom? Osama bin Laden or Saddam Hussein, you might say? You would be wrong. This person, Sarah Greenfield of Marble, North Carolina, is referring to Eric Robert Rudolph, the alleged Olympic Park bomber. Rudolph is suspected in four bombings between July 1996 and January 1998. He also is reported to belong to the fringe religion, Christian Identity, which is outspokenly opposed to abortion and homosexuality and is vehemently anti-Semitic.
The Christian Identity religion stresses that northern Europeans are the “true” Israelites and that all other races are “mud people.” They also espouse the idea that the Holocaust never happened.
Rudolph has been in hiding since the end of January 1998 in the Appalachian Mountains, avoiding any and all attempts by federal agents to bring him in. In western North Carolina, he has become a mythic figure, featured famously on the “Run Rudolph Run” t-shirts and supported outwardly by some of the region’s fundamentalist conservatives.
When Rudolph was found and arrested by a rookie police officer in Murphy, North Carolina, he was dressed casually, in clean clothes, and was by all accounts presentable and neat. The overwhelming belief in the area is that he has been given support by some of the residents. Signs in front yards profess outward support for the man who has killed two and wounded nearly one hundred and fifty individuals.
Let us recap. Eric Rudolph is a terrorist, a man who detonated explosives and has killed people who did not agree with his personal beliefs. He belongs to a fringe fundamentalist religion that embraces hateful ideals. He has received support from the people who live near him and agree with his “crusade.” He has hidden in the mountains and avoided capture by U.S. government forces.
Does this sound familiar yet? It should.
The only real difference between Eric Robert Rudolph and Arab terrorists is the color of their God. Both sides think that they are justified in taking lives to further their own causes. Both sides’ beliefs are grounded in conservative religions; one Christianity, one Islam. Both sides have been given support by people who agree.
President Bush has pounded the podium and announced to the world that the United States would go after any country that harbored terrorism. By his broad standards, this means that the United States could go after any nation that had individuals who harbored terrorists. Which includes us. The signs in the front yards of Murphy, North Carolina are proof. The statement of the woman in Marble is further proof. The fact that Rudolph has survived five years in hiding – in nice clothing – is plenty. Is it possible that the man bought groceries, gear, and clothing in a region where his face is peppered across t-shirts, and no one noticed? It is possible, but it is not likely.
*Quoted from a Tim Whitmire AP story of 6/1/03.
----------------------------------------------------
Will the 101st Airborne drop into North Carolina? Will the feds find Weapons of Mass Destruction outside of Asheville? E-mail me at: yahoo.com to make your opinion known.
"A Random Bit of Twaddle, Geeks, and Frank Melton & the Maytals"
Every now and then, I'd run a column of just random thoughts and wanderings. This one was one of my favorites, because it wasn't really that at all. It was more an illustration of my frustration with the election and my inability to do anything about it. I also included it, because it had an in-column follow up to "Geek Flag Ideologies" that I liked.
When it occurred to me that this column was going to run in our ‘election’ issue – regardless of the fact that Frank Melton has already been anointed emperor by some of our local TV stations; thank God the print media still believes in waiting until after the election to do so – I thought I’d write about why I thought one candidate was better than the other.
Oddly enough, the editors insisted that they wouldn’t print half a page of white space.
Honestly, the problem is that I just don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever not known whom I would vote for this close to an election. This is a problem for me, since it’s in my nature to talk, and write about it.
A week ago, I didn’t know. Four days ago, I decided to switch sides and cast my lot with Rick Whitlow. Two days ago, I’d given up and decided to insist on a paper ballot at the polls, just so I could write in “Incumbent Mayor Harvey Johnson.” Now, I’m back to not knowing. (Really, it goes without saying that I shan’t cast a vote for Frank Melton.)
I don’t believe either Melton or Whitlow are qualified for this type of office. I don’t believe that either has the ability to lead a city of this size. I do believe that Rick Whitlow is forthright, honest, and genuinely believes in what he is doing. He has a base of supporters that believe he is truly the right man for the job and they may be right; I just don’t know.
As for Melton…well, my opinions about him are already on record. Suffice it to say, I can’t say anything about him that I said about Whitlow.
A conservative chum of mine commented that he believes four years from now, people will be screaming at each other, “what did you do? Why did you elect Frank Melton?” I think he’s right. I also think it’ll be conservatives shrieking at liberals and liberals howling right back. What is for certain is that the next four years will be interesting.
And to quote Forest Gump (and it seems somewhat appropriate to do so, hm?), “that’s all I have to say about that.”
I’ve had a few random bits rattling around in my cluttered attic of a brain for weeks – none of them worthy of a column, but I thought I’d share them here and clear my head, leaving room for more useless clutter to appear.
I’ve been playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for weeks now (insert your own silly Jackson crime comment here), and I’ve come to one definite conclusion: the Maytals’ “Pressure Drop” is one of the best songs ever recorded. I love the covers by the Clash and the Specials, but Toots’ original is one for the books.
Two weeks ago, my “Geek Flag Ideologies” column was posted online. Frankly, I didn’t expect any comments and I didn’t see them until the following Monday, when I discovered that many, many folks unleashed their inner geek and immediately began sharing anecdotes and terrible trivia questions (even ones by my Dr. Who homey, Trey Mangum). The reason this struck me as hard as it did is that these people, mostly bright folks and mostly regulars on our site, opened up so quickly to share their love of Red Dwarf, Lord of the Rings, the X-Men and X-Files. When I was a wee lad, being a geek was bad. Now it seems to have cachet – very cool.
Until a friend offered to take the Beast for a walk, I hadn’t actually realized how much I loved taking him out to wander the neighborhood. It has just been something we do. It suddenly hit me how much I actually look forward to going with him. This is remarkable; I’m a certified Idaho couch potato. I guess I have the woofbeastie to thank for my mighty thews and lowered blood pressure.
American Idol: proof that the R&B-loving blue staters and the country-lovin’ red staters can come together to celebrate tedium and mediocrity at its finest. God bless the U.S.A.
As of this morning (Tuesday), Deep Throat appears to be uncovered. W. Mark Felt, the former second-in-command of the FBI during the early ‘70s has claimed to be the long-anonymous source who leaked Nixon’s Watergate secretes to The Washington Post’s Woodward and Bernstein, and whose existence was announced in their book, All the President’s Men. Vanity Fair, which has the story, believes Felt. His family believes him. Woodward and Bernstein aren’t saying. I think it’s true and I feel more than a little disappointed that one of this country’s greatest political mysteries has now ended. Now all we need to know is who whacked Jimmy Hoffa.
And what the next four years in Jackson will look like.
--------------------------------------------------------
“I said a pressure drop, oh pressure, oh yeah, pressure’s gonna drop on you.” Favorite songs, geeks? Probably a lot of Rush. Comments, as always, are enjoyed at planetweekly.
When it occurred to me that this column was going to run in our ‘election’ issue – regardless of the fact that Frank Melton has already been anointed emperor by some of our local TV stations; thank God the print media still believes in waiting until after the election to do so – I thought I’d write about why I thought one candidate was better than the other.
Oddly enough, the editors insisted that they wouldn’t print half a page of white space.
Honestly, the problem is that I just don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever not known whom I would vote for this close to an election. This is a problem for me, since it’s in my nature to talk, and write about it.
A week ago, I didn’t know. Four days ago, I decided to switch sides and cast my lot with Rick Whitlow. Two days ago, I’d given up and decided to insist on a paper ballot at the polls, just so I could write in “Incumbent Mayor Harvey Johnson.” Now, I’m back to not knowing. (Really, it goes without saying that I shan’t cast a vote for Frank Melton.)
I don’t believe either Melton or Whitlow are qualified for this type of office. I don’t believe that either has the ability to lead a city of this size. I do believe that Rick Whitlow is forthright, honest, and genuinely believes in what he is doing. He has a base of supporters that believe he is truly the right man for the job and they may be right; I just don’t know.
As for Melton…well, my opinions about him are already on record. Suffice it to say, I can’t say anything about him that I said about Whitlow.
A conservative chum of mine commented that he believes four years from now, people will be screaming at each other, “what did you do? Why did you elect Frank Melton?” I think he’s right. I also think it’ll be conservatives shrieking at liberals and liberals howling right back. What is for certain is that the next four years will be interesting.
And to quote Forest Gump (and it seems somewhat appropriate to do so, hm?), “that’s all I have to say about that.”
I’ve had a few random bits rattling around in my cluttered attic of a brain for weeks – none of them worthy of a column, but I thought I’d share them here and clear my head, leaving room for more useless clutter to appear.
I’ve been playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas for weeks now (insert your own silly Jackson crime comment here), and I’ve come to one definite conclusion: the Maytals’ “Pressure Drop” is one of the best songs ever recorded. I love the covers by the Clash and the Specials, but Toots’ original is one for the books.
Two weeks ago, my “Geek Flag Ideologies” column was posted online. Frankly, I didn’t expect any comments and I didn’t see them until the following Monday, when I discovered that many, many folks unleashed their inner geek and immediately began sharing anecdotes and terrible trivia questions (even ones by my Dr. Who homey, Trey Mangum). The reason this struck me as hard as it did is that these people, mostly bright folks and mostly regulars on our site, opened up so quickly to share their love of Red Dwarf, Lord of the Rings, the X-Men and X-Files. When I was a wee lad, being a geek was bad. Now it seems to have cachet – very cool.
Until a friend offered to take the Beast for a walk, I hadn’t actually realized how much I loved taking him out to wander the neighborhood. It has just been something we do. It suddenly hit me how much I actually look forward to going with him. This is remarkable; I’m a certified Idaho couch potato. I guess I have the woofbeastie to thank for my mighty thews and lowered blood pressure.
American Idol: proof that the R&B-loving blue staters and the country-lovin’ red staters can come together to celebrate tedium and mediocrity at its finest. God bless the U.S.A.
As of this morning (Tuesday), Deep Throat appears to be uncovered. W. Mark Felt, the former second-in-command of the FBI during the early ‘70s has claimed to be the long-anonymous source who leaked Nixon’s Watergate secretes to The Washington Post’s Woodward and Bernstein, and whose existence was announced in their book, All the President’s Men. Vanity Fair, which has the story, believes Felt. His family believes him. Woodward and Bernstein aren’t saying. I think it’s true and I feel more than a little disappointed that one of this country’s greatest political mysteries has now ended. Now all we need to know is who whacked Jimmy Hoffa.
And what the next four years in Jackson will look like.
--------------------------------------------------------
“I said a pressure drop, oh pressure, oh yeah, pressure’s gonna drop on you.” Favorite songs, geeks? Probably a lot of Rush. Comments, as always, are enjoyed at planetweekly.
"The Predator Connection"
For the record, this appeared in print, five days before Saturday Night Live went over much of the same ground (of course, they didn't have the Sonny Landham connection, so I've got them there). Unlike the blogger who ripped off my Iggy Pop reference, I'm not fussing at SNL. It takes a week to set up and rehearse their sketches. I'm saying I'm happy that we came up with these ideas about the same time. It's just that mine saw print before theirs saw air. Don't nobody go saying I ripped off the Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time-Players. Great (and sick) minds really do think alike.
With the bread-and-circuses election in California recently, the Left Coast proved once and for all that the liberals out there are not the state’s only wackadoos. The fruits-and-nuts Republicans lined up to throw away their dignity and common sense to cast votes for an aging action star best known for playing a robot. Insert your own Al Gore joke here.
The cable news channels decided that everyone in the country actually gave a damn about who ran that yahoo state, and forced hundreds of mind-numbing hours of coverage on us. It was during some of the hypnotic, droning coverage that I stumbled onto the Predator Connection.
Predator, the 1987 sci-fi actioner, concerned a group of soldiers who ran afoul of a creature whose armor camouflaged itself, allowing him to vanish into the background and attack primarily through ambush – a lot like Gray Davis, but with a less abrasive personality.
Believe it or not, with a credited cast of only ten, Predator has spat out three actors who have run for governor in their home states. Jesse Ventura was first in Minnesota four years ago and this year brought us the Arnold Era. Even Sonny Landham, who played the psycho Indian, Billy, ran for governor of Kentucky in 2002, first as a Republican then as an Independent. He dropped out after a few months, but he ran.*
This means that 30% of the cast of Predator has run in gubernatorial races and 20% has won. I found myself wondering about the other 70%.
Of the remaining seven, I threw out two immediately. Bill Duke, the bad ass sergeant, is also a film director. This makes him overqualified to be governor. Shane Black, who dies early, is actually a scriptwriter, which means he can’t afford to run for office. Since he specializes in spinning tales of bogus heroes, he’d make a great White House Press Secretary.
Kevin Peter Hall, who played the Predator, has been dead twelve years, which eliminates him from running in any state but Missouri. Elpidia Carrillo, the Mexican babe, has two strikes against her: she’s a Mexican babe. R.G. Armstrong, the dignified Alabama character actor, has retired, effectively eliminating him from running. And Richard Chaves, who almost survives until the end of the movie, is a nobody, which seems to suggest that he’d be better off running for President on the Democratic ticket instead.
This leaves Carl Weathers. He’s a Southerner, born in New Orleans. Besides being an actor, he possesses another one of the qualifications it takes to be a politico in this country: he was a professional athlete, a football player. And as Apollo Creed, the man responsible for smacking around Stallone in Rocky, he is a personal hero to most moviegoers.
Given those qualifications, I think it’s time that Weathers start his campaign soon. He should strike while the Predator iron is hot. Chances are good he’d get support from a governor or two.
Now, if only Morgan Freeman had been in the movie…
-------------------------------------------------
*Landham also performed in several 70’s porno movies, including one called, They’re All Sluts, which somewhat puts Arnie’s alleged nipple tweaking in perspective.
Recall whoever! Freeman for Gov! Send campaign checks to: ed@planetweekly.
With the bread-and-circuses election in California recently, the Left Coast proved once and for all that the liberals out there are not the state’s only wackadoos. The fruits-and-nuts Republicans lined up to throw away their dignity and common sense to cast votes for an aging action star best known for playing a robot. Insert your own Al Gore joke here.
The cable news channels decided that everyone in the country actually gave a damn about who ran that yahoo state, and forced hundreds of mind-numbing hours of coverage on us. It was during some of the hypnotic, droning coverage that I stumbled onto the Predator Connection.
Predator, the 1987 sci-fi actioner, concerned a group of soldiers who ran afoul of a creature whose armor camouflaged itself, allowing him to vanish into the background and attack primarily through ambush – a lot like Gray Davis, but with a less abrasive personality.
Believe it or not, with a credited cast of only ten, Predator has spat out three actors who have run for governor in their home states. Jesse Ventura was first in Minnesota four years ago and this year brought us the Arnold Era. Even Sonny Landham, who played the psycho Indian, Billy, ran for governor of Kentucky in 2002, first as a Republican then as an Independent. He dropped out after a few months, but he ran.*
This means that 30% of the cast of Predator has run in gubernatorial races and 20% has won. I found myself wondering about the other 70%.
Of the remaining seven, I threw out two immediately. Bill Duke, the bad ass sergeant, is also a film director. This makes him overqualified to be governor. Shane Black, who dies early, is actually a scriptwriter, which means he can’t afford to run for office. Since he specializes in spinning tales of bogus heroes, he’d make a great White House Press Secretary.
Kevin Peter Hall, who played the Predator, has been dead twelve years, which eliminates him from running in any state but Missouri. Elpidia Carrillo, the Mexican babe, has two strikes against her: she’s a Mexican babe. R.G. Armstrong, the dignified Alabama character actor, has retired, effectively eliminating him from running. And Richard Chaves, who almost survives until the end of the movie, is a nobody, which seems to suggest that he’d be better off running for President on the Democratic ticket instead.
This leaves Carl Weathers. He’s a Southerner, born in New Orleans. Besides being an actor, he possesses another one of the qualifications it takes to be a politico in this country: he was a professional athlete, a football player. And as Apollo Creed, the man responsible for smacking around Stallone in Rocky, he is a personal hero to most moviegoers.
Given those qualifications, I think it’s time that Weathers start his campaign soon. He should strike while the Predator iron is hot. Chances are good he’d get support from a governor or two.
Now, if only Morgan Freeman had been in the movie…
-------------------------------------------------
*Landham also performed in several 70’s porno movies, including one called, They’re All Sluts, which somewhat puts Arnie’s alleged nipple tweaking in perspective.
Recall whoever! Freeman for Gov! Send campaign checks to: ed@planetweekly.
"The Politics of Death"
There are no punchlines with this one.
Death is one of only two things that all persons are guaranteed to experience once in their life, along with birth. Sex isn’t a given, love isn’t a given; pride, hope, joy, happiness, sadness, faith or friendship offer no guarantees that one will ever experience them. Only birth and death are promises always met.
Birth is the overture of life, full of the promise of what has yet come. But death, which comes at the very end, signifies the finality of years or decades of living, turning a once-vital person into memories shared by those around her. Death is the final note of life’s symphony and is, by nature, the more dramatic of the two. And as the most dramatic guarantee life has to offer, it has become arguably the most contentious subject in politics; capital punishment, assisted suicide, abortion, and euthanasia are discussed at every political level and numerous other subjects – stem cell research, disease, drunk-driving laws, and drug addiction all have the idea of death as part of the vast discussions that accompany them.
On very few of those issues do conservatives and liberals agree. Certainly no one in their right mind thinks that drunk driving is a good idea and most everyone supports the government and private industry’s work to eradicate diseases as best they can. But the hot-button issues continue to divide the country and sadly, both sides seem to be rooted in inconsistent thinking.
At first glance, the conservative position is remarkably inconsistent: pro-life, pro-death penalty, and anti-assisted suicide. They claim that their moral values support human life, and they do – some of the time. According to pro-life thought, the moment that one little sperm wins the Great Race and one little cell divides inside a woman’s womb, that is a human life, by definition an “innocent.” Conservative thought says that that life must be protected, regardless of what the mother believes. Also apparently “innocent” are those sick and elderly who wish to die – usually because of inescapable pain, but those people, conservatives believe, must be allowed to live their lives fully – no matter how much pain they are in and how much they wish to die. The belief is that life is precious, regardless of how sick a person is.
However, if a person is convicted of a capital crime – regardless of actual innocence or guilt – that person is no longer given the same rights as others. Most conservatives, but not all, support capital punishment, even though study after study after study has demonstrated that not all those convicted of a capital crime are actually guilty. Capital punishment is final; there is no reprieve for those who are killed.
In essence, a pair of cells in a womb is an innocent, a great-grandmother writhing in constant pain is an innocent, but a black man falsely convicted is no longer an innocent, and deserves to die. It is a judgment call at best, given proper spin by the conservatives: sweet little Baby Johnny and dear old Aunt Petunia should live, but that nasty fellow in Cell Block E must die.
Unfortunately, the liberals are no better and are as inconsistent. Their position is generally pro-abortion (I refuse to call it pro-choice; those that tend to use that term are often the ones who prefer that others don’t get to make choices of their own), pro-assisted suicide, and anti-death penalty. In other words, killing a fetus is good. Killing a sad old woman is good. But killing a man who killed thirteen people at a dinner party is a bad idea. Even if the man was found with a bloody axe, a head in his hand, and confessed his crime in great detail, they still believe it’s bad to kill him. It’s all in the spin, and the liberals do not spin this as well as the conservatives do, and their position takes on a more negative light. They come across as savage, willing to kill innocents for selfish reasons, but also as “light on crime,” willing to house criminals for decades who probably do deserve to die.
There is no way to make these belief systems consistent in and of themselves and frankly, I’m not sure there should be. What these discrete systems of beliefs demonstrate is how vastly different in thinking we all are. Neither all conservatives nor all liberals believe everything that their groups seem to espouse, but many do. This to me says that perhaps death – and the subjects that touch heavily on death – should be given more respect by both sides. Instead of calling the pro-abortion types “baby killers” or calling the pro-capital punishment supporters “murderers,” maybe at some point our society will evolve to the point where our beliefs on death can be respected, not only by those who agree with us, but more importantly, by those we disagree with. I’d like to think that, as a people, this is one thing we are all capable of doing.
Death is one of only two things that all persons are guaranteed to experience once in their life, along with birth. Sex isn’t a given, love isn’t a given; pride, hope, joy, happiness, sadness, faith or friendship offer no guarantees that one will ever experience them. Only birth and death are promises always met.
Birth is the overture of life, full of the promise of what has yet come. But death, which comes at the very end, signifies the finality of years or decades of living, turning a once-vital person into memories shared by those around her. Death is the final note of life’s symphony and is, by nature, the more dramatic of the two. And as the most dramatic guarantee life has to offer, it has become arguably the most contentious subject in politics; capital punishment, assisted suicide, abortion, and euthanasia are discussed at every political level and numerous other subjects – stem cell research, disease, drunk-driving laws, and drug addiction all have the idea of death as part of the vast discussions that accompany them.
On very few of those issues do conservatives and liberals agree. Certainly no one in their right mind thinks that drunk driving is a good idea and most everyone supports the government and private industry’s work to eradicate diseases as best they can. But the hot-button issues continue to divide the country and sadly, both sides seem to be rooted in inconsistent thinking.
At first glance, the conservative position is remarkably inconsistent: pro-life, pro-death penalty, and anti-assisted suicide. They claim that their moral values support human life, and they do – some of the time. According to pro-life thought, the moment that one little sperm wins the Great Race and one little cell divides inside a woman’s womb, that is a human life, by definition an “innocent.” Conservative thought says that that life must be protected, regardless of what the mother believes. Also apparently “innocent” are those sick and elderly who wish to die – usually because of inescapable pain, but those people, conservatives believe, must be allowed to live their lives fully – no matter how much pain they are in and how much they wish to die. The belief is that life is precious, regardless of how sick a person is.
However, if a person is convicted of a capital crime – regardless of actual innocence or guilt – that person is no longer given the same rights as others. Most conservatives, but not all, support capital punishment, even though study after study after study has demonstrated that not all those convicted of a capital crime are actually guilty. Capital punishment is final; there is no reprieve for those who are killed.
In essence, a pair of cells in a womb is an innocent, a great-grandmother writhing in constant pain is an innocent, but a black man falsely convicted is no longer an innocent, and deserves to die. It is a judgment call at best, given proper spin by the conservatives: sweet little Baby Johnny and dear old Aunt Petunia should live, but that nasty fellow in Cell Block E must die.
Unfortunately, the liberals are no better and are as inconsistent. Their position is generally pro-abortion (I refuse to call it pro-choice; those that tend to use that term are often the ones who prefer that others don’t get to make choices of their own), pro-assisted suicide, and anti-death penalty. In other words, killing a fetus is good. Killing a sad old woman is good. But killing a man who killed thirteen people at a dinner party is a bad idea. Even if the man was found with a bloody axe, a head in his hand, and confessed his crime in great detail, they still believe it’s bad to kill him. It’s all in the spin, and the liberals do not spin this as well as the conservatives do, and their position takes on a more negative light. They come across as savage, willing to kill innocents for selfish reasons, but also as “light on crime,” willing to house criminals for decades who probably do deserve to die.
There is no way to make these belief systems consistent in and of themselves and frankly, I’m not sure there should be. What these discrete systems of beliefs demonstrate is how vastly different in thinking we all are. Neither all conservatives nor all liberals believe everything that their groups seem to espouse, but many do. This to me says that perhaps death – and the subjects that touch heavily on death – should be given more respect by both sides. Instead of calling the pro-abortion types “baby killers” or calling the pro-capital punishment supporters “murderers,” maybe at some point our society will evolve to the point where our beliefs on death can be respected, not only by those who agree with us, but more importantly, by those we disagree with. I’d like to think that, as a people, this is one thing we are all capable of doing.
"People Are Afraid"
Couple of things about this one: Kane Ditto was the mayor of Jackson during its gunfights-in-the-streets early '90s days; yes, it's stat-heavy; yes, my stats are correct; and yes, I supported Harvey Johnson. In fact, only Planet Weekly and the Jackson Free Press didn't support Frank Melton. The daily paper, the television stations, the radio stations, and the pundits all supported Frank Melton. Melton won in a landslide and is now considered one of the laughingstocks of the political world. Jacksonians got the mayor they deserved. Fear and stupidity are a powerful mix.
Four years after Melton was voted into office, he collapsed on the evening of the Democratic mayoral primary - where he ran against Harvey Johnson. He passed on sometime later. I managed to avoid most "God voted" jokes, but not all.
You hear it everywhere; a constant refrain from Frank Melton, from the Melton campaign, and from Melton’s followers – “people are afraid.” You hear it in conversations, you see it campaign material, you hear it on newscasts (particularly on WAPT, which long ago jettisoned any attempts to maintain non-biased reporting), and you hear it from the candidate himself – people are afraid. Do you know what you rarely hear?
“I’m afraid.”
It’s much, much harder to find someone who says this than it is to find someone who says, “people are afraid.” Certainly, there are those who are afraid to live in Jackson. WAPT manages to run useless segments on the topic frequently, even though they exist to do nothing except reinforce Melton’s assertion. I was a crime victim two years ago. I’m not afraid, and I think that most people are not afraid. What has happened, though, is that Melton supporters have taken up this chant, in an effort to fool people into thinking it’s true, even though it’s not. A repetitious spurious ideology does not become a fact; it is simply a spurious ideology shoved down the throats of voters. I suggest the next time someone says, “People are afraid,” we respond:
“No, they’re not.”
Another quote that has become a constant rallying point comes in the form of a question – “Do you feel safer now than you did 8 years ago?” Amazingly, the Melton folks think that most people will answer no. Even more amazingly, some of them believe it. Is crime a problem in Jackson? Yes. But crime is a problem in every city in the country, and Jackson is no longer a small town; it is a city, with all that entails – good and bad.
I’d like to answer the question, but I can’t. Eight years ago, I had relocated to New England, so I can’t answer that specifically. But I can tell you, ten years ago, in the mid-‘90s Kane Ditto heyday, I lived in Belhaven Heights – oddly enough, exactly one block from where I now live. My roommates and I would spend evenings on the back porch, listening to the frequent sound of gunfire in the neighborhood. That was unsafe. Jefferson Street had a fully staffed crack house, Christo’s (where Fenian’s was before Fenian’s, youngsters) front door was shot out, and it was not safe to walk the streets at night. Now, the same neighborhood is a place where people walk their dogs safely and happily, the crack house is no more, and I haven’t heard a gunshot in over a year. Do I feel safer now than I did 10 years ago? Absolutely.
Do you feel safer now than you did two years ago? You should. The statistics are there for all to see. From 2003 to 2004, every type of crime (except homicides) went down in number. In 2003, Jacksonians were victims of 17,203 different crimes. In 2004, there were only 13,600. That’s a drop of 21 percent; a remarkable number. In 1997, when Mayor Johnson took office, there were 20,176 crimes. 1998 saw the only growth in crime in Jackson under Johnson’s leadership – 20,674 crimes. So from 1997 to 2004, the number of crimes in Jackson fell by a total of 6,576. That is a drop of 32.6 percent.
Do you feel safer now than you did 8 years ago? Again, you should. Crime is down 32.6 percent since Harvey Johnson took over. In fact, 2004 had the lowest crime rate in 24 years. Whether you know it or not, and whether you feel safer or not, you actually are safer now.
But this, too, is an attempt by the Melton camp to obfuscate the facts with a repetitious rhetoric. They prefer that you don’t know these facts; they want to scare you with their lack of them. Melton knows these facts; he has the same statistics to which everyone else has access. With one hand, he dismisses them as “artificial” in his campaign platform; with the other, he uses the same ones to tout the fact that homicides are up. (In 2003, there were 45; in 2004, 52. That’s true. And 10 years ago, there were 97. You are safer.)
Personally, I’m concerned with what I see as an upcoming crime. I see it coming, and so should you. In Mississippi, you don’t have to register as a Republican or Democrat when you register to vote (or an Independent, which is my preference). As such, at primary election time, a person can vote for either. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Democrats would vote for Democrats, and Republicans would vote for Republicans. With Rick Whitlow running unopposed in the primary, it is a certainty that many of the city’s Republicans will instead vote Democrat and cast their votes for Frank Melton, one of their own, in an attempt to oust the mayor before the election proper.
I see this as something more than a callow action on their part; it’s an attempt to steal the election. Add this to the constant, repetitious flow of misinformation and you have a candidate not worth voting for.
I urge you to get out and cast your vote in the primary election for the man who has brought crime to a 24-year low and made the city safer: Mayor Harvey Johnson.
And remember, just because they say people are afraid, it doesn’t mean they are.
Four years after Melton was voted into office, he collapsed on the evening of the Democratic mayoral primary - where he ran against Harvey Johnson. He passed on sometime later. I managed to avoid most "God voted" jokes, but not all.
You hear it everywhere; a constant refrain from Frank Melton, from the Melton campaign, and from Melton’s followers – “people are afraid.” You hear it in conversations, you see it campaign material, you hear it on newscasts (particularly on WAPT, which long ago jettisoned any attempts to maintain non-biased reporting), and you hear it from the candidate himself – people are afraid. Do you know what you rarely hear?
“I’m afraid.”
It’s much, much harder to find someone who says this than it is to find someone who says, “people are afraid.” Certainly, there are those who are afraid to live in Jackson. WAPT manages to run useless segments on the topic frequently, even though they exist to do nothing except reinforce Melton’s assertion. I was a crime victim two years ago. I’m not afraid, and I think that most people are not afraid. What has happened, though, is that Melton supporters have taken up this chant, in an effort to fool people into thinking it’s true, even though it’s not. A repetitious spurious ideology does not become a fact; it is simply a spurious ideology shoved down the throats of voters. I suggest the next time someone says, “People are afraid,” we respond:
“No, they’re not.”
Another quote that has become a constant rallying point comes in the form of a question – “Do you feel safer now than you did 8 years ago?” Amazingly, the Melton folks think that most people will answer no. Even more amazingly, some of them believe it. Is crime a problem in Jackson? Yes. But crime is a problem in every city in the country, and Jackson is no longer a small town; it is a city, with all that entails – good and bad.
I’d like to answer the question, but I can’t. Eight years ago, I had relocated to New England, so I can’t answer that specifically. But I can tell you, ten years ago, in the mid-‘90s Kane Ditto heyday, I lived in Belhaven Heights – oddly enough, exactly one block from where I now live. My roommates and I would spend evenings on the back porch, listening to the frequent sound of gunfire in the neighborhood. That was unsafe. Jefferson Street had a fully staffed crack house, Christo’s (where Fenian’s was before Fenian’s, youngsters) front door was shot out, and it was not safe to walk the streets at night. Now, the same neighborhood is a place where people walk their dogs safely and happily, the crack house is no more, and I haven’t heard a gunshot in over a year. Do I feel safer now than I did 10 years ago? Absolutely.
Do you feel safer now than you did two years ago? You should. The statistics are there for all to see. From 2003 to 2004, every type of crime (except homicides) went down in number. In 2003, Jacksonians were victims of 17,203 different crimes. In 2004, there were only 13,600. That’s a drop of 21 percent; a remarkable number. In 1997, when Mayor Johnson took office, there were 20,176 crimes. 1998 saw the only growth in crime in Jackson under Johnson’s leadership – 20,674 crimes. So from 1997 to 2004, the number of crimes in Jackson fell by a total of 6,576. That is a drop of 32.6 percent.
Do you feel safer now than you did 8 years ago? Again, you should. Crime is down 32.6 percent since Harvey Johnson took over. In fact, 2004 had the lowest crime rate in 24 years. Whether you know it or not, and whether you feel safer or not, you actually are safer now.
But this, too, is an attempt by the Melton camp to obfuscate the facts with a repetitious rhetoric. They prefer that you don’t know these facts; they want to scare you with their lack of them. Melton knows these facts; he has the same statistics to which everyone else has access. With one hand, he dismisses them as “artificial” in his campaign platform; with the other, he uses the same ones to tout the fact that homicides are up. (In 2003, there were 45; in 2004, 52. That’s true. And 10 years ago, there were 97. You are safer.)
Personally, I’m concerned with what I see as an upcoming crime. I see it coming, and so should you. In Mississippi, you don’t have to register as a Republican or Democrat when you register to vote (or an Independent, which is my preference). As such, at primary election time, a person can vote for either. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Democrats would vote for Democrats, and Republicans would vote for Republicans. With Rick Whitlow running unopposed in the primary, it is a certainty that many of the city’s Republicans will instead vote Democrat and cast their votes for Frank Melton, one of their own, in an attempt to oust the mayor before the election proper.
I see this as something more than a callow action on their part; it’s an attempt to steal the election. Add this to the constant, repetitious flow of misinformation and you have a candidate not worth voting for.
I urge you to get out and cast your vote in the primary election for the man who has brought crime to a 24-year low and made the city safer: Mayor Harvey Johnson.
And remember, just because they say people are afraid, it doesn’t mean they are.
"The Healing Power of Violence"
This one led to a message online that read, "I guess all liberals aren't alike. I suppose I'd better leave that big stroller at home." I responded that I didn't mind the big strollers, so long as he left them in the street with the other SUV's. A few months later, at an art event, I met the woman who wrote the message. She was geniunely funny - and had a ginormous all-terrain stroller.
As much as I would like to see the idea of death handled with a bit more finesse, I have to admit that I have a warm place in my heart for a spot of fisticuffs. I believe in the healing power of violence, the soothing joy of a butt kicking; I buy my cans of Whoop-Ass® 24 at a time at Big Lots. I believe that planting a fist six inches deep through a person’s face really does solve certain situations best.
As I grow older the criteria I use to determine who deserves a box on the ears has gotten looser. Times past, I’d believe in giving a drubbing only to a select few, but now I’m getting older and crankier.
Cell phone shouters – those people who feel that they have to raise their voice in the most public places to be heard at the other end of the line – well, simply put, each of them deserves a quick smack to the back of the head. Winn-Dixie managers who keep four lines open during the day when there is no one inside except the four cashiers staring at other, and then close all but two lines at five o’clock when the crowds roll in? The tried and true swift kick in the ass seems apropos for this situation. Those yahoos who cut you off in traffic and then immediately slow down? I believe every citizen has the right to act as a police officer in this case: pull them over, tap on the glass, and bang them in the head with a Maglite.
But those are obvious ones. In recent years, new crops of annoying people have popped up, like weeds in need of pesticide. I have identified three such subgroups, each in need of a beating.
The first are those who congregate in high-traffic social settings, form large circles in the walkways or in front of doorways, and chat, expecting everyone to walk around them or to wait patiently until they finish talking. I call these people Hemorrhoids; they’re a bit constricting, they’re pains in the ass, and it’s considered rude to poke them in public.
At one recent ArtMix, a group of five people completely blocked the entrance to Brown’s Fine Art. When I tried to walk through them to get inside, one man said, “Excuse me, we’re talking here.” Well, cubby, I’m thinking about knocking your head into a vat of hummus here.
The second group is similar to the first, but even more clueless. I call these the Stroller People. These are the parents – invariably young – who are apparently too damn lazy to carry their own little cherub around. Instead, they pack said cherub into an SUV – a Stroller Utility Vehicle – and then wheel them through every small business in the city. No shop is too tiny, no aisles too narrow for these selfish, self-absorbed twits to shove, twist, drag, and haul their little angel’s off-road vehicle through. These people actually expect you to get out of their way so they can wedge themselves into a corner and admire the selection of scented candles. Put simply, the desire to slash their tires and beat them senseless with the aluminum frame of said vehicle is something I have to genuinely fight down every time I see them.
Lastly I’d like to address the Street Preachers – people who approach perfect strangers and ask if we know how much damage our tobacco smoke does to our lungs (or how many animals died to provide the meat for our dinner, or anything of the kind). Well, actually I do, and I don’t care. It’s one thing for someone to do this with somebody they know, but it is quite uncool to do this to strangers. Know that when you ask me a question like that, I am thinking seriously about riposting with: “Do you know how many PSIs a broken table leg would hit with, should I choose to rip the bottom of this table apart and lay into you? And do you know how many square feet I could pummel before you fall unconscious? And are you aware that no one around us cares whether I do this, because they all want you to shut the hell up and sit the hell down?”
I doubt very seriously that these groups of people are aware how much I want them to be quiet, or to stay out of the way, or to move aside. But maybe next time they think about being annoying, they’ll give just a moment’s thought to the man standing just behind them. It may not be me.
But it might.
As much as I would like to see the idea of death handled with a bit more finesse, I have to admit that I have a warm place in my heart for a spot of fisticuffs. I believe in the healing power of violence, the soothing joy of a butt kicking; I buy my cans of Whoop-Ass® 24 at a time at Big Lots. I believe that planting a fist six inches deep through a person’s face really does solve certain situations best.
As I grow older the criteria I use to determine who deserves a box on the ears has gotten looser. Times past, I’d believe in giving a drubbing only to a select few, but now I’m getting older and crankier.
Cell phone shouters – those people who feel that they have to raise their voice in the most public places to be heard at the other end of the line – well, simply put, each of them deserves a quick smack to the back of the head. Winn-Dixie managers who keep four lines open during the day when there is no one inside except the four cashiers staring at other, and then close all but two lines at five o’clock when the crowds roll in? The tried and true swift kick in the ass seems apropos for this situation. Those yahoos who cut you off in traffic and then immediately slow down? I believe every citizen has the right to act as a police officer in this case: pull them over, tap on the glass, and bang them in the head with a Maglite.
But those are obvious ones. In recent years, new crops of annoying people have popped up, like weeds in need of pesticide. I have identified three such subgroups, each in need of a beating.
The first are those who congregate in high-traffic social settings, form large circles in the walkways or in front of doorways, and chat, expecting everyone to walk around them or to wait patiently until they finish talking. I call these people Hemorrhoids; they’re a bit constricting, they’re pains in the ass, and it’s considered rude to poke them in public.
At one recent ArtMix, a group of five people completely blocked the entrance to Brown’s Fine Art. When I tried to walk through them to get inside, one man said, “Excuse me, we’re talking here.” Well, cubby, I’m thinking about knocking your head into a vat of hummus here.
The second group is similar to the first, but even more clueless. I call these the Stroller People. These are the parents – invariably young – who are apparently too damn lazy to carry their own little cherub around. Instead, they pack said cherub into an SUV – a Stroller Utility Vehicle – and then wheel them through every small business in the city. No shop is too tiny, no aisles too narrow for these selfish, self-absorbed twits to shove, twist, drag, and haul their little angel’s off-road vehicle through. These people actually expect you to get out of their way so they can wedge themselves into a corner and admire the selection of scented candles. Put simply, the desire to slash their tires and beat them senseless with the aluminum frame of said vehicle is something I have to genuinely fight down every time I see them.
Lastly I’d like to address the Street Preachers – people who approach perfect strangers and ask if we know how much damage our tobacco smoke does to our lungs (or how many animals died to provide the meat for our dinner, or anything of the kind). Well, actually I do, and I don’t care. It’s one thing for someone to do this with somebody they know, but it is quite uncool to do this to strangers. Know that when you ask me a question like that, I am thinking seriously about riposting with: “Do you know how many PSIs a broken table leg would hit with, should I choose to rip the bottom of this table apart and lay into you? And do you know how many square feet I could pummel before you fall unconscious? And are you aware that no one around us cares whether I do this, because they all want you to shut the hell up and sit the hell down?”
I doubt very seriously that these groups of people are aware how much I want them to be quiet, or to stay out of the way, or to move aside. But maybe next time they think about being annoying, they’ll give just a moment’s thought to the man standing just behind them. It may not be me.
But it might.
"Head vs. Heart"
This one is serious, and I won't make any comment, except to say that it cost us readers and advertisers. About a month after it ran, we actually gained half a dozen advertisers who wanted to come aboard, but were afraid to do so after I had written this. In the end, we took a bit of a loss, but not too much.
On Tuesday, U.S. District Judge Phyllis Hamilton ruled the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act was unconstitutional, declaring that the act interfered with a woman’s right to choose. The decision was made in San Francisco, well known for its political leftness. It can be seen as the first blow to the Act, another stride toward a place where conservative, male-dominated minds can no longer tell a woman what she can and cannot do with her own body. I suppose this is true.
The ruling does apply only to Planned Parenthood clinics and doctors, and is only one of three lawsuits brought against the Bush-supported legislation signed into law in 2003. New York and Nebraska federal judges have not yet ruled, but their outcomes might be divined by the fact that all three judges – Hamilton included – initially blocked the act from being enforced, though to be truthful, geography will almost certainly play a role in the decisions. Regardless, any decision is likely to be appealed to the Supreme Court.
Before the Act came into being, the Justice Department argued that “partial-birth abortions” (a particularly ugly term for what doctors and other medical professionals call “intact dilation and extraction”) were inhumane and never medically necessary. Pro-choice attorneys argued that the woman’s health is more important than how a fetus is terminated. They also claimed that the Act would be the first step toward outlawing all abortions.
What is remarkable is how the Act was able to change the perception of the abortion procedure, shifting the focus from the woman’s choice to the state of the fetus. By doing so, they were able to play up the emotional impact of the procedure and to tug on the heartstrings of Middle America. It turned a logical decision about the health of the mother into an emotional plea for the “silent victims;” manifestly, the perception went from head to heart.
Politically, this is nothing new. Whenever logic comes down on one side, the other side invariably chooses emotion, and it’s not easy to categorize conservatives as one and liberals as others. Conservatives have amped up the emotions, utilizing the Simpsons plea: “Think of the children!” But when it comes to capital punishment, the conservatives are much more likely to use logic and let the liberals play on America’s emotions, almost always to try to make us identify with the criminals: “What if it were your child on Death Row?”
This battle between head and heart has gone on for as long as decisions have needed to be made. The political arena is the most visible battleground, though religion is certainly a popular focus of head/heart conflicts, in the guise of logic versus faith. But for my money, no battleground, no forum for this type of debate can be as hard as the battle inside oneself.
There are times when I wish I was all liberal or I was all conservative. I’m not. Certainly I lean to the left, but I am no party-line democrat. In my head – logically – I know that the ban on these types of abortions is almost certainly a political ploy, yes, almost certainly the first step toward outlawing all abortions. I recognize that, as a man, I have no right to tell a woman what she can and cannot do with her body. I know, with my head, that the Act is wrong.
With my heart, I can’t say the same. Abortion, to me, is repugnant and I shudder at the thought of it happening. When I hear how the “partial-birth” abortions are done, how the fetus is partially removed from the womb and its skull is crushed or punctured, I feel my gore – and my ire – rise. But it’s not just that. I find all abortions repugnant. In the normal style, the fetus is cut into pieces and vacuumed out. This to me is no different than the “partial-birth” style.
But as it is, when it comes to the political arena, I believe that logic should take the commanding position; I believe in head over heart. I am able to ignore the melancholy plucking of my heartstrings.
But when it comes to how I personally feel – the visceral reaction – it’s a hard thing to repress. It’s times like these when I wish I could feel the comfort that comes with true conservatism or the certainty that comes with true liberalism. But I strive for neither. To me, abortion, or capital punishment, or any political topic is something to be thought about, debated, and discussed. There are no easy answers; there are just hard, ugly questions.
On Tuesday, U.S. District Judge Phyllis Hamilton ruled the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act was unconstitutional, declaring that the act interfered with a woman’s right to choose. The decision was made in San Francisco, well known for its political leftness. It can be seen as the first blow to the Act, another stride toward a place where conservative, male-dominated minds can no longer tell a woman what she can and cannot do with her own body. I suppose this is true.
The ruling does apply only to Planned Parenthood clinics and doctors, and is only one of three lawsuits brought against the Bush-supported legislation signed into law in 2003. New York and Nebraska federal judges have not yet ruled, but their outcomes might be divined by the fact that all three judges – Hamilton included – initially blocked the act from being enforced, though to be truthful, geography will almost certainly play a role in the decisions. Regardless, any decision is likely to be appealed to the Supreme Court.
Before the Act came into being, the Justice Department argued that “partial-birth abortions” (a particularly ugly term for what doctors and other medical professionals call “intact dilation and extraction”) were inhumane and never medically necessary. Pro-choice attorneys argued that the woman’s health is more important than how a fetus is terminated. They also claimed that the Act would be the first step toward outlawing all abortions.
What is remarkable is how the Act was able to change the perception of the abortion procedure, shifting the focus from the woman’s choice to the state of the fetus. By doing so, they were able to play up the emotional impact of the procedure and to tug on the heartstrings of Middle America. It turned a logical decision about the health of the mother into an emotional plea for the “silent victims;” manifestly, the perception went from head to heart.
Politically, this is nothing new. Whenever logic comes down on one side, the other side invariably chooses emotion, and it’s not easy to categorize conservatives as one and liberals as others. Conservatives have amped up the emotions, utilizing the Simpsons plea: “Think of the children!” But when it comes to capital punishment, the conservatives are much more likely to use logic and let the liberals play on America’s emotions, almost always to try to make us identify with the criminals: “What if it were your child on Death Row?”
This battle between head and heart has gone on for as long as decisions have needed to be made. The political arena is the most visible battleground, though religion is certainly a popular focus of head/heart conflicts, in the guise of logic versus faith. But for my money, no battleground, no forum for this type of debate can be as hard as the battle inside oneself.
There are times when I wish I was all liberal or I was all conservative. I’m not. Certainly I lean to the left, but I am no party-line democrat. In my head – logically – I know that the ban on these types of abortions is almost certainly a political ploy, yes, almost certainly the first step toward outlawing all abortions. I recognize that, as a man, I have no right to tell a woman what she can and cannot do with her body. I know, with my head, that the Act is wrong.
With my heart, I can’t say the same. Abortion, to me, is repugnant and I shudder at the thought of it happening. When I hear how the “partial-birth” abortions are done, how the fetus is partially removed from the womb and its skull is crushed or punctured, I feel my gore – and my ire – rise. But it’s not just that. I find all abortions repugnant. In the normal style, the fetus is cut into pieces and vacuumed out. This to me is no different than the “partial-birth” style.
But as it is, when it comes to the political arena, I believe that logic should take the commanding position; I believe in head over heart. I am able to ignore the melancholy plucking of my heartstrings.
But when it comes to how I personally feel – the visceral reaction – it’s a hard thing to repress. It’s times like these when I wish I could feel the comfort that comes with true conservatism or the certainty that comes with true liberalism. But I strive for neither. To me, abortion, or capital punishment, or any political topic is something to be thought about, debated, and discussed. There are no easy answers; there are just hard, ugly questions.
"Geek Flag Ideologies"
This one turned out to be one of my most popular columns online - and nobody made fun. It turns out that lots of our readers were geeks. Big surprise. It turns out that lots of people nowadays are geeks. And why not? Geeks really do make the world go 'round. We actually had a love-fest online for about three weeks as people shared the stories and admitted which Doctor they loved best. It died out eventually, as all good threads do, but this throwaway column became one of my favorites because I found out how many of these tough, mean-spirited Jacksonians proudly flew their geek flags.
I might as well get this on record first: I’m a bit of a geek. I read science fiction and fantasy. I have a full run of Babylon 5 on tape. I swap Dr. Who references with a few fellow (possibly mentally ill) fans. I have pretty much every Batman and Justice League collection DC Comics has printed in the past ten years or so. I played Dungeons and Dragons for years (actually, I played 2nd Edition AD&D, mostly in the “Forgotten Realms” setting, for those fellow geeks in the know), and I enjoy dabbling in both the Star Wars and the Star Trek aspects of fandom.
I love the brilliance of Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, yet I can still put up with the overly purple prose of Roddenberry’s Trek, the derivative technobabble of Next Generation, and the insipid dialog of Lucas’ Star Wars.
Around the survivors a perimeter create, indeed.
Being a movie buff tends to go hand in hand with being a geek, and I am a buff. In fact, this has been the best geek-movie season I can remember in years. In a span of about ten weeks, I can see Sin City, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Star Wars Episode III, and Batman Reborn. For me, this is quality entertainment.
But right now, I feel a little melancholy. This month, Star Wars comes to an end. With Episode III, it’s all over; there is no more original material to be mined. No matter what tweaks are left for George Lucas to do, there will be no more movies. And this month, one other science fiction institution left us: Star Trek. With the Enterprise finale last week, Roddenberry’s creation is no more. It’s a certainty that there will be no more shows, and I doubt there will ever be another movie.
One of the great geek debates of all time is discussing whether Wars or Trek is better. People (and by people, I mean geeks, of course) argue over who has the best costumes, the best ships, and the best special effects. They argue over dialog, actors, and cultural impact. I like to find more to debate.
Star Trek, for all its greeting-card philosophy and occasionally lunkheaded liberalism, was essentially a series of stories about empire building and the long-term effects of doing such. James T. Kirk’s Enterprise flew around the galaxy exploring, but also flying the Federation flag over every world it encountered. Next Generation was the starry-eyed optimist of the bunch, more about discovery and interaction with unknown civilizations, about finding a role for humanity in the universe. Deep Space Nine was, in a nutshell, about war. It looked at the ugliness of war and the necessity, it looked at the influence religions carry, of what civilians felt and did during wartime, and how basically good people could disagree so vehemently about such an important topic. It was not about finding one’s place in the universe, but about holding on to it. In the end, Voyager found its focus in a war with the Borg – a ramification of events in the movie, First Contact. And Enterprise – which I actually quite liked – spent this last season examining the underpinnings of the entire Star Trek universe, the Federation itself. Events from one series affected the others; choices one person made would echo for years, creating a situation and another series of choices for another character. Love it or hate it, but Star Trek demonstrated that choices matter, that decisions have long-term affects, and that sometimes good people can do bad things, and vice versa.
Star Wars is about Darth Vader, a decent kid who slips into darkness* and becomes a mass murderer. He kills millions of innocent people (or is a willing participant in a regime that does so), a handful of lickspittle lackeys, and his old teacher, and in the end he goes to Force Heaven by keeping an even more evil guy from killing his son. Apparently in Lucas Land, it’s okay to be pure evil so long as you do a good deed before you die. It amazes me that fans believe that Vader redeemed himself by his actions. He didn’t redeem himself; he did nothing to actually balance the vast numbers of wholly evil acts in which he participated. Darth Vader attempted to buy his way into the afterlife, by saving Luke and killing the Emperor. It’s a cheap conceit that George Lucas tells the moviegoers that Vader’s actions worked. Yes, I’m aware it’s only a movie, but the idea of a war criminal of that magnitude being forgiven for that sop of an action is infuriating. The deaths of every character at Vader’s hand – Jedi, rebel, whatnot – is turned into a mere inconvenience. There is no long-term affect, no responsibility, and no real consequences for choices made. There is no redemption.
I prefer the ideology of Star Trek. Silly it might be at times, its understanding of consequence and redemption is light years beyond the ideas espoused by Star Wars. Feel free to let your geek flag fly, but you might want to know what ideas you salute when you do so.
-----------------------------------------------
*Probably because his wife (who seems to have carried a love jones for him since before his pubes grew) insists on calling him “Anni.” Can there a more emasculating feeling than being a bad ass Jedi Knight with an effeminate nickname? I’d want to kill Sand People, too.
So why do I like Star Wars? The ships and the light saber duels. Fly your geek flag at planetweekly.
I might as well get this on record first: I’m a bit of a geek. I read science fiction and fantasy. I have a full run of Babylon 5 on tape. I swap Dr. Who references with a few fellow (possibly mentally ill) fans. I have pretty much every Batman and Justice League collection DC Comics has printed in the past ten years or so. I played Dungeons and Dragons for years (actually, I played 2nd Edition AD&D, mostly in the “Forgotten Realms” setting, for those fellow geeks in the know), and I enjoy dabbling in both the Star Wars and the Star Trek aspects of fandom.
I love the brilliance of Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, yet I can still put up with the overly purple prose of Roddenberry’s Trek, the derivative technobabble of Next Generation, and the insipid dialog of Lucas’ Star Wars.
Around the survivors a perimeter create, indeed.
Being a movie buff tends to go hand in hand with being a geek, and I am a buff. In fact, this has been the best geek-movie season I can remember in years. In a span of about ten weeks, I can see Sin City, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Star Wars Episode III, and Batman Reborn. For me, this is quality entertainment.
But right now, I feel a little melancholy. This month, Star Wars comes to an end. With Episode III, it’s all over; there is no more original material to be mined. No matter what tweaks are left for George Lucas to do, there will be no more movies. And this month, one other science fiction institution left us: Star Trek. With the Enterprise finale last week, Roddenberry’s creation is no more. It’s a certainty that there will be no more shows, and I doubt there will ever be another movie.
One of the great geek debates of all time is discussing whether Wars or Trek is better. People (and by people, I mean geeks, of course) argue over who has the best costumes, the best ships, and the best special effects. They argue over dialog, actors, and cultural impact. I like to find more to debate.
Star Trek, for all its greeting-card philosophy and occasionally lunkheaded liberalism, was essentially a series of stories about empire building and the long-term effects of doing such. James T. Kirk’s Enterprise flew around the galaxy exploring, but also flying the Federation flag over every world it encountered. Next Generation was the starry-eyed optimist of the bunch, more about discovery and interaction with unknown civilizations, about finding a role for humanity in the universe. Deep Space Nine was, in a nutshell, about war. It looked at the ugliness of war and the necessity, it looked at the influence religions carry, of what civilians felt and did during wartime, and how basically good people could disagree so vehemently about such an important topic. It was not about finding one’s place in the universe, but about holding on to it. In the end, Voyager found its focus in a war with the Borg – a ramification of events in the movie, First Contact. And Enterprise – which I actually quite liked – spent this last season examining the underpinnings of the entire Star Trek universe, the Federation itself. Events from one series affected the others; choices one person made would echo for years, creating a situation and another series of choices for another character. Love it or hate it, but Star Trek demonstrated that choices matter, that decisions have long-term affects, and that sometimes good people can do bad things, and vice versa.
Star Wars is about Darth Vader, a decent kid who slips into darkness* and becomes a mass murderer. He kills millions of innocent people (or is a willing participant in a regime that does so), a handful of lickspittle lackeys, and his old teacher, and in the end he goes to Force Heaven by keeping an even more evil guy from killing his son. Apparently in Lucas Land, it’s okay to be pure evil so long as you do a good deed before you die. It amazes me that fans believe that Vader redeemed himself by his actions. He didn’t redeem himself; he did nothing to actually balance the vast numbers of wholly evil acts in which he participated. Darth Vader attempted to buy his way into the afterlife, by saving Luke and killing the Emperor. It’s a cheap conceit that George Lucas tells the moviegoers that Vader’s actions worked. Yes, I’m aware it’s only a movie, but the idea of a war criminal of that magnitude being forgiven for that sop of an action is infuriating. The deaths of every character at Vader’s hand – Jedi, rebel, whatnot – is turned into a mere inconvenience. There is no long-term affect, no responsibility, and no real consequences for choices made. There is no redemption.
I prefer the ideology of Star Trek. Silly it might be at times, its understanding of consequence and redemption is light years beyond the ideas espoused by Star Wars. Feel free to let your geek flag fly, but you might want to know what ideas you salute when you do so.
-----------------------------------------------
*Probably because his wife (who seems to have carried a love jones for him since before his pubes grew) insists on calling him “Anni.” Can there a more emasculating feeling than being a bad ass Jedi Knight with an effeminate nickname? I’d want to kill Sand People, too.
So why do I like Star Wars? The ships and the light saber duels. Fly your geek flag at planetweekly.
"A Farewell to Johnny Ramone"
Two things about this column: the first is that when it came out I was well-known for mixing pop-culture with politics. At Planet, we had a neo-con columnist. He could write very well, but he was also a tool that didn't know when to shut up. He ignored everything I said to go online and try to start something, asking if I knew that Johnny was a Republican. Of course I knew. I'm a Ramones fan. Johnny Ramone was one of the best-known conservative rockers ever. I don't care. He was a guitar god and that's what I was writing about. Idiot. The second point is that I name-checked Ja Rule, and man, did I get that one wrong.
Death and rock ‘n’ roll have always meshed. There is some primal element to rock, and rap, and heavy metal, and the blues that fits neatly with the Great Beyond. The only other aspect of the universe that affects rock ‘n’ roll so much is sex, but that’s because almost every kind of music is about sex: about getting some (rock), about not getting some (blues), about getting it from the neighbor’s wife (country), or getting it gently, romantically, and with candles (folk). Many ancient pieces of music were hymns to God, a celebration of prayer to a higher being, but I believe that some of them were asking for something a bit more earthy. And who doubts that Beethoven didn’t perform his creations hoping to nail that front row fraulein?
Music connects with sex and death more than with just the “gettin’ horizontal” ideas. Musicians of almost every style exist at the center of a triad of “music,” “sex,” and “death”, which is why their lives tend to focus on three things: the music itself, who they sleep with, and how they die. It’s a dramatic, dynamic combination. Understand that these things work in concert – so to speak – and you’ll understand why heavy metal will not lead a kid to kill himself, why rap music won’t make you pop a cap in whitey, and why Goths are simply harmless sorts whose rebellion has the heft of the Bobby Fuller Four fightin’ the law.
(Of course, Bobby Fuller got whacked by the underworld for macking on a Connected Guy’s woman; just another dramatic combination of sex, death, and rock ‘n’ roll, but I digress.)
I’m in middle age, so I’ve seen some of my favorites shuffle off their mortal coil, some in dramatic fashion, some in simple, mundane ways. The passing of The Who’s John Entwhistle bummed me out for days and I admit to having a right manly cry when Freddie Mercury went away. But I’m not a baby boomer, so some of the Music Gods of the boomer firmament just don’t bother me.
The boomer’s Holy Trinity of ex-musicians is Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix. Their deaths thirty-odd years ago were all seen as tragic. Yeah, well, I think if they were all still alive now, only Jimi would be worth a damn. I can see him working with Slash, with B.B., or with Ja Rule, in competition with Clapton as The Great One. And he would still rock much, much harder than Slowhand.
Judging by the direction the Doors were going, I’d lay a wager that Jim Morrison, were he still alive, would be as well regarded as Alan Parsons; that is to say, not so much. And Pearl would almost certainly have found her niche with those incense sniffers of Lilith Fair.
The Beatles? That’s a little different. I would personally send that credit-scamming McCartney into the Strawberry Fields forever for one more song by Lennon or Harrison.
When a well-known musician dies, there is a period of public mourning, the magazine covers and days of water-cooler discussion. This is as it should be. But for me, it’s often the death of the utility player, the talented musician who was never in the spotlight that is the hardest thing to take. Entwhistle was one.
Johnny Ramone was another. With his death last week, the classic three-front of the Ramones is gone. The band that made it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame without a hit single or Top 40 album is no more. The band that kick-started punk and created the CBGB sound is no longer with us.*
Music fans know that Joey died in 2001 of cancer and most know that Dee Dee O.D.’d the next year (not going to do what Joey did, I suppose). But it was Johnny’s death by cancer that bothers me the most. He was, in many ways, the glue that held the band together. It was his guitar work that created the Ramones sound. He stayed neutral in the Joey-Dee Dee tiffs. And when he decided to retire in 1996, he brought an end to the band’s career before it became a parody of itself. Without Johnny, there could be no “Sheena Is a Punk Rocker,” no “I Wanna Be Sedated,” and certainly no “Do You Remember Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio?” No one else sounded like him. His retirement meant the end of the Ramones as a performing act.
His death means the end of the Ramones, period. Johnny never set out to be a rock star. And he did just that. He was a great guitarist in a great band. He did what he wanted to do, he succeeded at it, he maintained dignity and style, and he will be remembered.
But he won’t get the magazine covers and he won’t get the water-cooler discussion. I suppose, as a Ramone, he’d be used to that. And that’s all right, too.
---------------------------------
*Yeah, yeah, I haven’t forgotten Tommy or Marky (or to a lesser extent, C.J. or Richie), but Johnny, Joey, and Dee Dee were the core of the band.
Gabba gabba hey, Pinheads! Let’s Blitzkreig Bop down to Rockaway Beach and do the Cretin Hop! Barring that, let’s go to planetweekly and thank our lucky stars for the Ramones.
Death and rock ‘n’ roll have always meshed. There is some primal element to rock, and rap, and heavy metal, and the blues that fits neatly with the Great Beyond. The only other aspect of the universe that affects rock ‘n’ roll so much is sex, but that’s because almost every kind of music is about sex: about getting some (rock), about not getting some (blues), about getting it from the neighbor’s wife (country), or getting it gently, romantically, and with candles (folk). Many ancient pieces of music were hymns to God, a celebration of prayer to a higher being, but I believe that some of them were asking for something a bit more earthy. And who doubts that Beethoven didn’t perform his creations hoping to nail that front row fraulein?
Music connects with sex and death more than with just the “gettin’ horizontal” ideas. Musicians of almost every style exist at the center of a triad of “music,” “sex,” and “death”, which is why their lives tend to focus on three things: the music itself, who they sleep with, and how they die. It’s a dramatic, dynamic combination. Understand that these things work in concert – so to speak – and you’ll understand why heavy metal will not lead a kid to kill himself, why rap music won’t make you pop a cap in whitey, and why Goths are simply harmless sorts whose rebellion has the heft of the Bobby Fuller Four fightin’ the law.
(Of course, Bobby Fuller got whacked by the underworld for macking on a Connected Guy’s woman; just another dramatic combination of sex, death, and rock ‘n’ roll, but I digress.)
I’m in middle age, so I’ve seen some of my favorites shuffle off their mortal coil, some in dramatic fashion, some in simple, mundane ways. The passing of The Who’s John Entwhistle bummed me out for days and I admit to having a right manly cry when Freddie Mercury went away. But I’m not a baby boomer, so some of the Music Gods of the boomer firmament just don’t bother me.
The boomer’s Holy Trinity of ex-musicians is Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix. Their deaths thirty-odd years ago were all seen as tragic. Yeah, well, I think if they were all still alive now, only Jimi would be worth a damn. I can see him working with Slash, with B.B., or with Ja Rule, in competition with Clapton as The Great One. And he would still rock much, much harder than Slowhand.
Judging by the direction the Doors were going, I’d lay a wager that Jim Morrison, were he still alive, would be as well regarded as Alan Parsons; that is to say, not so much. And Pearl would almost certainly have found her niche with those incense sniffers of Lilith Fair.
The Beatles? That’s a little different. I would personally send that credit-scamming McCartney into the Strawberry Fields forever for one more song by Lennon or Harrison.
When a well-known musician dies, there is a period of public mourning, the magazine covers and days of water-cooler discussion. This is as it should be. But for me, it’s often the death of the utility player, the talented musician who was never in the spotlight that is the hardest thing to take. Entwhistle was one.
Johnny Ramone was another. With his death last week, the classic three-front of the Ramones is gone. The band that made it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame without a hit single or Top 40 album is no more. The band that kick-started punk and created the CBGB sound is no longer with us.*
Music fans know that Joey died in 2001 of cancer and most know that Dee Dee O.D.’d the next year (not going to do what Joey did, I suppose). But it was Johnny’s death by cancer that bothers me the most. He was, in many ways, the glue that held the band together. It was his guitar work that created the Ramones sound. He stayed neutral in the Joey-Dee Dee tiffs. And when he decided to retire in 1996, he brought an end to the band’s career before it became a parody of itself. Without Johnny, there could be no “Sheena Is a Punk Rocker,” no “I Wanna Be Sedated,” and certainly no “Do You Remember Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio?” No one else sounded like him. His retirement meant the end of the Ramones as a performing act.
His death means the end of the Ramones, period. Johnny never set out to be a rock star. And he did just that. He was a great guitarist in a great band. He did what he wanted to do, he succeeded at it, he maintained dignity and style, and he will be remembered.
But he won’t get the magazine covers and he won’t get the water-cooler discussion. I suppose, as a Ramone, he’d be used to that. And that’s all right, too.
---------------------------------
*Yeah, yeah, I haven’t forgotten Tommy or Marky (or to a lesser extent, C.J. or Richie), but Johnny, Joey, and Dee Dee were the core of the band.
Gabba gabba hey, Pinheads! Let’s Blitzkreig Bop down to Rockaway Beach and do the Cretin Hop! Barring that, let’s go to planetweekly and thank our lucky stars for the Ramones.
"Deserve vs. Desire"
I received a lot of notice for this early column - not all of it good. Whereas the many praised it, others called me a socialist and anti-American. Of course, not knowing me, they didn't realize I couldn't care less what they thought. I will say it's becoming clear to the populace that the economy that we are dealing with right now is not the fault of the poor, and that maybe those rich people who deserved the platinum cards and tax breaks really are to blame. I feel pretty prescient about this. A little wistful, too. This is one of my personal favorites.
I saw the commercial again last night. An assured, masculine voice tells me that they could help me get the credit I deserve. That’s great; we would all like credit. But do I really deserve it? I can’t say that I do. I’m a fairly good credit risk, but I’ve never deluded myself into thinking I deserve credit.
According to recent commercials, I also deserve a refinanced loan, a new car, and a cozy little home for my family and me. I’m not exactly sure what the criteria is, but I’m fairly certain I don’t actually deserve any of this. I’d love to have it, but I don’t think I deserve it.
I’ve noticed over the past few years a tendency for people in this country to go from “I would like this” to “I deserve it.” It took me some time to figure out, but I think I know what’s brought us to this point.
The conservatives are in power. If ever a single group encapsulated the entitlement mentality, it is they.
But wait, you say! It is the liberal Americans who are known for this, and not the fiscally responsible conservatives. The damned left-wingers are always wanting to take our hard-earned money and spend it on society’s undesirables; like the poor and homeless, the physically and mentally disabled, orphans, the mentally ill, rape victims, and other sorts that the Compassionate Conservatives would just as soon sweep under the rug.
This is true. Liberals tend to want to raise taxes and spend it on those who need it. But no liberal claims that they deserve to do this. Deserve doesn’t enter into it. A liberal wants this done because it’s the right goddamn thing to do. It is wrong to let unfortunates fall to harm.
(Also it should be noted that rarely do the beneficiaries of these funds say that they deserve it, either. They tend to be thankful than now maybe they will not starve over Christmas, or that maybe now little Donny will get the medication he needs to keep him from jumping from a high building.)
Deserve is the purview of the conservatives. They deserve a new car, a financed loan, and a platinum credit card. They deserve tax breaks and tax shelters that the poor cannot afford. They deserve a way of life that they want the vast, overwhelming majority of this nation not to have. If they wanted everyone in this country to be equal, they would help finance the dream.
One of the slogans that built this country is “All Men Are Created Equal.” But most conservatives tend to believe that “All Men Are Created Equal, Except For Those Of Us Who Are Created Better.”
Our Constitution also says we have the right to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Only a true-blue right-winger could interpret this to mean the right to Life, Liberty, and a Platinum American Express Card With a 2.9% Introductory A.P.R.
You don’t deserve these things. You desire them.
The entitlement mentality of this country affects all aspects of our life. Otherwise rational men and women have ponied up big bucks to buy huge, ugly SUVs, convinced that they just might need to cross a rugged ice field on the way to the soccer game or the recycling center. The fact that these behemoths suck up petroleum products faster than any non-industrial vehicles in decades doesn’t matter to them. They deserve to drive an SUV.
We know that every dollar not spent by the American people at tax time means a dollar not spent on some unfortunate who might need that dollar to survive. We know this, yet we don’t care. We deserve that tax break.
Some even sit and cheer their agreement at a federal administration that rattles their sabers and spews jingoistic rhetoric, claiming that our religions are the right ones. We support this madness, because we deserve to be in the right.
There is a fine line between desiring and deserving. It is one thing to desire more money back from the government, or a new car, or even a chance to be right on the world’s stage. This is all wish fulfillment. We all wish. We all desire.
I wish that people would see that line and take one step forward, over it. Understand that desiring and deserving are two different things. Wishing for something makes us human. Understanding that we don’t deserve it makes us humane.
I saw the commercial again last night. An assured, masculine voice tells me that they could help me get the credit I deserve. That’s great; we would all like credit. But do I really deserve it? I can’t say that I do. I’m a fairly good credit risk, but I’ve never deluded myself into thinking I deserve credit.
According to recent commercials, I also deserve a refinanced loan, a new car, and a cozy little home for my family and me. I’m not exactly sure what the criteria is, but I’m fairly certain I don’t actually deserve any of this. I’d love to have it, but I don’t think I deserve it.
I’ve noticed over the past few years a tendency for people in this country to go from “I would like this” to “I deserve it.” It took me some time to figure out, but I think I know what’s brought us to this point.
The conservatives are in power. If ever a single group encapsulated the entitlement mentality, it is they.
But wait, you say! It is the liberal Americans who are known for this, and not the fiscally responsible conservatives. The damned left-wingers are always wanting to take our hard-earned money and spend it on society’s undesirables; like the poor and homeless, the physically and mentally disabled, orphans, the mentally ill, rape victims, and other sorts that the Compassionate Conservatives would just as soon sweep under the rug.
This is true. Liberals tend to want to raise taxes and spend it on those who need it. But no liberal claims that they deserve to do this. Deserve doesn’t enter into it. A liberal wants this done because it’s the right goddamn thing to do. It is wrong to let unfortunates fall to harm.
(Also it should be noted that rarely do the beneficiaries of these funds say that they deserve it, either. They tend to be thankful than now maybe they will not starve over Christmas, or that maybe now little Donny will get the medication he needs to keep him from jumping from a high building.)
Deserve is the purview of the conservatives. They deserve a new car, a financed loan, and a platinum credit card. They deserve tax breaks and tax shelters that the poor cannot afford. They deserve a way of life that they want the vast, overwhelming majority of this nation not to have. If they wanted everyone in this country to be equal, they would help finance the dream.
One of the slogans that built this country is “All Men Are Created Equal.” But most conservatives tend to believe that “All Men Are Created Equal, Except For Those Of Us Who Are Created Better.”
Our Constitution also says we have the right to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Only a true-blue right-winger could interpret this to mean the right to Life, Liberty, and a Platinum American Express Card With a 2.9% Introductory A.P.R.
You don’t deserve these things. You desire them.
The entitlement mentality of this country affects all aspects of our life. Otherwise rational men and women have ponied up big bucks to buy huge, ugly SUVs, convinced that they just might need to cross a rugged ice field on the way to the soccer game or the recycling center. The fact that these behemoths suck up petroleum products faster than any non-industrial vehicles in decades doesn’t matter to them. They deserve to drive an SUV.
We know that every dollar not spent by the American people at tax time means a dollar not spent on some unfortunate who might need that dollar to survive. We know this, yet we don’t care. We deserve that tax break.
Some even sit and cheer their agreement at a federal administration that rattles their sabers and spews jingoistic rhetoric, claiming that our religions are the right ones. We support this madness, because we deserve to be in the right.
There is a fine line between desiring and deserving. It is one thing to desire more money back from the government, or a new car, or even a chance to be right on the world’s stage. This is all wish fulfillment. We all wish. We all desire.
I wish that people would see that line and take one step forward, over it. Understand that desiring and deserving are two different things. Wishing for something makes us human. Understanding that we don’t deserve it makes us humane.
"Crossroads Film Festival Post-Game Report"
This was the first column I ever wrote where I threw the rules away. It's about 95% true. I just don't remember what's untrue now.
I’m a dedicated film nut, so I spent most of last weekend at the Crossroads Film Festival. I had planned to write a coherent account of it, but since the first three nights ended at Hal and Mal’s, I’ve discovered that most notes I have are illegible. I’ve decided to write down what I remember. If you were there, some of this will seem familiar. If you weren’t, maybe you’ll want to give it a go next year.
Thursday night, Parkway theater. Saw “Leo.” Had the guy from “Shakespeare in Love” in it, with Elisabeth Shue, the one from the babysitting in Las Vegas movie. Not so good. Too long. “Up, Up, and Away,” a short film, two minutes long. Much better. Not too long.
Went to Hal and Mal’s for a pale ale. Had more than that. Had political discussion with folks from another free newspaper. Fell in love with a bartender.
Friday night at New Stage: “The Blues.” Five selections from really cool directors, like Wim Wenders and Mike Figgis, and some guys I haven’t heard of. The bit with Bobby Rush and B.B. King was great, and I loved Wim’s piece. Martin Scorsese is going to be doing one of these. Which means he won’t get an Oscar for it.
To Hal and Mal’s for a few beers. Had a few more than that. Had non-political discussion with people I don’t really know, got interviewed by NPR, ate many tamales, and fell in love with a waitress.
Saturday was New Stage for a bunch of short films. “Transit” is about the lack of public transportation in Hattiesburg. “The Uncle Tom Sho’ Featuring Negro-Rigged Jeopardy” is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Yassuh!
“Last of the Mississippi Jukes” was standing room only. I got an early seat down front. The crowd applauded the performances in the movie. Almost all musicians in movie were in the theater. When they were introduced, the audience gave a deserving standing O. Morgan Freeman was there, trying to deflect a microphone: “I actor, not speaker.” The blues musicians were celebrated like gods.
Back to Hal and Mal’s for blues jam and several Jack-and-Cokes. Had several more than that. Watched fantastic jam with several great acts, David Hughes, who made the movie, and Chris Thomas King, who played bluesman Tommy Johnson in “O Brother.”
Got to shake Morgan Freeman’s hand and talk with Chris Thomas King. Had no food, fell back in love with the first bartender. Swore I’d go to the Subway Lounge afterward. Got lost and went home.
Sunday, woke with hangover, went back to bed. Woke with hangover again, went back to bed. Got up, went to the 5:00 show, the “Screener’s Choice.” Loved “Mboutoukou,” a student film set in Africa and “People in the City,” a music video set to Air. Talked with Ken Stiggers, who made “Uncle Tom Sho’.” Watched the first movie of the last block, but it was too French. Went home. Got rained on.
I’m a dedicated film nut, so I spent most of last weekend at the Crossroads Film Festival. I had planned to write a coherent account of it, but since the first three nights ended at Hal and Mal’s, I’ve discovered that most notes I have are illegible. I’ve decided to write down what I remember. If you were there, some of this will seem familiar. If you weren’t, maybe you’ll want to give it a go next year.
Thursday night, Parkway theater. Saw “Leo.” Had the guy from “Shakespeare in Love” in it, with Elisabeth Shue, the one from the babysitting in Las Vegas movie. Not so good. Too long. “Up, Up, and Away,” a short film, two minutes long. Much better. Not too long.
Went to Hal and Mal’s for a pale ale. Had more than that. Had political discussion with folks from another free newspaper. Fell in love with a bartender.
Friday night at New Stage: “The Blues.” Five selections from really cool directors, like Wim Wenders and Mike Figgis, and some guys I haven’t heard of. The bit with Bobby Rush and B.B. King was great, and I loved Wim’s piece. Martin Scorsese is going to be doing one of these. Which means he won’t get an Oscar for it.
To Hal and Mal’s for a few beers. Had a few more than that. Had non-political discussion with people I don’t really know, got interviewed by NPR, ate many tamales, and fell in love with a waitress.
Saturday was New Stage for a bunch of short films. “Transit” is about the lack of public transportation in Hattiesburg. “The Uncle Tom Sho’ Featuring Negro-Rigged Jeopardy” is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Yassuh!
“Last of the Mississippi Jukes” was standing room only. I got an early seat down front. The crowd applauded the performances in the movie. Almost all musicians in movie were in the theater. When they were introduced, the audience gave a deserving standing O. Morgan Freeman was there, trying to deflect a microphone: “I actor, not speaker.” The blues musicians were celebrated like gods.
Back to Hal and Mal’s for blues jam and several Jack-and-Cokes. Had several more than that. Watched fantastic jam with several great acts, David Hughes, who made the movie, and Chris Thomas King, who played bluesman Tommy Johnson in “O Brother.”
Got to shake Morgan Freeman’s hand and talk with Chris Thomas King. Had no food, fell back in love with the first bartender. Swore I’d go to the Subway Lounge afterward. Got lost and went home.
Sunday, woke with hangover, went back to bed. Woke with hangover again, went back to bed. Got up, went to the 5:00 show, the “Screener’s Choice.” Loved “Mboutoukou,” a student film set in Africa and “People in the City,” a music video set to Air. Talked with Ken Stiggers, who made “Uncle Tom Sho’.” Watched the first movie of the last block, but it was too French. Went home. Got rained on.
"Conventional Migraine"
Sometimes it really does go this wrong. I put this one in, because it has one of my favorite lines of all time - the Triumph of the Will one. It's also here because I wanted to admit that sometimes - by my own damn fault - that I'm caught flat-footed and have to fake it. (As my buddy Tony would say, "I'm dancing as fast as I can!") The editors at Planet accompanied this piece with my favorite picture of all time: Gov. Schwarzenegger, with the cutline: "Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of the women." I nearly wept with joy when I saw it in print.
Well, damn. Deadline is upon me and I have nothing to write about. To be truthful, I do have something to write about, and that’s the problem. I actually had to get John Hicks, our fearless leader, to let me switch weeks this week so I could write about the Republican National Convention. I had every intention of writing a fair-and-balanced piece to go along with my previous DNC one. However, as luck would have it, that ain’t gonna happen.
First of all, there was ArtMix. Now simply put, I’d rather hang out with the folks who want to spend a Thursday night together enjoying the bounties of our dear arts community than sit at the TV and listen to The Great Pretender tell us why he’s the better choice for the job. So I thought, I’ll just tape it and watch it when I get home. Well, due to circumstances like The Beast attempting to eat the VCR that night and me being too stupid to 1) rewind the tape all the way and 2) notice that I had reset the damn thing from its 6-hour setting to its 2-hour setting, I unfortunately got about the first 15 minutes of the speech, and no mas. All of which allowed me to see pretty much nothing of interest, except for the delegates’ clear desire to stand and applaud even the most dynamic words, like “and” and “of.”
I prefer to blame The Beast; it’s easier than admitting I had an as-yet-unwatched episode of North Shore that I didn’t want to erase. (Man, that show blows. I love it.)
Regardless, I went into the weekend without seeing the speech, and without it, there was no column. I mean, yeah, I could have written about how that huge demagoguery-welcome-here movie set of a stage had that whole Leni Riefinstahl Triumph of the Will thing going on, and about how a certain portion of the population tends to start chanting when a fellow with a Germanic accent starts talking in front of it, but I don’t think that would be too fair and balanced.
Hm. Or maybe it would be…
Now I’m not making any statements about the RNC being similar to any European political rallies, but seriously, that stage was creepy. Of course, the Borscht-belt jokes went into high camp quickly and by the end, when the Governor of Austria was doing his “You Might be a Republican” shtick, he was simply stringing things together. “If you like cute puppies and apple pie, and you don’t like asteroids hitting the Earth, you might be a Republican.”
Anyway, I knew that C-Span would absolutely rerun the speeches and I found the time it would happen. I had every intention of watching it, so I didn’t set the VCR. Unfortunately, that decision was followed hard upon by a migraine which did to my frontal lobe what Hurricane Frances did to Florida. I used to get these blasted things regularly, back when I wore a white collar to work. Now they come and go at odd, strange intervals – like moments of lucidity from Zell Miller.
Migraine sufferers are strange people. We feel a need to compete in a sort of one-upsmanship to see who has suffered the worst. This one wasn’t my worst, but it’s still in its fourth day. (Somewhere out there, a guy is thinking, “That’s nothing. One time I had one that lasted seventeen years and made me bleed from my fingertips.” Yeah, I’m talking to you.)
So I was laid out in the bedroom, trying to avoid the light and The Beast, and I missed the damn thing again. I’m starting to wonder if I’m even meant to see it. But you know, I sat through Dick Cheney’s “Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto” speech, so I figured I’m entitled to hear what the Pres has to say, even if it’s an hour and ten minutes of droning punctuated by a dynamite two minutes at the end.
Hm. Now that I think about it, maybe I’ll just watch that episode of North Shore instead.
Hey, kids! Count the pop culture references! For the record, there are 184. Stats courtesy of the Republican National Committee and Fox TV. Visit planetweekly to tell me why your migraine was so much worse than mine.
Well, damn. Deadline is upon me and I have nothing to write about. To be truthful, I do have something to write about, and that’s the problem. I actually had to get John Hicks, our fearless leader, to let me switch weeks this week so I could write about the Republican National Convention. I had every intention of writing a fair-and-balanced piece to go along with my previous DNC one. However, as luck would have it, that ain’t gonna happen.
First of all, there was ArtMix. Now simply put, I’d rather hang out with the folks who want to spend a Thursday night together enjoying the bounties of our dear arts community than sit at the TV and listen to The Great Pretender tell us why he’s the better choice for the job. So I thought, I’ll just tape it and watch it when I get home. Well, due to circumstances like The Beast attempting to eat the VCR that night and me being too stupid to 1) rewind the tape all the way and 2) notice that I had reset the damn thing from its 6-hour setting to its 2-hour setting, I unfortunately got about the first 15 minutes of the speech, and no mas. All of which allowed me to see pretty much nothing of interest, except for the delegates’ clear desire to stand and applaud even the most dynamic words, like “and” and “of.”
I prefer to blame The Beast; it’s easier than admitting I had an as-yet-unwatched episode of North Shore that I didn’t want to erase. (Man, that show blows. I love it.)
Regardless, I went into the weekend without seeing the speech, and without it, there was no column. I mean, yeah, I could have written about how that huge demagoguery-welcome-here movie set of a stage had that whole Leni Riefinstahl Triumph of the Will thing going on, and about how a certain portion of the population tends to start chanting when a fellow with a Germanic accent starts talking in front of it, but I don’t think that would be too fair and balanced.
Hm. Or maybe it would be…
Now I’m not making any statements about the RNC being similar to any European political rallies, but seriously, that stage was creepy. Of course, the Borscht-belt jokes went into high camp quickly and by the end, when the Governor of Austria was doing his “You Might be a Republican” shtick, he was simply stringing things together. “If you like cute puppies and apple pie, and you don’t like asteroids hitting the Earth, you might be a Republican.”
Anyway, I knew that C-Span would absolutely rerun the speeches and I found the time it would happen. I had every intention of watching it, so I didn’t set the VCR. Unfortunately, that decision was followed hard upon by a migraine which did to my frontal lobe what Hurricane Frances did to Florida. I used to get these blasted things regularly, back when I wore a white collar to work. Now they come and go at odd, strange intervals – like moments of lucidity from Zell Miller.
Migraine sufferers are strange people. We feel a need to compete in a sort of one-upsmanship to see who has suffered the worst. This one wasn’t my worst, but it’s still in its fourth day. (Somewhere out there, a guy is thinking, “That’s nothing. One time I had one that lasted seventeen years and made me bleed from my fingertips.” Yeah, I’m talking to you.)
So I was laid out in the bedroom, trying to avoid the light and The Beast, and I missed the damn thing again. I’m starting to wonder if I’m even meant to see it. But you know, I sat through Dick Cheney’s “Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto” speech, so I figured I’m entitled to hear what the Pres has to say, even if it’s an hour and ten minutes of droning punctuated by a dynamite two minutes at the end.
Hm. Now that I think about it, maybe I’ll just watch that episode of North Shore instead.
Hey, kids! Count the pop culture references! For the record, there are 184. Stats courtesy of the Republican National Committee and Fox TV. Visit planetweekly to tell me why your migraine was so much worse than mine.
"Civil Unions"
This was one of my serious columns, regarding a situation about which I feel very strongly. Living here in Calfornia in the days of the abominable Proposition 8 passing - and the Cali Supreme Court holding up the decision - makes me glad I wrote this 5 years ago.
For the first time, the issue of gay marriages – or civil unions – has been brought up for serious discussion. With the Commonwealth of Massachusetts deciding that they are legal, there is finally real, tangible discussion about this issue. Yes, the State of Vermont allowed civil unions several years ago, but Vermont is a small state with little influence on others. When Massachusetts took this big step, it became major news.
The conservatives’ views on this issue are already well known. In a nutshell, they believe that allowing gay marriages leads to the end of civilization, as we know it. This is not a surprise. A bit more surprising is the mixed reactions occurring in the various liberal camps. Even my man Wesley Clark splits this particular hair, supporting “civil unions,” but not going so far as to call them “marriages.”
Personally, I don’t see the problem. I totally support the idea of gay marriages. And I don’t feel a need to qualify the statement. I don’t think they should be called “civil unions.” I think that if a marriage is recognized in one state, it should be recognized in every state. I think a gay married couple should be allowed every right that a straight married couple receives. Call me crazy, plenty have, but I simply don’t believe that allowing gay men and women to marry will cause the downfall of the American Way.
If anything, it should strengthen it. In a nation where “Family Values!” has become an actual battle cry, the idea of preventing people from forming families is ludicrous at best, discriminatory at worst. If gays wish to form families, and raise children, they should have the same rights as those who are not gay.
What we have to lose in this situation are our prejudices. What we have to gain is much more important: an understanding that one need not be a part of a mother-father-two-point-two-children family, to be part of a family.
But what we have come to, as we so often do when dealing with the conservative mindset, is a case of hypocrisy standing in for policy. As usual, the right-wingers claim that they are the ones who stand up for everyone and support equality for all. This is true, unless of course you are different.
The conservatives can give all sorts of reasons for why this discrimination is acceptable, from the irrational “the Bible says so” to the rational, if selfish, “I just don’t like it.” I believe it’s actually a little simpler and far more insidious than that. I believe that they are afraid. Not afraid of what these “wicked” people will do to the American Ideal, but afraid of change.
Our society remains in a state of flux, constantly evolving and changing. Fifty years ago, women were expected to set aside their own personalities, dreams, and desires, to become stay-at-home mothers and wives. One hundred and fifty years ago, it was legal to buy and sell black men and women at will. Two hundred and fifty years ago, the concept of America didn’t even exist.
It’s time to take a step forward, ignoring the crusaders of the status quo; those who would prefer to force their prejudices on others – those who, in the past, also supported the ideas of sexism, slavery, and crown rule. Those were bad ideas then. Fighting a change to create a more tolerant society is a bad idea now.
Show me some spine, folks, and tell me what you think. All responsible viewpoints are welcome at: ed@planetweekly. Incoherent ramblings will probably be okay, too.
For the first time, the issue of gay marriages – or civil unions – has been brought up for serious discussion. With the Commonwealth of Massachusetts deciding that they are legal, there is finally real, tangible discussion about this issue. Yes, the State of Vermont allowed civil unions several years ago, but Vermont is a small state with little influence on others. When Massachusetts took this big step, it became major news.
The conservatives’ views on this issue are already well known. In a nutshell, they believe that allowing gay marriages leads to the end of civilization, as we know it. This is not a surprise. A bit more surprising is the mixed reactions occurring in the various liberal camps. Even my man Wesley Clark splits this particular hair, supporting “civil unions,” but not going so far as to call them “marriages.”
Personally, I don’t see the problem. I totally support the idea of gay marriages. And I don’t feel a need to qualify the statement. I don’t think they should be called “civil unions.” I think that if a marriage is recognized in one state, it should be recognized in every state. I think a gay married couple should be allowed every right that a straight married couple receives. Call me crazy, plenty have, but I simply don’t believe that allowing gay men and women to marry will cause the downfall of the American Way.
If anything, it should strengthen it. In a nation where “Family Values!” has become an actual battle cry, the idea of preventing people from forming families is ludicrous at best, discriminatory at worst. If gays wish to form families, and raise children, they should have the same rights as those who are not gay.
What we have to lose in this situation are our prejudices. What we have to gain is much more important: an understanding that one need not be a part of a mother-father-two-point-two-children family, to be part of a family.
But what we have come to, as we so often do when dealing with the conservative mindset, is a case of hypocrisy standing in for policy. As usual, the right-wingers claim that they are the ones who stand up for everyone and support equality for all. This is true, unless of course you are different.
The conservatives can give all sorts of reasons for why this discrimination is acceptable, from the irrational “the Bible says so” to the rational, if selfish, “I just don’t like it.” I believe it’s actually a little simpler and far more insidious than that. I believe that they are afraid. Not afraid of what these “wicked” people will do to the American Ideal, but afraid of change.
Our society remains in a state of flux, constantly evolving and changing. Fifty years ago, women were expected to set aside their own personalities, dreams, and desires, to become stay-at-home mothers and wives. One hundred and fifty years ago, it was legal to buy and sell black men and women at will. Two hundred and fifty years ago, the concept of America didn’t even exist.
It’s time to take a step forward, ignoring the crusaders of the status quo; those who would prefer to force their prejudices on others – those who, in the past, also supported the ideas of sexism, slavery, and crown rule. Those were bad ideas then. Fighting a change to create a more tolerant society is a bad idea now.
Show me some spine, folks, and tell me what you think. All responsible viewpoints are welcome at: ed@planetweekly. Incoherent ramblings will probably be okay, too.
"Choose Your Own Election"
This was fun. It also got mentioned on other sites and a few political sites linked to it. But nobody plagiarized this one. I greatly enjoyed writing this one. There were calls for a sequel, but I knew this was a one-time-only deal.
As much as I’d like to have a column written about the election returns, it just wasn’t going to happen this week. Unfortunately, PW goes to press on Tuesday afternoon, long before the results would start to roll in – and possibly days before the winner is decided. But to stay timely, I decided to do a column that would be accurate for every possible Presidential election outcome – a difficult task to be sure, but one whose answer came to me in the form of a series of children’s books. Anyone who went through elementary or junior high school in the early 1980’s might be familiar with the format, which is in the style of the Choose Your Own Adventure series.
If you could figure out how to vote, you should be able to figure out how to do this. I call this Choose Your Own Election #1: The Ballot of Eternity.
START HERE: Did you vote? If you did, go to 1. If you didn’t, go to 19. If you’re too young to vote, pretend.
1 – Did you vote for George W. Bush or John Kerry, or did you vote for a candidate from one of the smaller parties? If you voted for Bush, go to 2. If you voted for Kerry, go to 3. If you voted for anyone else, go to 8.
2 – You cast a vote for four more years of a Republican regime that sees civil rights only as an obstacle to be overcome? Whatever. Has Dubya been declared the clear winner? If yes, go to 4. If no, go to 6. If it’s still too close to call and the lawyers are now riding their warhorses into battle, go to 10.
3 – You cast your vote for John Kerry, a live-action version of the “pin-the-tail-on-the” donkey? You can’t pin anything on this guy. Has Kerry been declared the clear winner? If yes, go to 5. If no, go to 7. If it’s still too close to call and the lawyers have grabbed up their swords for an epic fight, go to 9.
4 – Congratulations! George W. Bush has been reelected. The Republic is safe for four more years and you can rest easy that The Man Who Would Not Be Misunderestimated is back in the saddle to protect us from Third World Dictators who didn’t blow up the World Trade Center. Go to 21.
5 – Congratulations! John Kerry is in office! Now we’ll have a chance to see what happens when a man with a three-digit IQ takes over. Say “Who’s Yo Daddy” to the first neighbor you see with an SUV and a Bush/Cheney sticker, then go to 21.
6 – How could you have lost? Those punk Democrats must have pulled some dirty trick to win. Ignore the wimp in the Volvo asking you “Who’s Yo Daddy,” then go to 21.
7 – You lost. Does this really come as a surprise? Take the time to consider that backing a moderate Democrat next time might possibly do the trick. Go to 21.
8 – You cast a vote for freedom from the antiquated two-party system and away from their corporate masters. Huzzah! Did your candidate win? Yes, go to 11. No, go to 13.
9 – Those damn Republicans are trying to steal the election – again. Go to 12.
10 – Those damn Democrats are challenging the rightful winner – again. Go to 12.
11 – Oh, come on. This wouldn’t happen even in a children’s fiction book. Go to 13.
12 – Are you a member of the U.S. Supreme Court? Yes, go to 14. No, go to 16.
13 – Another election, another loss. You have options, though. If you decide to back a major party next time, go to 15. If you decide to stick with your people, go to 17.
14 – Justice Whoever, are you conservative or liberal? Conservative, go to 18. Liberal, go to 20.
15 – So you’re willing to give up for an easy victory, are you? Absolutely nobody has respect for you – unless you vote for their side next time. Go to 21.
16 – I’m sorry, but your vote no longer counts. Next time it’s too close to call, make sure you’re a Justice. Go to 21.
17 – You may feel certain of the rightness of your decision. You may feel the respect of others. You will feel disappointment for the next several terms. Go to 21.
18 – Congratulations! You have (made sure your team) won! Go to 4.
19 – Idiot. Go to 22.
20 – At 5-4, your vote wasn’t good enough. Imagine the shock the American people won’t feel. Go to 7.
21 – Hoist a glass of something foamy and salute the fact that, regardless of who won, Thank God It’s Over. Go to 23.
21 – Hoist a glass and salute the fact that, no matter who won, thank God it’s over. Then go to Left Field Sports Grill for our first-ever Thank God It’s Over Party. This way everyone wins.
22 – Put your head back in the sand and your thumb back in your ass and go back to ignoring your most important right and responsibility.
23 - Left Field Sports Grill will host Planet Weekly’s first-ever “Thank God It’s Over” Party on Saturday, November 13, starting at 10 p.m. We don’t care who you voted for – just that you voted. Come down and join colleagues and opponents for a friendly drink. I’ll be there with fellow columnists Tre Bass and Ali Greggs, and everyone else who’s ready for the election season to end. If you still want to verbally abuse your opponents (or try a lucid argument), go to planetweekly and join in the fray that is certain to begin.
As much as I’d like to have a column written about the election returns, it just wasn’t going to happen this week. Unfortunately, PW goes to press on Tuesday afternoon, long before the results would start to roll in – and possibly days before the winner is decided. But to stay timely, I decided to do a column that would be accurate for every possible Presidential election outcome – a difficult task to be sure, but one whose answer came to me in the form of a series of children’s books. Anyone who went through elementary or junior high school in the early 1980’s might be familiar with the format, which is in the style of the Choose Your Own Adventure series.
If you could figure out how to vote, you should be able to figure out how to do this. I call this Choose Your Own Election #1: The Ballot of Eternity.
START HERE: Did you vote? If you did, go to 1. If you didn’t, go to 19. If you’re too young to vote, pretend.
1 – Did you vote for George W. Bush or John Kerry, or did you vote for a candidate from one of the smaller parties? If you voted for Bush, go to 2. If you voted for Kerry, go to 3. If you voted for anyone else, go to 8.
2 – You cast a vote for four more years of a Republican regime that sees civil rights only as an obstacle to be overcome? Whatever. Has Dubya been declared the clear winner? If yes, go to 4. If no, go to 6. If it’s still too close to call and the lawyers are now riding their warhorses into battle, go to 10.
3 – You cast your vote for John Kerry, a live-action version of the “pin-the-tail-on-the” donkey? You can’t pin anything on this guy. Has Kerry been declared the clear winner? If yes, go to 5. If no, go to 7. If it’s still too close to call and the lawyers have grabbed up their swords for an epic fight, go to 9.
4 – Congratulations! George W. Bush has been reelected. The Republic is safe for four more years and you can rest easy that The Man Who Would Not Be Misunderestimated is back in the saddle to protect us from Third World Dictators who didn’t blow up the World Trade Center. Go to 21.
5 – Congratulations! John Kerry is in office! Now we’ll have a chance to see what happens when a man with a three-digit IQ takes over. Say “Who’s Yo Daddy” to the first neighbor you see with an SUV and a Bush/Cheney sticker, then go to 21.
6 – How could you have lost? Those punk Democrats must have pulled some dirty trick to win. Ignore the wimp in the Volvo asking you “Who’s Yo Daddy,” then go to 21.
7 – You lost. Does this really come as a surprise? Take the time to consider that backing a moderate Democrat next time might possibly do the trick. Go to 21.
8 – You cast a vote for freedom from the antiquated two-party system and away from their corporate masters. Huzzah! Did your candidate win? Yes, go to 11. No, go to 13.
9 – Those damn Republicans are trying to steal the election – again. Go to 12.
10 – Those damn Democrats are challenging the rightful winner – again. Go to 12.
11 – Oh, come on. This wouldn’t happen even in a children’s fiction book. Go to 13.
12 – Are you a member of the U.S. Supreme Court? Yes, go to 14. No, go to 16.
13 – Another election, another loss. You have options, though. If you decide to back a major party next time, go to 15. If you decide to stick with your people, go to 17.
14 – Justice Whoever, are you conservative or liberal? Conservative, go to 18. Liberal, go to 20.
15 – So you’re willing to give up for an easy victory, are you? Absolutely nobody has respect for you – unless you vote for their side next time. Go to 21.
16 – I’m sorry, but your vote no longer counts. Next time it’s too close to call, make sure you’re a Justice. Go to 21.
17 – You may feel certain of the rightness of your decision. You may feel the respect of others. You will feel disappointment for the next several terms. Go to 21.
18 – Congratulations! You have (made sure your team) won! Go to 4.
19 – Idiot. Go to 22.
20 – At 5-4, your vote wasn’t good enough. Imagine the shock the American people won’t feel. Go to 7.
21 – Hoist a glass of something foamy and salute the fact that, regardless of who won, Thank God It’s Over. Go to 23.
21 – Hoist a glass and salute the fact that, no matter who won, thank God it’s over. Then go to Left Field Sports Grill for our first-ever Thank God It’s Over Party. This way everyone wins.
22 – Put your head back in the sand and your thumb back in your ass and go back to ignoring your most important right and responsibility.
23 - Left Field Sports Grill will host Planet Weekly’s first-ever “Thank God It’s Over” Party on Saturday, November 13, starting at 10 p.m. We don’t care who you voted for – just that you voted. Come down and join colleagues and opponents for a friendly drink. I’ll be there with fellow columnists Tre Bass and Ali Greggs, and everyone else who’s ready for the election season to end. If you still want to verbally abuse your opponents (or try a lucid argument), go to planetweekly and join in the fray that is certain to begin.
"Bumper Sticker Politics or the Band That Scared Your Mom has Sold Out
This one is dated, too, but because of the ads I mention. I'll also mention that at least one blogger out there plagiarized my column, lifting my lines about Iggy Pop word for word. It was pointed out to Planet Weekly by half a dozen different readers, who found two sites that had done it. One had written-and-displayed two weeks after me, and the other was done five weeks later. We don't know if the second guy plagiarized me or the other guy, which is why I said there was "at least" one blogger who ripped me off. I don't care. It's nice to have written something good enough to have been stolen.
There is a certain segment of the population whose – how shall we say it? – stupidity prevents them from being able to separate who a person is from what they do, and who a person is from what they believe. They’re unable to see someone as a whole, instead defining them by a particular belief, or by something they do. What could be a good neighbor is instead dismissed as a “dirty liberal.” What could be a good friend is shouldered aside because he supports capital punishment.
(I am put in mind of a particular mouthbreather who visited our Web site and insisted that he would refuse roadside assistance from anyone with a Kerry/Edwards sticker on his or her car, which made me wonder what he does to everyone in the service industry. “Hey, you in the Che shirt! I’ll pump my own gas, punk!” “Excuse me, miss, before you bring the menu, do you believe in a faith-based nation or should I change tables?”)
Every year, I go to a friend’s Oscar-night party, which frankly kicks. The party is an odd combination of artsy folks and serious churchgoers. Two TVs are turned on in two different rooms, and the party tends to separate into camps: the libs and the thumpers. Every year, every time the camera pans across Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, you will hear boos coming from only one room. It doesn’t matter how skilled an actor or actress is. It only matters if they agree.
This is not just a one-sided thing. Many liberals boo and hiss every time Patricia Heaton of Everybody Loves Raymond comes on, since she is vehemently pro-life. I even had a conversation with one lefty who spent a full hour bitching and moaning about conservatives who slammed liberal celebrities. When I brought up Ms. Heaton, she said, “I hate her. I hate everything she stands for.” All of which goes to prove that sheer stupidity sees no political borders.
Oddly enough, there does appear to be one blind spot that almost no one sees, and that, quite surprisingly, is in pop music. Or rather, perhaps not so surprisingly, it is in pop music advertising. There are times when my jaw sags open at the music being used to sell cars, computers, and vacations. Beatles’ music has been used a while and The Who has whored out about forty ‘leven different songs to sell everything from Hummers (“Happy Jack”) to headlights (“I Can See For Miles”). Time has neutered the impact these bands have made, so they’re now thought of as Great Old Ones instead of as the drug-chewing, instrument-smashing madmen they used to be. It’s kind of sad, and they’re not the best examples.
Led Zeppelin sells Cadillacs. The band that your mother told you would send you to Hell just by listening to it is triggering Pavlovian responses in her head to buy an Escalade. Aerosmith just started doing the same for Buick. (And by the way, admen who say the car should be the sexiest thing in the ad have just been proven wrong by that woman in the LaCrosse commercial – damn.) Thin Lizzy, the original enigmatic Irish band, and one that generated an indefinable, low-level terror among parents, shills for Capitol One. And Elton John* is now giving it up for one of those satellite radio groups.
It gets better. Hewlett Packard is using The Cure in their ads. When I was but a wee lad, even being caught with a Cure cassette was enough to trigger a frantic series of questions by a horrified ‘rent: “What’s wrong with you?” “Do you need a psychiatrist?” “Are you gay?” Now Mummy and Daddy say, “What a lovely song,” and feel an urge to buy a printer.
The Boston metal band Godsmack provides music for the U.S. Navy ads. This amuses the hell out of me, because Godsmack’s front man is an actual honest-to-Goddess Wiccan priest. That’s right, folks: Wicca is being used to recruit swabbies. Let us share a chuckle at the adman who slipped that one past the U.S. Government.
Queen has been used twice in recent months. “I Want to Break Free” was used to shill one of those new low-carb sodas. (The video showed the band cross-dressing; just thought I’d share that.) And “I’m in Love with My Car” has been used to sell another kind of car. That one fools people because it’s not Freddie Mercury singing; it’s drummer Roger Taylor. Time has been kind to these men, too, turning them into a band whose shelf life began with Wayne’s World, instead of being remembered as the freaky foursome whose over-the-top gay front man is reported to have visited a Thai boy brothel and yelled to the management: “I think I’ve broken this one! Fetch me another!”
My favorite is Iggy Pop. His “Lust for Life” has been selling cruises for over a year now. Cruises! This is the psycho punk pioneer who shot heroin into his eyeball, who slashed himself with broken bottles for audience amusement and his own boredom, who used to beat up his fans, and who may very well have played a game of Hide the Grammy with David Bowie. This guy did enough drugs that some of his veins actually exploded. I don’t think his Lust for Life is quite the same as those on the cruise set.
I admit that I enjoy shattering illusions**, but I don’t think that knowing these things will affect what car you buy. If it does, then I suggest you get the extended warranty on whichever one you do purchase, because you never know who is going to have a Kerry/Edwards sticker on theirs.
-----------------------------------------------------
*Elton is a very strange case. The man who defined homosexuality for years and who has only become more flamboyant has suddenly become one of ‘them gay folks’ that people think it’s okay to like, along with Ellen Degeneres and Rosie O’Donnell.
**Next time: Santa Claus’ political affiliations.
There is a certain segment of the population whose – how shall we say it? – stupidity prevents them from being able to separate who a person is from what they do, and who a person is from what they believe. They’re unable to see someone as a whole, instead defining them by a particular belief, or by something they do. What could be a good neighbor is instead dismissed as a “dirty liberal.” What could be a good friend is shouldered aside because he supports capital punishment.
(I am put in mind of a particular mouthbreather who visited our Web site and insisted that he would refuse roadside assistance from anyone with a Kerry/Edwards sticker on his or her car, which made me wonder what he does to everyone in the service industry. “Hey, you in the Che shirt! I’ll pump my own gas, punk!” “Excuse me, miss, before you bring the menu, do you believe in a faith-based nation or should I change tables?”)
Every year, I go to a friend’s Oscar-night party, which frankly kicks. The party is an odd combination of artsy folks and serious churchgoers. Two TVs are turned on in two different rooms, and the party tends to separate into camps: the libs and the thumpers. Every year, every time the camera pans across Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, you will hear boos coming from only one room. It doesn’t matter how skilled an actor or actress is. It only matters if they agree.
This is not just a one-sided thing. Many liberals boo and hiss every time Patricia Heaton of Everybody Loves Raymond comes on, since she is vehemently pro-life. I even had a conversation with one lefty who spent a full hour bitching and moaning about conservatives who slammed liberal celebrities. When I brought up Ms. Heaton, she said, “I hate her. I hate everything she stands for.” All of which goes to prove that sheer stupidity sees no political borders.
Oddly enough, there does appear to be one blind spot that almost no one sees, and that, quite surprisingly, is in pop music. Or rather, perhaps not so surprisingly, it is in pop music advertising. There are times when my jaw sags open at the music being used to sell cars, computers, and vacations. Beatles’ music has been used a while and The Who has whored out about forty ‘leven different songs to sell everything from Hummers (“Happy Jack”) to headlights (“I Can See For Miles”). Time has neutered the impact these bands have made, so they’re now thought of as Great Old Ones instead of as the drug-chewing, instrument-smashing madmen they used to be. It’s kind of sad, and they’re not the best examples.
Led Zeppelin sells Cadillacs. The band that your mother told you would send you to Hell just by listening to it is triggering Pavlovian responses in her head to buy an Escalade. Aerosmith just started doing the same for Buick. (And by the way, admen who say the car should be the sexiest thing in the ad have just been proven wrong by that woman in the LaCrosse commercial – damn.) Thin Lizzy, the original enigmatic Irish band, and one that generated an indefinable, low-level terror among parents, shills for Capitol One. And Elton John* is now giving it up for one of those satellite radio groups.
It gets better. Hewlett Packard is using The Cure in their ads. When I was but a wee lad, even being caught with a Cure cassette was enough to trigger a frantic series of questions by a horrified ‘rent: “What’s wrong with you?” “Do you need a psychiatrist?” “Are you gay?” Now Mummy and Daddy say, “What a lovely song,” and feel an urge to buy a printer.
The Boston metal band Godsmack provides music for the U.S. Navy ads. This amuses the hell out of me, because Godsmack’s front man is an actual honest-to-Goddess Wiccan priest. That’s right, folks: Wicca is being used to recruit swabbies. Let us share a chuckle at the adman who slipped that one past the U.S. Government.
Queen has been used twice in recent months. “I Want to Break Free” was used to shill one of those new low-carb sodas. (The video showed the band cross-dressing; just thought I’d share that.) And “I’m in Love with My Car” has been used to sell another kind of car. That one fools people because it’s not Freddie Mercury singing; it’s drummer Roger Taylor. Time has been kind to these men, too, turning them into a band whose shelf life began with Wayne’s World, instead of being remembered as the freaky foursome whose over-the-top gay front man is reported to have visited a Thai boy brothel and yelled to the management: “I think I’ve broken this one! Fetch me another!”
My favorite is Iggy Pop. His “Lust for Life” has been selling cruises for over a year now. Cruises! This is the psycho punk pioneer who shot heroin into his eyeball, who slashed himself with broken bottles for audience amusement and his own boredom, who used to beat up his fans, and who may very well have played a game of Hide the Grammy with David Bowie. This guy did enough drugs that some of his veins actually exploded. I don’t think his Lust for Life is quite the same as those on the cruise set.
I admit that I enjoy shattering illusions**, but I don’t think that knowing these things will affect what car you buy. If it does, then I suggest you get the extended warranty on whichever one you do purchase, because you never know who is going to have a Kerry/Edwards sticker on theirs.
-----------------------------------------------------
*Elton is a very strange case. The man who defined homosexuality for years and who has only become more flamboyant has suddenly become one of ‘them gay folks’ that people think it’s okay to like, along with Ellen Degeneres and Rosie O’Donnell.
**Next time: Santa Claus’ political affiliations.
"Adrift on the Sea of Consciousness"
Wow. Janet Jackson, Arsenio Hall, and "Yes, Dear" all name-checked in the same column. Sometimes folks, the pop culture references kill the first time out - and then kill you in the long run.
Welcome to the stress-addled mind of the Bipolar Extremist. I’m feeling like going down the stream of consciousness without a paddle…
Let me get this straight. CBS has apologized for the now-infamous “Boobgate” incident at the Super Bowl. They’ve apologized for the delays they are now using for their “live” broadcasts. And now they’ve apologized for Atlanta-based Outkast’s Grammy performance, which had the band members in Lone Ranger-era faux Indian garb. I’m suddenly reminded of Monty Python’s legendary apologies for the apologies.
CBS, so long as you’re offering up apologies for all slights, real or perceived, I have a few requests.
Where the hell is our apology for Yes, Dear? You owe the world a big freaking “my bad” for that piece of crap. And since that segues nicely into Arsenio Hall, you better start doing “mea culpas” for Star Search, too.
It’s not that I want to bash on CBS even more than I bash on Planet’s competitor, but the Tiffany Network makes it so damn easy.
Yeah, I’m angry this time. My man Clark bailed out of the race before Al Sharpton and Dennis Kucinich. It both annoys and disappoints me that the General left the race before the Righteous Rev and Ernie Keebler bailed out. Well, at least he won one state before he left, which is one more than Howard Dean has managed to accomplish, at least by press time.
By firing his campaign chairman for speaking out, Dean showed that he is again willing to cut off his own nose to spite his face. Knowing of his manic behavior, I’m surprised he didn’t use a chainsaw to do it.
John Kerry. What can I say about him that his opponents haven’t already said? If he’s been knocking boots with an intern, it only goes to show that he’s trying to learn from a better man. But, to give him his props, he picked a more cuddly intern to corrupt. If it’s true, do you suppose he’ll apologize, or will he instead attack the Dean campaign through a series of mudslinging commercials?
And have you seen the new Planet Weekly commercial? You soon will. Watch for it on WJTV. It’s made by local director Philip Scarborough and graphics genius Matt Beall. No mud is slung.
A question for the baseball fans out there. Does anyone think that CNN is spending far too much time harping on the Alex Rodriguez trade to the New York Yankees? Does anyone not in a 212 area code actually care? And if so, why? The Yankees have become nothing more than a sad commentary on baseball, proving that it is all about the bottom line. With a payroll three to four times the size of most other clubs, they prove that they really do have the finest team that money can buy.
And why should CNN care? Come on, this is an easy one. CNN…Ted Turner…Atlanta Braves…the club that actually claims to be America’s Team. They’re the National League version of the Yankees, without the annoying burden of talent.
Of course, if there was any Atlanta-based group that should apologize for being insulting to American Indians…it’s not Outkast. Maybe we can get TBS to do it.
Hey Ya! Yankees fans, let me know why your team rules. Braves fans, let me know why the Yankees suck. Red Sox fans, let me know why your guys suck. Send comments to: ed@planetweekly or log on at planetweekly and let’s all hope nobody’s cyber-squatting in our living room.
Welcome to the stress-addled mind of the Bipolar Extremist. I’m feeling like going down the stream of consciousness without a paddle…
Let me get this straight. CBS has apologized for the now-infamous “Boobgate” incident at the Super Bowl. They’ve apologized for the delays they are now using for their “live” broadcasts. And now they’ve apologized for Atlanta-based Outkast’s Grammy performance, which had the band members in Lone Ranger-era faux Indian garb. I’m suddenly reminded of Monty Python’s legendary apologies for the apologies.
CBS, so long as you’re offering up apologies for all slights, real or perceived, I have a few requests.
Where the hell is our apology for Yes, Dear? You owe the world a big freaking “my bad” for that piece of crap. And since that segues nicely into Arsenio Hall, you better start doing “mea culpas” for Star Search, too.
It’s not that I want to bash on CBS even more than I bash on Planet’s competitor, but the Tiffany Network makes it so damn easy.
Yeah, I’m angry this time. My man Clark bailed out of the race before Al Sharpton and Dennis Kucinich. It both annoys and disappoints me that the General left the race before the Righteous Rev and Ernie Keebler bailed out. Well, at least he won one state before he left, which is one more than Howard Dean has managed to accomplish, at least by press time.
By firing his campaign chairman for speaking out, Dean showed that he is again willing to cut off his own nose to spite his face. Knowing of his manic behavior, I’m surprised he didn’t use a chainsaw to do it.
John Kerry. What can I say about him that his opponents haven’t already said? If he’s been knocking boots with an intern, it only goes to show that he’s trying to learn from a better man. But, to give him his props, he picked a more cuddly intern to corrupt. If it’s true, do you suppose he’ll apologize, or will he instead attack the Dean campaign through a series of mudslinging commercials?
And have you seen the new Planet Weekly commercial? You soon will. Watch for it on WJTV. It’s made by local director Philip Scarborough and graphics genius Matt Beall. No mud is slung.
A question for the baseball fans out there. Does anyone think that CNN is spending far too much time harping on the Alex Rodriguez trade to the New York Yankees? Does anyone not in a 212 area code actually care? And if so, why? The Yankees have become nothing more than a sad commentary on baseball, proving that it is all about the bottom line. With a payroll three to four times the size of most other clubs, they prove that they really do have the finest team that money can buy.
And why should CNN care? Come on, this is an easy one. CNN…Ted Turner…Atlanta Braves…the club that actually claims to be America’s Team. They’re the National League version of the Yankees, without the annoying burden of talent.
Of course, if there was any Atlanta-based group that should apologize for being insulting to American Indians…it’s not Outkast. Maybe we can get TBS to do it.
Hey Ya! Yankees fans, let me know why your team rules. Braves fans, let me know why the Yankees suck. Red Sox fans, let me know why your guys suck. Send comments to: ed@planetweekly or log on at planetweekly and let’s all hope nobody’s cyber-squatting in our living room.
"2004 Post-Election Blahs"
I don't think this one needs any explanation. I'll just say that four years later, the world's a lovely place...
Just a few random post-election election thoughts:
Blah blah blah, mandate from the people, blah blah blah, margin of victory, blah blah blah, most votes of any president, blah blah blah, most popular president ever. Tired of hearing the same old, same old from those pundits too…let’s not say stupid; let’s say…preoccupied with saying, “We won! We won! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo!” to actually look at some other facts?
Mandate from the people? There were two, actually. The narrow majority said, “We love you, George!” The narrow minority said, “Get the hell out!” Let’s be honest and say that there were two mandates from the people: “I love you, get out!” It’s like a marriage. No wonder this election was about family values.
Margin of victory? I love this spin: “It’s the biggest margin of victory ever!” Like hell; it’s about average. Don’t just listen to your preachers, kids, look it up. Most popular votes ever? This one is true. George W. swept into office with more popular votes than any president in history.
Do you know how had the second most popular votes of any candidate in history? That’s right, John Kerry. John Kerry – even though he lost – got more popular votes than anyone else in history, excepting of course George W. this time. According to right-winger logic (which is in itself an oxymoron), that makes George W. Bush the most popular president ever. Well, utilizing that same top-quality logic, this means that John Kerry is more popular with the people than George W. was last time, more popular with the people than George H.W. was both times he ran, and even more popular than Ronald Reagan was both times he ran. Because, you see, Kerry got more popular votes – and lost – than The Gipper did and won. So therefore, using the base idea that total number of popular votes = total popularity, that Massachusetts, white-collar, tax-and-spend, ivory tower intelligentsia, low-down, dirty liberal is actually more popular than Ronald Reagan.
Welcome to Republican logic. This is an E-ticket ride.
The reason that Bush did win was that the conservatives got out the vote in a major way. They did a slam-dunk job of going out and making sure that their people were registered, had rides to the polls, and actually went and voted. My hat’s off to them; it was a magnificent job.
Which brings me to the young people. Ah, yes, the young people. The ones who were the target of the majority of the political ads, the ones who were given concerts all across the country in an effort to get them to vote, and the ones who Democratic thinkers hinged the entire election on.
What happened, you little turds? There were increases in every demographic group of voters but one. The numbers of blue-rinse evangelical lunch ladies skyrocketed. Forty-five year old male auto part makers jumped. Even the paraplegic Navajo Indian numbers spiked. But the young people* stayed the same. Basically, the same number who voted in 2000, voted in 2004. Millions of dollars, millions of man-hours spent on you, and you couldn’t bother to vote.
And yet, when the reinstated regime screws up, these apathetic young twerps will be the first ones shaking their first at the TV and fussing. Here’s a little something from the voters: you don’t vote; you can’t bitch.
Ah, the pollsters. You have to love those election-day guys, who stand around and ask questions and just consistently get it wrong. How is this possible, you may ask? Hundreds of thousands of volunteers doing exit polls all across the country should be able to get it right. But this year, like so many others, they consistently reported back numbers that were inflated toward John Kerry. Why is this? No one seems to know. But the Bipolar Extremist thinks he has it figured out.
Fact 1: most exit pollsters are men. Fact 2: many more women vote Democrat than Republican.** Fact 3: more women are questioned than men. Fact 4: it’s a long day. If you’re a pollster, you’re probably a man, and you’re in the middle of a long, hard day. By primal nature, do you prefer to spend your time asking questions of men or of women? Do you seek out the men – most of whom seem to radiate anger or annoyance upon leaving the polls – or do you find yourself moseying over toward the hotties (who, let’s be honest, are probably Democrats) to question them? There you have it, folks. The exit polls are messed up because of the drive to achieve nookie.
Last thing: I voted in Precinct 10.*** My downstairs neighbor – same apartment building, same street address – voted in Precinct 12. My coworker, who lives pretty much across the street from me, voted in Precinct 12. Her neighbor – same apartment building, same street address – voted in Precinct 10. And then there were the roommates. Two men, one address, one house: one voted in Precinct 12, one in Precinct 10.
Was this an error, a glitch in the election commissioner’s office, or is supposed to be this way? I don’t know who knows, but it doesn’t really matter. We all used the same machines: new Mandate From The People® brand voting machines.
*Correctly, the demographic age of the young people is 18-25. 26 and older are considered to be adults, electorally speaking, since they have had two opportunities to vote in a presidential election. Certain publications skewed toward the kiddies are quoting 18-29, since that number of voters is up and it makes the kiddies feel good, but that number is up because of the 26-29 year-olds, who did get out the vote.
**It’s true. Look it up.
***Not really. I don’t feel like sharing our real precinct numbers here.
Just a few random post-election election thoughts:
Blah blah blah, mandate from the people, blah blah blah, margin of victory, blah blah blah, most votes of any president, blah blah blah, most popular president ever. Tired of hearing the same old, same old from those pundits too…let’s not say stupid; let’s say…preoccupied with saying, “We won! We won! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo!” to actually look at some other facts?
Mandate from the people? There were two, actually. The narrow majority said, “We love you, George!” The narrow minority said, “Get the hell out!” Let’s be honest and say that there were two mandates from the people: “I love you, get out!” It’s like a marriage. No wonder this election was about family values.
Margin of victory? I love this spin: “It’s the biggest margin of victory ever!” Like hell; it’s about average. Don’t just listen to your preachers, kids, look it up. Most popular votes ever? This one is true. George W. swept into office with more popular votes than any president in history.
Do you know how had the second most popular votes of any candidate in history? That’s right, John Kerry. John Kerry – even though he lost – got more popular votes than anyone else in history, excepting of course George W. this time. According to right-winger logic (which is in itself an oxymoron), that makes George W. Bush the most popular president ever. Well, utilizing that same top-quality logic, this means that John Kerry is more popular with the people than George W. was last time, more popular with the people than George H.W. was both times he ran, and even more popular than Ronald Reagan was both times he ran. Because, you see, Kerry got more popular votes – and lost – than The Gipper did and won. So therefore, using the base idea that total number of popular votes = total popularity, that Massachusetts, white-collar, tax-and-spend, ivory tower intelligentsia, low-down, dirty liberal is actually more popular than Ronald Reagan.
Welcome to Republican logic. This is an E-ticket ride.
The reason that Bush did win was that the conservatives got out the vote in a major way. They did a slam-dunk job of going out and making sure that their people were registered, had rides to the polls, and actually went and voted. My hat’s off to them; it was a magnificent job.
Which brings me to the young people. Ah, yes, the young people. The ones who were the target of the majority of the political ads, the ones who were given concerts all across the country in an effort to get them to vote, and the ones who Democratic thinkers hinged the entire election on.
What happened, you little turds? There were increases in every demographic group of voters but one. The numbers of blue-rinse evangelical lunch ladies skyrocketed. Forty-five year old male auto part makers jumped. Even the paraplegic Navajo Indian numbers spiked. But the young people* stayed the same. Basically, the same number who voted in 2000, voted in 2004. Millions of dollars, millions of man-hours spent on you, and you couldn’t bother to vote.
And yet, when the reinstated regime screws up, these apathetic young twerps will be the first ones shaking their first at the TV and fussing. Here’s a little something from the voters: you don’t vote; you can’t bitch.
Ah, the pollsters. You have to love those election-day guys, who stand around and ask questions and just consistently get it wrong. How is this possible, you may ask? Hundreds of thousands of volunteers doing exit polls all across the country should be able to get it right. But this year, like so many others, they consistently reported back numbers that were inflated toward John Kerry. Why is this? No one seems to know. But the Bipolar Extremist thinks he has it figured out.
Fact 1: most exit pollsters are men. Fact 2: many more women vote Democrat than Republican.** Fact 3: more women are questioned than men. Fact 4: it’s a long day. If you’re a pollster, you’re probably a man, and you’re in the middle of a long, hard day. By primal nature, do you prefer to spend your time asking questions of men or of women? Do you seek out the men – most of whom seem to radiate anger or annoyance upon leaving the polls – or do you find yourself moseying over toward the hotties (who, let’s be honest, are probably Democrats) to question them? There you have it, folks. The exit polls are messed up because of the drive to achieve nookie.
Last thing: I voted in Precinct 10.*** My downstairs neighbor – same apartment building, same street address – voted in Precinct 12. My coworker, who lives pretty much across the street from me, voted in Precinct 12. Her neighbor – same apartment building, same street address – voted in Precinct 10. And then there were the roommates. Two men, one address, one house: one voted in Precinct 12, one in Precinct 10.
Was this an error, a glitch in the election commissioner’s office, or is supposed to be this way? I don’t know who knows, but it doesn’t really matter. We all used the same machines: new Mandate From The People® brand voting machines.
*Correctly, the demographic age of the young people is 18-25. 26 and older are considered to be adults, electorally speaking, since they have had two opportunities to vote in a presidential election. Certain publications skewed toward the kiddies are quoting 18-29, since that number of voters is up and it makes the kiddies feel good, but that number is up because of the 26-29 year-olds, who did get out the vote.
**It’s true. Look it up.
***Not really. I don’t feel like sharing our real precinct numbers here.
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