Geek Moment: Google Maps

Lately, I've become a little bit addicted to Google Maps. The last few days I've spent way too much time examining the globe and all of the wonderful things that can be viewed from space. I've found my apartment, my parent's house, the house I grew up in, the location of the Globe Theatre, where Shakespeare performed many of his plays, the modern recreation of the Globe, and Anne Frank's house, among other things. I've also been brushing up on my Iraq War knowledge by finding the places in Iraq where things happened, where Saddam lived, the airport, and that sort of thing.

Based on the fact that the house that I grew up in has some foreign items in the backyard I'm assuming that the satellite photo is taken after the summer of 2003, when my parents moved into their current house, which is also when Amanda and I moved to Baytown from Fort Worth. But, based on the incomplete restaurant across the street from our apartment, the incomplete construction of the Toyota Center in Houston, and the fact that there are currently houses behind our apartment complex, but none show in the photo, this photo couldn't have been taken within the last year or two. It's my guess that it's a 2004 photo, sometime in February or March.

If I'm right then the U.S. was fully entrenched in the securing of democracy in Iraq, having completed the mission and all, so it was with some excitement and "holy-crap"ness that I scrolled across this portion of the Google Maps satellite photo in Iraq. I can only imagine, with violence at an all time high in Iraq, if the satellite were to take a photo now we would see more just like this. Anyway, I was pretty fascinated.

Sympathy? More like Empathy!

Last night I was hanging lights at the Baytown Little Theatre when I got a call from my brother. I hadn't heard my cell ring because my music was playing, but I soon noticed that my brother had called and I called him back. A very urgent Jason told me he'd broken his leg. He needed me to call our grandmother, who was coming to pick up his kids, and give her directions to the hospital. As he began to describe to me in great detail exactly what happened and all of the ways that his leg was flopping around and completely useless to him at the current time I began getting slightly unnerved and asked him to just give the directions, because hearing the details was making me physically hurt, myself.

It got me thinking about a couple of things. First off, I thought about how glad I was that I didn't go into the medical field. I am so squeemish I become ill just thinking of the visual aid Jason used to describe how his injury happened. Hint: it involved straws.

The second thing that has been on my mind after this event is the idea of empathy. Empathy runs heavy in my family. Everyone who heard about Jason's injury and how it happened said the same thing. "That hurts just to hear it!" And it does. I went and saw Jason in his hospital gown and leg contraption, hooked up to IVs and eating hospital food, and the whole time I was there I had a pain in my own leg. That sounds a little extreme, but it was true.

Empathy is a wierd emotion. It's not even as much of an emotion as it is a talent or ability. Or curse, depending on how you look at it. Empathy, for some of my high school students, is synonomous with "sympathy," which is an understandable misconception. Sympathy is largely a result of empathy, although it's very possible to experience one without the other.

I think true empathy is actually an accurance of feeling what someone else is feeling, even if you have never experienced that. It's knowing how a friend feels at the loss of a loved one, despite having never lost a loved one your self. I've never broken my leg, but I certainly can imagine the pain. I suppose that is what empathy is: imagination. But, imagination shouldn't be taken lightly. I believe that imagination can be as fullfilling, hurtful, dangerous, or awesome as reality in many ways and should be treated with care, just as we are cautious with our reality. How often have we heard of people getting too caught up in lies or an imaginary life to the point that affects their real life?

So, empathy, while a good quality to have can also be a curse of sorts. I guess I'm happy to have the ability to feel for my family when they are hurting, just so that they know I care and that I am understanding. With that said, I'm not looking forward to childbirth.

I Just Had a Thought

Imagine you are digging a hole. You have your reasons for digging this hole and you explained your reasoning to everyone who has partial ownership in the land where the hole is being dug. No one is quite sure why you started the hole, but at the time you started, everyone trusted that you had your reasons for digging the hole, and that these reasons were honorable.

Unfortunately, nothing that you told them that was down there was actually there. You dig and dig and nothing shows up. Before long everyone thinks you're searching in vain and tries to convince you to get out of the hole and stop digging while you are still close enough to the top to get out. You ignore them and continue to dig your hole. Eventually you're just the idiot still digging a hole that goes nowhere all the while depleating the land of valuable resources and beauty.

Your reason for continuing to dig and for getting even deaper into the hole?

You don't want the terrorists to win.

So just keep digging. We'll show them.

Pan's Labyrinth

Amanda and I saw Pan's labyrinth yesterday. First of all, it was by far the most gruesome, violent movie I've seen in a long time, and certainly the most violent movie I wasn't expecting to be violent. With that said, it was also one of the most jarring and creative movies I've ever seen. Director, Guillermo del Toro mixes visual imagery and stunning camera work to take the viewer between World War 2 era Spain, who have just undergone a civil war, and the super-real world of Ofelia's mind. Ofelia is a little girl whose mother has remarried after losing her father. The mother is pregnant and Ofelia's stepfather, a Captain in the military, has insisted that they make a dangerous trek to where he is stationed to quell communist uprisings. On the way Ofelia's mom becomes sick and it is thought that she might lose the baby and even her own life.

While stopped to let her mother rest Ofelia spots a large bug looking object that she takes to be a fairy. An avid reader of fantasy stories, Ofelia has a vivid imagination and uses this imagination to escape and dream of fantastical lands that are unknown to the human world. We soon find out that her stepfather is a cruel and heartless fascist, who is obsessed with finding and killing a group of communist rebels. He's very Hitleresque in his approach, killing based on nothing but suspicion or disloyalty, with little regard for even his own wife. To him his wife is simply a carrier of his son, an heir to carry on his name and legacy. Much like his own father was, Captain Vidal is a brutal military man, with little to no patience for any opposition or insubordination. What I liked about this character was the depth of his villainy. He wasn't simply a man out for personal glory and use of his own goals as fuel for his sadism. Vidal is a Captain haunted by the memory and death of his father, like him a prideful authoritarian who believed that his family alone was destined and had rights to power, no matter the cost. Some of the most complex scenes take place with Vidal shaving in a mirror, contemplating suicide. In these moments where we get to witness his true demons we realize that he is simply a man more at war with himself than any communist rebels or dissidence.

Ofelia's fantasy world, in steep contrast to her reality, is a world where she is a princess, lost in the human world who is being drawn back to her true home in an underground kingdom where there is no pain or sadness. Del Toro takes us so seamlessly back and forth from the real world and Ofelia's that we begin to wonder if what Ofelia sees isn't, in fact, real. Her life in the underground world is introduced through the fairies who lead her to Pan, a Faun who looks more like a giant grasshopper than the half-human, half-goat creatures from the Narnia books. Pan sends on a number of quests to prove that she is the true princess of this underworld, and hasn't become too human in her time on earth.

Besides being beautifully filmed and extraordinarily acted (particularly by 12 year old Ivana Baquero), the story is as captivating as I've ever heard, and true down to the last moment of the film. You find yourself realizing that this film will actually go where most won't out of sheer obligation to honesty in story telling. Many will find that this isn't the typical fair because the bad guys are not necessarily going to get theirs while the good guys win. Pan's labyrinth is as sad, awesome and unbelievable a story as you will find in filmaking today.

Jabba the Snowman Imprisons Han in Substandard Carbonite Slush

Any time it gets really cold like this I think about different times in my childhood that it would freeze. It was about as close as we ever got to a "snow day" here in Southeast Texas. From my non-meteorological understanding, our humid state prevents it from snowing much, even when we do get a snap of cold pushed down from the North. So, in essence, what we end up having is beautiful, Spring-like weather that comes as naturally as a New England fall, followed by rain and a cold-front that freezes the rain. What you end up with is beautiful greenery encased in ice. Flowers that were tricked into believing that Spring was here, blossom only to be trapped by a thin sheet of glass. It's really pretty amazing and I imagine a circumstance that is unique to few parts of the world.

The unusually warm January days notwithstanding, as a child you see kids on TV playing in the snow, making snowmen and sledding down hills. Even if it does snow, we'd have no hill on which to sled, so that one's kind of a double whammy. You become a little jealous and even swear that you wouldn't mind having to shovel a little snow if it meant that you'd have the ability to make snowballs suitable for pelting your brother in the face.

But, on days like this one, when the temperature outside reaches the once a year low of 34 degrees, icicles hang from the eves of buildings like fruit, ready to be plucked from a tree. Only, very early on, I was warned by my mother that these seemingly tasty treats are actually filled with bird poo and should not be treated as nature's freezer pops. The puddles in front of the drive way would glaze over with ice the way that a pitcher of tea does in the refrigerator when it isn't drank soon enough and is stored near the back. Sometimes it would freeze long enough for these small patches of water to completely turn to ice and we would have ourselves our very own 2 by 5 foot ice rink in front of the drive way. Nevermind that we didn't own skates because tennis shoes were perfectly sufficient for sliding across a 5 foot plane of ice before halting abruptly on the cement, only to quickly regain your footing, lest you plummet head-first onto the pavement, or better yet, the next stretch of drain-water-ice.

The most fun, however, came when the ice would soften and a slushy-like substance could be formed. It was as close to snow as we ever experienced, and, despite it's sub-standard quality, it was all we needed. That brown, icey, substance, littered with bits of grass and gravel would become snowballs of mass detruction. Our battles turned to chemical warfare as snowballs laced with whatever diseases resided in the puddles and ditches of the neighborhood were tossed about, entangling in hair, wounds, clothes and any bodily oriface that would recieve them. It's a wonder none of us contracted some rare disease or unknown mutation.

Our snowmen were great, as well. The best that we were ever able to muster was, essentially a one foot tall mound of dirty slug with rocks for eyes that more resembled Jabba the Hut than Frosty. At this time in my life (I was probably in my later elementary years) I was constantly being made aware of the reality of life, and how real life almost never resembled the movies. Or, as is the case with our "Jabba the Snowman," I formed the impression that TV and movies presented only the most ideal of situations and that no one actually ever made the perfect snowman with the stereotypical tapered torsoe and perfectly round head. It seemed so unfathomable that any other place could actually get colder than it was, and that anywhere else in the world could actually make a better snowman. I was always one to believe that if someone else could do something, so could I. The later disappointment of realising that life is geographically unfair was akin to my mother telling me at the barber shop that my hair "just wouldn't do that." My mom broke this news as I pointed to the 50's greaser guy in the hair style book while waiting for a haircut. He was dressed in a leather jacket combing through a dark pompodore, looking very Fonziesque (I was a big Happy Days fan) and I figured that picking out a haircut was like skimming through a Sears catalogue. All I had to do was point to what I wanted and the stylist could deliver. Why couldn't I look like Fonzie with thin, straight, whispy blonde hair. It didn't make any sense to me.

And, it didn't make to me that kids in Ohio could build a proper snowman and I was burdened with an ice-turn-slush mixture that was as pliant as the bottom of a snowcone. The one time it did snow as a kid I remember being so disappointed because as soon as I'd gathered enough snow in my hand to form a decent snowball I'd hit the grass and was pulling up the green, green grass beneath. I'm sure it's odd to dig to the bottom of snow and find lush vegetation. Not that I'd know any different.

Pursuit of Happiness

It was a good movie. It inspired the title, and to a lesser extent the rant, itself. But the rant isn't about the Will Smith flick. It's about me.

Of course, no one is reading this blog anymore. And who can blame you? I don't read yours anymore and it's been almost a month since I've posted anything. The truth is that I've lost much of my previous interest in telling the world all about my life and what I think about various things, etc. I haven't abandoned my desire for attention, however, so I find myself conflicted. I also find myself without the time or the energy most of the time to write much about myself. I guess that's why lately if I have taken the time to blog it's been pretty superficial. Either that or it's an apology/explaination for the lack of writing. I realize that this means more to me than to the 3-4 people who actually read this, but the fact remains that I like to write. I'd like to say that I am committed to writing more often and about a plethora of important issues. I'm afraid, however that I just can't do that. Call me lazy, or perhaps I finally have my priorities straight, for once in my life, but when I spend the day teaching kids and after school teaching kids and the evenings directing and my time off with my wife, the old blogging has to take a back seat. And, those days during summer vacation when I would spend the entire day in my pajamas playing guitar, biking, cooking food and watching Curb Your Enthusiasm, you could make the arguement that I had the time to blog then. However, you forget that I was doing those things in leu of even MORE important things I should have been doing. See, if I'd had any discipline on days like that, it would have manifest itself in something actually worthwhile. What's sad, however, is that this used to be the thing I did so that I could put off other things. You know something has crossed over from being faddish obsession de jour to committed passtime/hobby, when for no rational reason you feel compelled to continue doing something that takes effort, and yet will still garner no substantial, tangeble gain. But, I still enjoy it, and I still believe it is good for me. I still believe that somewhere, someday, someone is going stumble onto this little blog and decide to give me a pilot. It's my own little "pursuit."

Confession

I'm video taped a confession that you must see to really understand me.

Chappell and Angelou **

Last night there was an episode of Iconoclasts on the Sundance Channel with Dave Chappell and Maya Angelou. If you've never seen Iconoclasts they film a visit of one famous person with another. Usually the two people have something in common but they are typically from different areas of the entertainment industry or public eye. What I love about the show is that the two people are taped in a comfortable location, usually one of their homes, and they get real, discussing current events, their respective careers, the whole idea of fame and celebrity.

Not every episode is enlightening or fascinating, but last night Chappell visited with Angelou at her home, which was laden with African American art and photos of famous people she has known from the Civil Rights Era. It was amazing to see Chappell, who is quoted on a daily basis by my high school students pitted up Angelou, whom I admire immensely. And the truth is, I admire Dave Chappell, also, in a different way. Not only is he funny but his comedy is smart. I'm always amazed at people who are not only making witty commentary on our society but also tap into to the tastes of a larger, more fickle public's sense of longevity and are subsequently made in to icons. Chappell's comedy about race was sometimes criticized for being racist and afro-centric, but the truth is that black comedians can say things that Whites can't get away with and that rubs some people wrong. Frankly, I'm glad that all things can be said, even if not by me. Chappell made no qualms about saying these things. Saying them infused him and phrases like, "I'm rich, bitch!" and "I'm Rick James!" into our cultural lexicon. That, of course, is enough of a feat, but to do so and then walk away from it all takes a different sort of resolve. Dave Chappell isn't crazy or depressed or on a quest or anything one might think of someone who walked away from 50 million dollars. He simply didn't like what mega-ultra-uber-fame was doing to his act. That's it. He said that he left his show on Comedy Central because he couldn't perform at his stand up shows the way he had before. Every time he walked out on stage some dufus in the back was yelling out "I'm Rick James, bitch!" and oohing and awing at his celebrity. He didn't say as much, but I expect that he would say that his shows used to feel like a conversation. He had a repoir with his audience and he connected with them as individuals. Maya Angelou, as they were discussing this matter talked of the dangers of youth looking up to celebrities as anything other than ordinary people. She said something so profound: she said that when we look at celebrities and their accomplishments as super-human, as we are prone to do, young people especially start thinking that level of excellence is unattainable. When we worship celebrity and riches and people in general, how can we ourselves ever aspire to greatness. There has to be that little thing inside us that always says, "I could do better."

Obviously, Angelou is the more broad character to study. She is classic, intelligent, loving, and so gifted. And giving. That is what struck me most about their conversation. While my interests lie with Chappell, it is through Angelou that we are able to see his vulnerabilities and openness. Not that Dave Chappell isn't open in his act or in his comedy. I think most talented comedians are only funnier than the next guy because they are honest. But, with Angelou's questions and advise and strength of character, Dave opens up on a very real level and you see that he is learning, right before our eyes, what he was really doing when he walked away from the money and the show. He knew what was going on but through Angelou he had a respected mother figure affirming his decision and reassuring his goals. You could really tell that Dave was just enamored to be in Maya Angelou's home and experiencing her knowledge. One could see him just soaking it in at times.

During one of the most fascinating parts we see where their two generations clash the most. The older black lady from the civil rights era and the young, wealthy black comedian, raised as the outset of the hip-hop age. The big issue that Angelou took was with the N-word. She wouldn't even say it. Unlike many of my students, who throw the word around like "buddy," or "like," Maya Angelou sees the word as poison. She gave the example of a bottle of poison, marked poison. If the poison is taken out of the bottle, the poison still exists, and is still represented by the marking on the bottle. The N-word is similar, having had the harmful history. The history still exists even though the word is now owned by those who used to be hurt by the word. Chappell explained his usage of the word as this: it used to be a word used to exclude blacks from white society. Now, blacks use it as an exclusive word, too, but to bring people closer together. It's a word that only the chosen can say. It's probably the only word that I literally hate hearing come from the mouth of a white person, but it doesn't bother me to hear a black person say it. Most white people don't understand this. I wrote a kid up earlier this year for saying it, when he protested that blacks say it all the time, I thought, "This isn't a isolated complaint with white people." We feel a sense of entitlement. "Whites say, if they can do it, so can I." This runs in steep contrast to the way I hear black kids talk. From them I hear, "That's something white kids do." Of course, as a teacher my job is to teach against this mindset. It is also to teach the white kids humility and respect. Respect people's history and assume that you can't assume anything about the person you are speaking to. A very good friend of mine, who is black,always made me very comfortable about speaking on racial issues. It was a topic of conversation that we had, often, probably because he was the best black friend I'd ever had, and I was curious. One day, in jest, I uttered the n-word to him, and he got dead serious. I can't say that word. Regardless of the context or relationship to the person hearing. It's not my word. It never was. It was created by my ancestors to bring down his ancestors and now that is the pittance I'm paying. I'll accept it.

So, I've gotten off track. Anyway, the episode of Iconoclast was very enlightening. I encourage you to watch it if you have the Sundance Channel. It will probably replay, again.

**Alternate title "I'll Rise, Bitch!" foregone to draw in our more conservative readers.

Return to Blogging Haiku

There's been so much on my mind lately and so much time to write that I've been doing the right thing and spending that time with my lovely wife.

But, the neglect of my blog is no small issue in my mind. On the contrary, it has been bothering me. The reason that I started to write a blog was because I wanted an outlet to express my opinions and feelings about things that were happening to me and around me. I figured that I would never keep a journal of this kind if I were to just write it in a private journal. Either the awaiting public or the naive belief in one is the primary reason that I've been able to keep it up this long. I'm convinced of this.

So without further ado, my next installment of Haiku Blogging:

So long without blogs.
My laziness is not new.
So much left unsaid.

Dallas was calling
From friends and family, too.
We all ate fart cheese.

The set for Forum
Is not finished but I've had
Greater miracles.

Don't try and tell Doc.
He won't hear future events
And lighting will strike.

Time curcuits on, now.
Flux copacitor, fluxing.
Doc ain't ready yet!

When you hit eight-eight
Be sure the cables are set
And the movie's done.

Students will have fun
If you take them to Corpus.
Make sure you stay sane.

Thanksgiving is great.
It is a week to take off.
Oh, yeah. And give thanks.

Taking a week off.
Is not nearly good enough.
It's like a teaser.

There it is. I hope you enjoyed the little Back to the Future sidetracking. Later.

Geek Moment: The American Bison

I've decided that periodically I will post a "Geek Moment," i.e., I show my interest and/or enthusiam for something that would have the potential to alienate me from the discussion at any social gathering. This is the first.

I find this totally facsinating. It's the featured picture on the Wikipedia homepage:


Here's the caption that went with it:

Photograph from the mid-1870s of a pile of American Bison skulls waiting to be ground for fertilizer. Bison were hunted almost to extinction in the 19th century and were reduced to a few hundred head by the mid-1880s, from which all the present day's managed herds are descended. The commercial take arguably was anywhere from 2,000 to 100,000 animals per day, though there are no statistics available.

Read more here

I've always heard that the American Bison was hunted practically to extinction and I've always accepted it as fact, but I've never really gotten how a whole species could, within the course of only a handful of decades, be almost completely wiped out. This picture made it a little clearer for me.

I Feel Freer Already

Way to go, boys and girls!

Now, don't screw it up!

My Week in Blog Form

Things that happened this week:

Finished The Laramie Project at San Jacinto College. Overall it was a great experience, but we're glad it's over. I'm a little less consumed with things now. Everyone who saw it said they liked it, so that's a good thing. If you saw it, thanks. If not, well, you will have to rent it or something.
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My friend H.R. is in town and he saw the Sunday afternoon, final performace. It was great to see him and to talk to him. He's been having a really exciting life the last few years, living in Scotland and writing musicals and just being an artist. Yeah, for old friends. This is a picture of him in front of the Lockness lake with a local fisherman who claimed that he actually caught Nessy's older brother Fressy. Said Fressy was "the week one." That's not true, at all.
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We took our students to see Much Ado About Nothing at The Alley Theater in Houston. It was possibly the best performance of Shakespeare I've ever seen. It was creative, inspiring, unique, relavant..... All the things that Shakespeare should be. The sets, lights, costumes were beautiful and the actors were wonderful. It made me miss being involved in professional theatre. I've never really missed it before. When I was there before, I wasn't too happy.
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Amanda and I saw The Prestige. It was really cool. I'd give it a solid 4/5 bulls. Maybe even a half more.
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Played basketball with my friend Neal. I am still out of shape and it was hard, especially since it was full court, but, the last time I played I was about 30 lbs. heavier. Last time it was not fun. This time, it was still hard, but it was fun. I love playing basketball, or any sport and being active. That's going to be my new thing.
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I voted. But you knew that already.
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Finally, John Kerry screwed up a joke and pissed off a lot of people. He didn't want to applogize, for whatever reason, and that pissed people off even more. It sometimes amazes me what people who are scrutinized over as much as politicians are, still think they can get away with saying. Sure, what John Kerry said isn't what he meant, but I couldn't understand his initial refusal to appologize. He didn't have to appologize for what he meant to say, but geez, he could have soothed things over a lot better.
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And this has been my favorite video on YouTube this week:

"He's Not Kinky..."

I voted today. I voted for Kinky for Governor. Maybe you're asking why. I'm pretty much a Democrat, for all intents and purposes, and sure, sometimes Friedman seems disingenuous and completely under qualified.

At first I'd decided that I was going to vote for him because of his bumper stickers. Mostly, they were humorous, but they had a major point. "Why the hell not?" Really! Why the hell not? Think about it. If you know anything about me I don't have to tell you why I'm not going to vote for Rick Perry. Chris Bell, the Democrat, seems qualified to be a decent governor, a solid democrat who could also appeal to the more conservative side of Texas by not being too far left. In other words, a centrist. However, the more I got to thinking about it, did I just want to vote for the guy because of him being the "lesser of two evils." Not that I think Bell would be a terrible choice, but he's basically a pretty run of the mill Democrat and with all of the disorganization that has plagued the party since the Clinton Administration, did I really want to support more of the same? Plus, from what I've gathered, no one is that thrilled with Perry, including Republicans in the state, but they consider him the "lesser..." Bell's chances of winning the Miss Bangkok Pageant are looking like more of a possibility than him winning the Texas Governorship.

Carol Keeton Strayhorn has my utter respect. She is a true conservative in a culture of this Neo-con bullcrap that I truly believe cares deeply about education and the betterment of the state. Her views are much more rightwing than mine, but I respect her courage and knowledge. At the end of the day, though, she doesn't have a real chance of winning. Most people won't really see her for what she is and will only see her as a typical upstart independent with lofty goals and little reality.

Part of Kinky's appeal is that, at least at first, he didn't really think that he could win, either. Probably. I'm only guessing. As a former shock-country personality he most likely saw himself as, if nothing else, a wake up call to the state. Someone to bring about a change in ideology, even if he didn't actually win. People need an option other than the big two, or in Texas, the big one and it's little brother. Kinky is that option. Maybe he's not as qualified, knowledgeable or informed. I think that he knows that and has not made any attempt to hide it. Of all of the candidates he, in my opinion, is the most likely to listen. Not just to those who think like him or in opposition to a rival, but to everyone, regardless of political affiliation or ideology. He's incredibly open-minded, which I love, and he's brazen, blunt, and has no allegiances, except to the state of Texas. This is something we only see in politicians with nothing to lose. We see it in presidents in their final term to an extent, but especially in retired politicians. I never liked any ex-presidential candidate as much as I did Bob Dole. I never would have voted for him, but as a personality in the public eye, he is likeable, lovable, blunt and relaxed. Both Bill Clinton and Al Gore speak their mind without fear of political retribution. It's refreshing and I wish it were something we heard from more politicians IN office. But they can't be frank for fear of losing a demographic. Friedman is frank. He is blunt and--not always right, or rather, in agreement with myself--but I respect that. That's the kind of leader that I can live with. Scratch that. That's the kind of leader that I crave.

To top it all off (and here's the real kicker) I think he might actually have a shot at winning. Call me crazy, I think he's got a shot. No, seriously. If you take all of the normally Democratic voters who are straying from the party, who are many, then add in the fed up members of the Republican party who feel completely betrayed by their party and you've got enough voters to give Perry a decent run. Then if you take all of the disinfranchised voters who don't feel like any party is there to serve them and typically vote independently and all of the people who are just "fed up with the system," and I think we've got ourselves a good ole' fashion contender.

Rock on, Kinky!

Liberals Love Their Talk Radio

I don't know why I do it. It happens whenever I'm riding in my car and NPR is playing classical music instead of news, the local college radio station is playing their wierdest mix of monotonous, noisy, cat-wailing and white noise, and the corporate music station...well, the Clear Channels of the world continuously suck without fail. I've given up on them almost entirely. When I can't find anything else worth listening to on the radio, which is most of the time, I can usually count on A.M. talk radio to keep my interest. I should go ahead and listen to the classical music, but if I'm trying not to fall asleep at the wheel classical isn't my best option. Talk radio is sometime about all I can handle. Plus, I think there is a tiny streak of masacism in me somewhere that allows me to actually enjoy the Rushes and Hannitys of the world. Luckily for me, Jim Rome takes care of my lunch hour so I'm much less likely to turn it to the Limbaugh Liberal Bashing Hour. If you've never heard Jim Rome, he's a lot like political radio talk show host except his subject is sports, so if you're getting offended you are taking subject way to seriously. Plus, he make remarks like like this: "Want a Sling-Box (a prize he gives away to callers who make comments that he agrees with)? I'm giving Sling-Boxes away left and right, today. I'm easy, today. Today, I'm the Paris Hilton of Sling-Boxes!" That one made me laugh for a long time.

But, other times there is no respite of quality journalism, as heard on NPR, or humorous and inconsequential off-colored humor, as heard from Rome. Sometimes the only non-musical radio I can get is the ultra-conservative mudslingers that pepper the A.M. dial. Houston doesn't have the luxery of having Air America, and so I find myself yelling at the radio words that are typically reserved for 90 year old geriatrics stopped on the entrance ramp of the freeway.

So, why do I do it? Why do I listen to people with whom I know that I'm going to disagree? Nay, not just disagree, but vehemently refute, 100%? Why put myself through that. I think that there are a number of reasons. It starts with the realization that I don't think I would listen to Air America as much even if it were available. Furthermore, I think that it also goes along with why liberal talk radio doesn't do as well as conservative talk radio.

Okay, I'm about to make a blanket generalization that is only based in honest observation and how I personally feel and by ideological trends. I think, therefore that it is a generalization, but a fair one.

Conservatives want to hear people telling them that they are right while liberals like to be challenged and confrontational. Thus, conservative talk radio is listened to by both liberals and conservatives alike, because it gives everyone their "fix."

Here is how I came about this: First of all, Liberal talk radio isn't nearly as popular. NPR is what conservatives consider "liberal" which really isn't at all, as far as what is covered. Sure, it's supported by public funds in some part, which is considered a "liberal" ideal, and even if there were some liberal slant (which if that is true, carries a quite logical explanation)there is no one on NPR talking how the conservatives are ruining America, like you will hear on conservative talk shows. There is no corolation between the two since they are completely different forms of radio.

Liberals get bored hearing people who are just saying things that they agree with. I can only speak from speculation and how I personally feel, but if I'm talking to someone and there is no disagreement the conversation isn't going to last very long. If you are agreeing about a shared complaint, then all you are doing is complaining about something and reinforcing the same viewpoint. No one's is seeing things from the other side of things, which I believe is really important.

Another reason for my belief is that, as Michael Savage/Sean Hannity/etc. say, "Liberals blame America first." As a liberal I totally agree with that. Of course, to me it make total sense to blame America first, because that is the responsible thing. We try to teach our students to worry about themselves before placing the blame somewhere else. In the same way I think that it's important to look inward before bombing another country. This is why I am much more likely to see what the U.S. has done to fuel anti-Americanism than just cast off those attitudes as jealousy, or hating freedom. That way too easy and isn't going to solve any problems. I think that it is liberals' willingness and desire to look inward that decreases our desire to listen to a talking head just spouting off ideas with which we already agree. That's why our most popular liberal spokespeople are actors and comedians. If you're going to talk to us about stuff we already believe, you'd better entertain us in the process or we're going to get bored and go yell at our radio.

Maybe I'm speaking more from the point of view of a ADD kid than a liberal, but that's just an observation I had last night as I was listening to Michael "Makes Rush Limbaugh Seem Like Al Franken" Savage.

Republicans Are Mean, but Democrats are Stupid

Today I saw this picture of Collin Powell holding up the infamous vile of anthrax from his U.N. Speech 3.5 years ago. The caption said that he considered this his lowest point and that he regrets acting on behalf of the Bush Administration.

I like people who admit they are wrong. I like it when people ask for forgiveness and are contrite. People who have the ability to humble themselves really get on my good side, quick. This is why I have such a problem with Bush. He's never came out and said, "I'm sorry." I'll bet the Republicans could clear this whole mess up that they're in if they would just come out and say, "Hey, guys. Listen. We screwed up. We screwed up on everything. Iraq, the economy, Hurricane Katrina, and we take full responsibility. A good half of the Republicans in office are corrupt and only work in the interest of big oil and big buisiness, and we have done a really bad job of serving everyone below the upper tax bracket. We're sorry. We're going to try better, from now on." If they did this the Democrats wouldn't have a chance because I think most people want to like the Republicans. Afterall, the gays and terrorists and aethists are Democrats!

All I'm Saying

All I'm saying is that we, as western, capitalist, selfish, wealthy Americans have our priorities completely skewed. What we fail to realize sometimes is that most things in life aren't nearly as important as we think it is. We go through life feeling like we have to do this, or we have to do that. The old saying goes, "You don't have to do anything except pay taxes and die." I would argue that you don't even have to pay taxes. Sure, you might be arrested. Or perhaps not. If you choose to live life without money you don't have to pay taxes. If you choose to be a drifter with no steady work and only doing odd jobs here and there to earn enough to eat then I'm sure that you can skirt by without any legal action. The only responsibilities we have are the ones that we choose to take on. For this reason we shouldn't complain when we are adled with business and stresses that take up our time and energy. If we didn't want the pressure we could just as easily not have taken them on. I realize that this is easier said than done. We are taught from an early age that we are only worth as much as we give back to society. Bums are lazy and rich people worked the hardest. That's the American way. I think that we all know how ridiculous and unfair that stereotype is. Anyone who is willing to stop and think for a few seconds about it, at least. And, who complains the most? Not the "bums." Not the homeless. The biggest complainers are the hard workers. Granted, it seems that the middle class (who, by the way, are still among the world's wealthiest human beings, if they live in the U.S.) are the biggest complainers. I don't really hear much complaining done by the wealthiest of the wealthy, per se, of course that may be because they don't have to complain. The world is set up to serve and cater to them. If they have to complain to get something done it falls more in line with legality than an obstacle. Generally, the more money one has, the less a request is seen as a complaint and more of a necessary change. The middle class are the one's who cannot content themselves with their riches. Because they aren't as rich as the family next door. I shouldn't pretend to know what happens in the upper tiers of economic society, but it seems that the wealthy simply don't complain, they demand. It's the difference between child asking for breakfast, which is expected, or asking for chocolate, which is a treat. When the wealthy ask for something, they are asking for breakfast. The middle-class are constantly asking for chocolate; sometimes extending great lengths to recieve the treat.

We should stop complaining about what kinds of chocolate we are recieving and the wealthy should realize that their breakfast is chocolate to most Americans and completely unattainable to the poor of the world. What we should be focused on is providing breakfast for the people in the world who cannot provide it for themselves. These people are so selfless that they don't usually even ask it for themselves. And I'm not talking about the guys on the side of the road with signs or the crack addicts that ask for "gas" money at the filling station. I'm talking about the people in Latin America or Africa or right in your own town who sleep in dirt or their cars or dirty run down ghetos. These people should be our number one priority, and yet we still have people complaining that their steak was overcooked or that a movie was bad or that someone offended them by showing their breast at a football game. There's nothing wrong with living in a comfortable society, but what's wrong when when we concern ourselves with all sorts of utterly pointless things when the basic needs of other human beings are not being met.

That's all I'm saying.

"...or the orphanage will close!"

My brothers and I quoted this countless times during the teen years while The State was on. It's grainy but truly a classic. For those who don't know, The State was a sketch comedy show during the mid 90s that started the careers of most of the current cast of Reno 911.

Go Shop at the Gap

Read this:

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Okay, yeah, I saw this on Oprah. But, Bono was with her, so it's cool. I think this is a fabulous idea. Okay, I just said "fabulous." Let's focus here, people.

A number of companies are working to fight AIDS in Africa. While here in America having the AIDS virus will no longer be a nail in the coffin, in Africa, the drugs needed to save the lives of the millions infected with the virus are scarce and unaffordable.

We, as the richest nation in the world, can help these people by doing what we already do so well.

Spending, charging, shopping, living beyond our means!

Yes, this can save lives.

In Africa the AIDS virus infects millions and is only spreading. Education efforts are underway, and helping, but the widespread ignorance about the disease keeps the epidemic alive. Mothers give birth to entire families that are infected, they can't afford the medicine and so these families are doomed.

The (Product) Red people have set up certains brands who will donate a portion of their profits to buy anti-retroviral medicine to keep those in Africa alive. Without these kinds of medicines, people with AIDS die. As it states on the (Product) Red website, "We don't want them to die. We want to give them pills. And we can. And you can. And it's easy."

Another wonderful scheme drempt up by our man Bono.

This their website. Go there.www.joinred.com

"Thank you, sir! May I have another?"

Yet, another bit of fun that I got from our dear friend Dan.

This seems like a really bad idea, but I've never really been a good judge of stuff that was good for me before. Why start now?

Click here and follow the instructions.

Gentlemen: Adhere!

It's ten minutes, but it's worth it. Please. It may safe the world.