I think I got it figured out. I know who to blame. Or what. Or whom.
Anyway... the level of discourse in politics and society in the US has been steadily declining for years now, and it's reached its nadir in the refusal of elected members of Congress to do their jobs. Somehow, some way it's come down to people screaming at each other and making a worldwide calamity out of something that should be a pro forma exercise. And which was a pro-forma exercise for decades.
It's getting me down. Wearing me down. I want to fight the good fight but there are just so many demagogues on both sides that trying to find the truth in the middle is a mind-numbing slog. I do blame Baby Boomers - much as I blame them for almost everything bad they're leaving for my generation to clean up - but they're not the only ones at fault. No, there's a more insidious force at work here, one behind the scenes, something that eats at your soul and your psyche*, gnawing like a worm at a corpse.
Reality TV.
Bear with me, I'll explain myself. What's the most prevalent thing on reality TV? A contest. A zero-sum contest, there's a winner and a loser. Or a bunch of losers. But only one winner. No compromise. No getting along, no shared destiny or mingled fates. If I win you, by necessity, must lose.
That's one thing. People seem to think that everything involves a winner and a loser and if you're not one you have to be the other. Real life isn't like that, real life is shades of gray and degrees of compromise. Only spoiled brats who throw temper tantrums think they deserve everything they want immediately.
Another thing - reality TV also involves a healthy doses of trash talk and backbiting. Our entertainment comes in bitter little sound bites now, people playing it up for the camera and saying things to millions of people they would never say to someone face-to-face.
This is our political commentary. A bunch of talking heads making meaningless points about irrelevant subjects. It's safe, no one has to think about anything difficult or make a real decision, they just have to carp from the sidelines. The better the insult the more imaginary points we score in a game that ultimately everyone loses. We're a nation of Monday morning quarterbacks, geniuses with 20/20 hindsight and Perez Hilton viciousness.
And what does all this meanness and infighting get us? Resentment, and a strengthening of the desire not to be seen as weak or as the loser. It's a death spiral, two eagles locked onto each other and unable to fly but unwilling to let go because the other guy might get the advantage. So they both crash to the ground.
We need to get past this garbage, and the first thing that has to go is reality TV. It's all crap anyway, and it's all the same. And it's slowly rotting our souls from the inside out.
* interesting classical fact, psyche is a Greek word that means soul or mind or that indefinable essence that makes a human being.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Call Me Ricky
I've done it again.
A while back I posted about a predicament entirely of my own making. Seems one of my neighbors started calling me 'Dan' and I never corrected him, figuring that there was no way we'd live near each other long enough for that to be an issue. Fast forward six years and Bob was still calling me 'Dan' and I had let it go on so long that I couldn't correct him without it becoming obvious that I was negligent, dismissive prick.
It's happening again.
At work there's a lady - whose name I do not know, and I'm fairly certain we've never been formally introduced - who called me Richard. She did this in passing a few weeks ago and I wasn't certain she was talking to me. So I let it slide.
Then she did it again a week or so later. Again, not looking at me, but I was the only male in the room so unless 'Richard' is a mouse in someone's pocket she was talking to me.
She did it again Monday. Richard. Not looking at me but clearly couldn't be talking to anyone else. I don't even know where that comes from, the initial on my ID badge, which I wear diligently, is a big bold 'D.' There must be another devilishly handsome, generously endowed man named Richard who resembles me wandering the office from time to time. It's really the only explanation.
I am half-tempted to let this one go too. Not because I can't be bothered to correct her... well, not entirely for that reason... but because I want to explore why she calls me by someone else's name. She hasn't looked at me once when she's using the wrong name, so I suspect she doesn't really know my name, and is using the wrong one to prompt me to correct her. And if that's the case I absolutely cannot. It's the principle of the thing.
I'm thinking of it as a science experiment. Sure... let's go with that.
A while back I posted about a predicament entirely of my own making. Seems one of my neighbors started calling me 'Dan' and I never corrected him, figuring that there was no way we'd live near each other long enough for that to be an issue. Fast forward six years and Bob was still calling me 'Dan' and I had let it go on so long that I couldn't correct him without it becoming obvious that I was negligent, dismissive prick.
It's happening again.
At work there's a lady - whose name I do not know, and I'm fairly certain we've never been formally introduced - who called me Richard. She did this in passing a few weeks ago and I wasn't certain she was talking to me. So I let it slide.
Then she did it again a week or so later. Again, not looking at me, but I was the only male in the room so unless 'Richard' is a mouse in someone's pocket she was talking to me.
She did it again Monday. Richard. Not looking at me but clearly couldn't be talking to anyone else. I don't even know where that comes from, the initial on my ID badge, which I wear diligently, is a big bold 'D.' There must be another devilishly handsome, generously endowed man named Richard who resembles me wandering the office from time to time. It's really the only explanation.
I am half-tempted to let this one go too. Not because I can't be bothered to correct her... well, not entirely for that reason... but because I want to explore why she calls me by someone else's name. She hasn't looked at me once when she's using the wrong name, so I suspect she doesn't really know my name, and is using the wrong one to prompt me to correct her. And if that's the case I absolutely cannot. It's the principle of the thing.
I'm thinking of it as a science experiment. Sure... let's go with that.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Hobby Shopping
I've decided I need a hobby.
Writing doesn't count because that's an avocation, I'm talking about a hobby, something that sucks up precious cash and occupies precious time. My father used to build things out of wood, my sister used to scrapbook, one of my friends collects Star Wars stuff. A hobby takes up space, requires you to purchase tools that you can use nowhere else, and usually produces things that also take up space. And that you load in the back of the station wagon and try to sell at craft fairs.
While I was pondering my next hobby I realized that although a cellar full of canned tomatoes does count as a hobby - assuming I had a cellar - what I really needed was a DANGEROUS hobby. Something that adrenaline junkies would look at and say 'whoa, dude, you may want to re-think that one...' So here they are:
Nude Beekeeper - bears are nude when they forage in tree stumps for honey, can I do any less?
Noisy Rattlesnake Handler - and I mean I would be noisy, not the snakes. I figure I'd stomp around, play the cymbals, anything to make the snakes angry.
Robot Builder - not the 'Battlebots' kind of robots, though, as much as I appreciate circular saw blades on remote-controlled vehicles. I mean I'd create robots that could think, and that would develop souls. Or Skynet, I haven't decided yet.
Nude Lion Tamer - this is pretty much the same as nude beekeeping, except I'd replace the bees with lions. And lions don't make honey. But they make great rugs.
Ghostbuster - this isn't dangerous for the ghost hunting so much as for the copyright infringement. But who you gonna call?
Rocket Car Valet - as tough as it is to keep these things in a straight line on a salt flat, how difficult would they be to jockey into a standard parking spot? And do they even have keys?
Graffiti Librarian - aside from having to lurk around railroad rights-of-way and underpasses, taggers don't generally like outsiders taking note of their work, much less trying to find the appropriate Dewey Decimal classification.
Writing doesn't count because that's an avocation, I'm talking about a hobby, something that sucks up precious cash and occupies precious time. My father used to build things out of wood, my sister used to scrapbook, one of my friends collects Star Wars stuff. A hobby takes up space, requires you to purchase tools that you can use nowhere else, and usually produces things that also take up space. And that you load in the back of the station wagon and try to sell at craft fairs.
While I was pondering my next hobby I realized that although a cellar full of canned tomatoes does count as a hobby - assuming I had a cellar - what I really needed was a DANGEROUS hobby. Something that adrenaline junkies would look at and say 'whoa, dude, you may want to re-think that one...' So here they are:
Nude Beekeeper - bears are nude when they forage in tree stumps for honey, can I do any less?
Noisy Rattlesnake Handler - and I mean I would be noisy, not the snakes. I figure I'd stomp around, play the cymbals, anything to make the snakes angry.
Robot Builder - not the 'Battlebots' kind of robots, though, as much as I appreciate circular saw blades on remote-controlled vehicles. I mean I'd create robots that could think, and that would develop souls. Or Skynet, I haven't decided yet.
Nude Lion Tamer - this is pretty much the same as nude beekeeping, except I'd replace the bees with lions. And lions don't make honey. But they make great rugs.
Ghostbuster - this isn't dangerous for the ghost hunting so much as for the copyright infringement. But who you gonna call?
Rocket Car Valet - as tough as it is to keep these things in a straight line on a salt flat, how difficult would they be to jockey into a standard parking spot? And do they even have keys?
Graffiti Librarian - aside from having to lurk around railroad rights-of-way and underpasses, taggers don't generally like outsiders taking note of their work, much less trying to find the appropriate Dewey Decimal classification.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Creepy From The Heat
It's hot in Texas right now. Matter of fact, it's been hot for weeks, looks to be hot for weeks more. Everything's bigger in Texas, even natural disasters.
The upshot of all the heat is a surge in electricity use, mainly for air conditioning. In Texas, as opposed to Southern California, the hottest part of the day usually arrives about 5 PM, which is that sweet spot when offices are still occupied and yet people are going home and turning up the home AC. You can imagine how far into the red the power dial goes at 5:15. Luckily Texas is its own power grid, but with temperatures at 110 in Dallas, even the best Texas-built power grid is going to get some heavy usage.
At work they've asked us to conserve electricity during the day. Since we don't store the electricity we don't use - no huge capacitors on the power grid - saving electricity at 9 AM doesn't help at 5 PM, but somehow I know if I point this out I'm going to be the asshole, the guy who's not the team player. So I shut up.
The things they want us to do are for the most part things I do anyway, like turning off the lights in the bathroom and break room, turning off the computer monitors when I go home, that kind of thing. But they've also asked for more austere measures. Like turning off hall lights. Or even working in your office with the lights off during the day.
I used to work around programmers, and some of them wanted the overhead lights off. They claimed it reduced eye strain. So does standing up and stretching for ten minutes every hour, and stretching isn't creepy. See, there's something gross and awful about sitting in a room with no lights on. I don't like it. My father used to sit in the living room with the lights off and watch TV and it just creeped me out to no end. It's what serial killers do, I'm convinced, in between luring college coeds into their windowless vans. Where there are also no overhead lights, not coincidentally. It brings to mind those horrible movies where the bad guy waits in the dark for the good guy to get home. Even cavemen brought torches into their caves, for God's sake, asking me to work with the lights off is asking me to flout fifty thousand years of civilization and common sense.
Work has changed because of the dark hallways. The whole place is subdued now, and you never know when you walk past an office if the person isn't there or if they're just creeping out with the lights off. Makes me uneasy, like I'm the doofus in the horror movie who goes into the basement without a flashlight to check the fuse box. You just know the slasher is going to gut him like a perch.
Maybe I'll bring a flashlight to work next week...
The upshot of all the heat is a surge in electricity use, mainly for air conditioning. In Texas, as opposed to Southern California, the hottest part of the day usually arrives about 5 PM, which is that sweet spot when offices are still occupied and yet people are going home and turning up the home AC. You can imagine how far into the red the power dial goes at 5:15. Luckily Texas is its own power grid, but with temperatures at 110 in Dallas, even the best Texas-built power grid is going to get some heavy usage.
At work they've asked us to conserve electricity during the day. Since we don't store the electricity we don't use - no huge capacitors on the power grid - saving electricity at 9 AM doesn't help at 5 PM, but somehow I know if I point this out I'm going to be the asshole, the guy who's not the team player. So I shut up.
The things they want us to do are for the most part things I do anyway, like turning off the lights in the bathroom and break room, turning off the computer monitors when I go home, that kind of thing. But they've also asked for more austere measures. Like turning off hall lights. Or even working in your office with the lights off during the day.
I used to work around programmers, and some of them wanted the overhead lights off. They claimed it reduced eye strain. So does standing up and stretching for ten minutes every hour, and stretching isn't creepy. See, there's something gross and awful about sitting in a room with no lights on. I don't like it. My father used to sit in the living room with the lights off and watch TV and it just creeped me out to no end. It's what serial killers do, I'm convinced, in between luring college coeds into their windowless vans. Where there are also no overhead lights, not coincidentally. It brings to mind those horrible movies where the bad guy waits in the dark for the good guy to get home. Even cavemen brought torches into their caves, for God's sake, asking me to work with the lights off is asking me to flout fifty thousand years of civilization and common sense.
Work has changed because of the dark hallways. The whole place is subdued now, and you never know when you walk past an office if the person isn't there or if they're just creeping out with the lights off. Makes me uneasy, like I'm the doofus in the horror movie who goes into the basement without a flashlight to check the fuse box. You just know the slasher is going to gut him like a perch.
Maybe I'll bring a flashlight to work next week...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Dear Mr. Rich Person
Dear Mr. Rich Person:
I’m not writing to people who are just reasonably well-off, or to people who simply have more money than I do. No, I’m writing to you, the fabulously wealthy individuals who are in charge of our economy. I know, I know, it makes you uncomfortable to hear that, and some of you may not even understand it completely, but you are the straw that stirs the drink, if the straw were your out-of-all-proportion influence in politics and the economy and the drink were the fate of every American who does not share your incredible good fortune. You know who you are, you’re the multi-millionaire on your way to being a billionaire, you’re the person who needs to find ways around campaign financing laws to contribute to your candidate – of either party. You’re the person who is part of the one thing our Founding Fathers loathed more than anything else and tried with all their might to keep from growing upon our shores: an hereditary aristocracy. Multi-generational wealth, unearned and undeserved, has given you a kind of leverage and influence not seen since the Robber Barons of the late Nineteenth Century. It’s you I’m talking to.
You’re treading a thin line, you have been for the past few decades, and you’re courting disaster. The thin line is the tissue-thin space between dissent and anarchy, and the disaster you’re courting is the breakdown of the very system that made possible the circumstance you were born into.
You see, America needs a strong middle class. It’s vital to everything we’ve come to expect from our modern economy. A large, thriving middle class not only makes the goods that your company sells, they buy the goods other companies sell. For the most part people don’t need much, but when they feel comfortable in their situation they’re more than willing to part with a few of their hard-earned dollars and line your pockets with even more filthy lucre. A strong, large, vibrant middle class provides the grease that keeps the American economy turning, which provides you the fabulous wealth you in no way deserve.
When you break down the middle class, as you have done in the past three decades by keeping wages stagnant and eliminating jobs and generally ignoring the fates of most of the human beings in this nation, you erode the very base of the pyramid you teeter atop. This is a lesson the French aristocracy learned too late back in the Eighteen Century – power to govern always derives from the consent of the governed. And if you think you’re not governing just because you haven’t run for or been elected to office you’re making another mistake.
Mr. Rich Person, if for no other reason than enlightened self-interest, you absolutely must start paying attention to your responsibilities to preserve American society. It’s not all about you, despite everything you’ve come to expect over the past three decades. When the haves get most of the economic pie and the have-nots fight for crumbs, sooner or later the have-nots are going to realize there are far more of them than you, and they can just take as much pie as they want. Mr. Rich Person, you need to realize that we really are all in this together, and in a very tangible sense your continued safety and prosperity requires tending to and assuring the safety and prosperity of those less fortunate than you.
Don’t worry, even though this newfound and unfamiliar civic responsibility means you’ll make less money than you did before, you’ll still make far more than you can possibly spend in your lifetime. But you’ll enjoy the added benefit of not being the first against the wall when the revolution comes.
Sincerely,
-- your friend Don
I’m not writing to people who are just reasonably well-off, or to people who simply have more money than I do. No, I’m writing to you, the fabulously wealthy individuals who are in charge of our economy. I know, I know, it makes you uncomfortable to hear that, and some of you may not even understand it completely, but you are the straw that stirs the drink, if the straw were your out-of-all-proportion influence in politics and the economy and the drink were the fate of every American who does not share your incredible good fortune. You know who you are, you’re the multi-millionaire on your way to being a billionaire, you’re the person who needs to find ways around campaign financing laws to contribute to your candidate – of either party. You’re the person who is part of the one thing our Founding Fathers loathed more than anything else and tried with all their might to keep from growing upon our shores: an hereditary aristocracy. Multi-generational wealth, unearned and undeserved, has given you a kind of leverage and influence not seen since the Robber Barons of the late Nineteenth Century. It’s you I’m talking to.
You’re treading a thin line, you have been for the past few decades, and you’re courting disaster. The thin line is the tissue-thin space between dissent and anarchy, and the disaster you’re courting is the breakdown of the very system that made possible the circumstance you were born into.
You see, America needs a strong middle class. It’s vital to everything we’ve come to expect from our modern economy. A large, thriving middle class not only makes the goods that your company sells, they buy the goods other companies sell. For the most part people don’t need much, but when they feel comfortable in their situation they’re more than willing to part with a few of their hard-earned dollars and line your pockets with even more filthy lucre. A strong, large, vibrant middle class provides the grease that keeps the American economy turning, which provides you the fabulous wealth you in no way deserve.
When you break down the middle class, as you have done in the past three decades by keeping wages stagnant and eliminating jobs and generally ignoring the fates of most of the human beings in this nation, you erode the very base of the pyramid you teeter atop. This is a lesson the French aristocracy learned too late back in the Eighteen Century – power to govern always derives from the consent of the governed. And if you think you’re not governing just because you haven’t run for or been elected to office you’re making another mistake.
Mr. Rich Person, if for no other reason than enlightened self-interest, you absolutely must start paying attention to your responsibilities to preserve American society. It’s not all about you, despite everything you’ve come to expect over the past three decades. When the haves get most of the economic pie and the have-nots fight for crumbs, sooner or later the have-nots are going to realize there are far more of them than you, and they can just take as much pie as they want. Mr. Rich Person, you need to realize that we really are all in this together, and in a very tangible sense your continued safety and prosperity requires tending to and assuring the safety and prosperity of those less fortunate than you.
Don’t worry, even though this newfound and unfamiliar civic responsibility means you’ll make less money than you did before, you’ll still make far more than you can possibly spend in your lifetime. But you’ll enjoy the added benefit of not being the first against the wall when the revolution comes.
Sincerely,
-- your friend Don
Sunday, August 7, 2011
It Was An Accident, I Swear
I haven't had the television on in about three days.
I swear it's an accident. Not planned. Last time I had the idiot box* up and running was Thursday night. It was the 'So You Think You Can Dance' results show. Yes, I do watch that, wanna make something of it? I didn't think so...
Anyway, Friday I was in Austin and after I got back that night the TV just didn't come on. I read the Silmarillion (I have a first edition). Last night, Saturday, I was busy with busy work and whatnot and before I knew it the clock showed 9:30 PM and COPS was good and over. Crap, I missed my favorite show. Or favorite non-dance related show. And today, Sunday, there's just nothing to watch in the first place, aside from me getting busy writing and more busy work. So no TV today so far either.
I think it's the longest stretch I've gone without TV, without either being on an international flight or being stuck somewhere awful. And you know what? It doesn't bother me. Except for missing COPS and shirtless meth addicts trying to escape officers of the law, that's always good for a laugh. Oh, and NASCAR is on cable for 2/3 of the season, so I'm missing that too. I think I may have been a rum runner in a previous life, it's the only explanation I have for why I like to watch cars making left turns for 500 miles.
I got rid of cable going on two years ago, haven't missed it except for Cartoon Network - I loves me some Venture Brothers - and I don't get ABC or PBS here at my house. So very slowly I've been involuntarily weaned from the vast wasteland.
I think I'm better for it. But, honestly, I think it's good to have time alone with your own thoughts. I think too many people are uncomfortable with what's running through their heads and they find it easier to find external validation. But when you spend quiet time with yourself you learn what's important to you, and what's important at all. Kind of scary, actually, which is why people would rather avoid it. I think I'm going to jump in with both feet.
The TV's staying off more often than it's coming on.
* which is actually an idiot flat panel, but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as elegantly
I swear it's an accident. Not planned. Last time I had the idiot box* up and running was Thursday night. It was the 'So You Think You Can Dance' results show. Yes, I do watch that, wanna make something of it? I didn't think so...
Anyway, Friday I was in Austin and after I got back that night the TV just didn't come on. I read the Silmarillion (I have a first edition). Last night, Saturday, I was busy with busy work and whatnot and before I knew it the clock showed 9:30 PM and COPS was good and over. Crap, I missed my favorite show. Or favorite non-dance related show. And today, Sunday, there's just nothing to watch in the first place, aside from me getting busy writing and more busy work. So no TV today so far either.
I think it's the longest stretch I've gone without TV, without either being on an international flight or being stuck somewhere awful. And you know what? It doesn't bother me. Except for missing COPS and shirtless meth addicts trying to escape officers of the law, that's always good for a laugh. Oh, and NASCAR is on cable for 2/3 of the season, so I'm missing that too. I think I may have been a rum runner in a previous life, it's the only explanation I have for why I like to watch cars making left turns for 500 miles.
I got rid of cable going on two years ago, haven't missed it except for Cartoon Network - I loves me some Venture Brothers - and I don't get ABC or PBS here at my house. So very slowly I've been involuntarily weaned from the vast wasteland.
I think I'm better for it. But, honestly, I think it's good to have time alone with your own thoughts. I think too many people are uncomfortable with what's running through their heads and they find it easier to find external validation. But when you spend quiet time with yourself you learn what's important to you, and what's important at all. Kind of scary, actually, which is why people would rather avoid it. I think I'm going to jump in with both feet.
The TV's staying off more often than it's coming on.
* which is actually an idiot flat panel, but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as elegantly
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Flat Earther
I had a brief 'discussion' on Facebook today. A friend posted some ignorant right-wing comment about being glad Florida was requiring drug tests for welfare recipients. I posted my objections, chief among them being the patronizing and racist assumption that all welfare recipients are drug users, or at least potential drug users. I mean, really, when you hear 'welfare' is the image that comes to mind 'Good Times' or 'Waltons'? Be honest.
My friend's friend posted how she was happy about the legislation, what do you have to be afraid of if you're not using drugs, things like that. I responded with the proposition that testing for drugs before you can get public assistance assumes that you are taking drugs in the first place and need to be caught, it's a presumption of guilt. Which is against the 5th, 6th, and 14th amendments to the Constitution. She argued that it's common knowledge that people on welfare wear designer clothes and drive new cars, completely avoiding addressing my point and perpetuating yet another racist sterotype. The discussion degenerated from there.
Every fact you can find on the Web, every statistic from governmental sources, every actual study posted shows that people are on welfare for two years or less, they're usually single mothers in dire straits not drug dealers gaming the system, and that most never go back.
Yet this myth persists of the welfare cheat getting rich from public assistance, and some people will not be dissuaded from it, no matter how reasoned the discourse. It's like trying to convince a flat-earther that the world is, in actual fact, round. No matter the evidence you place in front of him, he's still going to insist that his version of things is the right one.
This is the problem we face in politics and society today. Willful ignorance. Flat-earthers. People who are so invested in being right that they refuse to entertain the possibility that they might be wrong. It's childish, really, and divisive. Why try to understand the larger societal problems that create the need for welfare, when you can just repeat ad hominem attacks that would make Archie Bunker blush?*
We need to get past this, we need to stop insisting we're right and start listening to why we might be wrong. Then we might get something accomplished.
* seems I'm on a 70's TV kick today, just go with it.
My friend's friend posted how she was happy about the legislation, what do you have to be afraid of if you're not using drugs, things like that. I responded with the proposition that testing for drugs before you can get public assistance assumes that you are taking drugs in the first place and need to be caught, it's a presumption of guilt. Which is against the 5th, 6th, and 14th amendments to the Constitution. She argued that it's common knowledge that people on welfare wear designer clothes and drive new cars, completely avoiding addressing my point and perpetuating yet another racist sterotype. The discussion degenerated from there.
Every fact you can find on the Web, every statistic from governmental sources, every actual study posted shows that people are on welfare for two years or less, they're usually single mothers in dire straits not drug dealers gaming the system, and that most never go back.
Yet this myth persists of the welfare cheat getting rich from public assistance, and some people will not be dissuaded from it, no matter how reasoned the discourse. It's like trying to convince a flat-earther that the world is, in actual fact, round. No matter the evidence you place in front of him, he's still going to insist that his version of things is the right one.
This is the problem we face in politics and society today. Willful ignorance. Flat-earthers. People who are so invested in being right that they refuse to entertain the possibility that they might be wrong. It's childish, really, and divisive. Why try to understand the larger societal problems that create the need for welfare, when you can just repeat ad hominem attacks that would make Archie Bunker blush?*
We need to get past this, we need to stop insisting we're right and start listening to why we might be wrong. Then we might get something accomplished.
* seems I'm on a 70's TV kick today, just go with it.
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