This New Road Will Some Day Be the Old Road, Too
Leading up to our third wedding anniversary, DMJ and I decided at first we wanted to go to Edinburgh, Scotland for the Edinburgh Festival Fringe but decided that August was a bit too early for the trip and we didn't want to be landlocked to the non-stop activity that takes over Edinburgh that time of year. We talked it over and decided it would be London in September with a day trip to Scotland if we wanted to in the moment.
I perused the Priceline deals and things went from a $4,800 trip to a $2,600 trip and we nailed down flights (the cheap tickets included a seven hour layover in Detroit going there) and our modest hotel and we were set. Travel guides were read, plans were planned and discarded and planned again. Ten days in London, England. Rock On.
I Believe... [Monolithic Propaganda is a Waste of Time]
...that every bigot believes their prejudice is justified and that a hostile work environment is defined by the one the hostility is directed at.
Feeding the White Wolf Movie Popcorn
I remember this guy I used to know who was just kind of pissed off all the time. Sure, I’m curmudgeonly and have been most of my life. (I think I graduated from cranky in my twenties, hit asshole somewhere in my thirties, went to curmudgeon in my forties and am currently working on my PhD in misanthrope. Just need a few more credits and a thesis paper.)
This guy, however, was just constantly angry. About everything. He managed to find insult to himself in almost any interaction.
Both Rock AND Roll is Required
It is my armor. Against the ravages of time and heartache and failure and despair. Attitudinal armor. Protection from self-pity and feeling small in a world of wars for oil, politicians spouting horseshit non-stop and the constant drumbeat of the the Big Countdown Clock. A layer of badassness that fights back the feeling that, as I get older, I'm simply going to lose everything I ever held dear and everyone I ever loved because that's just the way it is. My Captain America shield. My Bat Cape. My resolve to never allow the World to beat me.
I Believe... [Traipsing Through London]
...that London is what New York will be 200 years from now—the City That Used to Be the Center of the World But No Longer.
Navigation Techniques in a World Designed to Send You Off Course
I am a huge fan of Survivor. I've watched every episode of every season for 15 years. This mystifies some who know me but it isn't that hard to explain. Survivor is simply an unvarnished look (yes, it is highly edited to create a narrative but still...) at how people behave in corporate society.
OK. Go with me on this for a moment.
• It's set in the jungle.
• All are in pursuit of the elusive prize of cash dangled like a toddler in front of Josh Dugger.
• It's a game with real life consequences.
• The most capable of surviving are most often voted off by the most conniving.
• No matter how honest or straight forward someone is, the game itself is like a virus that infects people and turns them into lying sacks of shit.
Your 140-Character Shaming Campaign is Weak
Shaming doesn't accomplish what you think it does. I mean, sure, it makes you feel like you're part of some sort of solution—the internet tribal equivalent to the end of Game of Thrones where the evil woman (I don't watch the show) is stripped naked and has to endure taunts and vegetation thrown at her. It does not, however, move things forward in any real way.
I Believe... [Is Taylor Swift Our Nero?]
...that, in light of how screwed we are in the world with nature finally fighting back and flooding coastal cities in epic fashion, maybe the trials of being Taylor Swift aren't that fucking important. Methinks she may be Nero fiddling as Rome burns...
I Believe... [Uniting Against a Common Enemy]
...that in the dystopian Aliens Attack the Earth books and films, mankind comes together against a common enemy that transcends nationality, race, class and religion. If our global response to Trump is any indication of how we actually respond to a World Class Threat, the aliens are gonna kick our infighting asses.
You Are Not What You Wear But We Think You Are...
What we wear—our fashion sense and decisions to purchase clothing from Hot Topic or Eddie Bauer or the local Thrift store—has consequences, as well. The case made that these consequences are unfair as subjective as those of the Rage Profiteers on both ends of the sociopolitical spectrum: fair has nothing to do with it. We judge each other visually first almost every single time.
In some cases, it doesn't really matter. In others (like when the prejudger is an officer of the law equipped with authority, a pistol, and the lack of accountability reserved for those hired to protect our property over our lives) the consequences of prejudgment based on the uniforms we choose to display can be deadly.
Too Much Jelly!
On any given day in the City of Chicago, I can choose from among hundreds of live events—concerts, staged readings, poetry slams, storytelling nights, improv shows, sketch shows, dance performances, plays, musicals, performance art, stand up comedy, movies—it's kind of fucking ridiculous.
Stalin Plucked a Chicken and It Was Us
The natural conclusion of the identity politic trend is to have each and every individual representing him and herself as a fully independent political organization. After all, I am of the Angry White College-educated, Middle-aged, Heterosexual Males with Mothers less than Twenty Years Older than He named Don Hall political demographic, right?
Optimistic or Just Stupid? | How Fragile is The American Experiment?
“I’d like to think that I’m an optimist but it may just be that I’m stupid.”
— My mother
The 2016 election was not an anomaly.
We want to believe it was. We were so goddamn certain that Hillary would win. Even Trump didn't really believe his almost impenetrable brand politics was capable of actually taking the Big Chair. It felt, and feels, like a huge step backward. Here we were, planning out our road to Universal Healthcare and Environmental Rollbacks while casually ignoring the drone strikes on civilians and the eight-year refusal to prosecute against those bankers who put us in the Recession—and suddenly, the fucking guy with the orange spray tan, bad hair and loud, unapologetic, insult-laden maw won.
I Believe... [And Danny Rand Became Less Annoying]
...that in the "Look on the bright side of things" Pollyanna sort of way, at least it's becoming easier to spot the bigots, right?
Just Do the Goddamn Thing Already!
In my day-to-day political reading and writing, I'm really trying hard to channel my inner Spock. Rational, thoughtful. Logical. It's a dicey transition because of my natural tendency to let my anger sort run wild like a hangry kid with a hammer or a modern day activist. It's a change in perspective and a self-discipline that some who've known me for years are unwilling to accept.
In just about everything else in my life—get engaged on the third date, strike out on my own in a dwindling economy, wear Uggs slippers in plain sight—the inner Kirk wins hands down. Get enough information to be able to make a decision and go for it even if I don't have all the information or a sense of what the roadblocks ahead might look like.
The Artist Exists and Creates. Period.
For the average American, the creation and performance of art is something Someone Else Does and yet another thing to be consumed rather than experienced. This is why it is so easy to buy into the premise that, in order to justify the existence of the artist in society, it is necessary to either demonstrate that the art entertains the largest number of people or provides some quantifiable service to those in need.
Best to Swim More Graciously
If you want me to hear your story, you must agree to hear mine—that's the exchange. Does it surprise you that if you bark your rage in my face that I stop listening? Does it shock you that if you tell me to shut up and just listen without the humility necessary to hear my tale, that I'm not interested or moved?
White Supremacy is Terrorism...
As I read the news of the riots in Charlottesville on Saturday, my overriding thought was to keep my emotions in check.
I Believe... [Fearless Leaders Masturbating Each Other with Nuke Threats]
...that "reverse racism" isn't racism at all but a simple adjustment to even things up a little bit. In the parlance of civilized people, we tend to call that a long overdue slice of justice.
The Revolution Will Be Won on a Series of Screens
“It would not be impossible to prove with sufficient repetition and a psychological understanding of the people concerned that a square is in fact a circle. They are mere words, and words can be molded until they clothe ideas and disguise.” ― Joseph Goebbels
...that, at a certain age, a birthday is no longer a celebration of your existence but another notch in the ‘Fuck off, Death’ belt.