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?
Hello and Welcome to Vegetarian Confessions
I get asked about this a lot: “You’re a vegetarian?” Yes. “How long?” Since college. I’m dating myself here, but it’s been well over a decade.
I was trying to meet the vegan I was dating at least halfway, as I did not care to go vegan. Vegan meaning no animal products of any kind whatsoever.
The last thing I ditched was the addictive breaded chicken patty sandwiches I was noming from the cafeteria at least two times a week. I looked them straight in the buns and said “Damn. Is this all that’s holding me back?”
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?
fights we will never win
There's a lot of talk about eliminating cancer. The thing is, that just can't be done. It's a fight we will never win. Cancer is a cellular defect, life jacked up to an exponential degree, and while we may be able to kill cancerous cells, we'll never really be free of cancer, really.
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.
Wisdom of the Creatives
Long perched upon my living room table is a book gifted to me by an old friend called The War of Art, a play on Sun Tzu’s Art of War—only geared toward the creative process. Glancing through it once again this New Year's Eve, putting it down I resolved to seek more inspiration in my life, which in turn makes me more creative in my own life. “In pursuit of joys untasted,” from Verdi’s La Traviata sums it up nicely. With this in mind, I thought it might be interesting to ask some of my more creative friends their viewpoint on the subject. Impulsively, phone calls were made and emails were sent to a group of people that make my life richer with their presence—musicians, inventors, photographers, chefs, record producers, authors, filmmakers, scientists and then some. Tasking them to give me a comment/thought/impart wisdom about creativity-their responses are below.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 13, 2017
• In these turbulent times, sometimes it is best to get in bed and pull the covers way up over your head. Just don’t Dutch Oven yourself.
Vengeance or Justice / You Decide
A busted nose, missing teeth, a fractured eye socket, and a broken jaw. My face looked like ground chuck.
Ronnie was short tempered. Me too. But different. I went off on guys. Ronnie went off on anybody. And on New Year’s Eve 1972 he went off on his girlfriend Marie, in the bathroom of my house.
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.
Financing Disappointment
At that moment, Lou had eight thousand-five hundred dollars to his name. Give or take the few bucks from his unemployment checks that would be left after trying to pay his credit card bills. Looking at the bank statement, it felt good having all of that money staring back at him. He didn’t want to ever spend it. But it was already as good as gone.
Lou drove to Goldberg Jewelers in Skokie and bought Michelle’s eight thousand-sixty-four dollar engagement ring.
“Congratulations,” said Art, shaking Lou’s hand.
“Thanks.”
In the parking lot by his car, Lou threw up.
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
Why You Were Blocked (Instead of Beaten on the Street with a Baseball Bat)
We are evolved. We can simply press our mouse or trackpad as it hovers over a blue box on the screen and BLOCK people.
At this point, my Facebook and Twitter BLOCK list is as long as my right forearm because it is just easier to BLOCK you than to come find you and hurl epithets that let you know exactly how I feel about you. BLOCKING is facile when compared to an open-palm slap.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 6, 2017
• I think that the best thing for all of us—this global community—is a nuclear war. It’ll remind us—those of us who are left—how devastating the nuclear option is. It’s been too long since anyone witnessed the destruction the Bomb wields and as a result, we’ve become desensitized to it, which is exactly why the two chubby children think it’s fun to throw threats of a fiery endgame around. So yeah, bring down the fury of hot hell. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into us. Bonus: I won’t have to worry about paying my quarterly taxes next time around.
Music Machine
In some ways, I am the luckiest guy in this fair city of approximately three million. I have had the pleasure & the honor of playing my music on some of Chicago’s finest stages. I have gotten to relish in this electric feeling surrounded by various permutations of the incredibly talented friends I keep so close.
I Will Back Down
I am not concerned with being right on every single thing that spews out of my mouth or from these typing fingers. I usually don’t like to dig in. If you come after me in a comment section, I will read the comments. I will read your comments and the next guy’s comments and the next guy’s comments and this might go on for a while. Then I might get tired and play guitar for a while instead. Maybe I’ll hang out with my wife. Or maybe I’ll wash the dishes. Or maybe take a nap…you know, let the old subconscious straighten out my feelings before I come back. Sometimes it takes a lot to back down. But, I assure you, I can do it.
The Lies We Tell (and The Blanket Acceptance of Them)
"We're all such a pack of liars," he said at one point. "We go to some show that we think stinks and afterward we tell them 'Good show!' as if these people don't already know their show stinks. We lie to each other all the time."
He was right. We do constantly lie to each other and then we accept these lies because we're supposed to—as if by lying and accepting the bullshit, we are providing grease to the friction of social grace. We lie and acquiesce to the lie because it makes us feel better.
The second voice arrived on Thursday morning while Monte was attempting to make toast.