When Do You Get Mad?

I don't consider myself particularly partisan, and I am a political moderate.  I get equally irritated with both extremes and have an extremely low tolerance for rhetoric.  I'm sick of hearing about the "Culture War," and I think I will scream if I hear any more of the intellectually lazy buzzwords used by the right and the left in place of true political discourse.  That said, I am definitely planning to vote for Barack Obama for a second term, and I think George W. Bush was the worst president we ever had.  While I'm not smart enough to weigh in on the public policy details of universal healthcare, I also do firmly believe that healthcare should be a right, not a privilege, and am amazed when people in an allegedly first world country point to this as the worst thing Obama has done.

In that same vein, I am reposting a nifty little pro-Barack, anti-G.W. piece that I came across a few years ago.  I wish I could attribute authorship, but I have no clue where I got it from.  I'm hoping that ignorance is a defense in copyright law.  (There is one advantage to writing a blog no one reads.)

When Do You Get Mad?

You didn't get mad when over 200,000 U.S. Citizens lost their lives because they had inadequate care and no health insurance.

You didn't get mad when we gave people who had more money than they could spend, the filthy rich, over a trillion dollars in tax breaks.

You didn't get mad when lack of oversight and regulations from the Bush Administration caused U.S. Citizens to lose 12 trillion dollars in investments, retirement and home values.

You didn't get mad when we didn't catch Bin Laden.

You didn't get mad when Bush rang up 10 trillion dollars in combined budget and current account deficits.

You didn't get mad when we let a major U.S. city, New Orleans, drown.

You didn't get mad when GOP Joe Barton (rep. Texas) apologized to BP for BP having to pay people that were affected, displaced by the oil spill.

You didn't get mad when the Supreme Court stopped a legal recount and appointed a President.

You didn't get mad when Cheney allowed energy company officials to dictate energy policy and push us to invade Iraq.

You didn't get mad that at the end of the Bush presidency we were loosing 750,000 jobs a MONTH.

You didn't get mad when we illegally invaded a country that posed no threat to us.

You didn't get mad when we spent over 800 billion (and counting) on said illegal war.

You didn't get mad when Bush borrowed more money from foreign sources than the previous 42 Presidents combined.

You didn't get mad when over 10 billion dollars in cash just disappeared in Iraq.

You didn't get mad when you found out we were torturing people!!!!

You didn't get mad when you saw the horrible conditions at Walter Reed.

You didn't get mad when Bush embraced trade and outsourcing policies that shipped 6 million American jobs out of the country.

You didn't get mad when the government was illegally wiretapping Americans.

You didn't get mad when, as a result of of the reckless harm done by the Bush administration, our country might never be able to fully recover...

No...You finally got mad when a black man was elected President and decided that people in America deserved the right to see a doctor if they are sick!...

Never Again, Again

"Live and don't learn.  That's our motto."
{Hobbes, "Calvin and Hobbes"}

My inability to learn from my past mistakes is astounding.  I drank 14 beers last night, smoking the entire time, and woke up feeling gross.  I managed to make it in to work only 25 minutes late, and I claimed that my power went out and reset my alarm clock.  The sad thing is that I gave serious consideration to drinking tonight.  I've got this aching emptiness inside of me, and it compels me to pursue anything that might fill it, even for a moment, with a feverish madness.  The vague promises of a better future are not enough to stop me from mortgaging my potential for instant gratification, which keeps me from bridging the gulf between my life as it is now and the life I want have.

The Limits of Empiricism

I read an article about a substance constructed by scientists harder than diamonds.  What is the name of the basic component of this material?  "Buckyball"!  That's right, they gave a substance with amazing properties and potential applications in fields as diverse as engineering to medical science the name of a child's toy.  A cheap-sounding toy, at that.  It's scientific name is "Buckminsterfullerene," but that's hardly an improvement.  It sounds like the name of a show dog.  According to the Wikipedia article, it was named for a "noted futurist and inventor."  It's great to honor people, but I really don't think they thought this through.

"That's the problem with science.  You've got a bunch of empiricists trying to describe things of unimaginable wonder."
{Calvin, "Calvin and Hobbes"}

Just What the 'Net Needs: More Cat Photos!

My friend Jonathan has promised me that the only thing standing between this blog in its present obscurity and internet fame are apparently a lack of cat pictures. (Said promise was implicitly implied and represents an enforceable contract, BTW.)  I really, really try to avoid the "cat mad spinster" cliché.  In fact, (almost) all of the cat-related items that I own—i.e. magnets, books and *cringe* oven mitts—were given to me by friends and family members.  (My mother gave me the oven mitts, so I could never bear to get rid of them.)  But I'm also a whore, so I will happily comply.

I personally have two cats:  Bailey, my 15 year old male, and Pfeiffer, my 13 year old female.

Bailey is an orange and yellow tabby.  He is as dumb as a box of hammers and a complete shit.  Don't get me wrong, I've had him since he was a kitten, and I love him more than anything.  But nobody else who has ever met him feels the same way.  (My sister, who lived with him for a summer, calls him "Kitt-iot.")  Bailey was named after Tom Bailey, lead singer of the Thompson Twins, my all-time favorite group.

My personal rock god

Pfeifer is grey with some striping.  I got her as an adult from a cat shelter as a companion for Bailey because I was worried that I wasn't giving him enough attention.  She is incredibly sweet-natured if a little clingy and needy.  She wants to be petted 24/7, and I do my best to accommodate her, particularly when she taps me with her paw to let me know that petting is required.  Pfeiffer was named after the lovely and talented Michelle Pfeiffer and her sexy, sensual depiction of cat woman.

"Meow" indeed!

So without further ado, I bring you...

Michael's Kitties on Parade!


Bailey sez, No pictures! No pictures!



Pfeiffer, in repose



All shall love me and despair!

A dainty little pose

Cuddling in their younger days

Cuddling while channeling the devil



The Foundling

Of course, I'd be remiss without posting a couple of kitten pictures.  I fostered this adorable little kitten after he was found in the downtown parking garage across the street from where I worked.  Bailey & Pfeiffer were amazingly and actively disinterested in expanding into a threesome, but I found the little guy a wonderful home with the crazy aunt of one of my co-workers.  (I look like I have him in a death grip in the second photo, but I was just trying to hold him still for the picture.  I promise I was being gentle.)

 

The LOLCats

Finally, I bring you the obligatory LOLCat, especially for fans of Batman's The Dark Knight.

Just Sad

Last night I did an internet search on Colin Farrell, making sure I was spelling his name correctly in my post about Total Recall.  Anyway, I found out that he was the victim of a stalker, who actually rushed him during the live taping of a "Tonight Show" interview.  She claims that Farrell had been stalking her and that she was only trying to serve him with court papers.  She self-published a book titled Colin Farrell: A Dark Twisted Puppy and a song "Colin Farrell Is My Bitch."

She also posted a YouTube rant that you can play below.

Leaving the issue of whether or not her claims have any merit whatsoever aside, I at first thought it was funny just watching her crazy unfold unchecked.  But then I started to think about how sad it all is, how much pain she must be in and what traumas in her life (and probably childhood) brought her to this point.

She reminds me of a tableau I once witnessed while living in Hollywood.  This guy in unconvincing drag and a cheap blonde wig was screaming at his boyfriend about how he didn't love him.  It was quite the scene, and I wasn't the only spectator, even in jaded Los Angeles.  Everyone I told the story to remarked about how hysterical it all must have been, but really I just felt sorry for the guy.  It was obvious that he was hurting and unhappy, and again one can only imagine the experiences that had brought his life to that point.

A Basket Case Myself

Perhaps I can sympathize more than most because I'm one misfired synapse away from a complete mental breakdown.  Sometimes it's all I can do not to burst into tears while watching the mawkish resolution of some uninspired sitcom or even a saccharine children's cartoon.  All of that unresolved emotion bubbling under the surface of my consciousness is truly frightening to me sometimes.

Austerity Measures

Day 2 and still on track.  Of course, once again, whenever I do anything with an eye towards the future, my anxieties go into overtime (see above).  For the time being, I will change to a different kind of personal roundup:

Diet: Followed without cheating
Gym: Went
Finances: No extraneous purchases

Austerity Measures (Reboot)

OK, last week was less than a stellar week for getting my body and my finances into shape.  I drank one night, and I am officially maxed out on all of my credit cards.  My eating has been unchecked, including an unfortunate encounter with ice cream.  (Keep in mind that my doctor has warned me that I'm pre-diabetic and need to drastically change my habits.)

So today is the day I climb back up on that wagon.  I've stuck to my diet, and I even dragged myself to the gym.  Time will tell...

A Hunk of Inspiration

I went to see Total Recall last weekend.  (Speaking of reboots, more on that below...)  One of the previews was for the upcoming James Bond film, starring hunky Daniel Craig.  And I decided that he would be my weight loss inspiration.  It's not that I think I'm going to end up looking like his twin.  Instead it's more the fact that he is my age (a couple of years older, actually).  Since he is still (rightly) being cast as a hottie, it makes me think that it's not too late for me to be the fittest and best-looking I've ever been.

This is me Summer 2013 (Tentative)

So Was It Real?  Or Rekall?

***WARNING: SPOILER ALERT***

Even though it hasn't had the best reviews, I really enjoyed Total Recall.  Colin Farrell did a great job and is definitely easy on the eyes.  The question at the end of the film is whether any of it actually happened or was it all the fake memories his character sought to have implanted from Total Rekall.  I have a theory that people like me—people whose grip on reality is a little shaky—tend to believe it was all a hallucination while the more firmly grounded take it at face value.

Assuming everything that happens in the movie is occurring in "real" life, it begs the question about the main character's redemption and change of heart.  Colin Farrel's character was the top, most ruthless intelligence agent working for the fascist government.  He used the technology employed by Total Rekall to infiltrate the rebel leadership so that even he was unaware of being a double-agent.  However, his constructed persona truly sympathized with the rebels and assisted them in achieving their goals, even after he found out the truth.  (This plot device was actually almost identically explored in one of my recent video games, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic.)

Looking beyond the happy ending brought on by the main characters' refusal to go back to being his former "evil" self, what does it say about the nature of humans when his internal morality is imposed upon him by an external set of chemistry?  Now the materialist would argue that this demonstrates human beings are nothing more that wetware with absolutely no self-determination or free will.  Consciousness is an illusion and nothing more than a pre-determined chemical reaction.  But I would suggest that the spiritually minded could just easily argue that it simply demonstrates the fact that God/the universe/life gives everyone a chance a redemption.  What do you think? 

Saving the Galaxy...What've You Been Up To?

I really, really enjoy computer role-playing video games (CRPG's), especially ones with vibrant characters and a great plot.  I think I've distilled my obsession with gaming into a few critical areas.  In video games (as opposed to my real life):

1. I can eventually overcome every obstacle put in front of me;
2. I have some measure of control over my life and surroundings;
3. I can develop my relationships and my interpersonal needs exactly to plan;
4. I have an impact on the world around me, usually in a monumentally positive way; and
5. I actually matter.

As much as I like the games I like, I'm unusually particular about the ones I'm interested in, so I can go weeks or months without finding one that captures my imagination.  I've never got into any of the massively multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPG's) because I play games to escape real life and my problems, so I don't really want to be surrounded by a bunch of socially maladjusted, emotionally stunted nerds like myself when I'm gaming.

Anyway, lately I've been wasting my time with two Star Wars video games that came out several years ago.  Last weekend I finished Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic.  And now I am working on the sequel, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords.  Both games take place about 4,000 years before the events in the movies so they don't have a lot of bearing on the film canon.  In both games you can develop your character as a noble Jedi or a dark Sith.  I take the Jedi path because, since video games are a surrogate for the deficiencies in my real life, I want to help people in ways I wish I could help others around me. 

Make no mistake, video games can definitely be addictive.  Every so often you find a story about a gamer collapsing (or even dying!) after marathon gaming binges, and Amsterdam has opened the first video game addiction clinic.  I'm not quite that bad, but as an addict/addictive personality type, I will obsess about anything that stimulates the pleasure centers in my brain.  Maturity for me has always been an uphill battle, kicking and screaming.  But even in my more responsible middle age I will stay up way too late on a work night or ignore practical matters like laundry when I get caught up in video game fever.

Urinal Stances

I've spent a lot of years observing men's behavior in public restrooms.  Not in the way you might be thinking of!  (OK, there was that one time...)  But I've notice that a lot of guys adopt a particular stance—striking a kind of pose, if you will—while at the urinal.  My theory is that using a public urinal produces a vestigial feeling of vulnerability that brings out a defensive instinct, and a guy's stance is a learned behavior designed to overcome this.  Or maybe people are just weird.

Here are the archetypes which I have personally observed:

• The Plain Jane:  Purely functional...Get in, get out.
• The Multitasker:  Reading something held in one hand.
• The Gregarious:  Talking or texting on a cell phone.
• The Teapot:  One fist on a hip, arm crooked.
• The Superhero:  Both fists on hips, feet wide apart.
• The Eyes-On-Your-Own-Work:  Hunched over, shielded from view.
• The Eyes-On-Other's-Work:  Has a roving gaze.  Not necessarily gay, might just be doing a comparative analysis.

S.S.D.D.

I try, but see no benefit in the trying.  Every time I try to improve my lot in life, I'm sure tragedy is just around the corner.  I'm certain that I'm about to drop dead from a heart attack (I can even feel one coming on when the panic overtakes me), and all of my effort is wasted time and energy.

The Unbearable Agony of Being

Considering how dedicated I am to the principle of the preciousness of life and the preservation of life, it is ironic how much I actually thoroughly despise being alive.

Last night, in a rare moment of quietude from my elder cat Bailey, I was stroking him gently while I lay down in bed.  Bailey is fifteen years old, which translates to roughly 76 years old in human terms.  He used to be a large cat, but now he has shriveled down to almost literally skin and bones.  He has access to food 24/7, but age has diminished his apetite and his body's ability to create muscle and fat.

I spiralled down into thinking how it won't be long before Bailey is gone from me forever.  I raised him from a kitten, and I know that his loss will devastate me.  I know also that I will torture myself for the rest of my days with memories of every sharp word, every unkindness I ever showed him and berate myself into believing that I never did right by him.

Life is nothing but an endless process of decay.  Our lives slip away from us and break down until every thing that we hold dear and everything that we cherish dissipates into the entropic unraveling of being.  We greedily snatch what little moments of pleasure we can actually steal from life, but it is little more than a lie and an illusion to get us through our days.

Stop the Culture Wars...I Want to Get Off

The Chick-Fil-A fiasco is finally winding down.  Last Wednesday thousands of the faithful went out to show their support in an unofficial "Chick-Fil-A Appreciation Day."  Then last Friday gays around the country protested the chain with a same-sex kissing day.  I made the mistake of reading the articles about the events and the tragic mistake of reading the comments.

Opinions are like assholes:  Everybody's got one, and they ain't too pretty.

I'm tired of both sides and of endless rhetoric.  When I was living with my parents, they used to watch Bill O'Reilly every night while we ate salad together.  I had to stop eating with them because I just couldn't stand watching The O'Reilly Factor anymore.  It wasn't so much the conservative opinions being expressed as it was that I was fed up with talking heads.  My sympathies often lie with the political left, although a lot less often than my conservative parents seem to realize.  But the left can be just as fascist and intolerant of dissent as the right.  The city councilman trying to bar Chick-Fil-A from being able to open a restaurant in his jurisdiction is a perfect example.  That's an abuse of power and totalitarian thinking.  Don't infringe on the rights of others, even if you think you are doing it for a noble cause.

Austerity Measures

Don't ask.

Austerity Measures

Today is Day 1 of my austerity measures in my diet and personal finance.  I have a long history of vacillating between overindulgence and austerity.  In the two weeks I was supposed to be changing my eating habits to stave off diabetes, I've been drinking (a lot!) and eating pretty much whatever I wanted.  All that alcohol is expensive, and I have completely lost control of my finances.  But all I can do is try once more.  So far, so good with the diet, although I usually get black-flagged on the last lap when I freak out on my "hungry" medicine.  I've got a crick in my neck, and I was going to go get a chair massage at lunch.  But I decided to save my money instead.  Like I said, so far, so good.  Talk to me in a week, however.

One By One

So far I've gotten rejections from three of the magazines I sent poems to and the one magazine I sent a short story to.  It's hard not to get discouraged when nobody seems interested in what I'm serving up.