Fun with Liars #2

I've lately become aware of, and obsessed with, this show called Scarborough Country. It's on MSNBC every night at 9:00 pm. It's one of the channels that Comcast has forgotten to scramble since I disavowed their heinous and insidious service. I digress. Anyway, you may have seen the show. The opening montage depicts scenes from a perfect midwestern existence. Children (white children) playing in their yards, folks (white folks) laughing and waving, people (white people) happily at their jobs. Then the host, Joe Scarborough (a black man? you guess, a Latino?) in overalls, on the farm. The only people of color you see are in the background, sweaty and dirty, doing the weed-whackin' or hanging the laundry. (Just joshin') Last night, he had on Ann Coulter. Ann Coulter. Say it again. Ann Coulter. The name, to me, has become synonymous with hate-mongering and ignorance. The funny thing is, is that I believe that this witch knows that the shit she spews from her pie-hole is bullshit. She's getting paid. She's smart enough to know that there is an audience that agrees with what she says, and she stares down her considerable WASP nose at them with utter contempt. I sincerely believe that Ms. Coulter is laughing all of the way to the bank. I mean, some of the stuff that she writes is beyond rationale and comprehension. Liberals hate America? The terrorists should have blown up the New York Times? She's just inciting book sales. Period. So she's on the show. They start discussing Clinton's new book, My Life. They have on Al Gore's former campaign manager, a Mr. Lehane, to be the token-left-side viewpoint. Whenever Mr. Lehane tries to make a point, he is shouted down by Scarborough. Whenever Coulter goes on a rant about Monica Lewinsky being the only legacy of Bubba's presidency, she is allowed to continue and given obvious approval by the host, Scarborough. It is appalling. It makes the blood boil. Then there are the constant references to the "elite" press by Scarborough. I guess I should stop watching. Jeez, I'm sorry, I'm gonna shut up now.

Independence Day

A friend of a friend was killed trying to catch the bus to work on Sunday afternoon. She was run-over during the Puerto Rican "independence" celebrations during which people clog the streets to drive like maniacs, with huge flags flying and their babies hanging out of mini-van sliding doors, for several days every June. While she lay in the street, someone stole her purse. She died alone and anonymous in the hospital. As of this writing, no witnesses have come forward.

American Independence Day is coming up, as well. During these celebrations, people will stand in the street and unleash a shock and awe style of professional and amateur fireworks upon the neighborhood. There will be young children running all over, with no adult supervision, and in all likelihood, I will be a drunken and full participant in the festivities. Last year I nearly lost my left index finger. Maybe I'll think more about the danger to myself and those around me this year. I doubt it, however.

The friend of a friend is now independent of this disturbing callousness and apathy.

Quite So

In reference to my earlier writing, I found this most succinct and wonderful of quotes.

Strange as it seems, no amount of learning can cure stupidity, and formal education positively fortifies it.

-Stephen Vizinczey

I'd say the ol' boy pretty much hit the nail on the head!

The Grind

I am at work. It's not really work. A primate of lesser standing in the world than homo sapiens could practically do this work. Why do people have to be so hostile and defensive on the phone when you ask them to do something that is their job? Why do some people know more about my job than I do, despite never having done my job? Why are there people with master's degrees who cannot read or write? These things I ponder as I sit in my cube. Oh, time to gopher! It's nothing. Sit down, get back to work...

Ticketbastard

I received my Sonic Youth tickets today in the mail. The show is in Milwaukee on July 30. I had to utilize Ticketmaster to purchase them. Here's the breakdown:

Face value: $40
Facility charge: $2
"Convenience" charge: $12.60
Order processing fee: $3.55
Total cost for two tix: $58.15

I shoulda just drove my ass up there and bought them.

Oh well, mad pumped for the show!

That Lone Oak Tree

I was just listening to some Cash and I was thinking about how that's a way of life and a culture that is lost and dead now. I am proud to say that my family and my experience is tied to that culture. My grandfather was a good man, he was a hog farmer and he owned a lumber yard in north west Ohio. He was a man that was often taken advantage of because of his kindness. He graduated from the same college that I graduated from, and then he went to the asian theater to fight in WWII. He was a captain that commanded "negro" troops. It always mistified me, because he was a racist person and he never learned anything from the troops he commanded. Despite that, he was still one of the best friends that I've ever had. I used to eat lunch with him every Sunday while I was in college. Toward the end of his life, he met this horrendous redneck bitch named Kathy. She bled him dry because he was lonely. I often feel guilty because I never told him to stay away from her. My mother hates her still. I watched him die one night in November of 1993. I will never forget the look on his face as he looked at me. That's what one always needs to remember, your family is the most important thing in your life. It doesn't matter what a fuck you may be, or what you've done, you can always go home. Peace. I'm out.

Nurse. Nurse. NURSE!!!!!

Sonic Youth's new album, Sonic Nurse, came out a coupla days ago. I went and picked up a copy at the Tower Records. The Tower Records has the best library in town. Everything from publications that give advice on how to grow the best organic chard on your back porch in the midst of a smog-infested metropolis to great bondage mags are there.

My ol' lady is watching some motivational speaker on the tube. I told her I was a bloggin'. She mentioned that blogs are just everything that crosses a person's mind all the time and hinted that she doesn't see the purpose. I said that that was exactly the point. It's just a mental poop, I suppose. But's it's there to review for later...

Anyway, the Sonic Nurse album is kick-ass. I highly recommend it. I guess I could use the Patented-Time-Tested Poop system on albums. Why not. 4 big poops! Yep. That's right.

Jimmy Crack Corn

Today is Friday. It is a beautiful day. I just went and visited a friend's candy store. It is called Sucker's Candy Shop and it is on Damen Ave. just north of Belmont on the west side of the street. I highly recommend that you get your ass over there and buy some candy. Tammy needs the money.

The Time Tested Poop Rating System

4 poops - ecstasy of defecation

3 poops - a few exra wipes may be needed, but overall, a satisfying rectal experience

2 poops - starting to get a little shafty here, maybe you got the runs from what was up there on the screen

1 poop - it's shit, but somewhat watchable, you're stuck with a shafty ass that just won't wipe clean

flatulent - sucked, stay away, don't wave it over here, one will be required to fashion a gas mask by pulling one's shirt up to cover nose and mouth

I would like to thank Mr. Dannydoom over at www.dannydoom.net for his cooperation in the creation of the Time Tested Poop Rating System. Many hours were logged on various toilets around Chicago devising the Time Tested Poop Rating System.

The Fog of War

I watched the Fog of War today. I found it to be an exellent and extremely disturbing film given our current war in Iraq. George W. Bush, I implore you, watch this film. We're not talking about preparing for a trip to England by watching such Hollywood fluff as Master and Commander, here. You may actually learn something.

A truly frightening thought: W has the power to launch all of our nuclear weapons. The decision is his and his alone. The man who is by his own admission anti-intellectual, only reads headlines, sees millions of people protesting his decisions as a focus group and cannot speak in public still controls all of that weaponry. W would rather fuck himself in the ass with Saddam's pistol, than debate and analyse a situation from all points of view.

Something else that really struck me, McNamara said that without the support of other countries who shared similar ideologies with the U.S.A., the Vietnam war was doomed from the start. Sound familiar?

There is so much to be said about the film. McNamara's ten lessons and the eleven lessons from the film are a lot to chew on, but oh so simple.

Another bonus was the soundtrack by Phillip Glass. I like his compositions.

Overall poop rating - 4 poops.

Viva Las Bonitas!!!

So, I just returned from Manzanillo, Colima in Mexico, a town whose claim to fame is that the cinema masterpiece that is "10" starring Bo Derek and Dudley Moore was shot there. (Poop rating - 1 Poop.) The trip was everything I'd hoped it would be and more. It was hot, dry, sunny, sandy, fishy, tasty, sexy, filthy, impoverished, wealthy, boozy, wet, fun as hell and most importantly, very enlightening. My group was pretty much the only gringos I saw and after Saturday, we had the resort mostly to ourselves. June is the start of the rainy season there and many of the hotel staff were laid off on May 31. There is no Memorial Day in Mexico, so it was off to home and back to work for the vacationers on Sunday morning. I did not see one single McDonald's. I did not see a Starbuck's and I did not see one Wal-Mart. I did see one Domino's Pizza. I watched a woman butcher a chicken. I watched an old lady pull pork by hand. I paid $40 for a pair of swimming trunks that were worth $6. I tried to go snorkeling but dropped my snorkel in the Pacific before I even got off the boat. The tour guide tried to get me to pay $20 for it, but I refused and ended up paying $10. I ate in a multi-stalled restaurant where the cooks attempted to sell their food to me by screaming at me and grabbing my arm. I ate a delicious guisado de puerco prepared by a woman named Maria. It cost $2.50, with a bottle of Coke, and blew away anything you could get at El Cid or Lazo's. My friend paid two pesos for four squares of toilet paper and the privilege of taking a dump in the filthiest bathroom I've ever seen. I tipped waiters to rack the balls for me at a bar on the seaside. I tried to explain to them that I would rack my own balls, but they wouldn't let me. A seventeen year old girl, the taxi driver and I sang songs on the way home. I saw people living in conditions so horrible, they made any of the black ghettos on the South and West Sides of Chicago look like paradise. I saw people riding in carts drawn by burros. I rode the city bus and now have a new appreciation for the CTA because there was no suspension, no AC and it was a manual transmission. I discussed the war in Iraq and George W. Bush with Anissa, Jorge, Alejandro and Pancho over too many shots of tequilla and several bottles of delicious Sol beer after they performed a play that was so homophobic, they'd never be able to do it here. It was about a vampire who ate everyone but two gay guys, but the two guys scared him off after they tried to have sex with him repeatedly. (I laughed my ass off!) Like virtually everyone else outside of our country, they despise W and think that the war in Iraq is business as usual for America, about oil and disturbingly stupid. I learned a lot from Pancho especially. He was in awe at the amount of money I make, which is a paltry salary here, but would go a long way in Mexico. If I say it in pesos, I do feel rich. 330,000 pesos!!! HOLY SHIT!!! He told me of the discrimination that he faces because he is dark skinned and some hilarious adventure stories. We flew into Mexico City on the way home, a city of 25 million people, and it was an urban landscape as far as I could see in every direction from the airplane window. I've been to a few other countries; the English are pretentious assholes, the Germans are subservient nerds, the Czechs are bitter and hard, the Dutch are just plain freaks and the Canadians are Americans. I found everyone that I came across in Mexico to be extremely cool. I would go back in a heartbeat. Shit, I'd move there.