Friend Ship of Fools

I have this guy that I've known for twenty-two years.

We suffered through band together. He was my roommate for a long while in college. I was a groomsman at his wedding, and when I was unemployed for such a long time, he and his wife let me live in their house for a while.

THAT is a friend.

But some total stranger who sees a clip I uploaded to YouTube, likes it, and wants to initiate some kind of connection is not a "friend," and to use the word in that superficial, frivolous way seems like an insult to my actual friends and a denegration of the word itself.

I know that I take words more seriously than do most people, but surely I'm not the only one who wishes YouTube and MySpace and all those other "virtual networking sites" would find another word to use.

_ __ __________ __ _

By the way, I've been spending more time beating this re-design into shape, and I've almost got it where I want it.

The downside is that I've been spending so much time on how it looks that I've been neglecting the content somewhat. I'll do better soon, 'promise.

Hits as of now: 43,642

Breaker Box of Surprises

Technology sucks.

"Well, of course it does" you should be thinking.

But here's my latest story of why technology sucks. It starts with a photograph of my new apartment.

I took it last night. Isn't it cool?

I'm sorry it's so dark, but that's only because when I got home from work last night I had NO FUCKING ELECTRICITY!

Even the security lights outside were off, but only outside my door. Around every other door there was an all-night glow and the hum of a few insects. But my place was dark inside.

I went back to work and tried to call the electric company but couldn't get anyone. So I camped there for a bit, watched Hulu, and then went home to camp out for the night, armed against the dark staircase with a flashlight and couple of candles. This morning I threw what I could salvage from the 'fridge into a cooler and called the electric company from work. And learned a few things:

1. Their phone system is a bitch unless you have your account number in front of you, but I've never received a bill so I had no number
2. My account had never been set up in the first place, and for the past month I've been using the apartment manager's electricity without knowing it. I don't know yet what that may cost me in money, but I really don't want to look like some deadbeat leech.
3. They can have the electricity back on Monday. It could be on today if I pay a large fee, which I won't do because I object to having to fork over money because someone else screwed up.

So it will be an interesting weekend. I might get more done, since I can't waste time in front of the television or editing video clips (I did the Man of the Month clip for December Tuesday night, by the way.). Last night I made a mental list of things I could do without electricity, which consisted mostly of sleep, read, and work out - all things I don't do enough of anyway. I started to have a run this morning, but when I realized that I wouldn't have any hot water for a shower afterward, I changed my mind.

And I'm feeling embarrassed and weak that I feel like I need electricity so much. What would my pioneer grandparents say?

Hits as of now: 28775

Twelve Step-by-step

Another piece of the puzzle that is getting my life back under control is in place.

Yesterday I put a deposit down on an apartment. On Monday, I go to sign the lease and get the keys, and Tuesday I start moving in. It's just a little one bedroom place in a run-down complex near the office, but after months of being homeless and living off the kindness of friends, it will feel good to have my own place again.

It's not anything like the place I used to have, so I doubt that I'll get to play the host for a while, but there is an interesting view from the bedroom window: it overlooks the soccer practice field at the local community college.

Hits as of now: 22968

Fifth World View

This morning NPR's Diane Rehm had with her a collection of ten economists and financial experts of various political stripes (whenever The Nation's William Greider gets invited onto a talk show, the guest list is pretty diverse.) to discuss the current economic crisis (meltdown? disaster? circlejerk?) and what long term changes it might create for American capitalism.

Most of my life, capitalism as practiced in the USA has seemed too blood-thirsty and amoral for my tastes. It's pretty obvious that greed works, but it just seems unwise to base an economic system and the larger part of our society on a human vice! European businesses for years have complained about the outrageous and often unethical lengths USAmerican businesses will go to make money. They even speak of "American capitalism," to distinguish it from what's practiced in Europe.

Admittedly, I didn't hear all of the radio discussion this morning - just two long passages, one from each hour - but I did hear a few mentions of our system changing to become more "Asian." More like the economies of Japan and China, where there is more government intervention and control.

I couldn't contact the show to get a question in, but I wanted to ask the experts to compare USAmerican capitalism to that practiced in the so-called "Fifth World" of Scandanavia, Switzerland, and Iceland. (Okay, maybe Iceland is not a good example right now.) If we want an economy where there's freedom enough to start a business and make money BUT the government enforces the "rules of the game" to prevent unethical and foolish business practices; if we want a society where people enjoy a balance of security and freedom, with a high standard of living; then the Fifth World nations would seem a good model to follow. Certainly a better model than China.

_ __ __ ____________________ __ __ _

I'm no kind of expert, but if you don't know the term, I'll explain it the way it was explained to me. . .

Years ago, Cold War era sociologists and political scientists divided the world into First, Second, and Third World nations. First World nations had industry and capitalist economies. Second World nations had industry and communist economies. Those two groups would fight for control of the Third World nations, which had little or no industry but had natural resources. (I did tell you these were Cold War thinkers, right?)

A decade or so later, some other sociologist coined the term "Fourth World" to describe countries with some industry but where most of the wealth was controlled by a minority of the people. Dictatorships and theocracies fall into this category. I'm pretty sure I'd include Mexico too, but I can't quite decide if the USA qualifies.

Then, later still, some Swedish economist coined the term "Fifth World" to describe the economy of Sweden, where there is industrialization and "controlled capitalism," and where virtually everyone is middle class. Regulations there have made it hard to be wealthy, but they've also pretty much eliminated poverty.

To me, it all sounds like a very "Star Trek: Next Generation" place to live, but I'd prefer that to a society spawned by Winston Smith and Ralph Nickleby gang-banging Ayn Rand.

(I remember now why I stopped
writing these Thursday things:
I don't know when to shut up.)

Hits as of now: 21786

Body Shop of Horrors

Imagine that you've always wanted a Jaguar convertible.

It's a bit pricey for your budget, but you work hard for years, saving your money, keeping your goal in mind all the time until you have the money.

Then, as soon as you actually buy the thing, you get out a can of spray paint and mar the paint job with some trashy graffitti.

So that's what I think of Tyler Southwick's tattoos.

I think they're big, tacky, and vulgar and I can't understand why he'd work for years to build himself into being a statue of what a man should look like, then scratch pay someone to paint into his skin like that.

Yeah, I know it's his body and it's not my decision to make and it's just an opinion and other people like them... Yeah, yeah, fucking yeah! As long as we're being so open-minded, I'm sure there're people who'd like to paint bigger tits on the Mona Lisa. Maybe we should let them.

Hits as of now: 75231

Writer's Block Aid

During the week, these random ideas come to me. Some are amusing; some, seemingly profound. And usually I think something like "Cool. I'll talk about that next Thursday."

But, of course, I don't write them down, so when Thursday comes around I can't remember any of them.

This is where that "writer's journal" (read that with a tone of mocking condescension, the way I typed it), that I've been told repeatedly I should have, would come in handy, but I don't have one. Which really means "I don't use one." Having one is the easy part. This place is littered with blank notebooks of various sizes and shapes. (Damn my sad addiction to buying office supplies! Honestly, in Staples, I'm like Imelda Marcos visiting Manolo Blahnik.)

I suppose the really responsible thing to do would be to not only write down these random ideas, but also to choose one well in advance of Thursday and start writing earlier. To go through a couple of drafts and revisions, so that when Thursday arrived, I'd have some crisp, polished piece of writing, and not just another aw-Hell-let's-just-type-and-see-what-happens kind of meandering.

The literary equivalent of drool from a baby's mouth.

But these ramblings of mine may be the most honest thing I do. With everything else, I worry about the impression I make. "I want to say X, but how would that make me look?" I wonder. I could talk about this or that, but what would people say.

Even here, in the magic anonymity of the Internet where seemingly anything goes, I edit and censor myself. I'm still afraid to be terribly honest (but pat myself on the back for feeling a bit guilty about it) lest I not be well-liked.

I may talk a lot (a lot!) about integrity and honesty, when so often, when it comes right down to it, I still react like a 7th grade boy who wants to be popular.

Hits as of now: 13328

Han. So Low.

Last week I learned of another new word that exists in another language but not in English.

It was han, a Korean word for an emotion which has no clear translation, but it is described as feelings of anger and frustration, but mixed with a poignant sense of sadness and loss. A feeling of both rage and regret at some loss.

The Korean -- South or North; it doesn't matter -- on the radio was using the word to describe their nation's feelings about the two Korean governments' inability to come to terms that would allow their respective teams to walk together in the opening ceremony in Beijing.

The people of both lands wanted it, both as symbolic gesture and literal steps toward a possible reunification. The people wanted it, but the governments came to no agreement.

The people wanted a hopeful sign; all they got was han.

As soon as I heard the word explained, I realized that it summed up perfectly my feelings toward my own country.

All my life, I've seen the growing chasm that separates the USA I learned about in school from the one I actually live in.

The one from the history books, the one I love so dearly, is a compassionate and welcoming place that steps in to help when it is needed. It's a land of opportunity, a peace-loving country that tries to settle disputes among its neighbours and only pulls a weapon after all else has failed, and then only to defend and never attack. It is baseball, apple pie, Superman, and squeaky clean boy scouts who mows an old lady's yard and refuses to accept any pay.

But it's the other USA that will bite you in the ass. It's an arrogant, condescending kind of place that ignores the rights of other nations, because it finds them inferior, while keeping its own citizens in the dark about its activities, because the proles can't be trusted to direct their own government. It is constantly interfering with other countries internal affairs, using the euphemism "national interests" to disguise that it's usually just using our military to give some corporation what it wants. It is road rage, Hummers, Paris Hilton, and the grubby grocer who raises his prices when everyone in town is stocking up before the hurricane hits.

I long to see this country live up to its potential, to become the land I love. But every morning I wake up in a land that seems to have forgotten its own noble soul. It's there still, I'm sure, buried under neglect and greed and the stress of everyday life.

Still, as sad as this failure makes me, it is much worse for me to realize how many other USAmericans don't see the divide, even when their dreams are tumbling into it.

Much han, indeed.

Hits as of now: 12439

The Importance of Being Ernest Cline

I'm sorry to bring you still another YouTube clip this week, but this is a brilliant summary. Words by Ernest Cline.

Hits as of now: 11666

Question Air Supply

I think I've found a new #1 Language Annoyance.

#1 used to be when people passing on sidewalks and in hallways would reply to my "hello" with "How are you?" and then walk on. Asking a question and then walking away without even giving anyone a chance to answer.

That was bad enough, but then people got stupider. I'd say "hello" and they'd say "fine," answering a question I had not asked.

But now I have found a greeting that annoys me more: people who call up at work and begin the conversation with "How are you today?" before immediately plowing into the real reason they called. Why do they ask a question if they're not going to let anyone answer? And it's become so common that now whenever someone does wait for me to answer, I'm so shocked that I just stammer and don't remember what to say, not even with the customary "fine."

Yes, I realize that this is just social politeness and I should appreciate the fact that they're not being rude on the phone. And I know that language is mostly a matter of habit and they're doing what most everyone else does, without realizing the illogic of it. But I am astounded at how many people talk without ever thinking about what they're saying. The Scarecrow was right: some people without brains do an awful lot of talking.

And, dammit, don't ask a question if you don't want an answer! It seems a bit like waving your dick at someone then putting it away again before the actual sex happens.

_ __ ______________________________ __ _

Now that my health seems to have calmed down (blood pressure back to normal, no mysterious aches and itches plaguing me), I've resumed working out, which I started just to look better but now I'm hoping it will help with the blood pressure too. I'm alternating lifting every other day with something more aerobic to work of the fat.

Today it's running, so I have to get my lazy butt up from this chair in a few minutes.

Friday is the first, so it'll be time to take my measurements again. But I doubt I'll be brave enough to post them here.

_ __ ______________________________ __ _

And now this week's experiment of putting in random words to see how they affect what ads Google gives me: cheese, cheesy, cheddar, Swiss cheese, smoked gouda, Monterrey Jack, cheese sauce, cheese knife, cheese grater, Wisconsin, Monty Python.

Hits as of now: 10983

Unequivocal Terms of Endearment

I've found another term to name something that I don't think should exist.

The first was working poor. Ever since I learned about Teddy Roosevelt's idea of a living wage, I've agreed with him that anyone who works full time should earn enough money to live on. Maybe not live in any kind of luxury, but enough to survive. The idea that a nation that claims to be so civilized could have people who work full time and still can't pay their bills is disgusting to me.

The second term that shouldn't exist I got from Wes. He told me about what he calls nineteen-year-old has-beens, those guys who graduated last spring but they hang around at after-school football practice, wishing they were still out there. There are thousands of these people. They're not all guys, and it's not always football that attracts them, but they grow up to be the Al Bundy's of the world, constantly re-living their time in high school because nothing since then has been as good.

While we as a society have been taking rigorous education out of schools, we've also been turning them into the social hub of students' lives, so that afterward life seems never so fun, never so exciting again. It's shameful: no one as young as nineteen should ever think the best part of their life is over.

____________________

The newest addition to my collection I heard from Anna Greenberg, senior vice president of Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, when she was interviewed on the News Hour with(out) Jim Lehrer on June 30.

During a segment on how candidates have to struggle to fight disinformation and rumours, she referred to the low-information voter, a group that is particularly susceptible to incorrect information (and, I suspect, the people that make Fox Noise so popular). She even described how some of them resist information: "If they get a piece of information they don't like, they assume it's not true."

Low-information voters are something else that just shouldn't exist. In order for democracy to work, voter have to know what's going on. Uninformed and ignorant people are just too easy to lie to, to mislead with bogus information, and these people should not be voting.

To be honest, I can't think of a fair way to stop them from exercising their rights -- short of some kind of current events test before they're allowed to register to vote -- but there must be something that can be done. Jefferson said it years ago: "Democracy requires an educated electorate."

And Wes talks about this too; he likes to say that he believes in the power of enlightened self-interest, but we don't have enough enlightened people to make it work any more.

Hits as of now: 8735

Let George Do It 2

These are actually warmed-over Thoughts from LAST Thursday. Sorry, but I don't think as fast as I used to.

Actually, the delay was partially because Tommy and I wrote this together, in a truly tedious exchange of email. The British slang is his; the sprinkling of alliteration is mine. He's gonna put it on YouTube; I'm putting it here.


Imagine for a moment that Billy Graham is dead.

Imagine the outpouring of grief and sorrow that would follow. To Christians, his passing will seem a tremendous loss: Since 1943, Graham has been a prominent and moving voice of their beliefs.

And the lifelong devotees will be joined by hundreds of thousands who never heard him speak, never read his books. He has been around their whole lives. He represents constancy and stability, and his passing will conjure up frightening realizations that nothing and no one lasts forever.

Billy Graham is still alive and reasonably well at 90, but this description is an attempt to show how we reacted to the death of George Carlin last week.

Since 1960, Carlin has been a loud, influential, and damned funny voice about so many things that truly matter: both the remarkable power and sometimes utter idiocy of language, the banal stupidity of day-to-day life, and the immoral domination of big government and big religion and the unthinking foolishness of humans who allow themselves to be dominated.

Carlin warned us repeatedly that too many of us are willing to sacrifice freedom from oppression in order to continue to comfortable status quo we’ve lived our lives in. He wasn’t the first. Circa the year 100, the Roman poet Juvenal said the same thing, that the people would tolerate all kinds of government corruption and tyranny so long as they still got their “bread and circuses.” In 1787, after a woman asked Benjamin Franklin what type of government the newly signed Constitution would create, he replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.”

But we didn’t keep it. We let insiders take it from us. Multi-generational dynasties of “the right people” who all belong to the same clubs and get educated at the same schools. This includes the current president: he may pretend to be just another West Texas good ol’ boy, but he’s the private school-educated son of a former president and grandson of a US Senator who reportedly sold weapons to his much admired Adolf Hitler. And this is not to blast Republicans: the other party is just as bad. Too many insiders retaining power and information to themselves and working hard to make the voters feel effectual. They didn’t need to rig elections: they just had to make sure that all the “real” candidates were their kind of people.

And we let them. Instead of bread and circuses, we sold our democratic republic for fast food and cable TV, Starbucks and online access. Keep us fat and entertained, and we won’t rock the boat hard enough to drown the bastards in charge before they steal the lifeboats and sink the rest of us.

Government wasn’t Carlin’s only target. Though he refused to call himself an “atheist” — making himself, by default, a “theist” — he did speak out against the bullshit of organized religion. It gives us flimsy excuses offered to cover up the inconsistencies of what’s said to be consistent and hide the flaws in what’s thought to be infallible. And always there’s a push to spread the word, to recruit more sheep to the flock, to shove doctrine down the throats of those who disagree.

And here Carlin was spot on.

At a time when the powerbrokers have the bogeyman of terrorism to scare more citizens into shutting up and saluting the flag, and when religions are driven to new lengths by increasing numbers of people abandoning religion for reason, we need people like George Carlin to point at the naked emperors and draw attention to the bullshit.

For 48 years, he was there, talking loudly about things that mattered and making us laugh while we learned. He was hilarious. He was intelligent. He was thought-provoking and far more important to this nation than many realize.

Well done, George, and thank you. We’ll take it from here, and we’ll try not to let you down.

George Denis Patrick Carlin
May 12, 1937 – June 22, 2008

Hits as of now: 7918

Fascist Pig Roast

I finally made time to drive past the Governor's Mansion to see the fire damage myself. I didn't stop to take any photos -- the one above is lifted from the NYT -- and the people and cars made it hard to see, but I could take in how extensive the damage was. According to news reports, the first floor is extensively damaged, but the second was practically gutted. That much damage to a building that large is easy to see.

Easy to see, but hard to look at. At least hard for me.

Of course, I'm pretty quick to criticize Texas, but I do love the place, if not most of the people, and I love history enough to be fond of this grand building. Built in the 1850s by former coffin maker Abner Cook, our Governor's Mansion is the oldest continually occupied executive mansion west of the Mississippi. Right now it feels like the arsonists who torched it on June 8 destroyed a lot of history, but in the long run they'll just have added to its history. The mansion will be restored, and this fire will become another episode, just like Gov. Hogg driving nails into the balustrade to keep his son from sliding down it.

The arson job was just last week, but the house has actually been unoccupied since last fall sometime. Governor Goodhair and the wife are living in West Austin while the mansion was being extensively restored. The man's luck continues to protect him, like when his wife moved out and the gay rumours flew around town, then just as quickly stopped.

When I talked about this to Tommy, he gave one of his usual smartass comments: he wished they'd burned the Governor and left the mansion alone. And around here, there are lots of people who'd agree with him. But I didn't tell Tommy that: he likes to think all his ideas are exclusively his.

Hits as of now: 5021

Live Free Thought

Wes sent me this ad he found in the throw-away newspaper in Dallas -- like the Observer, but with more expensive crap for sale.

He sent it because he knows I can't stand the North Texas Church of Freethought. A few years ago, when I lived in Dallas, I went for a few weeks, mostly because I wanted to meet other atheists and do something to shed the feeling that I was the only one. In Texas, surrounded as I am by people who don't think to deeply about their own beliefs, it's easy to feel isolated.

On the surface, this "Church" seemed to combine all the social aspects of a congregation without the belief in an imaginary friend.

Cool, I thought.

But over a very short period of time, the flaws in their group became really obvious.

It was begun in 1994 by four people -- two married couples -- who donated their own money to start things up. But these same four people were also the only people who occupied any offices. Not elected offices, mind you: these people were self-appointed, and there were no rules I could find about electing replacements. They led the group and made all the decisions. Suggestions that opposed their ideas were gently discouraged at first, after which the founders would just remind whomever that it was their money that had begun the church.

In short, these four people had taken a good idea, a useful concept, and turned it into their own private power trip.

I don't mean to say that it was at all cultish. It wasn't. Meetings were open to the public, members weren't kept in isolation from outside influences, and there was no secrecy about the goings on. It wasn't a cult. Just four people who had put themselves in control of a group and wanted to stay there.

But that's not my problem anymore.

Here in Austin, it's much cooler. The Atheist Community of Austin is a large and diverse group with a lot of activities and a lot more fairness and equality than the North Texas Church of Freethought had.

Hits as of now: 2094

Eddie Money Matters

Okay, everyone who sometimes spends too much money, raise your hand.

Ah ha! No one can touch their mouse now to scroll down. Not good. Put those hands down.

If you -- like I -- sometimes spend money somewhat wastefully, buying things you don't really need and the like, then I've come across a mental trick that might help you. At least I think it might help you, because it's been helping me.

The trick is this: don't measure prices in dollars (or Euros or pesos or whatever coin-of-the-realm you're using). Instead, before opening your wallet, mentally convert that price into hours; that is, do the math to turn the dollar amount into how much time it takes for you to earn that much money.

Yeah, sure, I'm not the first to say "time is money." (It was first said in 1842 by one Ebenezer Scrooge, British financier and philosophical founder of the Free Market wing of the modern Republican Party.) And I'm probably not the first to suggest this particular trick. Still, it's lack of originality doesn't make it a bad idea.

I first thought of this last week while putting gas into my truck. I was on my way home from work and stopped at some Chevron station, playing the little game of trying to look cool while pumping gas, when something occurred to me: I'd just put in an eight-hour day at work, only to stop and put four hours of that money into my gas tank. In fact, every week I spend one entire day's worth of money into my gas tank, just to get to and from work.

Of course, this brings up several points, such as 1) I live too far from my job, and 2) I don't earn enough per hour, and 3) Ooo, aren't gas prices horrible!, and 4) Texas is too uncivilized to have much in the way of public transportation.

But the more exciting idea was for me to start thinking of money as literal time, specifically as the amount of time it took to put that much money into my pocket. It's easy to go out to eat with some friends at the restaurants they prefer, but when I consider that that one meal takes two hours of work to pay for, I'm more likely to suggest some place cheaper.

All this trick of mine really does is change my perspective on the value of money and, therefore, on everything else. Nothing real is changed; only my thinking about prices.

But who the Hell cares? If it gets me to stopping spending money on things I don't need, I like it.

____________________

Just a quick update on my favourite subject: myself.

It's been a fairly productive week so far. Not only did I finally start running again-- actually doing something to get rid of these last ten pounds that hide the abs I've been working on -- but I also re-did my taxes finally.

My return was electronically filed before the deadline, but the IRS rejected it and sent it back for some changes. Monday night, I finally dug out the requisite paperwork and made the changes. No word yet on whether this new version is IRS-acceptable, but I'll know soon. If it fails again, I may have to pay someone to make things right.

And I got a raise. Sort of. What I actually got was a promise of a raise starting in June.

I've only been there about five weeks, but I've been trying hard to learn the business and make myself really useful. It seems a good fit so far. They need someone who can do a variety of things moderately well, and so far I can handle all of that. I'm still having trouble trying to write in that environment (too much noise and too many interruptions), but I'll get that done for them too.

Sugar High Cotton

Einstein once defined insanity as repeatedly doing the same thing but expecting different results.

I've been doing that. I noticed years ago that I'm much more awake and productive when I don't have any sugar or caffeine. Sure, they're fun in the short term, but once they've burned up in my system I'm more sluggish and slow than I was before.

And I noticed that I'm much more inventive and creative when I have some quiet, when I'm not futzing around online and when there's no television or music playing. At first, I can be mildly nervous, but eventually I calm down and all kinds of ideas start coming to me. Really good, clever ideas (that I, in my laziness, will never make use of).

Even knowing that, I still fall back into old habits that limit my productivity and inventiveness.

I know what to do.
I know how to do it.
Why is it so damned hard to take the third step and actually do it?

(I know it's not funny, but drawing of the girl who goes to the bathroom a lot makes me laugh. And person who make the picture knew that "a lot" is two words. Hurray!)

Name Dropping the Soap

Monday, I checked on my YouTube account, hoping to find that some comments had been made to any of my clips there.

I found a few comments, but I also found a message from someone claiming to be Kevin Gould.

Not to sound naif or anything, it could really be he. He's rumoured to have been contacting people online, asking them to remove this photo or that clip, because of copyright issues.

If the message really did come from Kevin Gould, he was very nice. He didn't ask me to remove my Man of the Month clip featuring him, though he would like, the message said, for me to replace some of the more risque ones with other photos. He even pointed me to a Website where I could find other pictures of him to use instead.

The request seemed so reasonable, that I just wrote back and said that I'd do it, if he'd let me know which ones he thought were too racy.

Then I called Wes and Tommy in Dallas, ostensibly just to talk but really wanting to brag about having had an message from Kevin Gould. But Wes topped me: his YouTube account had received a message from The Kids in the Hall, thanking him for putting one of their skits up. That one-upping bastard!

So I'll do my bragging here.

Mind Less Drivel

For a long time I've thought that time spent alone with one's own thoughts -- even just a few minutes a day -- is vital to being a balanced person who knows themselves well. That's why I think prayer and meditation work for some people: because it gives them time to sort out their own thoughts. This clear, calm thinking, without background music or the like, brings on the feeling of calm refreshment that so many experience.

Prayer doesn't work because their imaginary friend is listening; it works because it's much needed time alone with themselves.

But over the past year, I begun to wonder if that's not exactly why most Americans don't spend quiet time with their own thoughts: because so many people are deeply unhappy with their own lives. But they don't have to realize that, not so long as they can fill their time with all sorts of distractions to keep from pondering their own existence.

That's why so many people learn to turn on the television the minute their feet hit the floor in the morning, or feel they have to have music playing in their ears every second of the day. And why some are so obsessed with the superficiality of American Idol or the lives of so-called celebrities; talking endlessly about the spitefulness of Simon Cowell or the latest humiliations for Britney, Lindsey, or Paris means they don't have to spend time considering the growing gulf between the lives they have and the lives they dreamed of.

(Man, my thoughts are in a dark place today.)

Cowardly Lion in Winter

It's a very old idea that one should "find yourself."
"Know who you really are."
"Get in touch with yourself."

Truly knowing who one is, what kind of person one is, is not an easy thing. It requires a great deal of thought and introspection, of honest, unemotional analysis into actions and the motivations behind them and the emotions behind those.

And it requires time -- lots of time -- for all this work to be done.

Thanks to my year-off from work (which has expensively grown into almost two years now) I've had the time, and the combination of my personality and years of therapy I've had the ability and inclination to do this kind of thinking. One of the few good things to result from twenty months of unproductivity and idleness is that I now have really good understanding of what kind of man I am. I've dug into how I instinctively behave in given situations AND why I behave that way AND what in my history taught me to behave that way.

But this has presented me with another problem: What do I do if I get to know myself and find I don't like me very much?

Okay, "like" is not the right word. "Respect" is better. I don't respect myself very much. I believe we all carry in our heads an informal list of the behaviours that earn our respect, subconsciously comparing other's behaviour to what's on our list, deciding based on the comparison whether to respect someone we meet or not.

But if I compare myself to what's on my list, I can't respect myself.

I respect people who work hard, but I'm terribly lazy. I respect people who discipline themselves, but I'm very undisciplined. I respect active, decisive people, but I'm so afraid of taking chances that I don't do much at all. I respect people who temper their emotions with reason and stay in control, but I tend to react to stressful situations like a tempermental spoiled child. I respect truthful people who behave honourably, but I'm often dishonest, telling lies to get myself out of trouble or to make myself seem more important.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not completely down on myself. Part of being honest about one's self is seeing both the good and the bad, and I do see my good points too. I just hope that it's still possible to work on my bad points to change or eliminate them, to change some really fundamental things about myself to become someone I can truly respect. Is it too late? Is it like someone once told me, that if you haven't started doing something by a certain age then you never will? Old dogs and all that?

I don't want to believe that. I have to hope that I can still change the things that trouble me the most, that I can get past the Stage 3 block that stalls most people. Like Henry says in THE LION IN WINTER, "You and I are alive. For all I know that's what hope looks like."

T.S,, Eliot!

A week ago, I couldn't have told you who Elliot Spitzer was. And I'm fairly sure that neither could most of the people who live in the USA.

But now this governor seems to be all that the news media wants to talk about.

If the allegations are true -- if the man who preached ethics while running for election has indeed be a repeat customer of certain high class prostitutes -- then he is indeed a true scumbag. And he should resign from office, not for visiting prostitutes (which I believe is a matter between him and his family) but for being a first class hypocrite. I'm not in the least going to defend the so-called "Sheriff of Wall Street."

But let's have some balance and perspective here.

Elliot Spitzer frequents whores and is pressured to resign. Bill Clinton lies to Congress about screwing some pathetic office girl and is impeached by the House. In both cases, the media talked about the story until every USAmerican with a pulse had heard about them, and then those people talked about the stories, inspiring still more media coverage. Even today, nine years later, more people can identify Monica Lewinski's name than can name their own congressman.

Meanwhile, there is evidence to suspect people in the Bush Administration of telling lies to start a war,
of reaping huge amounts of money as war profiteers,
of holding secret meetings before 9/11 to find a justification for that war,
of getting revenge on an ambassador by revealing that his wife was a CIA agent,
of illegally spying on American citizens and pressuring businesses to cooperate,
of tampering with voting procedures to determine the outcome of national elections, and
of hiring and firing government workers with greater concern for their politics than their competence.

In 1983, the majority of news media in the USA was controlled by 50 corporations. By 2004, it was controlled by only 5. Read more about this at Take Back the Media

And please notice that I said there was "evidence to suspect." None of these charges has been proven. Because none of them has been completely investigated.

If any of these stories got the kind of relentless corporate media attention that Elliot Spitzer has been getting, then the public outrage would probably demand at least an investigation. That this media attention has not been given to the Bush Administration is probably a direct result of media conglomeration, of the changes in regulations that allow fewer and fewer corporations to control more and more of the news media. Put the media under the control of a handful of very wealthy people, and they'll use that power to protect their own interests, no matter how much it hurts the nation.

We've been so disinterested, so distracted by American Idol and Britney Spears and their superficial ilk, that we've allowed a sort of de facto American politburo to develope. Like a combination of William Randolph Hearst and the Ministry of Truth.

Ultimately, I don't care what party a politician belongs to, or what political philosophy he espouses. If he's guilty of hypocrisy, I want him out of office. If he's guilty of corruption, I want him kept in a tiny, uncomfortable cell at night and chained to a tree near the Jefferson Memorial during the day, so ordinary citizens can line up to punch him in the gut.

Everybody Loathes Raymond

Yesterday I moved into a new place, so I'm a bit busy at the moment and my access to the Internet will be a bit irregular for a while, meaning I'll update when I can.

Instead of meaningless Thoughts for Thursday from me, check out instead The 50 Most Loathsome People in the USA. Entry #9 is both the most apt and most shameful, I think.

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