My New Job

Tonight I watched part of a PBS special about the "golen age" of the Egyptian empire and, after reflecting for a few seconds, I've decided that I want to be a king.

It would be awesome! *I* would be awesome! I would be a stern but demanding ruler, insatiable for power and attention, and I would get it or you would die! That's brilliant! Plus you get goodies when you're king, like deciding to invade other countries for the fuck of it, choosing who or what the populace should worship (if they know what's good for them), and eating whatever the hell I wanted to, possibly hybridizing to get exactly what I want, like making turkey-pigs, or corn-hotdogs, or hamburger-cheese, or whiskey-Coke. Also, I'd have the blingy-est bling in all the land. I would demand, for instance, that my toilet cost no less than the total GDP of three rival kingdoms.

Know what else you get when you're an absolute ruler? Babes. Chicks. Women of sultry repute. I'd have them around me constantly, even if it's just to re-affirm my "Pimp of pimps" status. And don't you ACLU types worry: I'd treat my bitches proppa! No matter what, though, Noelle would be my queen, and I would treat her with no less respect than anyone else who has to do exactly what I say.

In fact, it's destined that I become a king! Below you can see the hieroglyphic by famed king-seer "Chriswillbecomeakingsomedaysoy'allbetterbackthefuckup-domos."

Literature and Language

As I was walking to the BART station after a great lunch (thanks, Miss List...), in the balmy 65 degree heat of San Francisco, I noticed a bumper sticker. The language above was in Spanish, but the translation below read "No Person is Illegal!"

It struck me as a stupid statement until I really thought about how we in America refer to those entering the country by any means but what we consider ideal: illegals. When entering this country it is still cheaper and faster to use backdoor methods to cross the border and land a job than by utilizing the current system (which I learned from my boss, who had her papers stolen last year). So how do we refer to these individuals? We refer to their status by the adjective used to describe their activities.

The previous post demonstrated how a word can attain a personality, but here the word robs people of their personality; in fact, it robs them of their humanity.

Can you tell that the English teacher in me is about to rip through my chest and scamper across this planet unless I go back to college? In blogs, no one can hear you snore (or drink 40s...heh).

Others:

~If you're near a library or bookstore, pick up one of Jane Bowles' books and sit down and read. I've only read a small snipet in "Women of the Beat Generation," but what I read was, in my humble, college-educated opinion, freaking awesome and everyone should read her.

~I need a new tire for my bike (random puntures, as well as hitting curbs too hard) and looked at the prices. They range from $15 to $55!!! The higher prices are the same for a single CAR tire, and there's less rubber! What do they do, help me jump cars and shoot out spikes to take down other wheel-based travelers a la "Ben Hur?"

~Fictional drink that you know I'm going to try someday: Axis Powers, consisting of Jagermeister, grappa, and sake. I think most of the joy in this drink will consist of finding out what measures of each will make a palatable drink, by which point I won't remember anyway.

This week's links:

Chaotic Creations
This is a metalsmith who specializes in just about anything you can think of, and his designs are really cool. Neat stuff: he was recommended by a couple of friends I married (I'm a minister, doncha know) and their pictures are first in the "Customer Pics" page!

Soulseek
Hard to find music is the de rigueur on soulseek (slsk). There is also, of course, regular music, but the name of the game here is rarities.

Niagara
I love this woman's art; it mercilessly jumps out at you, taking no whimpering or bellyaching. There can be a problem with actually LOOKing at the art in the galleries sometimes, but let that not tarnish her name or her art...if that's possible.

Favorite Songs Right Now:

1. Franz Ferdinand, "Take Me Out" - Yeah, it's not new, and I'd heard it about 1,000 times on the radio, but only recently have I been really listening to it.

2. L7, "Used to Love Him" - Cover of a Guns N' Roses song with a sex change. It's just awesome. Here's a sample:

I used to love him
But I had to kill him
I used to love him, oooh
But I had to kill him
I had to kill him
And I can still hear him complain!

3. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen, "Smoke, Smoke, Smoke (That Cigarette!)" - Can we have more proponents of smoking, please? Fuck health, I need self-medication and I need it now!

Finally...I re-found some favorite quotes of mine. Many of them were from my Zen days, but some were personal. I worked with two old, gregarious cooks at Sonoma State University, and I wrote down their most common sayings:

"Have a QUALITY day." - Nick Luque, Vietnam veteran, constant source of dirty jokes and sayings.

"Every day above ground is a good day." - Joe Ellerbrecht, alcoholic, lifelong food service cook.

Mostly Harmless: The Mega-Post

On Saturday night both Miss List and I saw "The Aristocrats" and we had a ball. The jokes were beyond blue and into the ultraviolet, and after half a pitcher of beer you feel fine laughing about stuff like that with a room full of strangers (although the bladder has other ideas).

After one joke, the punchline of which is "Nigger Cunts", everyone was quiet except for some woman off to the left, Miss List, and I. The joke wasn't racist or sexist, and it was created and used to underline the central premise of the movie's joke (nope, not gonna tell ya...go see it!).

The next day I was intrigued at the audience's reaction. Granted, these aren't kind words, and the joke was told by a white man, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the words were in direct opposition to the set-up, and it took you by surprise and made a joke of racial and sexual tensions. The whole rest of the movie centers around jokes using incest, shitting, pissing, or vomitting on family members, rape, and bleeding due to anything that you can think of in the aforementioned items and more. All of this, when done well by the comedians, elicited peels of laughter from the audience.

But it was "nigger cunts" that made almost everyone silent. I personally believe that it's the power of the words. The first is often described as a "racist word." I'm not going to fight the use of the word "nigger" as having a racist past; I'm slow on the uptake but I'm not a complete ignoramous, nor am I insensitive. My point, though, is that the word wasn't used as such. It was used to draw contrast to the joke's build-up (the architecture of which is a difficult thing to explain...once again, see the movie!), but the word is so blatantly "racist" that everyone gasps at its usage. Folks, words aren't racist; people are. (One could also make the argument that laws are also racist, but people enforce laws, and that's a gray area that will be easier for me to avoid right now) And if words themselves are racist, then I should have told that to a group of black teenagers when I was on the bus today. And many rappers. And some of my coworkers.

The second word, when used to describe a woman, is probably the lowest of the low, a derogative of the worst sort. But once again, it's just a word, powerless unless you give it power over your life. It's true, there's a thin little line between derogatory and sexist, yet like the above it all depends on usage.

It probably didn't help much that the teller of the joke was a white male, and my argument may be weakened by the fact that I am too. I haven't had any words with the same power as the above hurled at me by someone who wasn't like me (perhaps the closest term that I would take offense to would be "British Colonialist," although "Conservative Christian" might be up there too). Therefore, I'm probably not the best person to be talking about this, but there it is.

And the joke was funny. Well, not quite so much as other jokes in the movie, but you'll have to see it for yourself.

Other News:

A friend at work had no more use for her Gamecube and, therefore, her games, so now I have it. For free. Hey, it's not the shit, but it's my first console, yo! The games are mostly of a vampiric or otherwise fantasy-based genre of gaming. There's also "Die Hard: Vendetta" which looks cool but has un-intuitive controls. So do some of the other games, and most of them are kinda lame. Once again, leave it to the guys at Rockstar to set the benchmark; not only is the "Grand Theft Auto" a fun ride, but the controls are near perfect. Of the games I received, the only ones I think I'll be playing on a regular basis are "Reign of Fire" (surprisingly), "Hunter, The Reckoning", and "Bloody Roar" (but only with Miss List).

Link-O-Rama:

Below are all of the links that bring me pleasure of one sort or another. (there are more, but they escape me right now)

This is my girlfriend's blog. It's righteous cool.

This is my dear friend's blog. There have been only scant posts since she had her baby, but I think that's understandable, no?

Once again, I must promote this site. C'mon, get cool with it!

It might not know everything that you do about a subject, but there's a good chance.

If you've been on the internet for a month and you haven't been to this site, there's something wrong with you.

You are not alone! Drinkers of the world unite!
(and if you are a drinker, see how many of these you can check off, also see if this moves you)

An interesting blog by another mother.

Like space? No? Well, you paid for the pictures, so you might as well look at them.

Babes, porn, weird shit. In that order.

Favorite Songs Right Now:

1. "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangser" - Geto Boys
2. "Death Letter" - White Stripes, covering Ledbelly (numerous live)
3. "Take Five" - Dave Brubek and Paul Desmond

Rant II

Alright, it's been a while. I'm a-ranting.

First, Oakland drivers. No, that lever sticking out of your steering column is NOT a "Driver Ejection" device. It is your turn signal, and the more you use it the wiser my decisions will be when riding my bike. Also, no, I will not run into the parked car in front of me just because you don't feel like twitching your wrists a fraction of an inch to pass me six inches further to the left. I know, I'm not accomodating, but neither are you.

30-year-olds at Trader Joe's: You're not fashionably hip anymore. I know, I'm 27, but at least I'm not trying like crazy to cling to what I wore when I was 20. OK, I kind of am, but that's because I'm poor and it's all I have. You two, however, can't let go of the fade-shades, laughingly stressed "I'm wearing these as though I'm white trash but I'm not - I'm so fucking ironic" jean jackets, pants with some kind of funky Indian-hippie design on the pockets, and...honey, please...a black stretch T-shirt with a large skull on the front made out of purple sequins? Your shit is played! Dude, you're balding and chunkier than you were when you bought that weird shirt that I've since wiped from my memory, and lady, well, your face shows how disinterested you are whenever he speaks. I know, I know...the two of you have been living with each other for, like, four years but just don't feel, like, you know, the marriage thing is for you, but you've got to ease into your aging eventually, and the later the funnier for the rest of us. Okay, nevermind, keep doing it.

Fuck you, work. "Well, you know, we don't know when that transfer of yours is going to happen because all of us managers aren't really communicating with each other about it...I haven't heard about it from him and he hasn't heard about from her...ehh...uhh...ehh...YOU ALL FUCKING WORK WITHIN 50 FEET OF EACH OTHER!! You all know each other's phone extensions! It's been in the works for about one whole month now! I'm not wasting any more exclamation marks on you people. Losers.

And fuck you, George Bush. "It's not the time to ask who's to blame...it's time to solve problems...and we're problem solvers." You sure found someone to blame after 9/11, didn't you? That's ALL you focused on two days after THAT disaster, wasn't it? The governor of Louisiana BEGGED FOR FEDERAL HELP on the Sunday BEFORE Katrina hit! Did she get an answer? Nope! Didn't solve that problem, did you?

And shut up, Barbara Bush. Did you really say that since most of the New Orleaners were living in poverty before Katrina that they're now better off living in the Astrodome due to the kindness of Texas? I guess the veterans who come back from Iraq to find that their spouses have left them and their peace jobs have given up on them are faring better here than in the harsh environment of Iraq, aren't they? I mean, at least everyone speaks English here, right?

Damn you, Natalie Goldberg. Even though you use your book as your own biographic piece and quote your Zen god Dainin Katagiri Roshi in almost every single short chapter, your exercises seem to work. To close this rant on a high note, I will therefore recommend your book: "Writing Down the Bones, Freeing the Writer Within" (foreword by Judith Guest, author of Ordinary People!)

Grrr

It's Just a Bump

On Wednesday I went to a clinic on IKEA's dime to have a small amount of TB injected into my arm, forming a bubble of flesh that rose above my skin. It's the usual first test to determine whether or not I have an active case of the disease. On my way home I had to think about everyone I've been in close contact with and how to tell them that they might be at risk. It's a hard thing making that phone call: "I may have breathed TB on your baby." It's nothing I really want to think about, but there it is.

Then I come home to check out just what is happening in New Orleans, hearing that things are bad.

And man, things are BAD. You know the stories and the news, so I won't repeat them here. This is nothing that I ever thought I'd see in America, for some reason. But, four years ago we all said the same thing about New York, so there you are.

And then right after the New Orleans news I saw the aftermath of the stampede in Iraq, and I just felt numb. Just like the aftermath of Katrina, it's nothing I've had any reference point to, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I'm not going to diminish the threat of something once referred to as Consumption. But suffice it to say that, if this is my biggest concern right now, I've got it pretty good.

I hope that the Katrina survivors find homes, either in their old city or elsewhere, and I hope that the families of those lost in the stampede find happiness in their lives again. I wish them all well.

By the way, that bump on my arm has disapeared.

Like a Chain, or the Cat

In honor of the fickleness of both the internet and its users, the following is a list of my favorite sites...*tonight*.

Iced Out Gear: Want your bling? Want your bling to be the bangin'-est of all bangin' bling? The bling-i-est, perhaps? Scope out this website's offerings and tell me that you can live without a "PIMP" drinking cup or an LED belt buckle.

Urban Dictionary: From "cool" to "crunk," "dude" to "diggity," "shit" to "shizzle," this website assists those who need a little knowledge dropped on their slang. Word.

Busted Tees: Not even Shakespeare is out of range for these merry pranksters of the most simple of garments. Their Jesus is especially fresh, and don't forget to try their state and country flavors! Que bon!

Modern Drunkard Magazine: Do you like to drink? I know I do. I prefer to drink in the company of other drinkers, but when I can't, I like to read about other people who love to drink like I do. That's why I read Modern Drunkard Magazine.

Crop

I enter the bathroom with only minimal clothing; I'm alone and it's warm. After flicking on the light I reach for the plastic bag lining my garbage bin and place it in the sink, flattening it a little as I do so, making the opening as wide as possible. Looking into the mirror I run my hands through my hair, noting how the blond locks flicker and ruffle, some back into position, some settling into some new geometrical oddity. After looking in the mirror for a long time I open the medicine cabinet and reach in.

I uncoil the cord and plug it into the wall. A harsh click in the silence is followed by a low, welcome buzzing sound. Without stopping to think I take the clippers to my hair. It's set to only one half inch, but it feels like I'm removing the top of my head: that's how much hair is falling into the plastic bag. The clippers nuzzle my skull like a large, warm bee gathering nectar and humming approvingly, moving from one side to the other. My hair falls like autumnal leaves, sometimes cascading, sometimes flipping end over end; sometimes landing in the bag, sometimes falling to the floor.

After a few minor touch-ups I brush the remaining hair from my shoulders and neck. I look in the mirror at the new me, at the old me, having not felt such kinship and alienation at the same time. I study the angles brought to light again, the eerie glow surrounding my head, my overall new look, and I cannot help but say aloud,

"God DAMN, I've got a lot of face!"

Eventually I put the clippers away and start a bath, eagerly looking forward to the shower coming later.

Blame

Ah ha! I've found my creative wall!

(well at least I think I have I mean it's just easier to settle on something rather than wonder and ponder and theorize aimlessly and if I say what it is then it is so shut up SHUT UP!)

I'm pointing the finger squarely - tongue in cheek, now - at you...TV!!! Yes, TV! You're a beguiling, sophmoric, sexy cathode thought-narcotic, aren't you? And the rabbit ears only make you cuter!

Dave, Conan, NOVA, Simpsons, football...you throw these at me and it's like handing candy to a child, expecting and getting my valuable brain time. The passive observer in me gains strength and kicks sand in the face of my...um...creative something. Weakling? Where's my thesaurus?

And I blame you, too, DVD! Shiny vortex of time-theft! You bring me "The West Wing"...with lasers! Beautiful, blinding lasers! How am I expected to resist? I'm only a mortal man!!

From here on out, I promise to destroy you, TV! And I'll get your little DVD, too!


Aaaaaand.....scene!


The following are outtakes from this blog post:

(paragraph 1, sentence 2, take 1): Ah ha! I've found cheese in my socks!

(paragraph 2, sentence 3, take 3): And the rabbit rears only make you cuter! Wait, did I...ha! Did I say rabbit "rears"? Did I say that? HAAA ha ha ha ha...ha haaaa. Wait, give me a minute.

(paragraph 3, sentence 1, take 1): - tongue in cheek, now - at you...www.sexyteenorgies.com! Oh, wait. Well, I do, but...I don't want to...um, cut?

(paragraph 3, sentence 1, take 2): ...and it's like handing crack to my mom! MOM! Oh, mom, why, WHY???