I've been thinking about a lot lately, what with the whole "world coming to an end" business surrounding this past Saturday (I guess the guy called it wrong...again. Worse than a weatherman). Not just that, but a lot of stuff around my family is going down, I won't go into it but suffice it to say that nobody has a "normal" family, and anyone that claims to do so is lying.
Also, I've been reading about the Civil War, by which I mean The Civil War, by Shelby Foote. I always meant to pick up one of the massive volumes of his masterwork whenever I used to see it on the shelves of the library, and now that I have (and am currently 300+ pages into the first, 800-page volume), I like it pretty good. You might remember Foote as the grandfatherly figure from Ken Burns' film The Civil War, a folksy oldtimer who could very well have been there on the battlefield by virtue of how authoritativly he talked about it.
It got me thinking, when I went to BAM yesterday and saw all the anti-Obama books that are (shockingly) still being put out, considering this is the same man who, oh, I don't know, took down the greatest terrorist leader to threaten our shores. It made me sad to think that the history of this era won't be written by a clear-headed, sober-minded gentleman, but by an overwrought collection of belly-aching racists. Yes, I said racists.
You see, people call Obama a "socialist" because if they called him what they really wanted to (starts with "n," ends with "-er," and in the middle are some other letters), they'd be justifiably labeled as racists. How do I know this? Because I'm a Southerner, I've grown up with people who thought nothing of using such a word (then again, they weren't trying to sell books to the public at large), and I'd like to think I can tell a bully at long distances. You might think that, if you knew me and how much I opposed Bush, I was ignoring the anti-Bush rhetoric of that era and focusing solely on the nasty Obama haters. I see your argument, figurative internet audience, but let me say this: when we put a Hitler moustache on Dubya, it was stupid. When the other guys put a Hitler moustache on Obama, it was stupid and racist. There is a difference.
Lately I've been looking for an outlet for such thoughts as I might have on the things I care about, something that could help me find a wider audience and perhaps some financial gain as well. If you, figurative internet audience, can think of a place for me to trade my wares, let me know.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Neutral Milk Hotel
...is a good band, thanks for the shout-out on Parks & Recs.
Anyway, last night was an experience in babysitting at once familiar and (thanks to baby Scout) brand-spanking new: the night of the cranky, hard-to-please baby. Sis brought her up to spend time with the grands while she went to a baby shower (funny how one girl having a baby inspires all her friends to do the same). Scout was fussy except when she was feeding or napping, and it seemed like everytime I tried to calm her, I made the situation worse.
Scout hates her uncle...
No, just kidding, but I do think the poor girl is teething already (or maybe right on time? I'm not sure about these things), so I guess that's part of it. Or maybe it was being in a strange place not her comfortable apartment with Mom and Dad that did it. At any rate, she eventually went to sleep and Sis came back to get her. I watched The King's Speech on and off last night, inbetween trying to comfort my niece while failing to do so. Good movie, though I still think the Facebook movie got robbed (Zuckerberg!!!!).
And that's all I got for now.
Anyway, last night was an experience in babysitting at once familiar and (thanks to baby Scout) brand-spanking new: the night of the cranky, hard-to-please baby. Sis brought her up to spend time with the grands while she went to a baby shower (funny how one girl having a baby inspires all her friends to do the same). Scout was fussy except when she was feeding or napping, and it seemed like everytime I tried to calm her, I made the situation worse.
Scout hates her uncle...
No, just kidding, but I do think the poor girl is teething already (or maybe right on time? I'm not sure about these things), so I guess that's part of it. Or maybe it was being in a strange place not her comfortable apartment with Mom and Dad that did it. At any rate, she eventually went to sleep and Sis came back to get her. I watched The King's Speech on and off last night, inbetween trying to comfort my niece while failing to do so. Good movie, though I still think the Facebook movie got robbed (Zuckerberg!!!!).
And that's all I got for now.
Monday, May 2, 2011
With Six You Get Eggroll...Mmm, Eggroll
Osama Bin Laden, the long-feared mastermind behind the September 11 attacks, is no more. He has ceased to be, he has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot.
Thank you for indulging me in that.
Now then, emotions...mixed. On the one hand, jubilation that the son of a bitch is dead, also surprise that he was still alive (wasn't he supposed to be on dialysis?), and gratefulness that my black president did something that a lot of other people's white presidents couldn't manage. Take that, haters.
Of course, I know that some other self-important motherfucker will rise to the challenge of replacing Bin Laden, it's like Brian Johnson replacing Bon Scott in AC/DC almost. But hopefully Bin Laden was so charismatic, like Hitler, that the idea of anyone other than him in charge is just ludicrous. Like Glenn Frey taking over for Don Henley should Henley leave the Eagles to make more awful solo records.
It's a good day, people...
Thank you for indulging me in that.
Now then, emotions...mixed. On the one hand, jubilation that the son of a bitch is dead, also surprise that he was still alive (wasn't he supposed to be on dialysis?), and gratefulness that my black president did something that a lot of other people's white presidents couldn't manage. Take that, haters.
Of course, I know that some other self-important motherfucker will rise to the challenge of replacing Bin Laden, it's like Brian Johnson replacing Bon Scott in AC/DC almost. But hopefully Bin Laden was so charismatic, like Hitler, that the idea of anyone other than him in charge is just ludicrous. Like Glenn Frey taking over for Don Henley should Henley leave the Eagles to make more awful solo records.
It's a good day, people...
Sunday, April 10, 2011
So This is Casablanca, Eh?
The government might not have shut down this week, but Glenn Beck did; Fox News reportedly canceled the self-appointed mindfucker's show, which apparently is running til the end of the year still but after that will be kaput. You know what this means, of course... Glenn was right about someone being out to silence him. The fact that it was Fox News...that's an M. Night Shamalamadingdong worthy twist. I kid, but the fact is that Fox News, by firing the guy most people think of when you say "Fox News," is really doing themselves a disservice. Nobody talks about O'Reilly anymore; he went from being a firebrand of conservative thought to everyone's drunk grandfather bitching about Socialism while passing out at the wheel of his yacht which is in dry dock in your parents' backyard. Hannity is still like the Urkel of right-wing nutjobs, but I haven't heard him mentioned in years. Dude's last book came out in paperback right out of the gate. Ann Coulter morphed into Sue Sylvester, G. Gordon Liddy tried to hunt down that Nigerian prince who stole his money, and Rush Limbaugh is going deaf. I can remember a time when these people walked the earth like fire-breathing dragons of hate, then Bush got in there and screwed up big time so now they're like neutered housecats, albeit the kind that piss all over your furniture and berate you about Obama's lack of a birth certificate. The GOP might as well admit that they're going to try to "put the White back in the White House" next year, I think there's one token non-white guy who isn't Michael Steele still in the party and he seems like more of a long shot that Al Sharpton ever was. High times indeed. That's all I got for today.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Hot Child in the City
Just wanted to check in, I know it's been a while (and my last post was, now that I think about it, unintentionally morbid), but I've been busy with work and such. Don't worry, I also neglected my online family on the Oregon Trail. Last I heard, Pa had been scalped by Indians, Sis and Mama were taken out by cholera, and I was selling myself to interested prospectors in the Idaho mountains. If you are an aspiring literary snob, or just think to yourself "someday someone will recognize my genius at literary puns," check out the Clemson Literary Festival (fourth one in a row) this week. I was a bit bewildered to see on the website (www.clemson.edu/litfest) that Kurt Vonnegut was at some point "associated" with the university. If this means "you can find his books in our library," then yes, he was associated with Clemson. Other than that, I'm wondering what possible connection the author of Breakfast of Champions could have with the school still obsessed with our one and only title. Anyway, toodles!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Lady Magaga
Death: How to Make It Work For You, On the Job
I've been thinking about mortality a lot lately, not on account of any illnesses I might have (though I could have loads; it's been ages since I went to the doc), but because I read a really good book about the subject by Julian Barnes (Metroland). The book is called Nothing to Be Frightened Of. He basically presents the idea of death as the be-all-end-all and how terrifying that can be, but also how oddly reassuring the thought is that, well, this is it, better make the best of it.
I suppose the idea of mortality comes up more often in my mind now because I'm much older than I ever thought I might be, if not in terms of chronology than in terms of years of experience, without having experienced some basic human needs in the course of my life (thus, if I died tomorrow, I'd feel more than a little cheated, all things considered). When I was younger and stupidly fixated on the idea of "dying young" but not before "blessing the world with a masterpiece," the idea of much good coming after thirty would have been suspect to my mind. Then again, the heroic early death of literary or cinematic or musical heroes often leaves out the very important fact that you're fucked after you die, because all the posthumous mythologizing can't raise you from your tomb.
Which is why you never see the zombie Ian Curtis or a reanimated JD Salinger running around these days.
One of the basic arguments of the book has to do with the afterlife, and whether or not it exists. Barnes is of the opinion that it doesn't, and I can see his logic for it (wouldn't it be egotistical of us to suppose that, just because we had the run of things on this side of the mortal coin, we could have even longer stays of execution on the other?). But there's enough of the Southern Baptist faith of which I was brought up in and for a large part rejected still left to make me fearful of the idea that nothing exists beyond the void. Pretty heady stuff, and all this after having a new niece born into my life that I look forward to seeing grow up and imparting my wisdom to, provided I don't get lucky in the genetic race to continue propagating the species and never mate myself (I mean, mate with another person besides myself, not that I can mate with myself...bloody hell).
Lighter Topics
Spring is here...is it? Just around the corner?...well, something resembling it seems to be lollygagging around, and in the interim my allergies are starting their return to full and annoying life. I look forward to the first dusting of pollen, because that will be the sign that I was wise to save so many coins for possible trips to the car wash.
Ay dios mio...
I've been thinking about mortality a lot lately, not on account of any illnesses I might have (though I could have loads; it's been ages since I went to the doc), but because I read a really good book about the subject by Julian Barnes (Metroland). The book is called Nothing to Be Frightened Of. He basically presents the idea of death as the be-all-end-all and how terrifying that can be, but also how oddly reassuring the thought is that, well, this is it, better make the best of it.
I suppose the idea of mortality comes up more often in my mind now because I'm much older than I ever thought I might be, if not in terms of chronology than in terms of years of experience, without having experienced some basic human needs in the course of my life (thus, if I died tomorrow, I'd feel more than a little cheated, all things considered). When I was younger and stupidly fixated on the idea of "dying young" but not before "blessing the world with a masterpiece," the idea of much good coming after thirty would have been suspect to my mind. Then again, the heroic early death of literary or cinematic or musical heroes often leaves out the very important fact that you're fucked after you die, because all the posthumous mythologizing can't raise you from your tomb.
Which is why you never see the zombie Ian Curtis or a reanimated JD Salinger running around these days.
One of the basic arguments of the book has to do with the afterlife, and whether or not it exists. Barnes is of the opinion that it doesn't, and I can see his logic for it (wouldn't it be egotistical of us to suppose that, just because we had the run of things on this side of the mortal coin, we could have even longer stays of execution on the other?). But there's enough of the Southern Baptist faith of which I was brought up in and for a large part rejected still left to make me fearful of the idea that nothing exists beyond the void. Pretty heady stuff, and all this after having a new niece born into my life that I look forward to seeing grow up and imparting my wisdom to, provided I don't get lucky in the genetic race to continue propagating the species and never mate myself (I mean, mate with another person besides myself, not that I can mate with myself...bloody hell).
Lighter Topics
Spring is here...is it? Just around the corner?...well, something resembling it seems to be lollygagging around, and in the interim my allergies are starting their return to full and annoying life. I look forward to the first dusting of pollen, because that will be the sign that I was wise to save so many coins for possible trips to the car wash.
Ay dios mio...
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Hiroshima, Mon Amour
As often happens lately, something truly horrifying has happened in the world. I'm not just talking about the NFL labor agreement kerfuffle (though that is bad), I mean the earthquake, tsunami, and now explosion at a nuclear plant in Japan, all within the span of forty-eight hours. I wrote up something about that for a website I contribute to regularly (by "regularly" I mean "infrequently"), so I won't go into detail here. I just want to send out a thought or two for the Japanese people, I'm not a praying person much so it feels wrong to say "praying" for them but I reckon it's about right.
It seems like some people want to say this is a "sign of the apocalypse". Those people are idiots and jerks.
Anyway, I got to hold the baby again last night, she went to sleep in my arms and I almost fell asleep myself (I'd been up since six in the morning, on account of work). Did I mention how cute she is?
Shout out to my first follower, who I'm betting based on his comment is my cousin Brandon. If this is correct, he will quote a Morrissey solo (not the Smiths) lyric in the comments section of this post. The ball is in your court, sir...;-p
It seems like some people want to say this is a "sign of the apocalypse". Those people are idiots and jerks.
Anyway, I got to hold the baby again last night, she went to sleep in my arms and I almost fell asleep myself (I'd been up since six in the morning, on account of work). Did I mention how cute she is?
Shout out to my first follower, who I'm betting based on his comment is my cousin Brandon. If this is correct, he will quote a Morrissey solo (not the Smiths) lyric in the comments section of this post. The ball is in your court, sir...;-p
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