Tarragon

No more parties,
no more hoopla.
No super-fly,
including Supa-Dupa.

No more chitter-chatter
about things that don't matter.
The only thing I want to know
is why your thoughts scatter;

why don't you see
and why you don't look;
why you don't read,
not even your own book

or what you wrote,
even your own quote;

I want to know why
you don't even float your own boat:

While I sit here writing
and you prepare for fighting,
lighting the candle
to watch the flame flicker on the mantle.

But you don't pause to reflect
how your disrespect is retrospect,
not correct
as if you never see direct.

You're skewed and half-hearted,
broken down before you started:
While I have crackers in the barrel
down the road you departed.

I have cookies and candies,
fruits and spice
but you want to replace them
with snails, tails, and nothing nice:

The reason I collected dust
on the things you let rust
and the things you let sway
everyone that gave trust.

I switch and sway,
no delay,
the way I allay the fear
that you portray.

Too bad I caught on,
too bad for me and you from the paragon.

I have nothing left
but this bundle of tarragon. 

Man Interrupted

And man over-board, I suppose.

Or I might just voluntarily walk the plank.

Because it seems being interrupted has become a way of life for me lately.

But let me start over.

Let's go back 10 years; might have been more like 7 years, not sure. I worked that job so long, hard for me to keep track.

But I recall my boss talking to me, in her cubicle, telling me we ought to have more talks; that she didn't get enough chances to talk to me about my job, and that I might need her help, and that she was willing to offer help. She added that other staff were accustomed to interrupting her to talk to her, kind of just barge in on her in her cubicle, and that I never did; and what she said was I never did, due to manners.

I'd have to agree. Now, anyway. Don't know what I said at the time. Probably, Thank you: Or something along those lines.

But I've never been in the habit of interrupting people; I'm cautious, careful, look to see what someone is doing before I come in with what I have to say or ask or do.

I'm like that.

I've been taking care of my 83 year-old mother. She has dementia. I live with her. She often has questions, many of them make no sense, others have already been asked several times in a 15-minute time-span. They are often repeated that way.

And I get interrupted, often, at the rate of every 5 minutes or so. I might be writing, might be reading, might be watching a TV program; but it is certain that every several minutes or less, I'll be interrupted, asked a question, there might be a demand to do something, often unnecessarily.

As you can imagine, during the course of the day, it can chip away at a person. It's like the Vietnam War, a battle of attrition.

I'm watching Doc Martin, I do like the show. Grown fond of it. It's fascinating, and you do have to keep up with it. My mother interrupts during the show at various times. But I'm able to keep up with the plot, nevertheless.

Then 3 minutes to the end, at the climax, somebody walks into the room to talk to me; as if I'm doing nothing, though clearly I'm looking at the TV screen.

That's enough of a set-up. Here's what I mean.

It seems a matter of self-absorption and a lack of awareness. As if what they want, what they want to say or get or do has precedence, or, more accurately, is the only thing that exists. At the same time, there seems to be no awareness that another person is doing something, possibly important, at least to him.

Doesn't quite dawn on them.

And that, I'm afraid, is the problem across the globe.

Racist Hollywood, Et Al

I want to talk about this without it being divisive, without it being alienating, without harping on a single issue too much, and without getting hung up on it. Maybe first I should explain why I decided to blog about this.

I was reading an article about music from back in the day, cartoons from back in the day, I guess a retrospective of sorts. In the article, there was an image of an old magazine with a picture of Batman on it, but it was Batman from the 1940s.

Batman from the 1940s?

I mean, live-action Batman, not comic book pictures of Batman.

So, I'm like, "Cool."

I start looking up more pictures, reading about it, finding out about this Batman movie serial from the 1940s. Turns out Columbia Pictures put out a cliff-hanger style series of movies back in the 40s of Batman, shown at the theaters weekly. It starred a little-bit-out-of-shape actor with a Boston accent named Lewis Wilson as Batman, Douglas Croft as Robin.

I'm all for Batman. I like what they did in the late 80s with Michael Keaton as Batman, I like the current Dark Knight series, Heath Ledger was brilliant as the Joker. And, of course, as a kid I was a comic book aficionado, and loved Batman.So, I had to know what they did with him back in the 40s.

It's amazing to me how long this character has been a part of the American mind and American culture. Not that 70 years is super long, if we're counting back to when Batman was first in theaters, but it's a long time by American standards. Especially for something which is basically Pop Culture. It's an entertainment enterprise, an institution of Hollywood.

I was a bit fascinated. It was looking kind of corny, the costuming was different, Batman had a spare tire around the waist, but it still looked kind of cool.

Then the gnarled branches and dark clouds came in and my hope crumbled before my eyes.

Not that bad, but here's what I find out.

Batman is a racist.

The other thing is, to get past censors, rather than have Batman be a vigilante, in the old 40s movie serial they have him working for the government. Quite the good boy patriot.

And, this being a film series during the World War Two era, he has to stop the evil Japanese from imposing their twisted ways on the world.

Seriously, this is the message of the film.

There's even a part of the first episode in which they justified Japanese-Americans being put in internment camps.

Well, I hadn't thought about it for awhile, but I started to recall my youth in the 1980s, and how I basically hated that era because hate and stereotypes were common and accepted. Japanese were constantly ridiculed, depicted as having buck-teeth and always carrying a camera and snapping pictures, speaking with ridiculous accents; and Asians never got laid, according to common myths. Except that all Asian women were sex kittens, so the never-getting-laid myth was reserved for Asian men. Then Dirty Harry and Charles Bronson were competing for how many black men they could kill in their movies, while Rambo was killing Vietnamese. It was all noticeable to me, being sensitive and growing up bi-racial in a backward and predominantly white town in the 80s. Well, to be honest, I hated it.

Anyway, the 40s Batman serial made me realize how long this image making has been going on and been ingrained into the American psyche. No wonder Americans are so dumb. Hate Japanese, hate blacks, hate Arabic people. I mean, most people today would watch that old Batman serial and think it's absurd, some would be shocked. And I think 70 years from now, people will be looking at how our current thinking is and consider it absurd; that we look down on the homeless, that we are expected to conform and slave away at jobs.

Well, I can hope people are that enlightened in the year 2083.

Anyway, after surviving the patriotic and conservative and rigid Reagan-Bush 80s, I recall in the 90s, noticeably things started changing. You saw Asian men in movies and TV, getting laid or otherwise having some relatively important roles. Japanese things started being considered cool; anime, manga, even superstars like Gwen Stefani paying tribute to Japanese culture and people. It surprised me when I started seeing it. Of course, I also consider it too little too late. But I also still live in a town in which it's still acceptable to be scared of any religion but Christianity, to make fun of people because of their ethnicity, and to be openly homophobic. Not too bright in these here parts. And I'm going through a mid-life crisis, so my give-a-care is wearing out.

Gwen Stefani and Harajuku dancers. Source: http://harajuku-l.blogspot.com

In fact, this town is stuck in time, like maybe stuck in the 40s, back there with the Batman serial.

I've had people tell me how Chinese people don't belong here, one guy told me (who knows why) that a Chinese guy put up his blinds incorrectly, another guy who delivers beer said some N-Word (he used the word) or maybe a Mexican stole beer off his truck, and maybe a month ago a martial artist I know was making fun of the Asian folks who created the martial art he practices; "Ching chong Chinaman" kind of talk.

I mean, backward, dim dolts.

What's my point? It's a pattern. We change it periodically: Who to ridicule, who to hate, who to fear. At any rate, it permeates the culture, in how people talk, in the movies, on TV, when you go to the store, when you're eating at a restaurant. If you're sensitive, you can feel it hanging in the air and hear it oozing out of people's pores.

At least, I do.
Gwen Stefani,...
Max Vadukul
10 in. x 12 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com



No Doubt, Rolling...
David Lachapelle
10 in. x 12 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com




Batman

12 in. x 16 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com




Batman and Robin...

12 in. x 16 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com

Batman

16 in. x 20 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com




Batman - Dark...

18 in. x 40 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com

Batman - Dark...

126 in. x 72 in.
Buy This at Allposters.com

My Work Experience and Why I'm Still Mad at the Para-transit Driver

I used to teach and care for people with developmental disabilities in a community-integration day program; I did this in some capacity or another for several years. Early on, I was diligent about the paperwork, took notes all day to include in daily documentation, went above and beyond keeping clients safe, worked with clients no one else would work with, and all that with substandard pay and no breaks, taking on the workload of case manager and direct care staff but still paid and treated as direct care staff; not that there should be a difference in treatment, but they had me in the lower position doing the work of a manager in addition to the work of the position.

Part of the job was taking clients, with extreme behavioral issues, on the city bus to go to events and activities in the community. I had clients bound to wheelchairs. When we would board the bus, I'd get on the lift with the wheelchair-bound client, ride it up into the bus, wheel my client into the spot for wheelchairs, strap down the wheelchair, then the driver would have time to bring the lift in and take off to the new destination: Without missing a beat. I knew staff that would refuse to do all that, said it was the job of the driver to strap the client in. I'm fine with that. But I like to do my job: Which includes doing what I can do and doing what makes sense and is good for everyone.

My point?

Well, this is my problem with the para-transit driver who picks my 84 year old mother up in the morning to go to the senior center. In a previous post, I discussed how the para-transit driver refused to pull into the parking lot of our apartment complex and instead makes us--me, the worn out care-taker of his aging mother, and an 84-year-old woman who has physical problems and is often confused--wait at the street. Her rationale, and her half-wit supervisor's rationale, is that it is difficult for the driver to maneuver in the parking lot. I doubt this. I've seen other drivers do it, it's no problem.

The other thing, is that it is the reverse of what I used to do on my old job. I went beyond what was expected on my job because logically it made sense because it made it easier for everyone and I could do it with no problem.

It is much more difficult for my 84-year-old mother and I to wait at the curb in the early morning, usually for half an hour or more, than it is for someone in a vehicle to pull into a parking lot and pick up a client at a spot they are actually scheduled to pick them up at. This driver is simply trying to assert some kind of power rather than do the right thing.

My God.

Forest Whitaker Frisked at New York City Deli: Racism or Something Else?

My first reaction to reading about the incident was that something was odd, something was wrong. I mean, you go to a deli and end up getting frisked by the clerk. It's odd. And it's happened to me before. When I was a kid, I used to get frisked before I left a neighborhood convenience store that I used to frequent. I've had cops stop me, while I was just walking up the street, question me, ask me to turn around, inspect me.

So, I know the feeling. That's why when I heard that Forest said he wouldn't be returning to the deli, I absolutely understood what he felt and meant. Anything humiliating or harmful enough from people or circumstances is good reason to cut yourself off from the situation.

Then I wondered a little bit more. Curious what was behind the incident, what was happening, what was the clerk thinking.

I think prejudice is mostly unconscious and not obvious. One reason I feel this way is that I've spent plenty of time in a predominantly white community, and I know, unconsciously, people see someone like me differently; I think this stuff is deeply embedded in the brain, through years of wrong or right evolution. I lived for awhile in a much more diverse community, so the wiring is different; people there saw me as their uncle, brother, Dad, teacher. Not as a foreign object shoved up in there.

So, I know it's possible that you can be suspected, mistreated, abused even unconsciously by people who are unaware of their own conditioning.

Is that what happened to Forrest?

Maybe.

It is strange. Goes into a deli, probably not particularly aggressive or sneaky, just wanting some lunch; ends up getting frisked. I think it would shake up anyone.

Or the clerk is touchy. Maybe people have been coming in and boosting them for their chips and salsa, or whatever. Maybe he's on the look-out, might even say paranoid. So, any old movement that looks suspicious is...well...suspect.

That happens too. I know I'm watchful just walking up the street. I've been jumped, harassed, and so on. I'm a watchful kind of guy. Of course, these days I know not to take it too far.

Also, what we can take too far is thinking everything someone does is racist or sexist or prejudice in some way. My mother used to do that to me. When I was a youth, I used to hate Joan Rivers. My Mom blamed my vehemence for Joan on her being a woman and me being male and not understanding her. Well, that's my Mom's twisted logic. What I can tell you today, is that I was a kid and I didn't understand Joan's humor. That's all. My mother didn't understand her kid at all. Too busy with her hidden agenda.

It's just as possible we don't understand the clerk at the deli.

What I think is that we really don't know. I don't think the clerk is evil. I think he made an error, however.

And I think Forest is correct in never returning to that deli again.

I know this too: One viewpoint is that Forest is upstanding, doesn't look like a thief, this shouldn't be happening to someone like him. Strangely, if you look at that argument close enough, it is also a prejudice viewpoint. As if, if he were homeless there would be better reason to suspect him. Or a CEO of a huge corporation could never be a common thief. Or that someone can tell just by looking at someone whether they are suspect. It's all image. So, it's all false.

It sort of makes me think of the old classic movie with Henry Fonda, 12 Angry Men. The jury has to decide the verdict of a murder case in which the suspect was an immigrant, and all the jurors, but one, is ready to have the defendant convicted so they can go home. One hold-out keeps things dragging along because he refuses to brush it all off and instead urges his peers to look a little deeper. All of their prejudices or hang-ups eventually get laid out on the table. Slowly but surely, the tables are turned until the only hold-out is the one that still thinks the suspect is guilty. A very revealing story.

While it's easy to dismiss, easy to use preconceptions to make decisions and judgments, it is important to see that such an approach is always skewed and garbled no matter to whom or how you apply it.

And this goes for the clerk and those certain the clerk's intentions were malicious.

What is important is how we look. At everything.

What Joe Rogan Represents

Joe Rogan has a talent for totally thrashing somebody verbally, dressing them down thoroughly for being a dumb abusive half-wit. I've done it myself at times and know the motivation for it and how it feels. I didn't used to do such things. In fact, I was Mr. Tolerance, and everyone was amazed at my patience and tolerance. Don't know why, because all it was was a coping mechanism that I developed to deal with a lot of domineering bags of hot air that always shut me down if I made a peep. Not really patience and tolerance, more like survival instinct.

But Joe Rogan is a different animal altogether. And, for me, a breath of fresh air. He represents people like me, sick and tired of the unaware, overinflated egos that dominate the social scene, your family, schools, workplaces, everywhere you step foot. And he represents the man that will blast them all back 20 feet for being so presumptuous and arrogant. I like it.

So, I've chosen some of my favorites here to let you in on Rogan's blast of fresh air.

It's about time. Domineering, abusive, manipulative feminist cad, that excuses her behavior by hiding behind her barely veiled ideology. Rogan sees through it and blasts her. Indeed.

Next one.

Lambasting people for being phoney, loud and obnoxious and trying to "be" something. Pretty much nailed it. What are people trying to do?

 Finally, here we have the mother of all rants and Joe Rogan nailing it, about dumb people following along like sheep and creating the mess, about lies and deception. I'll let you listen.

My Native-American Friend

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this post, let me give you some background.

My Dad was from the Philippines. My mother is white. Of German descent, to be exact; but born and raised in the mid-west of America.

So, I look a little different. And no one has ever been able to quite place me: Racially, ethnically. Oh, a few have, I'll get into that in a minute.

When I was a teen, my mother moved me to a little town in Northern California; an isolated little city with no diversity: Except a notorious population of Native-Americans; infamous for street fights and bar-fights and heavy drinking; or, at least, that's what impressed the local population. Don't know that these activities were occurring any more in the Native population than with the down-home locals, but, at any rate, to the locals it was impressive and noticeable.

So, me being the obscure-looking fellow that I am, got lots of questions: Are you Hawaiian? Are you Samoan? Are you this, that, etcetera, and so on...Mostly the question was this: Are you Indian?

To be frank, I consider the question irrelevant. It is particularly troubling when it's accompanied by a racial slur. Back in my youth, I took it all personally and decided to identify one way or another racially. Nowadays, I consider identifications to be stupid, false, and destructive.

Funny, I moved to a much more diverse community briefly, and it was the first time someone actually asked me if I was Filipino; usually the person asking was Filipino, maybe Hawaiian. But that's a different dynamic; it's because they are Filipino or know Filipinos, so the question is legitimate not just bizarre. And I never got the weird looks of wonderment and hate there. Felt more like I belonged.

Anyway, back in those teen years, everyone thinking I was Native-American, I made many Native-American friends. My friends were heavy drinkers, street fighters, thieves, and all around rowdy.

My best friend back then was such a person. Full-blooded Native-American: Tough and defiant. He looked like an upside-down triangle and when he punched someone it was a decisive summary. Me and my friend got into lots of trouble. I'll just say that much.

So, finally, here's the story, the meat and potatoes.

One day, my friend and I, we're sitting outside a small amusement park in town, which since has been shut down because it made no money in the depressed economy of this little feudal community. We were sitting outside the fence, drinking beers. The security guard comes up to us and tells us we have to leave.

I stand up immediately and say Ok. My friend sits there, unconcerned, looking at the guard. He waits quite awhile, finishes his beer, and finally says, Ok.

We get up and go.

While walking my friend asks me, "What's wrong with you?"

"What?" My summary answer.

"Why do you just do what someone tells you?"

I admit, it shocked me. But he was right. And it was a good question.

These days I question everything. Religion, the economic system, the social structure, what people tell me to do, what is expected, whether I should slave away at a thankless and mind-numbing job...everything.

But, I guess, most of my life, I really never did question things. Someone seemed to have authority and tells me to do or not do something, I'd fall in line.

And, at this late date, I've realized I was making a major error.

There is nothing better than a mind which questions, doesn't just say Yes, wonders why something is being requested or demanded.

And that is the value of learning from a friend. You learn about yourself.

Why I Like the Onion

Well, The Onion makes good use of parody to make major social and political statements. Been a fan of the online magazine for years. Just read a piece off a Facebook post that had me laughing and also realizing how they're writers so often nail it. It's a joke about Youtube racist comments, and could be applied to the things I've had to hear in my family and the town I've spent most of my time in, my whole life. Read The Onion nailing it about racist comments on Youtube.

And take this, Youtube commenters!

Peter Joseph on Social Conditioning and Economics

Peter Joseph pretty much always nails it. Our whole economic system, which is part of our psychological conditioning, encourages acquisitiveness, competition, and division; in other words, violence. Here he is breaking it down, and Abby Martin doing a good job breaking it down too.

KISS

Source: Wikipedia

When I was seven years old, back in the late seventies, I discovered the rock band KISS. Flamboyant, macabre, fantastical; the Demon, Star-child, Catman, the Space Man; Gene Simmons, the Demon, spitting blood and fire, all painted with theatrical make-up, one of the greatest rock n roll shows of the seventies.

They became a phenomenon, as they say.

I would say my fascination with KISS lasted for about 5 years. As a teenager, I became immersed in Hip Hop music, started poppin' and lockin', listening to remixes and rap music, and my hard rock days were left behind me.

But I've revisited KISS. A showy hard rock group, some people might not realize their music is good. I think so. Groovy, moving, it can put you in the zone.

Source: Wikipedia

I was pleased to find some video of KISS Unplugged. The performance really reveals the depth of lyrics and music, the moving sound of guitar and drums and the group's talent for composing treasures that they've generously plunked down, for a fee, onto music's matrix of art and culture.

This first one is rockin'. It's very danceable, groovin' and all that. A cool little treat to see them playing this, no make-up and raw.

This is a great performance by Cat Man Peter Criss. Tender and moving, the song is touching and I love the response of Peter to the crowd and the crowd to Peter. Great tribute to this legendary KISS band member.

This song has truly beautiful lyrics, and it is a bonus and a treat to see Garth Brooks get on stage with the band to perform one of their classics.

I think this is a very decent cover of Hard Luck Woman.

   

Finally, this is a softer version of Hard Luck Woman which I found rather soothing. Seems to be a song that lends itself to do many things with it: Lyrics and music intact.

Legitimate Gripes

Here's how it started this time.

Yesterday morning, on a day my aging mother goes to the senior center day program, we are waiting for the para-transit bus to come pick her up. We hear a loud knock on the door. The driver is the knocker, she says she's been waiting at the street for my mother. So, my mother has to walk to the street to catch the bus. See, the driver doesn't want to pull into the parking lot, says it's too hard to maneuver around parked cars. That's a lie.

We had been waiting at the street awhile back, we quit doing that in the winter because of rain and cold; plus, we're standing out there in the element, my mother is 83, and sometimes waited while the driver was an hour late.

So, I call her supervisor. The supervisor takes this condescendingly arrogant pretentiously calm tone with me. I take the I'm-going-to-report-you-to-whoever-I-can tone.

So, bad day. Exhausting. I woke up at 2am this morning, then went back to sleep about 5 or 6, finally got some sleep, which I rarely do.

So, I have some legitimate gripes, and I intend to list them. All of them particular to the town I live in.

1. The transit system. I guess I sort of covered this. But there's more. The regular city bus comes every hour; in some spots, if you're lucky, every half-hour. On some days, for months, in certain areas, certain routes don't run at all. This means you are either walking a longer distance to the bus, and also means everything gets scheduled on the bus schedule and you might be waiting a long time in places not too accommodating. Not good for the poor, the elderly, working people. Tells you a lot about this town.
2. Jobs. All low-paying, all with high expectations, all with abusive co-workers and/or bosses. I haven't experienced an exception to this yet. 
3. Ignorance. This town is full of backward bigots and closed-minded people. Probably the most frustrating part of it is they pretend it isn't so. One time a guy told me how a Chinese guy put up his blinds incorrectly; another guy told me how an N-word, maybe a Mexican, stole some beer from off his delivery truck; someone else I know got mad at a store-keeper and said she shouldn't even be in this country (she was Chinese). That's a small list that doesn't even touch upon the true magnitude of stupidity I've encountered in town. Dumb. Backward.
4. Pretense/Identity. The fake liberals, the conservative family-values camp, the pretense, the facade. Too bad they don't mean it. If the rhetoric ever matched action, there wouldn't be homelessness in this town, there wouldn't be the struggle, the petty tyrants, the low-pay, the abuse, the hateful bigots. Also, they all wouldn't be so bland and boring, uptight, rigid, and hypocritical. Can't have style in this town. It's against the unwritten law. Sorry. So sorry.
5. Heat. This town is in the valley; hot air, pollen, mold gets trapped in the valley and it's suffocating. In the summer it reaches a hundred degrees and above, staying in the 80s and 90s most of the summer. There's only two good months of mellow weather, in March and April. Between October and February, it dips down to 30 degrees. Yuck.
6. No diversity. This is another one where the people won't admit it. Racially, intellectually, life-style-wise, no diversity. For someone like me, different all around, in my thinking, in what I want to do, in my ethnicity, it's a horrible place. Yuck X2.

         So, it's good to establish what the problem is. What's next?

What to do. Here's what I say, so far.

1. Find out where I want to live. It will be by the ocean, not in the valley. It will be diverse, at least, of thought. Won't be uptight and bland, like where I'm at now. Will be some forward thinkers. Please.
2. How to live. Well, this is in line with what I want to do. I refuse to do what I used to do, working at a thankless job, constant pressure, constant abuse. Not worth it for any reason. In fact, the whole stupid game of finding employment turns my stomach. Writing is the main thing. Internet writing. Still looking into it.
3. Plan. Make a plan. How to escape. Escape plans are fun. Aren't they?

The Similarity Between Feminist Ideology and Religious Fundamentalism

The similarity is sexual repression.

On the one hand, you have the feminist doctrine that asserts that the sexual desires of men are evil and need to be checked. On the other hand, you have the religious doctrine that the sexuality of women is dangerous and evil and must be checked.

Well, looks like we have the same thing, taking two different forms, applied differently.

Nothing better than very, very precisely pin-pointing a problem.

Gay is the New Pay Attention

Two things I consider horrific and constant in society: Sexual repression and bullying.

Some time back in the 90s on into and past the year 2000, a lot of women decided it was okay for men to be attracted to them and to want to have sex. It was kind of a post-feminist, we're okay with men having sex phase. It was fueled by women's gay friends, and women being okay with gay sex. Eventually, the idea of sexual repression became a bad idea, and, I think, at least unconsciously, many women realized maybe it is a bit cruel to make men feel ashamed of their sexual feelings and desire for women. Ya think?

My point is, if it's a problem in the gay community, then it's a problem. If it's okay in the gay community, it's okay. And women, being not afraid of, and not feeling "threatened" by, gay men, because gay men are interested in men, finally listen.

Now, bullying has been a problem probably for thousands of years. I know I've always had a problem with it. I've been bullied since grade school, when you're shy and sensitive and intelligent, it happens.

However, no one ever wanted to do anything about it.

But there's a trend and a movement to do something about bullying, because gay kids get harassed, beaten, killed, all because people can't handle the fact that they're gay.

Someone's late on the uptake.

I also wonder when they're going to do something about bullying at work, among adults. Maybe a gay man will have to get killed at work before that happens.

My point? Isn't it obvious?

Why can't we pay attention in the first place? Across the board, for everyone, about everyone, and for everyone's sake. My God.

Drop Kick Murphys Live Up to Their Name

The story goes, on St. Patty's Day, a crowd joined the band on stage to kick up the celebration. In the crowd, a lone and not too smart Neo-Nazi starts doing the Nazi salute, at which point the band's bassist and lead singer gives the Nazi a good old-fashion punker beat down. I wouldn't want some Neo-Nazi crashing my party either. I read about the story here.

Turns out, I like their music. I've never been that much into punk, I grew up listening to Hip Hop. Of course, a lot of people don't know that Hip Hop, Punk and New Wave grew up together. Beastie Boys were a punk band before they ventured into Hip Hop, by the way. Then they went on to do much more.

Anyway, so far this is my favorite Drop Kick Murphys' song. "First to die..." Indeed. Kickin' a--

Jon Stewart Cleans Bill O'Reilly's Clock

Well, and it's just an opinion, I'm not a big fan of Jon Stewart. I do like Stephen Colbert, whose ironic humor is smart and pin-point. However, Jon nails it here. He really dug deep to tear Bill O'Reilly a new one. Logic and clarity goes a long way when dealing with a backward bully.

Chris Farley at the Grocery Store

I meet guys who are like Chris Farley. Big guys, jolly, joke a lot, loads of energy.

One of my good friends is just like that. I still owe him money.

Met a guy like that at the grocery store the other day. He's moving pretty fast, he's pretty big, and he says to me, "I started feeling it in my back and my knees when I hit 45." I tell him I'm already feeling it and I'm almost 43.

Not as young as I used to be. Can't move like or do what I used to do in my 20s and 30s. Body does give out.

Mind doesn't have to, though.

Income Inequality

I'm on a site which I frequent regularly, and there's a piece on austerity; you know, the conservative answer to our economic crisis, to cut programs that help people. That's my not so deep political explanation of what austerity is.

But my point is not to analyze the austerity agenda.

Commenting on the piece, someone was asserting that the rich pay more in taxes. Someone else pointed out: Yes, the rich pay more because they have more. The poor do not.

Nailed it.

I mean, that's the whole point, to me. There's a serious problem of some of us not getting paid enough, and a lop-sided, wrongly set up economic system based in wrong values.

I'd want to know who these people think should be getting paid what. I used to teach and take care of people with developmental disabilities. I got paid barely more than minimum wage; which is not enough to live on. There was a time when I had to borrow money to pay rent, buy groceries and pay the bills. Executives for oil companies have no such problems. Why is that?

Which brings me to the next point.

Mr. The Rich Pay Higher Taxes pipes in again to say that Kennedy even said that lowering taxes boosts the economy because then people have money to buy new homes and cars and buy conveniences.

Well, if they lowered my taxes, I'd have to borrow less from family and friends to pay rent and buy groceries and pay bills. And the rich get a few more free pay days. Neat for me!

Then someone, who thinks the set-up is just fine and dandy how some of us get paid less and some way too much more, said I was delusional. The irony.

Dealt with more backward people than I care to mention.

How I Discovered Gabe Delahaye

Here's how the story starts.

I get into a raging fight, via Facebook messaging, with my half-brother several hundred miles away. He's taking pot-shots at me, in his snide veiled way, so I drop a few Hydrogen bombs on him. I tell him how my problem has always been that I've grown up in a family of abusive backward hillbillies that are cruel and stupid.

Boy, did he not like that. He called me a girl, the p-word, and gay (except he used the q-word). I let him know that he just proved my point.

I won't go into full detail on that altercation, let's just say I said my piece.

Here's the thing. I've tolerated bigotry my whole life. The irony. My mother often made racist remarks, still does; and at the same time I was taught to be hyper-sensitive to others' feelings. So, I tolerated the ignorant bigotry around me, so as to not offend the offensive creeps.

My Dad was from the Philippines and my Mom, well, is a backward bigot. Most people don't think she is, but she is.

And I was moved, by her, to a backward town full of backward, unaware, blatantly bigoted, ignorant, half-witted cornballs. Pretty tired of it, still live here.

There are plenty of examples I could give as far as the exemplary ignorant remarks I've heard while living here, it's quite prevalent. However, I want to talk about Gabe Delahaye.

But first, I want to talk about Jeff Dunham. He's an unfunny ventriloquist, who has (or had, not sure) a show on Comedy Central.

I'm watching the Biography channel, and a documentary about Jeff Dunham comes on. I'm watching it, I'm looking at Mr. Bland Man, pale and boring, yucky and unfunny, and I'm thinking, "This guy makes me think of all of the dim-witted bigots I've dealt with in this town."

Well, what do you know: Much of his humor, and puppets, target ethnic groups, clearly racist and mostly not funny. I mean, even without the stupid bigotry, this guy would be just Velveeta-boring and bland. Loser to the full extent of Loser-hood.

So, I get curious. Has anybody else noticed? I can't be the only one. I hope not.

So, I turn to Google. I Google, "Jeff Dunham racist..."

Lo and behold, by golly, gee wilikers, I get hits!

I see a Huffington Post article that says Jeff Dunham is racist, a bigot, etc. with a link to the full article.

The full article leads to Videogum.com and a piece written by Gabe Delahaye. This guy is brilliant and edgy. He pulls no punches. He laid into Dunham pretty good. What I can say is that what Delahaye says in the article is what I feel about the people in this town I live in. Here's what Gabe says.

I know what all the arguments are: "You're just being politically correct." That's one of the arguments meant to justify stupidity. No, I don't care about political correctness. What I have a problem with is ignorance, brutality, unconsciousness, backwardness, division, alienation, and abuse. Justify it, but it doesn't do away with the fact that these creatures are wastes of flesh and breath, scummy knuckle-draggers that need to wake the eff up. Sorry, but this is just not 1953.

So, here's to you, Jeff Dunham.

Caregiver Bill of Rights

I've been taking care of my aging mother for at least three years now. I've been a caregiver since 1996, in some capacity or another, for people with physical disabilities and developmental disabilities. What I can tell you is that it's rough; it is draining, stressful, emotionally a sock in the gut. It can take a toll physically and psychologically. This list is very accurate in terms of what taking care of someone can do to you, and what is done to you, and it is very helpful in putting things in perspective. I was given some phone numbers and literature pertaining to support for caregivers, this Bill of Rights was among the things I received. I am going to look into respite and other support, to ease the damage and to make life better for myself and my mother.

Caregiver Bill of Rights

I have the right:

To take care of myself, this will allow me to take better care of my loved one.

To seek help from others even if my loved one objects, as there are limits to my own endurance and strength.

To maintain areas of my own life that does not include the person I care for, as I have the right to do some things just for myself.

To get angry, be depressed, and be able to acknowledge my difficult feelings and emotions in a healthy way.

To reject any attempts by the person I care for to manipulate me (either consciously or unconsciously) through guilt, anger or depression.

To receive consideration, affection, forgiveness, and acceptance for what I do for my loved one, and I will offer these in return.

To take pride in my accomplishments and the courage it takes to meet the needs of my loved one.

To protect my individuality and my right to a life for myself, particularly when my loved one no longer needs my help full time.

To expect and demand that strides will continue to be made toward aiding, acknowledging and supporting caregivers.

Guerilla Gardener

I think this man has a very sharp mind. He sees the mess and gives you something clean. He acts. Brilliant and beautiful.

Masks

I remember when I was a kid, masks scared me. Halloween would come around, and I'd have the life scared out of me by roving trick-or-treaters. I mean, I was terrified.

I also used to have this recurring dream, something I still remember. In the dream, my mother was there, but it wasn't really my mother. And it truly spooked me out.

It is interesting how no one is what they are. We wear masks. We project images. We are never what we say we are.

At some point, if you are aware, you begin to see the facade. The women who snub you, the men acting tough and trying to intimidate you, the competitive pseudo-intellectuals bombarding you and self-important; the domineering co-workers, the abusive boss, the uptight control freaks. All of them scared, all of them putting up a front to control you, to keep themselves safe. It's a false game, a game of illusion. It's destructive.

You can tell when someone is intelligent because they don't think and behave in images; they don't think in terms of women, men, black, white, brown, housed, homeless, poor, rich, high status and low status. They are a joy to be around because they don't try to put themselves or you or anyone else in boxes. Those categories, those images, those identifications, those labels, that divisive thinking creates barriers, mental distortion, division, hatred, war, poverty, misery.

Without them, there is direct, whole attention. Which wipes out all the barriers. Which is care. Which is love.

Movie Adaptations of Comic Book Super Heroes and Fan Art

I like the live-action movie adaptations of comic book heroes. When I was a kid I never would have imagined that my favorite super heroes would be brought to life on the big screen.

But I am a bit selective these days.

I like all the movie adaptations of comic book stories that I've seen, but I have a couple of favorites.

My two favorites? Dark Knight and Iron Man.

First, Iron Man.

Robert Downey, Jr. nailed it as Tony Stark. Smart Alec and undisciplined, a true American, but tough as nails. He thinks a lot of himself, it's true; but he'll do what's necessary for other people too. Mickey Rourke was awesome in Iron Man 2, also. He played that character like he really was this beyond giving a shat, just going to string you up by the toes kind of guy. Definitely believable, to put it mildly.

The special effects are stupendous too. Looked like real iron going at it with a lot of other real iron. Bad-asp...as they say.

Dark Knight. The thing is, Heath Ledger really showed the darkness of the Joker; and the cynicism, the beyond contempt, the irony, the whole bit. Liking how the fight choreography looked too. Batman is a dark figure, and the Dark Knight series exemplifies that darkness; the movie of the Dark Knight really brought all that out.

So, I'm on Facebook and something cool comes up in my news feed. Lots of Avengers fan art. Here is the source for all of this art.

I just think this is very cool.

Super Mario Brothers Avengers!

A little Japanese anime-style.

Modern-day hieroglyphics.

A bit of a more sorrowful portrayal of the Hulk.

Here's a video of how some of this fan art is created. Amazing what can be done with computers and how the Internet allows a space for so much creativity and culture.

All of the movies adapted from comic books, I used to read as a kid. These days it's a joy to see those heroes in action in a movie. And it's a joy to see people expressing their creativity in various media with my old comic book favorites as groundwork. Cool stuff.