Fighting for Freedom, wherever there's trouble...

Let me preface this by saying I LOVE a good mystery.
And here's tonight's:
From 12:51 to 1:09 AM tonight, my apartment buliding (and apparently most of the complex) was being being patrolled by a team of armored S.W.AT. officers carrying fully automatic weapons poised at the ready! PLUS, they had a search dog!
The seven officers did at least three circles around my building before moving on. All the while, I counted 5 (five) separate unmarked vehicles of different makes and models (all black but one, of course) patrolling the complex parking lot. I would have to assume they were establishing some kind of movable perimeter.
Isn't that comforting? There is nothing more relaxing before you go to bed at one in the morning, than to know that highly trained, armed officers are doing laps around your home!
Oops!
As I write this, they have now moved into the woods separating my apartment from the houses behind us!
GREAT!
Let's hope we hear gunfire REEEEEAAAAALLLLL soon.
Might as well take that to bed too.
What's even worse is that I have an unbelievably sick urge to go out there and yell: " I CAN SEE YOU!!! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!!!"

But there is always tomorrow to find some way to get shot...
Here's hoping that this is all you hear about this from me!

Sleep well, America!
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Epilogue- 2:28 AM

Well, no threat to national security here. Armed robbery was committed at an ATM right outside of our complex.
Apparently, the perp ran right through our lot!
Again...How comforting.

Ride The Tingle...

Do you know what sucks most about having writer's block, or I guess any kind of creative constipation?
You never lose The Tingle while you're having it.
What is The Tingle?
The Tingle is that feeling that makes creative folks be creative. It is the addictive, endorphin-cascading response within that tells us we have something to be shared. It can start in different places for everybody. Mine is just below the sternum and above the stomach. When all is going properly, The Tingle travels from its point of origin in the body and makes its way to the brain, where it creates a conduit of creativity that runs like a generator until the idea/expression has been properly exhausted. One can still have creativity without The Tingle, mind you. At that point, it simply relinquishes the honor of being inspired creativity. But with the proper mental discipline and sheer desire, anyone can create without The Tingle and become the next, I don't know...Stephen King.
At any rate, during blockage, the feeling does not subside. It wells up within its point of origin, waiting to be released. In my case, when I try to fight the blockage and release The Tingle, I can feel it traveling, moving steadily up my spine and past my eyes...It's gonna make it to the brain!
Here it comes!
It's gonna be great!
And...FURPF!
It hits the brain wall and scatters like a fart in the wind.
It takes a moment to fully comprehend that it didn't happen, and on the way up The Tingle has left your mouth open and you're drooling ever so slighty on whatever lies below. You're left sitting like a lobotomy patient waiting for applesauce as the moment of realization fades...
The Tingle re-enters the bloodstream as a billion creative molecules and will eventually recollect itself into the familiar feeling at the point of origin, where it will try again later to reach the brain.

"Guess I'll go take that crap!", you think to yourself (Post-Tingle responses may vary).

"FURPF!" That's a funny word.

In memorium...

HUNTER S. THOMPSON
1937-2005

He shot himself.
He KILLED HIMSELF by choice.
How does one survive that many mild-altering drugs in deadly doses,
and then CHOOSE to leave existence like that?

I will concede, I was never a massive fan...
but he was an indesputably avant-garde and significant
journalist and novelist.
He was the culmination of a strident, desperate revolution
in American pop-culture.
He was a necessity, and for that we shall thank him.

It will be impossible to forget him.
And no one of us could hope for any less from our lives.

Breathe through it...

Everyone is trapped by fear.
But only some can fight it.
Those that do, know Life through living,
The rest hide deep inside it.

We crawl into our complacency
To abide each "dismal" day.
We convince ourselves to be comfortable,
So we'll know no other way.

We often feel Life will come to us,
But the truth is, Life won't care.
If you don't TAKE life, it can easily drown you...
And ignore your gasps for air.

So believe it or not, the key, then, is fear.
For it shows you what must be done.
And if you can face it, and are willing to TRY,
Then the battle is already won.

Everyone is trapped by fear.
But only some can fight it.
Those that do, know Life through living,
I will no longer hide deep inside it.

I wish the Postal Service a swifter demise...

Can someone please explain the following to me:
Yesterday, I mailed off a 9x12 stamped envelope containing an application and a copy of my resume. It was correctly addressed and, obviously, included my return address. Well, today...it was returned. It was returned asking for an additional, oh, let's see...23 CENTS. Now, in order to re-mail this stupid thing, I have had to place another 37 CENT stamp on the envelope, for a total now of 74 CENTS. It does not bother me that I have had to add additional postage. Do you know what bothers me?
WHERE IN THE NAME OF OTHER PEOPLE'S GODS DID THEY GET 23 CENTS? WHAT KIND OF ARBITRARY DOUGLAS ADAMS NUMBER IS THAT? As far as I know, there is no 60 CENT stamp providing the amount I Oh So OBVIOUSLY needed on the envelope. And I certainly cannot purchase a 23 CENT stamp as the 37 CENT stamp is now the lowest denomination of
postal charges (as far as I know. Please, correct me if I'm wrong). Why in the hell am I GIVING the Post Office 14 extra cents?
IT MAKES NO SENSE!
NO PUN INTENDED!
PUNS ARE AN EXTRA 14 CENTS!!!!!
The money does not bother me as an individual. It's cents. But it should bother US as a collective. If they do this to just 10, 000 people in one day (and that is NOT a high number statistcally speaking), they have made 140,000 F*@&ing dollars. Multiply that by 300 (the approximate number of days in the year the mail runs) and they have turned a PROFIT of 42,000,000 MILLION DOLLARS!!!!! SWEET ZOMBIE CHRIST!!!!
Plus, now I get to look like a putz and send this marked up, shame-covered envelope to this company because I don't want to waste the FIRST stamp! Damn!
And finally, the icing on le cake: I sent ANOTHER 9x12 envelope with my resume AND a CD with samples of my artwork early LAST WEEK. It has not been returned! Where the hell is it?!!! Where is my resume sitting right now?!!!!
IN SOME PILE MARKED: NEEDS 14 CENTS, NO DOUBT!!!!
DAMN!
I wish the postal service a swifter demise. Onward into E-Commerce and THE WORLD OF TOMORROW!!

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Epilogue (3 Hours & 2 comments Later)

Well... Apparently, I'm just a big, fat moron. I hope I am not found starved and frozen in the street because of my complete lack of applicable real-world experience and postal naivete.
And, just to defend myself further: We are talking about a grand total of 4 sheets of frakkin' paper. I can dig the one with the CD, it's "heavy". But if 37 cents won't cover 4 sheets of frakkin' paper, you can bite my shiny, metal ass.

Cry Me a River...

You know how I love you,
I've told you so much.
I want only to hold you,
Melt under your touch.

I don't care in the morning
If you say your breath's gross.
I will always still kiss you.
Then I'll make us some toast.

You think I'm romantic,
but it's just 'cuz of you.
I can't tell you I love you,
without showing it too...

So I bought you these roses
and chocolates galore.
And this bear that says "Kiss Me!"
I'm a Valentine's whore.

They're just THINGS and you know this,
Your eyes say it best.
Our love has the meaning,
So screw all the rest.

This day is just bullshit,
But so what and who cares?
I can tell you I love you.
We could play Truth or Dare.

I will take you to dinner,
Grant a wish you want most.
In the morning I'll kiss you.
Then I'll make us some toast.

You might be a vision.
Just a dream in my head.
And someday I might lose you,
but until then, it's said...

You know how I love you,
I've told you so much.
I want only to hold you,
Melt under your touch.

---------------------------------

Happy Frickin' Valentine's.
Any of you who utter words of love on this day...
You better mean it. With all your heart.
And...
Bite my shiny metal ass.

God Makes a Monkey Out of Us

My addendum is below this article:

GOD and EVOLUTION
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF

Published: February 12, 2005



An "analysis" of Democrats and Republicans from the Ladies' Home Journal in 1962 concluded: "Republicans sleep in twin beds - some even in separate rooms. That is why there are more Democrats."

That biological analysis turns out - surprise! - to have been superficial. Instead, modern science is turning up a possible reason why the religious right is flourishing and secular liberals aren't: instinct. It turns out that our DNA may predispose humans toward religious faith.

Granted, that's not very encouraging news for the secular left. Imagine if many of us are hard-wired to be religious. Imagine if, as a cosmic joke, humans have gradually evolved to leave many of us doubting evolution.

The notion of a genetic inclination toward religion is not new. Edward Wilson, the founder of the field of sociobiology, argued in the 1970's that a predisposition to religion may have had evolutionary advantages.

In recent years evidence has mounted that there may be something to this, and the evidence is explored in "The God Gene," a fascinating book published recently by Dean Hamer, a prominent American geneticist. Dr. Hamer even identifies a particular gene, VMAT2, that he says may be involved. People with one variant of that gene tend to be more spiritual, he found, and those with another variant to be less so.

There's still plenty of reason to be skeptical because Dr. Hamer's work hasn't been replicated, and much of his analysis is speculative. Moreover, any genetic predisposition isn't for becoming an evangelical, but for an openness to spirituality at a much broader level. In Alabama, it may express itself in Pentecostalism; in California, in astrology or pyramids.

Still, it's striking how faith is almost irrepressible. While I was living in China in the early 1990's, after religion had been suppressed for decades, drivers suddenly began dangling pictures of Chairman Mao from their rear-view mirrors. The word had spread that Mao's spirit could protect them from car crashes or even bring them sons and wealth. It was a miracle: ordinary Chinese had transformed the great atheist into a god.

One bit of evidence supporting a genetic basis for spirituality is that twins separated at birth tend to have similar levels of spirituality, despite their different upbringings. And identical twins, who have the same DNA, are about twice as likely to share similar levels of spirituality as fraternal twins.

It's not surprising that nature would favor genes that promote an inclination to faith. Many recent studies suggest that religious people may live longer than the less religious. A study of nearly 4,000 people in North Carolina, for example, found that frequent churchgoers had a 46 percent lower risk of dying in a six-year period than those who attended less often. Another study involving nearly 126,000 participants suggested that a 20-year-old churchgoer might live seven years longer than a similar person who does not attend religious services.

Partly that's because the religious seem to adopt healthier lifestyles - they are less likely to smoke, for example. And faith may give people strength to overcome illness - after all, if faith in placebo sugar pills works, why not faith in God?

Another possibility involves brain chemistry. Genes that promote spirituality may do so in part by stimulating chemical messengers in the brain like dopamine, which can make people optimistic and sociable - and perhaps more likely to have children. (Dopamine is very complex, but it appears linked to both spirituality and promiscuity, possibly explaining some church scandals.)

Evolutionary biologists have also suggested that an inclination to spirituality may have made ancient humans more willing to follow witch doctors or other leaders who claimed divine support. The result would have been more cohesive bands of cave men, better able to survive - and to kill off rival cave men.

Of course, none of that answers the question of whether God exists. The faithful can believe that God wired us to appreciate divinity. And atheists can argue that God may simply be a figment of our VMAT2 gene.

But what the research does suggest is that postindustrial society will not easily leave religion behind. Faith may be quiescent in many circles these days, or directed toward meditation or yoga, but it is not something that humans can easily cast off.

A propensity to faith in some form appears to be embedded within us as a profound part of human existence, as inextricable and perhaps inexplicable as the way we love and laugh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An interesting piece. This topic has, of course been floating around in anthropological circles for decades (starting with E.O. Wilson, as the article mentions), but it is always good to see it gaining ground in a more public forum like the NY Times. I myself tend to agree with the idea, as I, a strongly self-proclaimed agnostic/atheist (pick one), have had moments in my life where I have actually WANTED to say some kind of my prayer despite the fact that my intellect completely rejects the notion of God/gods as anything more than man's creation. I can only explain this impulse through my socio-theological upbringing, a kind of environmental stimulus response. But when you start to think about it, that response has been an active part of the human thought process for 1000's of generations now! Thousands! The human brain spends every waking second of its life trying to create order from the chaos that surrounds it, and belief in the divine, or SOMETHING bigger than us tends to easily organize a very complex universe. With that kind of organization eventually becoming second nature, civilization and social structuring are only an evolutionary heartbeat behind. At that point, when God becomes a beneficial, adaptive evolutionary response, the idea of passing that response down through a gene that benefits all of humanity (in terms of assisting in social order) doesn't seem so far-fetched.

HAIL SATAN!!!

The Death of Intellectualism

I wanted to take a moment and harp about something that I have known for a week or so now, but haven't said anything about... Partly just to deck the halls of my blog with the cynicism I am so in touch with and partly just to make an entry so people don't think I am dead.
I want to talk about Television.
There is no historical doubt that TV was an irreplaceable cultural revolution. Since its inception, it has brought a world together in ways its creators probably could have never fully imagined. Throught its buzzing cathode ray tubes, we have watched men land on the moon, seen entire wars come and go before us, seen reflections of the racial and sexual changes that have been strived for for forty years. The televison has virtually CREATED 20th and 21st century culture.
But that is merely the historical perpspective. A romantic vision masking the monster that now lay beneath...a monster that slept until only too recently. No longer can we can consider televison in this romanticized way. No longer should we view TV through rose-colored glasses. TV is no longer that revolution, no longer that unique page in human history (we leave that now to the Internet). NO, televison is now a plague, a disease that infects 95% of the American population, including myself. I try to be self-inoculating against the disease, but it is not so easily done.
People are often fascinated by the way I discuss the shows that I do watch with fervor. I enjoy talking about them in depth, exploring the narrative and character development, critiquing continuity and cinematography (or animation). Given the right narrative, there are even philosophical, anthropological and metaphysical themes to discuss. And people are dumb-founded by this. "Do you ALWAYS think this much?", they say. "Why would you want to think that much when you're watching TV?", they ask.
I no longer respond to these inquiries with my typical acerbic quips.
If one is watching television in order to avoid conscious thought, we aren't going to have alot more to discuss within that realm.
Which brings me closer to my point: Television no longer feeds the audience intellectual entertainment. Sure, it does still exist, peppered over countless channels, to be discovered by the few intellectuals that turn on the damn thing because they ENJOY thinking while being entertained, but because our numbers are so low now, so are revenues and this means that these shows rarely last more than a season or two. The pathogen for this plague has become the bloated, mindless drivel that pervades the air waves simply because it is marketable. And because the general populace no longer reads when they are not on the internet, they turn IMMEDIATELY and without question to television as their only source of "imaginative" escape. The average audience member is not even aware anymore that the next reality show they have become addicted to is only aired because some fucking executive wants to stay rich and he/she knows that they can market virtually ANYTHING to our dulled, numbed psyches.
So now, the final point; the reason I started this rant: Star trek Enterprise was cancelled on February 2nd, 2005. Not a surprise to any of us that enjoyed it, we barely had enough ratings to get this last, fourth season. But it is a reflection of what I am trying to convey here. THE SHOW WAS NOT BAD! IN FACT, IT WAS GREAT SCIENCE FICTION! It was well-written, well-produced and a wonderful continuation of a dorkily distinguished and geekily proud franchise. But apparently, it was not marketable enough. Therefore, it was treated as such: No advertising. No cast interviews on popular late night shows. A shift to a TERRRIBLE time slot. It was treated as a pariah and it died as one. This can be said for many of the shows of which I am huge fan: Firefly, Futurama, the soon to be cancelled Arrested Development and Family Guy, just to name a few. Family Guy being the only show in those examples that is to be resurrected in the coming months. Know why? BECAUSE THE SYNDICATED RERUNS BECAME SUCH A HIT ON THE CARTOON NETWORK THAT FOX (THE NETWORK THAT CANCELLED IT) DECIDED THEY WANT TO MAKE MORE MONEY OFF OF IT!!!
I wish I didn't want to watch it.
OK, this has become long-winded. To put icing on the perverbial cake, I am going to end with a post about Enterprise's cancellation I put on a website my freinds and I share that (hopefully, humorously) expresses my anger. For those of you with faint hearts or a desire to avoid dirty language and graphic imagery, I recommend that you not read this. Seriously. No, really and truly SERIOUSLY, DO NOT READ IT. I don't want any phone calls. I say that mostly for my mother, as she sometimes reads my blog. I would edit it, but...that's not me. Thank you and Good night.
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posted on 1/19/2005

We've been preparing for this for a long time, bud. Stay strong. CUZ SOMEBODY HAS TO!!! I'M TOO BUSY CRYING AND BEATING MY HEAD INTO THE TELEVISION!!! GODDAMMIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!!! WHY IS INTELLIGENT TELEVISION TREATED LIKE THE FUCKING PLAGUE?!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU SUPER-SIZE SUCKING, FAT-GUZZLING ASSHOLES WANT?!!! HUH?!!! HUH?!!! YOU WANNA JUST RUN 24 HOURS OF FUCKING MINDLESS, BRAIN-MELTING, SOUL-SUCKING, KITTEN-KILLING REALITY SHOWS?!! WILL THAT MAKE YOU ASSHOLES HAPPY?!! HUH?!!! WILL THAT MAKE YOU SKEET ALL OVER YOUR FAT, HAIR-COVERED SPOUSES?!!! FUCK!!! AND I TELL YOU WHAT, AS A FUCKING BREAK FROM THOSE BRILLLLLLLLLLLIANT TREATISES ON THE HUMAN CONDITION, WE'LL RUN THE SAME GODDAMN EPISODE OF BLUE COLLAR TV OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL YOUR EYES BURST AND YOU VOMIT FUCKING BLOOD!!! HOW ABOUT THAT, BINGO?!!! YOU LIKE THAT SHIT?!!! HUH?!!! YOU WANT MORE?!! BEND OVER AND LUBE IT UP, BEEATCH!!! DADDY NEEDS HIS "ENTERTAINMENT"!!! HALLELUIAH!!! HOLY SHIT!!!

I...
I didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry.
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AD NAUSEUM

I hate looking for work.
I would be willing to deal with a thousand grey clouds shadowing my life if just one corner of one cloud would present a silver lining.
I need a lobotomy. It's the only way I am going to SETTLE for the bullshit I am going to have to endure in a non-professional setting.
All for the almighty dollar.
Somebody want to remind me again why I moved?

My only happy note: I adore Calvin & Hobbes. And I envy Bill Watterson. A genius on more levels than history will ever give him credit for.

That's all I've got.