Monday, December 26, 2005

An Open Letter To Christ

Happy birthday, asshole,

If anyone believes in karma, or the biblical dream of the kind-hearted folks being rewarded, let them show themselves and their proof. I tried doing the Christian thing by giving my worldly possessions for others, and now I’m disdained, frowned upon, and disrespected. This December has been insane – tons of people very close to me have been hospitalized, I’ve had my own personal hell, and no single day has been purely normal. Yes, Christmas is all sweet and mushy, and I can reminisce about the Charlie Brown cartoons as a kid, this was nothing but a day. I am a respectful Christian, but for this year, I must say… Hey J.C, happy fucking birthday – now go back to doing nothing and watching passively as the “sinful” world classifies me as a destitute worm. Hey Christ, you know I gave up almost everything to support other people? Oh yeah, one was dying of disease. Where are all the church services on my birthday? You didn’t have it so bad, zippy. I’ll take 16 hours nailed to a cross any day, over gradual defeat, unwarranted persecution, and eventual poverty in the interest of Christian selflessness. I know I’m going to Heaven because I know your teachings and actually do believe in you. Do you understand that your teachings, when followed ardently, can create a miserable existence? Oh wait, I must respect my body, it’s the temple of the Lord. How do I respect my “temple” if I can’t afford food, Captain Genius? For someone so allegedly omniscient, you really suck at expressing yourself, especially when those biblical contradictory thoughts rival a Bazooka Joe comic.
People who go beyond the call of duty as a Christian should – no must – be rewarded a little bit during their earthy existence. That classic question, why do good hearted, loving people die unnecessarily or give themselves without reward? Conveniently the answer is “the sins of the world…” Nice try.

Why do people give up believing in you? If you don’t see why, then stop now and remind yourself that you’re a fucking moron that can’t even speak Aramaic without contradictions and pointless aphorisms. You’re a loving god – and loving people down here in the ‘hood, well they get pummeled to death by thugs. Oh but that’s due to the evils of the world injected by Satan. Pass it off like a forged “sick day” note from mom. Your intent is for humans to love those as they would want to be loved, then we are trampled when giving ourselves up as you might hope. Various millionaires have lived flawless lives, selfishly and heartlessly. Read that hastily compiled bible – human suffering was to be showered upon the pagans and evil doers. After hurricane Katrina, devout Christians even erected simple chapels to pray to you. Let’s see, they are incredibly devout followers of you, and they stay faithful despite “evil” destruction. If you have the power, strength, and knowledge, as a loving god, to change things, maybe throw those people a bone and whip up a subtle miracle or nice surprise? Your teachings may be well intended, but you’re a real asshole in terms of backing us up in the late innings. Thank a lot, mister ambivalent. Go back to sleep.

Relationship Injustice Part Three

Relationships are hardly any easier to maintain than the black and white days of cherry cola, drive-in movies and poodles skirts Young couples allowed the girl to incite asinine games of cat and mouse, inevitably withering the male admirer right into the mythical city of Testosteronto, Canada; where young men were sentenced to masturbatory purgatory. Girls from the “golden age” had obligations to emit purity, chastity, and a wholesome quality that belied their internally suppressed hormonal intentions. Girls, in other words, had to keep their legs together or else the scarlet letter of tawdriness might be emblazoned on their cute, yet conservative, sweater.

Now that expressionism has carried its weight to the forefront, and sexual freedom has reared its moderately tolerable head, we have scary lesbians beating up buildings, eating taxis, and stuffing philosophies into popular forums. Since all are now free to scream their wishes and inner urges to the condom-collecting lobotomy survivors that define our young adults, the game of “catch me if you can” grows into a complex realm of intellectual bargaining – love and romance, as it were, comprise a small fraction of the relationships any more – it’s completely a matter of having a job interview, winning the chase, beating the other contestants, and deciding as to the veracity of one’s thoughts and plans. As I have mentioned, marriage carries a stigma of stupidity, as if all others are too smart to fall into such a pointless arrangement. Codependence is a dangerous facet of coupling. Nevertheless, men and women have become so self sufficient, dare I say selfish, that they approach a potential partner with the “what have I got to lose?” attitude. With that philosophy will come mind games, suspicion, apathy for the other, and a general lack of effort toward compiling a friendship into a meaningful relationship, and perhaps, a family.

Women, in the old days, were groomed to find a man and be a good wife and mother. Their futures were directly reliant on finding a mate, as if they had no hope for survival on their own. In this era, since the rite of marriage is abused by people who hastily marry and divorce at an alarming rate, independence and self-sufficiency reign supreme, dismissing marriage as an anachronistic crutch of weakness, rather than a commitment to family, long term plans, and devotion. On a positive note, from my view, friends have waited at least 3 years until marrying; this shows an element of circumspect, resolve, and respect for the institution, rather than the drive thru chapels that litter Las Vegas.

It’s amazing how simple it really can be to just have a sincere relationship. People jump through hoops to impress or fascinate their partner, all the while shrouding the interaction in smoke and mirrors, thus dooming the clarity of its future. Stop it. Do you suck? Don’t hide it. Are you a loser? Don’t hide it. If you hide it for the sake of keeping a spouse, that’s idiotic and hopeless. Nothing is more admired and loved than sincerity, regardless of what is being revealed. Females are incredibly likely to be suspicious of duplicitous men, keeping up a fa├žade until they can ensnare their quarry. I’ve always thought that a poor fellow who hides nothing is far more loved than a rich one who carries masks and hides blemishes. I have so much respect for women who simply look for a person they love, regardless of circumstance, rather than “urban” classy women who seek the successful man. A woman who places success or status above sincerity and true friendship – well, they can take their trendy clothes and shove them up their collective squacks… they are soulless pigs and don’t deserve to bear children.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

This Marriage Stuff

Situational harmony is the empathis of wedded bliss, as it were. What one forgets is the focus of the conceptually permanent bond one is to be forging with their beloved; it's sought as a title, a bragging right, and a convenient means for rite of passage. I wish anyone seeking matrimonial formalities would just wait - just wait. Is there a real necessity, other than tax implications, to finalize the legality of one's partnership? It's a silently powerful killer of people's goals, dreams, ideals, and intentions for the future, when one is locked into a legal contract of sorts at too young an age. Certainly many couples find their dream partner at an early age and there is no question as to the veracity of the bond. In most other cases (i.e. the divorce rate) many find someone they can see as a feasible sidekick, and perhaps because of the need to escape ugly domestic situations, or to seek an atmosphere of apparent stability, the decision for wedlock is hatched and sealed.

I wince at the occasions when I sense a marriage being sealed for anything but pure destiny and spiritual harmony, a scenario that seems to emerge a fraction of the time in weddings. Divorce and anullment carry such a brutal stigma of shame and myopia, even in this era, many fear the retribution of carrying through with the proceedings, despite a loveless domestic setting. If divorce didn't carry such a societal stench of shame, many relationships would be freed of their self-imposed bonds, but yet again many more marriages might be hastily forged without regard for the shame of failure. Marriage, like puberty, old age, or death, was an institution brought forth by pagan sects and ripped off by most religions. It was an implied pact - to carry through raising offspring with a consistent mother and father. Not this bullshit of property separation, agreements, and licensure.

Marriage has dissolved into a status symbol - a title, nothing more. A "married" man has a license and likely a woman with the same last name. Marriage, boiled down, is in the heart, spirit, and intentions of the couple. This is where I tend to find much value in the supposedly anachronistic common law marriage legislation that still lingers in various jurisdictions. If people are together, living together, for 7, 8 or say 10 years, they're married by definition. Marriage licenses should be issued with a minimum amount of time that the couple has been together, with validation. People marrying after 3 months - that's a mockery of the institution. I've proclaimed that the concept is a poor one, but all along I realized it's poor because it has gained too much weight as a status. People say that marriage is horrible because half of them end in divorce. Why? Because people are fucking morons. If people respected this institution as much as, say, drinking poison, we'd all be better off. Half of all people die of drinking poison. Awwww. Bye bye dipshit. Natural selection didn't select you. That type of thing. They can rot in hell.

Is marriage bad? No. I always said it was, and I realized the opposite. People don't understand its true meaning, and use it, abuse it, or throw it around like the scum that have 8 kids with 8 mothers. The rite of matrimony should only be granted to a couple that has passed a comprehensive test, an IQ test, a psychological examination, and harsh screenings. It should be earned. A marriage license is far easier to attain than a driver's license. Think about that. Maybe just a day by day life with the one you love is the best step to take... titles like "wife" or "husband" have lost the value they once held, so why bother jumping the gun. Couples are couples, and relationships must always prevail in lifelong choices. You don't need to go through a silly ceremony to prove to your beloved that you are devoted. Just be devoted.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

My Two Personalities

On great occasion (hyperbole excepted) the night version of myself, Mikey, might "relax" a bit and speak his mind, with little regard toward sensitivity, appropriateness, or regard for the intrinsic value of the spoken word. Thus we conclude that there are two Mikes - the day Mike and night Mike. Day Mike is personable, highly suited to business meetings, and otherwise socially adept at pleasing the masses in an executive arena. Night Mike holds court in venues which succumbs to his tawdry insults, jokes, and comments. Night Mike rules a playground that has no rules. Verbally, this is a gruesome field of wandering marching band members from Stanford. Point being, Day Mike censors everything and portrays a pleasing facade, while Night Mike spouts all that had been curtailed from days prior. Let's explore the contrasts:

Woman says "I feel so unattractive today."

Day Mike:
"But you have a charming personality"

Night Mike:
1) Not that you're ugly, but my last steamin' dump just asked you out
2) You look like how a slaughterhouse smells
3) There aren't many people that are uglier than Redd Foxx

Someone says "I'm fat, I need to lose weight."

Day Mike :
"Have diligence, and you'll be happy with your self-image."

Night Mike:
1) Your ass looks like the back of a Denny's
2) I can't even look at your monstrous chins without praising Ethiopia
3) You nab a boyfriend/girlfriend right after I figure out how to create nuclear energy with Avery Schreiber's decomposing moustache dandruff.
4) Stop naming all your pets "Twinkie". They never outlast the FryDaddy anyway, you horrific parade float.
5) Blaming it on the thyroid? Yeah, ok, then I blame my hairy chest on Gorman Thomas.
6) (Female scenario) Why do you bother with makeup. Just stop. You still resemble an animal.

"My grandma died today."

Day Mike :
"Damn, sorry to hear that."

Night Mike:
1) What, she finally saw herself in the mirror?
2) Is she still warm?
3) How many stairs did the old clown fall down this time?
4) Whoo hoo! Box her up and send her to the bone yard!
5) Cuh - ching!

"We'd like to announce that we're getting married!"

Day Mike:
"Well golly... congratulations."

Night Mike:
1) Knocked 'er up already, eh?
2) Oh, good call. Now go buy some Enron stock.
3) Hmm, she didn't mention anything last night.
4) I now pronounce you "Attention-starved pastry glutton and spineless buffoon"
5) Please don't have any offspring; you're way too ugly and stupid.
6) That's ok, she can still keep us guys happy as a married woman.
7) Well, being your sister, she won't have to change her last name.

"I stayed home this weekend and watched DVDs."

Day Mike:
"Oh yeah, what did you see?"

Night Mike:
1) I know. Your significant other was out getting laid.
2) Jeezus, why don't you just order your Rascal now, you lazy pathetic pile of couch cake?
3) Don't forget, those DVDs are illegal in this country.
4) Did you remember to put them into the DVD player this time? Bonehead?

"My son wants to work in the computer industry. Any advice?"

Day Mike:
"Tell him to work hard, stick with it, and challenge himself."

Night Mike:
1) Microsoft isn't hiring any janitors.
2) He must not like girls very much.
3) Tell him to just buy a rope and hang himself now.
4) Programming a VCR does not count as programming experience.
5) Teach him how to numb his hand so it feels like a "stranger" is doing it.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Where's That Equator?

Late November is always a magical time of year, when the first snows blast their volcanic sputum upon our windshields and everything begins to really become a 24 hour hangover. If summer is New Year's Eve, then November is that dreadful New Year's Day get-together with bad food, 11 kids running around, and lots of Lawrence Welk reruns. In short, it's the beginning of a long, depressing journey across the temporal tundra. In areas of the northern midwest, where warmish weather is welcomed but never taken for granted, the inevitably abrupt shift into Siberian hell can never be a calm transition. Forget about those concepts of Seattle having a dreary climate and depressing environment - not hardly - it might be rainy at times, but it's not smelly, gray and cold for 5 months like it is around here in winter. They only occasionally see snow - we only occasionally see vegetation. Live in Chicago between the months of November and April, and you'll know what a depressing environment can really be like. Humans just aren't meant to live anywhere north of the 38th parallel - we belong in the tropics, running around with our machinery hanging out, flopping around like one of those stupid decorations people put on their car antennae.

I love when these homebody freaks extol the virtues of the beauty of a fresh snow, and the warmth of a cozy fireplace with good friends and a nice soft blanket. Bite me; go to Alaska you freak. I'll take the global warming. Oh come on, let the ice caps melt and we'll figure out a way to save the wildlife up there, who must be the stupidest of all Darwinian evolution, to end up migrating up to those areas. The polar bear must have been the really stupid bear that dropped out of school early to pursue a music career with Greg Brady, only to realize that the Brazilian Trance Music craze hit an untimely demise. As Sam Kinison used to yell to the famine ravaged Ethiopians, YOU'RE IN THE DESERT! GO WHERE THE FOOD IS YOU MORONS! Imagine him screaming that, and it has a little more zap to it. But to be pragmatic, our lumbering bodies are better equipped for handling 100 degree weather than 20 degree weather.

Many can recall my sincere hatred of driving, and winter conditions can only exacerbate this folly. My car is barely equipped to handle the rain, let alone snow. Left turns become U-turns. Trains need less distance for stopping than my beloved sledmobile. It's rear wheel drive, and not recommended for anyone north of the aforementioned 38th parallel. It's been stuck in 2 inches of snow. It's slid backwards while driving up a ramp. It even got stuck in a car wash once. Try pushing your own idling vehicle out of a slippery morass while being hot-waxed. I actually know what it's like to be an M & M after that. Hey, it could be worse - I could be living in one of those hideous cities in the northern half of the "former Soviet Republic". Boy, talk about a depressing way to live - cold all the time, always stuck eating beets, yuck. Worst of all, they can't even afford color. Colors are translated into unique, peculiar dotted patterns, in the same way they show the areas of temperatures on a national weather map. Let's see, it's going to be in the 80s where the map appears "oniony". Whoo hoo! Honey, we're oniony!
I have to admit, I started writing this diatribe in early January, right when the pot-bellied, loquacious weathermen would belch their funny "ho ho ho! Here comes the snow!" and similar moronic slogans. I don't like watching the weather report - it's too irritating to endure a double whammy of a typically crappy forecast, followed by cute small talk from the weather dork and the charming newscasters. Just give me a temperature for tomorrow. I don't even care about precipitation, or if tomorrow's windy day will be a real "hat chaser". No thanks. Numbers, vectors, and that's about it. Like the people in air traffic control. They give the basics, and the current conditions are spouted out in about 4 seconds. Not too difficult. And frankly, anyone who proclaims their love of the gentle snows and wintry scenes should find themselves stranded in a blizzard, ultimately devoured by hungry caribou. No remorse for winterphiles. Perhaps in rural areas, for elderly invalids, the gentle snowfall gives them something nice to look at, and a lot more things to count. Kids love it because they don't have to drive in it. Go ahead, build your little snow fort. In 20 years, you'll be wishing you could hide in one, after skidding out of control and plowing the ol' Impala into a lumbering cement truck. Impaled by an Impala. Nice ring to it.

Winter is just a disgusting reminder that our billowing wad of crud called "earth" is just a hair too far away from the sun. How about we find a way to chemically fix the ozone layer, but still allow global warming to flourish. Melting of the ice caps? Oh, c'mon, it's extra water! Dump it on the deserts and grow some oats or hemp. With all the extra unfrozen water in the system, and the higher temperatures, this whole orb can be a lush tropic paradise. Ok, so the middle east might fry a little bit, but let's see how many bombs they can build during those cool 160 degree evenings. Little tired, Skandar? Go out there and proclaim death to America! There ya go, lil' buddy! Aw, heat stroke got another one. (Cue the "Price Is Right" loss of game sound effect). How's the heat in tents? Intense! Ho ho hee hee, I slay me. They better not. Anyhow, I'd love to colonize some more American regions down by the equator, just so more of us can escape this abysmal climate. There are too many loopy bozos in the current temperate regions of the U.S., so it's time to think southward. Let's go! Manifest Destiny! Death to cold!