McApple Pie and the American Flag

Every now and then I have the fortune of a true “ah ha!” moment. This latest epiphany has come courtesy of our nation’s Independence Day. Or rather, the way our we celebrate it.

The 4th of July is a time to reflect upon our great country and see it for the marvel that it truly is. Rich America and Poor America, Black America and White America, Hispanic America and Korean America, Rural America and Urban America, they all celebrate their piece of the pie the same way: with fireworks and hotdogs. On the most American of days millions flock to their local fairgrounds, lake, river, or downtown to behold the spectacle of burning copper, and magnesium, and sulfur that evokes such awe and bewilderment. Explosions are cool.

Those of you that know me are perhaps expecting some ironic blandishment concerning the hypocrisy of it all, or the naivety of the huddled masses as they celebrate what today they would likely denounce. You would be wrong. Believe it or not I am pretty patriotic as far as 20-something subverters go. No, as always the Devil is in the details, and in the details of our nation’s self-celebration I have found the Devil not in hiding, but in proud consummation of the American Dream. Without the Devil, there would be no 4th of July celebration.

Last evening on NBC was coverage of one of the nation’s most celebrated celebrations of the day, the Macy’s NYC firework extravaganza. Did NBC beam this event into millions of American homes out of the goodness in their red-blooded American hearts? No, they needed sponsors of course to furlough costs. And who stepped up to the plate to take a risk on a modestly viewed program so that those who could not witness first hand the spectacle could nevertheless join in the magic from their living rooms? Why none other than representatives from the two most dangerous industries known to man. Two industries that together have killed millions of Americans and financially ruined millions more. The two industries? Fast-food and lending. The two companies? McDonald’s and Citibank.

Are McDonald’s and Citibank the Devil? I don’t think so. What about NBC? No. The American consumer who consumes with reckless abandon? I'm not going to say it. But to be sure, when on America’s Independence Day, during the most visceral of patriotic manifestations, pushers of the 2 most damaging consumables that money can buy have the nerve to show their face on national TV and ask solicit thanks for all it is that they do for us, the Devil has to be somewhere.

It’s not that companies shouldn’t have the right to sell whatever it is they want. Or that Americans shouldn’t have the right to consume whatever it is they consume. Rather it’s the fact that WE let ourselves be led down the yellow brick road to nowhere all the while thinking that we are being done a favor. This isn’t an arena for government, or regulation, or law. Credit card debt and obesity are our own damn fault. Shame on us for dying at 50 of a heart attack, shame on us for owing $10,000 at 15% before we turn 22. Shame on us for giving our solicitors the time of day. Shame on them for declaring themselves our Prometheus. Finally, shame on all of us for not even noticing when the instuments of our destruction stand up and take a bow.

The O.C.

I just got back from a trip to the O.C.. This wasn't a pleasure trip but more business like in nature. As in, traffic court business. No matter though, this O.C. doesn't feature breathtaking vistas or beau bodied beaches. As far as I can tell this Orange County boosts of nothing more than some elitist left-wing book stores and an historical building or two.

So here are my impressions from your everyday small town America court:

1. No wonder why "court costs" (or "raping fees" as I affectionately call it) are $100. They have employed the most inefficient people processing system known to man. The Nazis would have been up in arms, if they weren't living out their golden years in Buenos Aires, damned dirty Argentineans! I started downstairs, was told to go upstairs, then I sat. I was told to go downstairs and stand in line #1. Then I was told to go back upstairs, then I sat. 2 hours later my name was called and I stood in line #2. "How do you plead?" "Guilty." "Go over there and sit down." And I sat. Then it came time to pay and I stood in line #3. They jacked my fine up to $50 inexplicably even though I "plea bargained" down my ticket to "improper equipment." Funny, the lower the charge, the higher the fine. So I didn't have enough cash to cover the $150 "Welcome to the OC, sucker" charge. I drove to the one bank in town. The ATM didn't work. I drove to the highway where this whole thing started and got more money, with an extra $2.00 "not including whatever your bank charges you", which is another $2.00. I went back to court, and waited in line...

2. Everybody likes a degenerate bum. Never have I seen a man covered in his own filth (though to be fair he was sporting a brand new Toby Keith T-shirt, must have been a serious charge this time) be treated with such good-natured affection and compassion. Nice guy. I tried to give him some change, but he challenged me to get drunk off nickel and zinc and then spit at me. Okay that didn't really happen.

3. Small town ADAs are REALLY young, like my age young. It's weird.

4. Defense attorneys come in one of two models: rock star Jonnie Cochran types or incompetent sham artists who make their money getting Hispanic naïfs out of trumped up traffic charges.

5. Some girls can get out of ANYTHING. "Oh miss it's okay, I'll just dismiss this for you right now." "So I can go? No court costs or anything?" "Nope, go on, have a nice day." Bullshit! We can't get away with that with women ADAs, they just get madder when we hit on them.

6. Gang members should rethink the "tattoo thing". I don't care if you are in a gang, I hear the money is good though the job security could be better despite the relative ease of attaining "tenure", but when the ineluctable court date arrives your crazy Latin Kings tattoo is going to leave you with a snowballs chance in hell of getting out of there without shackles on. Come on people, THINK! I know that in some places it's better to be unmistakable as a gang member, but COURT is not one of them! If you just have to get that tat, put it on your back, or leg, or some other part that isn't out there for God and the DA to see when your trying to convince the judge that 30 rocks of crack were for personal use.

7. And finally, above all else, DO NOT get caught staring at the Latin King's girlfriend sitting in the gallery unless you are SURE that he is about to get sent up for 20 to life...




In case you were counting, in this post we've offended: Jews, women, Hispanics, and the good people of Orange County, Anywhere USA. My bad.

Coming Down the Mountain

The past 3 days have been nothing but booze, pot, painkillers and food. Some might call it a binge, I call it a weekend. This life I lead is about to change though as I enter a new beginning and leave behind old friends and temptations. To say that once I turn 25, get serious about my career and relocate that I will embrace sobriety would be ingenuous. I’m no fool and enjoy it too much. Nevertheless this newfound propensity for excess does not bode well for my health or my profession.

Denial is common to all addicts so with my denial please take the proverbial grain of salt; but I am no alcoholic. Truth be told I don’t drink nearly as much as in previous “phases” and have made a very conscious effort to only drink in celebration or enjoyment, rather than simply because it is after 5p. Yet with curbing comes binging much more so than before. One year ago it was rare to find me without a drink in my hand on any given night. But I did not always get drunk. Sometimes I would only have 2 or 3. Now that I am abstaining from drinking on the weekdays it’s not uncommon for me to have 9 or 10 drinks when the week finally concludes and my self imposed alcohol free durance relinquishes. Because I only allow myself 2 nights of debauchery it seems that a week’s worth of excess is crammed into 48 hours of partying. Go figure.

Anyways I have been relenting in the past few weeks on all fronts. My diet has suffered, exercise seems to always take a back to seat to…something, and generally a nice bowl is what I’m looking forward to at 4:45p. But today I’m coming down the mountain. The pot’s gone, my bike is fixed, and the lone beer in the fridge will be my last for a few days. I like myself when I’m sober, but God help me if I can’t cut loose every once in a while.

The Soundtrack to my Life

My work is great. My job sucks, but the company I work for is really top-notch. And I'm not just saying that because they just gave me an Ipod.

Well, maybe I am just saying the because they gave me an Ipod. But that's not important. What is important is that I have a new Ipod free of charge! I won some drawing by the Training dept. and viola!

Now it's just a little thing, an Ipod Shuffle. It only holds 120 songs, not like the 5000 that that full Ipods hold. But 120 songs is plenty for me. I am the music lover that can count the CDs he regularly listens with his two hands. Go figure. Ipods are really cool. I describe it like this: "It's like being in a movie, you get out of your car and the music keeps going."

It's just really cool to be strolling down the hall of your office blasting your favorite angst filled track directly into your skull while your friendly co-workers smile at you unawares of the "down with the machine" style lyrics you're secretly nodding along to. Or maybe that's just me.

At any rate, Ipods are cool. True I'm still on drugs (see previous post) so maybe this whole Ipod thing will evaporate into a work related odium sparking some sort of post-officesque rampage once the "high" wears off. But for now my soon to be massacred co-workers are enjoying the unassuming countenance I project while in my hydrocodone induced, electronica fueled, immovable if short termed state of bliss.

What's he been smokin?

It’s about 10:30a and the drugs are starting to kick in. I’m not used to being stoned this early in the day, much less at work. People keep calling me but it’s hard to follow the conversation. I get distracted and forget why I am standing in the storage room and what I’m supposed to do by noon. Damn I feel good. By head is floating light as can be and my body buzzes with pleasure. Jimmy walks in and says “what’s up?” I answer truthfully “I’m pretty messed up man, this is pretty cool.”

And it is pretty cool, because I don’t have to worry about Jimmy telling my boss. I told my boss yesterday. He didn’t care. You see, I’m high but it’s legal. I’m on prescription pain killers! My tumid face probably gives away the fact that my wisdom teeth were yanked from my jawbone on Friday. But if that doesn’t do it for people than I am all to happy to tell them “I’m on drugs, I had a tooth pulled last week.”

That is that. I can explain away my odd and disjointed behavior with a simple statement of fact. I’m high on the job, and everyone is cool with it, especially me.

Where is everyone?

So many of my favorite bloggers are apparently on hiatus. "An Indian in Keyna", "Saudi Jeans", and "News on Nigeria from the Netherlands" are all on break. What's an information starved cyberman to do? Suppose I could make new friends? But I've grown accostomed to my randomly selected ambassodors from across the pond.

Enjoy your break, and come back soon!

----Note to reader: I just had a wisdom tooth pulled this morning and will be hold up at home drugged up on painkillers, so if some rather odd posts appear on this blog, you know why.

Hail to the Chief

The Bush White House is managed in the way of countless successful executive branches before: with an iron fist. Secrecy and loyalty are paramount at the expense of truth and conciliation. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of the greatest leaders in the world operated similarly. Bush knows a great deal about raw power and how to maintain it. His staff know a great deal about raw politics and how to manipulate it. This combination is more than salubrious it is necessary for any administration’s existence. The circumambient cloud around the Bush White House is cast for our protection. The conclave responsible for it are our protectors.

Which brings us to Nixon; the same could be said of his administration. Especially in a time of war the White House must be able to proceed with the sometimes unpleasant tasks before it without becoming vulnerable to those who would displace them. During an election year the opaqueness of the Presidential cloud must be exponentially increased. Nixon was a great President. Many still consider him to be an American hero. Nixon promised to end the Vietnam war, and end the war he did penning the final chapter of that discouraging epic. But though all is fair and love and war one’s political life can be cheated by opportunistic opponents. All is fair in war because in combat there is only one rule, win. However in a society governed by law cheaters can take advantage. For Nixon his political future was threatened by an untrustworthy group of journalists, democrats, and socialists. Rather than risk turning the country over to lesser men, he decided to fight fire with fire. But for this to work absolute secrecy among his staff would be vital. At stake was the future of the country and the security of its people. Legal concerns would have to take a back seat to national security.

The rest, as they say, is history. For a time Nixon was nearly universally condemned for his slush funds, dirty tricks, lies, and conspiracies. However the proud few still supported him and his actions until his death. Thereafter history seems to have taken a kinder view of the man. Nevertheless Watergate to many represents all that was and is wrong with the American political process. Idealists discount the necessity of secrecy, feeble minded pundits fail to see its benefit, and the rest of us just don’t like being lied to.

President Bush is not persuaded by the whims of an offended public. If Deep Throat (now known to be Deputy Director of the FBI Mark Felt) leaked such embarrassing details about his administration to the carnivorous press then surely there would be hell to pay. Could Mr. Felt have concealed his identity in a post-Patriot Act world? Not likely. When asked of his thoughts on Mark Felt Mr. Bush was decidedly cautious “"It's hard for me to judge," President Bush told reporters. "I'm learning more about the situation."”. Hard to judge indeed. Mr. Bush of all people can not pass judgment on Watergate or the Nixon administration as a whole. Nor can he praise a man whose actions would have been met by swift retribution had he worked in the Bush administration. Still, unwise it would be to condemn a man who is a hero to so many who lived through that time. Uncomfortable it must be to identify with the villain of Watergate and avoid judgment on its champion. Such is life for the modern President.

Americans who cheer Mr. Felt may hold claim to the moral high-ground in that Mr. Nixon was technically breaking the law. Yet what those millions will never understand is that he was doing so in order to preserve the freedom and prosperity they take for granted. Mr. Nixon had to be re-elected in 1972 or else the country would fall apart. Mr. Nixon and his advisors were so intellectually superior and politically sophisticated that should they allow a confused and embattled public to be swayed by the hateful elitist media then no successor could come close to their executive mastery.

Those ungrateful Americans who disparaged Nixon are now the enemy of the Bush administration. They don’t realize that to do right, one must often say things that are incorrect. Nixon understood this and it is a lesson that George Bush Jr. has learnt well. Common discourse would tell us that Presidents who sometimes bend the rules, hide their activities, or mislead the media do so out of self-interest. This mis-characterization does more to poison the political process than any Watergate. Presidents like Nixon and Bush do not see themselves as the proprietors of political spoils. Instead they know that it is the American people who have to most to gain from unremitting leadership in times of national crisis. The exactness with which Bush carries out his Presidential duties, his steadfastness in times of opposition, his down-home worldliness that peppers his relations with important world leaders, and most importantly his 4+ years of invaluable experience as President of the United States are just some of the reasons that the public should trust their leader, give him the benefit of the doubt, and let him rule the country as he sees fit. In a post 9/11 world we can’t risk handing the reigns to the opposition.

Men like Bush and Nixon recognize in themselves a divine veneration that allows the exuberant confidence that a President must possess to overpower the weakness and need for consultation that has ruined so many great men. That is why when you hear George Bush deliver a speech laden with inconsistencies and factual errors, when you hear Donald Rumsfeld deny published reports from credible journalists, when you hear Dick Cheney speak of environmental protection in the ANWAR, cut them a little slack. They are lying for you.

No seriously, I'm still here

Hours since my last cigarette: ??

That's right, I don't know anymore when I quit smoking. Has it been 6 weeks? 7 weeks? 2 months? I don't remember! That's a good thing! Expect a detailed blog post in the near future about my newfound "health".

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When I don't write I feel stifled and frustrated. Writing in general, and blogging in particular, serves as an outlet for me. Without that release things get bottled up, filed away, stacked and forgotten. Except just because they are forgotten doesn't mean that they don't still bother me. Only when my mind is able to calm down and complete a thought is it able to rest. It's almost as if when I write about a certain topic and complete it to my satisfaction a burden on my brain is physically lifted and more of it is available to focus on other matters.

I haven't written in while. In the last month only a few worthy thoughts have made to "paper". I can feel the clogging effect this has on my mind. I've been too damn busy to think.