This racism is killing me inside!

Hello, friends. I haven't written a blog in a while. And the truth is, it's because I've been lazy. It's so much easier to NOT write a blog entry then it is to write one. I apologize, but sometimes something sticks in my craw and I have to write about it. And I apologize up front for my ranting.

Yesterday, Rick Reilly wrote an article about why the need for the Redskins name change is not so simple or offensive as it may seem. You can read the article here:

http://espn.go.com/nfl/story/_/id/9689220/redskins-name-change-not-easy-sounds

His argument is tenuous at best. He argues that a lot of people don't find the name offensive, including Native Americans, so why change it. Or "try explaining it to kids who don't get it." Maybe almost entirely wiping them off of the globe wasn't enough. And he argues about other team names and how attached people are to them. As if team pride were the most important thing. I could go on and on about why Rick Reilly is an idiot, but this is merely a jumping off point. This article is just skimming the surface of what I feel is the problem with racism in this country.

I noticed he wouldn't even type the word "nigger." Or it was redacted. So he or someone else finds at least one word offensive enough to not even write it, but hey, not enough disenfranchised people find "redskin" offensive. It's just not offensive enough to our collective consciousness.

And I get that. I really do.

If the Redskins change their name or they don't, it's all fine. The world won't stop turning. But this is part of the root issue. My problem isn't even with his shitty defense of what was and is a derogatory term for Native American people. My problem is the side-stepping. The "Certain words are not fit to print, but this PC culture is killing us." People that complain about PC culture the most are usually the people who think the 1950's were a golden age. They want to go back to a time when no one was offended by anything. Oh, by the way, that time never existed. The offended people just didn't have a voice. I'm reminded of this interview with Samuel L. Jackson:

We're afraid of words. To even say them. That interviewer wouldn't even utter the word "nigger" in an intellectual context. He would probably have less trouble saying "faggot" or "spic" or "towel-head". And this is the problem. We've made certain words taboo while other words, that in my mind are equally offensive, are said just because the stigma isn't there. I cringe when people say "the N-word" because it doesn't make sense to me.

What am I getting at?

We're avoiding an honest discussion and what it means to be racist, and more importantly a bigot, in this country. Always. It's easier.

People casually say "That driver must be Asian" if the person is driving poorly. Or they'll say they must be a woman. Hell, I'm guilty of this. It's racist. Or misogynistic. These are facts. People like to side-step their racism. I do it all the time. I pretend it's all joking, but there are deeper mechanisms at work. We adhere to stereotypes because it makes us feel safer and we can sleep at night knowing we're good people because that's just the way it is when the truth is we're ALL racists and bigots. We try our hardest. Most of us try to be good people and judge only on other peoples' character, but we fail.

And that's okay. It really is. It's going to happen. The world's not perfect. We're not perfect.

But we need to try to move past it and not let it rule us. We need to try to get better and I feel the side-stepping is slowing us down. We need to reject our weakness and learn from it and improve. We're hurting progress because we keep thinking "That's someone else doing that. That's not me." If I had a nickel for every time I've heard someone utter something that belittles another race, sex or minority and then wash it away with "I have lots of women/gay/black friends" I'd be a goddamn millionaire.We gloss over it because, man, racists populate trailer parks and are ignorant assholes and that's not us. We're middle class working folks and we care about equality!

And we do.

I know I do. I care about everyone getting their fair shake. And I try, I TRY SO HARD, to not judge people based on stereotypes and what I've heard and how society views them. And 98% of the time, my rational mind wins out. My brain rights the ship and I can rest easy. But that 2% is always lurking; waiting to judge. Some sick, compulsive need to judge. And I honestly don't know what to do about it. I console myself with thoughts about how I'm open minded and liberal and NO H8 and affirmative action is great and I love the ACLU and up with the little guy.

But that 2% keeps gnawing at me.

Fathers and the Like

It's Father's Day on Sunday. The parental holidays don't carry much water with me. I appreciate my parents. Point of fact; they're great and I love them to death. I just don't cotton to a big celebration, but that's just me.Or maybe I just hate buying cards/gifts.

My father just had knee surgery. I told my mother to tell him that we were going to race next time I'm in town. I also told her to tell him that we were going to have a lightsaber duel and that I was going to chop off his new robotic hand. He said he's Darth Vader and he would chop off MY robotic hand. I had to inform him that my grandfather is Darth Vader, he's Luke and I'm Han Solo. Because Han is the cool one.

All of this is to say, be sure to call/write/telegram your fathers on Sunday to let them know how you feel. Whether it's to tell them how much you love and appreciate them, or it's to tell them you hate their guts for fucking up your soapbox derby race when you were 7.

That being said, here are a few Craigslist missed connections from good ol' Los Angeles.

adorable man at Cyndi Lauper concert - m4m - 43 (Greek theater)

I was the adorable, athletic, single, ddf, well hung gay Jewish man at the Cyndi Lauper concert last night, there with a gal pal. Great teeth. Pretty green eyes. No one hit on me. It's not too late.

Whoa! This caught me off guard. This is a reversed missed connection that isn't a missed connection at all. No one hit on the dude. He seems to be insulted. I mean, by his own admission, he's single, ADORABLE, well hung AND Jewish. He also really likes his eyes and thinks his teeth are great. Why did no one hit on this conceded asshole?!? WHY?!?!?!?! HE'S SO ADORABLE AND CONCEDED AND SHIT. HIT ON HIM. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Hotness at whole foods on coldwater - m4w - 28 (Sherman oaks)

You were wearing a loose fitting dress that barely covered your gorgeous body and succulent tits while you pretended to read ingredients on rice or cous cous or whatever. I was doing the same thing trying to find a particular product. You had dark long hair and looked gorgeous. Would love to hang out with you some time.

This guy could make a nymphomaniac blush. Such poetry he writes! "You pretended to read..." It's like he's implying that she wasn't actually reading. And to me, that comes across like he's saying she CAN'T read. But with succulent tits like that, who has time for reading. Then he says he was doing the same thing. So I imagine him in a loose fitting dress pretending to read ingredients on rice or cous cous or WHATEVER. Aren't the ingredients in rice...uh....rice? Same with cous cous? Anyway, we're not here to talk about food. We're here to discuss this suave cock-master and how suave he is in his cock-mastery. "Would love to hang out with you some time." What the fuck is that? Don't hold back, bro! Tell her in your best harlequin novel speak how you'll rail her in the pasta aisle while she acts like she's checking the ripeness of a cantalope. 

Guy in the car - w4m - 18 (Pacific Coast Highway)

I was standing at the light as you came to stop. You looked over at me then held up your phone with a picture on it as you smiled. I didn't see what the picture was and I don't recognize you, but you seemed to have recognized me...
Who are you?

 

Jesus, you're dumb. Guy in the car? nice description. Please don't be a witness of my murder (It's going to happen. You don't live this long and be this awesome without making enemies). "Yeah, he was a guy with a body. And then he shot that person. And then he ran in a North-southernly direction." Anyway, I've solved this mystery, dumbass. The guy in the car is this guy:

 

No? Then it's this guy in a car:

Still no? Well that's all I got, dumb shit.

 

Happy Father's Day to all you fathers out there or as I like to think of you; mother fuckers! But seriously, Happy Father's Day.

I Work From Home, Bitch

Hey there. You look nice today. A nice button up and some very professional looking slacks. I assume by your attire that you work in an office or at the very least you leave the house to work.

I don't.

I'm one of those cursed/lucky few who work from home. Don't get me wrong (you already got me all wrong, baby), I love working from home. No driving to work, no pants at work and midday nap time make a very interesting life for me. But I've discovered a few things that you might be interested to know. Oh, you're not interested? Then quit reading my blog, asshole. This is as interesting as I get.

Sorry about that. I didn't mean you're ACTUALLY an asshole. (Except for Frank. That guy can eat shit and die.) And yes, I know The Oatmeal did this before me. But mine are different.

My whole point is I'm privy to another side of life that some of you can only dream (stop that) about. None of these (except the first one) are good or bad. They just are. Let's go over my list together and see how we feel afterwards:

Item 1) They pick up trash in the middle of the day and make as much fucking noise as possible. I never knew that trash day was every day that ends in "Y" but it must be, because they're always at my complex; clanging shit around like the shittiest/best drum circle that has ever existed. And they take their sweet-ass time. This doesn't really disturb my work, per say, but holy sweet mother of basura it is obnoxious. There are also more fires/accidents/whatever creates firetruck ambulance noise during the day than you could ever imagine.

Item 2) Everyone you talk to thinks working at home is great. Even if they have a great job that they love. If I talked to a billionaire CEO of an ass and titties conglomerate (Titshire Assaway?) and told him I worked from home, he would envy me in some small way. Which I get. But I don't get.

Item 3) I've stopped understanding why people won't hang out with me until 3 AM.

Item 4) I'll go to the store at 5 PM and realize that the cashier is the first human interaction I've had all day. This may not sound strange, but most of the time, unless I'm talking to myself (NO JUDGING) I go large spans without hearing my voice. And I looooooove my voice.

Item 5) Movie channels play straight crap during the day. I've seen Red Tails/Lake Placid/La Dolce Vita exactly 1000 times since starting my work-from-home adventure. Yeah, I could watch the stuff on my DVR, but Red Tails is right there in my face. Besides, I've already seen all the Gomer Pile episodes and F-Troop from when I stayed home "sick" as a kid.

That pretty much sums up my experience. Working from home is like staying home in the middle of the day as a kid. Happy Tuesday, worker bees/SUCKERS.

The Legend of Randy

How goes it? It's a rhetorical question. I know that you're doing "good" or "fine" or whatever. Shut up. I have a story to tell you. It's about the coolest apartment manager that ever graced the face of the planet.

My roommate and I are moving. While searching we got a lot of answering machines. But one man had the fortitude to answer when we called. This man is named Randy.We arranged a time to meet. He was late. He apologized.

Randy: Sorry, I'm late. I was playing chess.

Me: Did you win?

Randy: He beat my ass. Do you know who Jim Brown is?

Inside My Brain: Uh...the greatest running back to ever play professional football, greatest lacrosse player ever and actor in such movies as the Dirty Dozen and Any Given Sunday?

Me: Yeah, I know who Jim Brown is.

Randy: That's who I was playing. He's an old golfing buddy of mine.

He's a nice guy. A very cool, African American gentleman in his mid-60's. He showed us the apartment and we liked it (and him). So he took us to his apartment to get the applications. We walk in and immediately smell something sweet in the air, almost like incense. There's leopard and tiger print every where. On the wall hangs a velvet painting of a man with an afro. There was soul music coming from the stereo in an apartment he HADN'T BEEN IN ALL DAY. So it must be assumed that this is how his apartment always is.

We go into the office (more tiger/leopard print) and he starts futzing with the applications. I look at the wall and there are pictures hanging.

Inside My Brain: Hey! That's Randy with Bill Cosby! Wait...no. That's Red Foxx. (look up at next picture) THAT'S Bill Cosby.

He had pictures with Louis Farrakahn, Sidney Poitier, Muhammad Ali and Eddie Murphy, but it's Eddie Murphy dressed in his princely get-up from Coming To America.

Turns out Randy worked security on movies and for stars back in the 70's and 80's and is exactly 100,000 times cooler than we can ever hope to be.

I've been telling this story to friends for about a week. But now there's an added part. I took the first month's rent to him and he rolls up in this amazing old car. It looked about like this:

White walls and all. He pulls up, windows down, SOUL MUSIC PLAYING.


Me: That's a really nice car.

Randy: Yeah. I've had it for about 40 years. Bought it from Jack Palance in 1975 for $600.

OF COURSE YOU FUCKING DID. I'm not even surprised. Because you're Randy; the coolest person on the planet.

We're moving in at the end of the week. Hopefully more updates to come.

Manly Liquid

This post won't take a minute. Just hear me out. I was in front of a 7-11 last night, never mind why, and I saw a sign in the window. And it went a little something like this:

When Dr. Pepper Ten first came out, i thought it was pretty lame. "Soda for MEN!" So they made more sodas for men. Because men like variety...and things with 10 calories. And I guess that's what I don't understand. Is there something specifically manly about there being 10 calories in a soda? And what the fuck is in the soda that makes it 10 calories?

Dr. Pepper Big Wig: How are our new 0 calorie sodas coming?

Dr. Pepper Scientist: Not good, sir. We can only get them down to 10 calories...

Dr. Pepper Big Wig: What?!

Dr. Pepper Scientist: Sorry, sir. We've tried everything, but we can't get rid of the last ten calories. They simply have too much flavor.

Dr. Pepper Big Wig: Goddamn it! We can't market a fucking soft drink as having zero calories if it has 10 calories! Get them down to zero!

Dr. Pepper Scientist: It can't be done, sir.

Dr. Pepper Big Wig: We can fake putting men on the moon*, but we can't make a zero calorie soda? Well, fuck it, then. Fuck it! We'll just pretend like having 10 calories is more manly. Yeah....YEAH! We'll make it seem like 140 calories is for fat, worthless assholes and zero calories is for women and queers.

Dr. Pepper Scientist: Oh, wait. Coke Zero has zero calories. We'll just copy their-

Dr. Pepper Big Wig: No! It's too late for that. We already have this amazing marketing campaign. Besides, zero calories is for women and queers.

Aaaaaand, SCENE.

*I don't actually believe that Dr. Pepper faked putting men on the moon. They don't have the technology.

Tales of the Funky

Greetings on this fine Wednesday. Recently (yesterday) I discovered (was given by an industrious friend) and article that is all about missed connections (missed connections). I'll link you to it here. Basically it shows the distribution, by state, of all the Craigslist missed connections. See:

Some interesting findings there. I think this is more indicative of the type of people who post missed connections than a comment on the states. But for funsies, let's do a break down where I can show off my stereotype knowledge of each place:

Alabama - Wal mart - Ha! It was either going to be Wal mart or a jug band concert.
Alaska - Super Store - I don't know what a "Super Store" is, but I'm more surprised that anyone leaves their house. It's cold 13 months out of the year there...
Arizona - LA Fitness - I have no opinion of the people of Arizona, so I'll just say that it's hot there.
Arkansas - Wal mart - What did you expect?
California - 24 Hour Fitness - I'm sure across the entire state there's a little more variation. In the south and north, of course the gym. In the middle of the state, though, I'd figure more meth labs/methadone clinics.
Colorado - Gas station - It's only "gas station" because all the hash bars aren't up and running yet. Or they are and this is code.
Connecticut - Stop and Shop - Fuck you, Connecticut.
Delaware - Convenience Store - Jesus Christ, you're boring, Delaware.
Florida - Walmart - Two observations: 1) I always forget (and then am reminded somehow) that Florida is a southern state and 2) Florida looks like a penis.
Georgia - The car - No matter how you interpret it... Georgia, you are creeping me the fuck out.
Hawaii - The beach - No shit.
Idaho - Walmart - I guess "Potato Harvest Socials" aren't in vogue anymore.
Illinois - Train - All I can think of are jokes about gangsters in the 1920's...to hell with you, Illinois.
Indiana - At home - This just made my boner go away.
Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, New Hampshire, Maine, Kentucky, Wisconsin - Super market - Shut up. No. Listen to me. Shut up. You sad, lonely mother fuckers need to go other places. No one finds love at the super market. NO ONE.
Kansas - McDonalds - I'm assuming this is a McDonalds INSIDE of a Walmart.
Louisiana, Missouri, New Mexico, Montana, West Virginia, North Carolina, Texas, Mississippi - Walmart - This is getting tedious. Mostly because the joke is the same for all these places. Your state sucks, all you have is Walmart, blah blah blah. One quick note about Mississippi, though. They JUST ratified the 13th Amendment (the one abolishing slavery). "Just" meaning "last week". So I expected more missed connections from slave auctions.
Maryland - Park - I've seen the Wire, so all the missed connections must be set ups for drug deals.
Massachusetts, New York - Subway - Look at you, with your mass transit that isn't terrible. Whoopty fucking doo.
Nevada - Casinos - This is the only one I don't understand.
New Jersey - Train - Uggggggh. There are so many staaaaaates...
Everywhere Else - Who gives a fuck - You get the point, right? It's what I've been saying from the get go. Missed connections are written by sad, desperate people who shop at Walmart and look for love in their cars and their homes.

Rock on, party people.

Metric Ton of Bullshit

I don't normally do political posts, so I won't do one here. Unless we're talking about the politics of people being assholes about the English system of measurement vs. the Metric system. Then this is SUPER political, but also you need to take a step back and look up what exactly "politics" means.

Anyway, I was reading the Handy Physics Answer Book the other day and I came across an interesting little blurb about how the length of a meter is determined. It went a little something like this (emphasis is mine and I cut out the boring non-point-making bullshit):

"The meter was originally defined as the distance between two lines on a bar of platinum-iridium

alloy, 1/10,000,000th the distance from the North Pole to the equator. However, the bar was deemed inaccurate because it would expand and contract depending on it's temperature.

In 1960, scientists determined that light would be a better method of measuring a meter...the meter was defined as the distance of 1,650,763.73 wavelengths of reddish-orange light emitted by the krypton-86 isotope...changed again in 1983 as the distance light travels in a vacuum in 1/299,792,458th of a second."

So here's my problem. Much is made about the fact that 1 foot is a measurement originally based off of the length of the king's actual foot. And people will go on to say that it's dumb that there are 5280 feet in a mile. They say it's nonsense. "Why not measure things in finger lengths or the distance of squirrel taint?" Here's my problem with that: eat my shit. 

If you want to go on about how the metric system is easier to use because it's powers of ten, then fine. You keep being a lazy dill hole and use your powers of ten. (Although some argue that powers of 12 are better) I'm not going to argue with that. Not that it matters because rare is the occasion when someone says "How far is it to ______? Oh, 30 miles? How many feet is that?"

But that's not the argument people default to. The argument is usually "What an arbitrary system of measurement! It doesn't make any sense." Yeah, there's nothing arbitrary about the distance light travels in a vacuum in 1/299,792,458th of a second. Or the wavelength from reddish-orange light emitted by Superman-86 isotope (red light! his weakness!). So get off your high horse, metric system aficionados.

And don't come at me with "At least the length of a meter is based in science, blah blah blah." That's bullshit and you know it, dick holster. I say a man's foot is scientific too.

And do NOT get me started on the kilogram...

The Legend of Fred Horn

Well look who came crawling back. Welcome!

I posted a missed connection blog on Monday and within it was a gem of a post by this man:

As I said in my post on Monday, there's no need to watch that entire NINE MINUTE LONG video. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out the shittiest faux sax playing at :46 (and throughout), the expectant looks at 1:40 and the incredible fist pumping at 2:30.

What's my point here? I have three main points here:

Point 1) The fact that this is a person that exists is in and of itself pretty amazing. I mean, think about all of the shit our universe went through to get to this exact point in human history and evolution and this is the by product. That's pretty amazing.

Point b) This guy is PROUD about the way he is. Warts and all. And trust me, 10 years banging porn stars who basically have blenders for vaginas, the guy has warts.

Point MOST IMPORTANT) Through my wiling away the hours looking at videos of this human paraquat, I made a discovery. This guy, this mother fucking sexy sax playing man, plays at the Oyster House which is directly across from where I live. When people enter and leave the restaurant I can hear the music in my apartment.  This means I've probably heard the dulcet tones that this walking petri dish was putting out. I've heard this guy blowing horn, man! Furthermore, I go to the Oyster House all the time which probably means I've seen or even spoken to this douche canoe. Leading me to the furthest point, which is only confirmed with each passing day:

The world is a small, weird, wonderful place that gets smaller and weirder everyday.

Boom!

The Bitter Truth About the Cracker Barrel

I have a confession. This post isn't about the Cracker Barrel. I guess I have two confessions. This post isn't about the Cracker Barrel AND I have a deep abiding love for curse words. I know what you're thinking. Shit. Three confessions; this post isn't about the Cracker Barrel, I have a deep abiding love for curse words and I can read minds.

WARNING: If you take offense to foul language, you should go no further. And you should reconsider our friendship.

So why do I love curse words so much? Just look at them. Asshole. (I'm not calling YOU an asshole. Or I am.) It's so basic. It's talking about the hole that is in your ass. Like it's just this cavern that goes on forever. It spawns great drawings like this:

Asshole. Asscavern. Asspit. Asschasm. 

Or the phrase "shit for brains". When said to, or screamed at, someone, you're implying that their head is filled with shit and this is what they're making all their decisions with. Their head is literally filled with shit. What's not fun about that?

Dick wad. Dick weed. Dick Tracy. There's a richness in all of these. They're concise. Crisp even. They can convey a range of complex emotions in a short amount of time. When someone does something shitty, you don't want to spend five minutes explaining that you're disappointed and that they're a shitbag for doing whatever they did (probably leaving the seat up, am I right ladies?). You just say "Fuck you, shitbag!" and you're on your way!

A well placed "fuck" is always going to be funny to me. Here's an example: "Great. I ate KFC and now I have dia-fucking-rrhea." Without that little interjection, this is a sad sentence about a medical condition. With it, however, you now have a sentence that can launch 1000 sitcoms.

So embrace these words; celebrate these wonderful words. And if you continued reading beyond my warning and were in any way offended, I'm really fucking sorry.