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What casualties are "acceptable"?! (9/21/2008)
I can't count the number of times I've brought this to the limelight but until people start taking this seriously, nothing will ever change. The fact is that in this day in age if you make a joke about race or gender, you get branded racist/sexist and live with that brand forever and get the privilege of passing it down to your children to boot, and this is becoming even more prevalent in the fight for equal treatment based on age as well. As a result of losing the targets once perceived as comedic failsafes, the talentless hacks of Hollywood set their sights on a new group to disenfranchise - the overweight.
Actually, even giving them a collective name is only accurate in the eye of the most shallow among humankind as physiology among homo sapiens varies radically from one subject to the next (for instance, a healthy weight and height for, say, Rem, would not be healthy for me). The best evidence I've yet to be presented with saying that there could possibly be a uniform measurement is the system known as the Body Mass Index (BMI) which, in its simplest form, is one's height times one's mass squared. Someone who managed to pass the third grade could tell you the fallacy behind that sort of logic - if you were to do that, you'd be measuring a perfectly square cardboard cut-out of that person and assuming their bodily composition is uniform. This fails to take into account guys with exceptionally large shoulders (like me), a lady's *ahem* assets, or even the fact that your feet stick out in front of you. As a result of this mathematical loophole you could drive a Boeing 747 through, the entirety of the National Football League are classified as "Morbidly Obese". Way to go, BMI.
Now that I've gotten THAT out of the way, I can go on. Society has taken their collective crosshair and put it over those they see as "less" human than they are: people of size. Plus sizes to be exact. Seriously, can you name a single show, movie, game or book that touted plus-sizers in a generally positive lighting wherein the moral was not "it's on the inside that counts"? The only one that springs to mind - and it sort of pains me to admit it as I'm by no means a fan of the show - was Roseanne. Both parents were overweight, but apart from that, average people in an average setting with little emphasis put on the fact they were bigger. (And not to toot my own horn, but Angela in my novel - The Dragon of the Desert Wind was presented in a generally positive light in spite of her grievances with the shallow Drift). Instead, in most media the fat person is the walking, living target - humiliated, degraded and generally dehumanized before the end of the first week, let alone the first season. However, you'll never see any negative repercussions to this behavior except in MAYBE one "Very special episode" where the rest of the cast kinda-sorta-not-really apologizes before returning to the way things are in order to maintain the bloody status quo. After all, if you try to personalize and generally make a sympathetic and likeable character out of a plus-sized person (Especially if the target victim happens to be female) makes the audience actually try something new and sympathizing with them and any sort of circumstances (wide skeletal frame, glandular issues or genetic factors) are all played for laughs instead of acknowledging that they're real conditions that can plague people in reality. Again, a male will get off far easier than a female in this case (IE: The Drew Carey Show, for instance. Drew is presented in a sympathic lighting. Mimi is a caricature of what the comedians WANT us to think. Gee, I wonder what the writing staff looked like...)
This, unfortunately, translates all too well into reality, where a guy can get an easy slip as being a "fat guy" but "No fat chick" jokes run rampant across the real plane and the series of tubes we call the internet. For a rather blunt example, just pick a popular cartoon show aimed for older age demographics (ex. Family Guy or The Simpsons) where the fat, useless, stupid guy ends up with a skinny and otherwise attractive female and even a lot of sitcoms (Oh, just pick one). Women get it much harder than men, but that's not to say men don't get a hard time about it either and we're often left with broken Aesops where the story SEEMS to attempt a moral, only to turn it on its head (The Nickelodeon hit, Doug was guilty of this with the prom episode concerning Conny, the throw-a-way token "chubby girl" where the moral ended up "It's okay to lie to people if they're not attractive to you" and even GaoGaiGar: The King of Braves in an early series concerning an overweight man who, rather than dealing with his issues or accepting himself, got a miracle "fix" courtesy of the Zondar metal that had possessed him) making the moral more like "If you hope hard enough, you can get skinny overnight" instead of "You should love you for you, and change only for yourself, not because society tells you that you should conform to their unreal expectations".
Fun fact time, class! Do you know what the three biggest industries in the western hemisphere are? I'll tell you: pornography, cosmetics and the dieting industries. Fascinating correlation, no? All these three industries have a uniform target - young girls. Barbies, Bratz, and just about anything from Japan all tell young girls you have to be super skinny and yet have at least a D-cup chest to be attractive. This takes absurdity and cranks it up to 11. The standards of beauty are ever-changing and usually fluctuate between skinny and big every couple centuries culture factors notwithstanding (IE: When bigger women were the rage in Europe, Egyptians considered obesity on-par with some of the most grievous diseases known to them at the time) and people also fail to consider personal physiology or personal preferences in mates. I, for one, happen to prefer bigger women (that's not to say I won't date skinny girls, it's just a preference, not a fetish) but the reaction I've gotten from some people is just ludicrous. My sister actually told me, upon learning my preference, that saying I prefer bigger women was equivalent to claiming I like "chicks with no arms and an infectious disease". Other reactions tend to be more in jest, such as the constant ribbings from Cog-Sean such as "You must want to be an astronomer dude, cuz you dig the planets!" As a matter of verification, look it up - it's "Heavenly bodies".
So, after all this, what's my point? The bottom line is simple - all humans are beautiful for no other reason than we are human. Race, gender, socio-economic status, height, weight, age, makes no difference any of it. All humans are beautiful and to dehumanize one group for cheap laughs only seems to indicate to me that we need a new writing staff and to really think about what we're saying. You can argue about the "health risks" all you'd like, but that doesn't mean a thing if you're telling the person they're worth less because they're not your cookie-cutter preference isn't helping. We live in America, a country where we've made plenty of mistakes and paid for it dearly. We live in a country that used to condone racism and sexism, but we've improved with each passing day and, darn it, we can improve on this one too. To quote our own Declaration of Independence...
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness."
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(9/14/2008)
Ravings of a man gone sane in an insane world.
Would that make me crazy by default? Oh well.
The recent times have been kind of rough and bittersweet at their best. Even my two best friends have fallen on tough times, one with a lot of confusion and the other, a hospitalized sister. I suppose I have no room to complain what with my worst condition being that my college is run by bureaucratic know-nothings but I still can't help but feel frustrated. For weeks, even months now, I've felt sort of like things were in a tailspin, aimed right at rock bottom, out of no where, suddenly things are somehow straightening themselves out.
For very complicated reasons I don't care to elaborate on here, I find myself with a bit more free time on my hands and as a result, am seeking employment. With my semi-recent change in major and goals, I'm looking into becoming a reporter. Don't panic - this is not a lack or change in faith, it is because while I love the idea of preaching, I hate many things that come with it (funerals, weddings, being mentor and leader to everyone and their DOG) so an alternate route would be better. I can still preach my little heart out, but the pulpit will just look a little different is all.
So, baring all this in mind, I want to be a reporter. It suits me perfectly, I think, being that I am a writer to the point where, for some, it's become synonymous with my name or title. To get to this goal, I decided I wanted to put in an application with a small-time county newspaper. Well, wouldn't you know it, tonight, as my parents and I were just finishing up dinner, a guest arrives at our door. It was a friend and neighbor of my family, who happened to be good friends with the top editor of the EXACT SAME PAPER I was looking into working for. So, now I at least have a reference in my favor, which is awesome beyond recognition.
Speaking of newspapers, I'm a huge Dave Barry fan. I have several of his books and, as a result, read Gene Weingarten on a regular basis. For me, he's hit-or-miss (except when he speaks politics, then he's just boring even when I agree with him) but it at least provides for a chuckle now and then. Today's article was referencing a trend I have noticed too, namely those concerning internet comments. He referenced a newspaper, specifically, though a more common example would be, say, Youtube comments. Namely in that people are generally morons when granted that super star of invincibility commonly called anonymity (even if this comes in the form of screen names). Immediately people discard English classes (i phale engrish? Thut unposibl!) and common decency (Namely the rampant racism/sexism and rather noteworthy amount of antisemitism) the instant you give them this shield. Frankly, from what I've seen, anonymity breeds stupidity, so let that be lesson learned, future websites allowing comments...
Anyways, enough rambling for now, you at least now have the general reasons for why I haven't been around much. Let's leave on a high note.
C8.
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(2/7/2008)
To the gentlemen of the Board of the Supervisors of Stafford County,
My name is Jeffrey Kenneth Mitchell and I live in the Aquia district of Stafford. My father, Kenneth Thomas Mitchell, was the first speaker at the the most recent meeting, held Tuesday, July 1 2008, but due to prior arrangements I was unable to attend. Instead, I send my heartfelt apologies for being unable to speak to you all face-to-face, and my thoughts of the BPOL proposal via e-mail instead. The entire proposal is going to have an effect not unlike yet another tax upon business-owning people who are already feeling the effects of economic recession, four-dollar gas at the pumps, rising costs of living, rampant foreclosures across the market all within the boundaries of a county that prides itself as a "business friendly county". Small businesses throughout our county - a county I've called home for my entire 21 years of life - will be shouldered with a yet another new (and unforeseen) burden, possibly having to leave the county or simply shut their doors for good and yet still remain under the shadow of a grossly unfair movement. Whereas a medium-sized business may not perish in the passing of this act, they will no doubt suffer due to its presence, and larger businesses will even still be forced to allocate money that otherwise could've gone to expansion or hiring new employees. By trying to bring in new funds to the county you have set the stage for much the opposite by giving business owners, their employees, and their customers every reason to move their businesses to other counties or to shut the business down for good, which will only cause an even bigger loss in revenue. As a young man who grew up in this county, who went through the Stafford school system, one of many voters in this county who understand just how harmful to Stafford's business owners this plan is, I cannot agree with a movement that would be little more than, as my father once said, applying a band-aid to a situation requiring quadruple bypass surgery. To those of you who oppose those movement, I thank you on behalf of men and women who own, run, work in and are constituents of the businesses of this county. However, should the people of this county suffer under this proposition, I can assure you all that I will encourage the voting populace of Stafford to rise up and make their stances on this movement abundantly clear to those among you who support it. Please reconsider your decision and strike down the BPOL proposal. For your time and consideration, I thank you.
Yours truly,
Jeffrey Kenneth Mitchell
Citizen of the Aquia District
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Insert Witty Title Here! (3/14/2008)
Over the past week or two, I suddenly find myself ahead of my school work, or at least on top of it, my social life is peaceful and stress-free, the election primaries have now been toned down by what few news media outlets I choose to heed so I no longer need to hear the incessant bickering of adults acting like children, the house is mostly cleaned up rather than the dirt sitting there staring at me like a giant dirty frog, and this week I obtained the Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Super Smash Bros. Brawl. In light of all this, I find myself rapidly running out of things to be angry or miserable about. So, instead, I'll give you all a little insight in what exactly I've been up to as of late and why these notes and website updates are so infrequent.
I'm currently enrolled in community college, and my math and history classes are remarkably labor intensive. Thankfully, my abnormal psych class isn't, and the teacher in that class isn't an old, boring man who drolls on and on and on about the evil of every human who had the poor judgment to be born white, time frame for such birth notwithstanding. I already know humans are evil, wicked, sinister little traitorous creatures who'd slit another's throat if they thought they could get away with it - I don't need to be reminded of that on a near-daily basis. Suffice to say, my history teacher has succeeded in making history not fun for a Mitchell - which is quite a feat. And algebra just isn't fun for me, period. A good class of students, but a lame subject.
I don't have any wild party stories, either, as the last "party" I went to was my friend, Sean's 20th birthday which involved food, soda, and four guys in the basement playing Smash Bros Melee and Ninja Turtles on my GameCube. You probably think that I'm boring and a shut in - but you'd be right, so I'm not even going to argue that point. I'm a shut-in by choice and it's not so much that I particularly hate my fellow man so much as that I tend to think my fellow man is generally considerably more prone to killing themselves than I am, so I just happen to feel more content to sit on my bum and play Super Mario Bros than go to the beach or the mountains. When asked that particular question on a surveys (Would you vacation in the mountains or beach) I'm probably the only one I know of who has to put "NOT APPLICABLE". Again, you may think I'm boring, and you'd be right.
As far as politics? Well, the political scene has been rather slow, so I have my usual answer: politicians are, as a general rule, inept morons who are paid far too much to do far too little - especially congress. Thanks a load, C-span, for making the old people yak on unendingly over absolutely everything. Thanks a lot. Jerks. If "pro" and "con" are opposites, I guess that means "congress" is the opposite of "progress"! It all makes sense now! I guess the hardest part about wanting to deliver hardened political commentary is simply the fact that I lack the capacity to tell someone to make like a banana and die when I happen to say something controversial, and thus take it upon myself to debate anything ranging from the vital to the asinine, so now a days, I tend to refrain from bringing up things unless I feel very passionately about them.
Well, I suppose that's sufficient rambling for now and I feel even better now that I've laid that out there in text. Feel free to comment, criticize, whatever. I'm going to do something constructive. Like play more Smash Bros. Brawl.
--Jeff
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Much Ado About Light Bulbs (2/26/2008)
We Americans live in a very strange nation. We have activist court judges that legislate from the bench, make a mockery of the constitution and can serve for their ENTIRE LIVES unless specifically asked to go away (and even then, can ignore said request). The legality in killing another human being is only swayed in many cases by a matter of minutes. Many members of our all-volunteer military get paid ludicrously tiny wages and subsist largely on food stamps in many cases, and at the same time national-level athletes get multi-million dollar contracts per year to play a freaking GAME, and don't even get me started on criminal defense attorneys; but all this is unrelated to what I'm going to talk about. The fact is, in spite of its many flaws, I love this land and wouldn't want to live anywhere but here - especially since it's a country wherein things can be changed and altered to improve the state of the being.
However, something has changed and it's irking the life out of me. I've been quiet on the matter for quite some time now - but I can't take it anymore. Not too long ago, congress approved a plan to make illegal the buying, selling, trafficking and producing of Thomas Edison's incandescent light bulb and completely phase it out by 2014. Why they did this? Heck if I know, but it's a little beyond the point to dwell on it at this point. Apparently they're claiming they're so much better power-savers, even though the incandescent light bulb never used that much energy in the first place.
Before I go on my diatribe, let me talk about these curly little "soon-to-be-the-only-legal-light-bulb-in-the-USA" thingies and some of their "features". First off, when these things are made the sole legal light bulb in the USA, the manufacturers will face piddly competition as a result and will therefore be free to do with the prices of them as they will - what choice will the consumer have? Almost none. Ever seen a product that exists without competition? If not, we soon will and the results will not be pretty. Next off, they give off a strange light in my opinion - a sort of pale yellow-green light rather than Edison's bulb's white light. The curly straw of light bulbs also apparently has been reported to cause headaches in some people, and contain fair amounts of mercury in a gaseous form - meaning that should one break (and one eventually will for any number of reasons) for the health and safety of everyone involved you should all vacate the room for a minimum of 15 minutes. Also, when these ugly, toxic suckers become the sole bulb available on market, inevitably there will have to be special disposal units for it at land fills and whatnot - because just carelessly tossing them into ordinary trash would be remarkably BAD, due to the mercury levels, especially after they build up to large quantities. The standard CFL costs FIFTY CENTS. The curly fry costs 3 dollar at a minimum, and their oath to last years on end is simply not true, as my father had purchased several of the curly bulbs not too long ago to have them burn out, in some cases, faster than the standard CFL.
Why am I so bent out of shape over the light bulb? Simple. According to congress, who apparently seem to think they know more than the average consumer, seem to think they can make illegal whatever they want - even though there's no precedent for BANNING a perfectly fine invention that has faithfully served mankind for years on end. It's illogical, it's pointless, this is a waste of time, will shut down any bulb manufacturers who don't soon shift over to the curly fry bulbs, and will pose a far greater environmental risk than the incandescent allegedly posed in the first place (that seemed to be their big argument from what I can find on congress' decision in the first place - which is retarded seeing as there's no scientific basis for a man-made global warming, and to add to the already overwhelming irony, the same people citing a deep-frying of the world are the same scare-mongers who said similar things concerning a global deep-freeze some 20-30 years ago).
This is ludicrous. This is insanity. This is NOT Sparta. This is NOT constitutional. This is not even LOGICAL. This goes beyond light bulbs and their safety hazards. If congress can ban something as common as Edison's compact florescent light bulb, what can they NOT ban? What else will congress dictate for the ignorant masses they fly over when DC comes to call? This is a direct affront to free enterprise and economic competition in a capitalist system. This is an affront to the right of the individual to make their own stand and pick their own choices when in a grocery or hardware store. This is an affront to common sense. If someone wants to buy the curly fry bulbs - let them. But if someone wants to buy the standard compact CFL bulbs, let them. The second the 314 House members who passed this nonsense realized that they can begin controlling the people bit-by-bit, we're INVITING them to walk all over us some more. Apathy is not an option. Be pro-choice on LIGHT BULBS!
Fight the power!
FIGHT THE POWER!
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Return of the Neon Daywalker and other such Nonsense (2/17/2008)
It's been far too long since I took an opportunity to express my mind like this. I guess due to the far-too-frequent staling of life into a compacted routine makes even the noteworthy events seem mundane, and the lack of sleep makes sentences like this one make far less sense in the second viewing than the first.
I seem to find myself driving a lot more. I know it's one of those little "necessary evil" things but I must sigh as I hit Route 1, 95 and 610 far more than I wish I had to. Luckily, I am getting a lot better with time. I guess I just have no choice, but I am. Though I don't have any "I am an awesome driver" stories (I only wish I did) I do have some more tales from the highway of life. For instance, I tend to see a lot of people with absolutely no clue where they're going - and for once I don't mean that in a long-term-life-event kind of way. I mean these people are either remarkably unintelligent, or just lost. More than once, at varying exits along my relatively short trek from home to class, I've seen people begin getting on exits, only to immediately dive back for the main highway seconds before the knick of too late. I might could maybe attribute this to poor navigating shotgun/backseat drivers, but there's just too many examples for that to be the sole factor. In addition, I really don't understand why people wait until the last conceivable second to get into the lane they need to be in. I mean, maybe not half way down the road, but at least SOMETIME before the last required second would be nice. Sheesh.
I also learned I descend from a line of conspiracy theorists and people with less-than-glimmering track records. For instance, my direct ancestor through my father was one Johnny Ringo. Fans of Tombstone are going "Oh, holy crap, we're not talking to HIM anymore..." but hold on a sec. Ringo is a man of both myth and reality, most famous for a six gun, namely the '44 caliber pistol, of whom many met their end by. Doesn't help my case that another one of my ancestors on my mother's side married a man who ignited the biggest gang war in Texas history. Ironic, since I am utterly harmless...
More in recent history, my grandfather Mitchell and his two brothers also had a scuffle. My great-uncle Charlie Mitchell gave my great-grandmother Mitchell a Spanish coin commonly called the piece of eight or an eight royale. When she passed away, the brothers sat down and split great-grandmother Mitchell's coin collection three ways (randomly, not by cost or coin). After all the counting was done, they found said piece of eight was missing. Charlie blamed my great-uncle Johnny and my grandfather Bennie of hiding it, since Johnny had the key to the box the coins were in, and Bennie had said box (but there was no way the hinges could've been removed off said locked box - they were too complex as this box was hand-made). The three brothers quit talking for years as a result of a coin that even today was never found. Knowing my great-grandmother Mitchell, she probably sold it to the pawn shop down the road from her house. And knowing my great-uncle Charlie, he probably won it in a poker game anyways... a generation later, my uncle Donnie believes we never landed on the moon. He swears it was just American propaganda to shame the USSR. My uncle Byron thinks that there's some sort of vast, secret Mitchell fortune. Yeah. Sorry, uncle, but I only WISH there was such a thing...
I had such a strange dream a few nights ago that was just so bizarre I've been taking it upon myself to tell everyone about it. Basically, it began in a large meeting hall sort of place, and apparently a pet show was underway. My mother had entered her cat, Tobin, in too. I found a really adorable kitten and I was playing with it when, in my dream, I feel asleep. And (still in-dream mind you) I woke up, but found all the pets and people gone, and the room's center filled up with water. I waded into the water and - somehow - deduced that the source of the water must also be the same that took the pets. For some reason I wasn't at all concerned about the people, but I was pretty dead-set on finding the pets. The water got deeper as it went along, so I decided to use the Ripple (a special breathing ability from the comic JoJo's Bizarre Adventure) which let me walk on the water to avoid having to swim or drown (strangely enough, in-dream I heeded it was a breathing method, then felt myself in actuality breathe in to execute it). At the end of the waterway, I found myself in a big mansion - and saw a bunch of middle-aged ladies talking. For some reason I thought they were the pet-nappers, so I tried to sneak up on them, but one noticed me, then rushed me, but I hit her with a ripple (again, feeling myself actually breathe again was a bit surreal) to knock her out. I tried to sneak around, but the others noticed me and surrounded me, but after I accused them of being the pet thieves, they told me their pets were kidnapped too, so I agreed to help them. I left and suddenly found myself in what appeared to be something of a renaissance fair, but it was based on feudal Japan, rather than Europe. I began running through it at superhuman speeds, jumping up on top of buildings and around people and so on. Towards the end, I jumped off a low roof, and below me was a pool of water. This one was very shallow, but very wide, and had large, metal springs in it, and one particular island that poked up with a very large spring on it. I landed on that particular one, but it didn't launch me like I had hoped, so I had to, again, use the ripple (the breathing was just strange, actually feeling it in my dream and all) to launch myself forward and found I was racing some guy who was IN A CAR and I WON. There, an old guy met me and told me I won a ziploc bag filled with little, metal figurines. I accepted them, but told him I had to get going. He then began telling me about how he once met Chuck Norris, so I told him that was great, but I had pets to find. I left and tried to go on, but found the only path included a loop-da-loop like something out of Sonic the Hedgehog. I got frustrated because, in spite of being able to run on water and move at superhuman speed and jump on top of single-story buildings, I couldn't run a loop-da-loop. So I gave up, and I woke up afterwards.
And now you have even more reason to believe I need to be committed! Have a nice day!
--Jeff
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The Cake is a Lie. (I've stopped numbering them. Does anyone but me care?) (10/23/07)
But the pie is good.
Anyways, I'd like to state that I have a better appreciation for the Romans and their having invented indoor plumbing. Funny how you appreciate these things after you lose them. As it pans out, a water line broke on my street. Just so happens to be the line that, immediately after the place where it broke, feeds into my house. Thank you, whatever inept governmental organization outsourced the production and installation of these water lines. And if they weren't outsourced, then odds are they were bought by the lowest bidder. If THAT wasn't the case, and these things just happen from time to time, I have no one to blame but the laws of chaos, and they're no fun because they don't get all indignant or go "Don't blame -me-! It was So-and-So over there!"
Speaking of So-and-So, if you haven't by now, you need to go to homestarrunner.com . Just do it and save me the time of having to explain.
Any-dang-ways, I still hate Virginia drivers. I can't count the number of times I've been tailgated, flashed (by headlights, FYI), cut off... the list goes on like the night goes on and not fading away for emo kids. And I realize it is entirely possible that a few of these souls meant no ill will and were, in actuality, truly in a hurry for some legitimate concern - a sick or injured relative, pregnant wife, fire, etc... BUT THE ENTIRE STATE?! I mean, seriously people, I was TAILGATED by a SEMI! A semi! I was in the MIDDLE LANE, minding my own business, already breaking Hi-95's speed limit of 65 (I was going 70) and this big ol' semi with a trailer on the back comes up on my bumper and has the nerve to flash his headlights at me like I'm a grandpa goin' 40. Well, after realizing what the big, dumb oaf had just done, I realized that he was really serious about blazing down the highway at breakneck speeds in a vehicle that has brakes that combust by stopping too hard - so I was luckily able to slip on into the right lane and watch the big, dumb oaf rocket on down the line. Mind you, I was still going 70, he had to be going 85, minimum. MINIMUM. Why is it that there's never a cop around when you really need one? So annoying...
Thankfully, I only need to hit I-95 a total of six times a week, for class. Now, I don't typically judge someone on looks, but imagine my shock when I find my psychology teacher - and a doctor at that - has a MULLET. A bona-fied mullet. I kid you not. It's just... it just wins. He has a mullet and even has slides on his powerpoint that are named "Rate the Mullet". I just... it's too awesome. End of story. Awesome. I mean, he's an awesome guy, but his awesomeness plus the awesomeness of the mullet is just too much...
Speaking of too much - why is Ted Kennedy still in office? You can interpret that any way you like, but I'm in a good mood, so I'm not going on a political tangent this time.
I just learned that there's candy corn of different flavors. Not just classic and chocolate but other things like toffee or strawberry and cotton-candy. It's just madness. But I do love candy corn, so I must hunt some of these down...
Anyways, this has gone on quite long enough. More coherency later!
--Jeff
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#8 - A Series of Rather Unorthodox Yet Fortuitous Happenstances (10/18/2007)
Would "Once in a Lifetime" be a more epic title? Just wondering...
My family and I go to Chili's a lot - the one in the Stafford Market Place. Several waiters there, upon seeing my parents and I, run to the back to grab two Diet Pepsi's and a Mountain Dew for us without waiting to take drink orders. (THIS IS A CLUE FOR YOU, CANDICE! Ha-ha! I kid. Kind of. Sort of. Not really). I mean, seriously, that's how often we go there. More than half the staff recognizes us on sight. It's kind of fun for my dad and I, though my mother seems mildly embarressed over it. I can't imagine why (who wouldn't want an entire restaurant to recognize them on sight?). Anyways, a new lady was on-staff the last time my parents and I went there. She took our drink orders and quickly had them out to us as she should have. In the mean time, some 5-6 waiters and waitresses stopped to say hi or wave at us. Shortly before our food arrives, the waitress brings us refills (which we only half-needed at the moment) and she told us that most of the people in the back knew us and told her to "keep up on their drinking!" Wow. Just... wow. With my pint of Mountain Dew in hand, I'm told about my family's "drinking". I'm stunned. Am I the only one who has things like that happen to?
Another Chili's-related story, that I mentioned in passing in an earlier editorial... Well, as my family was making our way into the aforementioned Chili's, I glanced over my shoulder as a young couple approached (I say young, but they were probably 5-10 years older than I...) so I stopped and held the door open for them with a smile.The girl stops, looks at me in disbelief, then turns to the guy she's with and excitedly exclaims, "See?! There -ARE- nice people in Virginia!" The guy chuckles but, my Texan pride on the line, I pipe up, "Actually, I'm from Texas!" The guy looks at me, smiles as if he's known me for years and replies, "We're from Oklahoma!" I somehow thought they weren't from around here to begin with, due to the intonation of the girl's comment, but somehow I felt pretty good afterwards. A little courtesy goes a long way, huh?
Which reminds me of another similar instance at Joe's Crab Shack in Central Park. This time around, my parents and I were just leaving, when I noticed an elderly bunch making their way across the lot and towards the door. Remembering my manners, I stopped and held open the door for them. I then noticed that this particular elderly bunch was easily in their 20's during World War II, and were moving sluggishly, at best. My parents had already reached the car opposite of the lot and had noticed where I was just as the middle of the short line was going through the door and at about that same instance, I noticed the eldest of them had some sort of device with her, leading from some kind of container to her nose. I felt a wave of something overcome me, though I'm not sure what as I silently held the door for them, exchanging small talk and pleasantries as they went in one after the other. When they had all cleared the doorway, I pulled away and jogged swiftly to the car, wondering what had just happened. I've heard the generation of soldiers of WWII called "The Last Great Generation" and on some level I really believe that. But among that group, one of the gentlemen, in his army uniform, looked at me with eyes that had seen distant lands and said, firmly, "Thank you, young man," and somehow I felt as if I had been saluted. I guess even in small actions we can express big things, y'know?
Finally, to end this note and night on a high note (no pun intended), my sister periodically visits us from Texas, often prompting us to go to Chili's together. At the time I was being heckled for hitting a possum on the head with a broom (it's a big, nasty rodent at my back door, what was I SUPPOSED to do?!) and my sister mimicked the face of a rodent just struck with a broom (which was quite hilarious). Just so happens at that moment, the senior pastor of our church walks into the building as I glance up and exclaim his arrival. Sheepishly, my sister recomposed herself and asked if he saw her bizarre face. I wasn't sure and I told her so, causing us to tease her about it. Funny how things pan out when you eat out at night, huh?
--Jeff
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#7 - Atonement's Requiem (10/11/2007)
God, I sit here in the darkness, in my secret place; surrounded by bloodstained barbed wire and flames that burn like shadows on a wall, casted from a candlewick from the rest of the world, in safety, and here, stand before you, humbled and alone in this thought...
Why, God, does this world continue to break apart further? Why does the sun seem dimmer now then 100 years ago? 1000 years ago? 10,000 years ago? Why does it seem that men have fallen further than they did in that Garden so long ago? Why, I wonder, do I stand here alone and shake my head at the atrocities that go unanswered? You sit upon your throne and look down at me, though not down on me and say, "Be quiet and wait,"
We are here, God, and we have been placed in a land of milk and honey, but the masses continue to eat of the tree of which you forbade us to eat. They make a mockery of You, my brothers and sisters, and me, and you still sit there and tell me "Be quiet and wait," They desecrate the church, the tabernacle, sit upon the thrones and the Holy of Holies and declare themselves God, yet you leave us here like declawed cats or dogs without teeth - unable to lift a finger to change anything for the better. Still you tell me, "Be quiet and wait,"
They mock the cross and scoff the body and the blood of He Who Was, Is And Is Yet To Come, and then, in turn, my blood boils and yet you still tell me, "Be quiet and wait," Arrogant and pompous, they stand before the world and insult you to your face. They insult me and those who are waiting here with me. We can't do anything anyways, and the few that choose to instead end up damning the rest of us anyway, so what is our incentive to try? To care? Still you tell me, "Be quiet and wait,"
Israel cries out, like a small infant, unable to make words or express herself. Her incompetent leaders take her further and further into the mouth of the serpents awaiting her, still you tell her, "Be quiet and wait," She begs, weeps and sobs for someone to take her hand, yet those who ought to be her strongest friends turn their backs and shun her and, again, we cannot aide her. Why should she suffer so? Did she anger you? Did you forget her? Certainly not! Then why? Still, I hear the still, small voice saying, "Be quiet and wait,"
In my empty and shattered frame, unable to find the questions I've been asking all along - a man having done half of my sin deserves a worse fate than Hell or annihilation - and yet you forgive me and bless me infinitely and over-flowingly. Why, though? I'd rather perish in flames then see others suffer, you know me, so you already know that. Again, "Be quiet and wait," I cannot act for those who stand against me is the entire galaxy and I cannot fight for you have told me not to - should I just die in vain, then? Perish the thought, not me! I cannot defy my nature anymore than those who wish me dead. But when I say "I will fight," you rebuke me, "Be quiet and wait," you continue to tell me.
Is it wrong to want to know? Am I sinning in questioning your judgment? Because my perspective is limited I should be forbade from expressing concern for a world that looks as though it's about to end? No, I don't believe that to be the case, for you allowed others to question you in the past, and you gave them fair answer in due time...
The world, the galaxy, the universe... they are not long for life now, are they? But when, I wonder? Tomorrow? 100,000 years from now? When will we know? We live in an era of silence and we see no hope of joy for tomorrow, though I will cling to hope, even where there is none, because you made a promise to us 2000 years ago, before this silence began.
In conclusion, God, I understand what you mean now. Let my concerns be known, though, my fears, my sin, my brokenness, my humanity, but also my courage, my love, my hope, my tears and my labors. I will stride onward towards the calling of your still, small voice, baring my cross over my shoulders, following the whisper of, "Be quiet and wait," doing just that. He who spoke and the cosmos were borne; He who calmed the storm with a breath; He who offers peace and love and second chances; He who would let us call Him "Daddy" and not rebuke us for saying "Yahweh"... He has promised us an answer to these questions and infinitely more some day. There's no sin nor shame deep enough so that the grace of God cannot purify them, like the light of the dawn sun extinguishing shadows and darkness.
So, instead, I will wait for the answer in patient silence, and instruct others to do the same. All the same, come, Lord Jesus, and save this world soon. We await you as those who came before us did. Fill us anew, purify us from all unrighteousness, give us the courage to step boldly towards tomorrow, and in Your might please let joy overcome sorrow, light overcome darkness, tears be wiped away and give us all that second second chance.
Amen.
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#6 - Neon Daywalker (9/26/2007)
Life is a lot like Highway 95. When you're on it, you want to go fast if you possibly can, largely because if you don't the guy behind you begins pushing you along and that can lead into nastier consequences. You also don't want to go too fast, because people like me just kind of want to enjoy the ride at a good pace - others just don't want to get pulled over and given a ticket.
Today I was returning home from class in the right lane of I-95, drifting along, doing my thing with my Texas T-shirt and blue jeans and gray sneakers, with John Reuben, Skillet, and a compilation of video game melodies blaring in my ear buds from my MP3 player. As per usual, I hung out largely in the right lane, since I was in no hurry to rocketing on down the way seeing as I had gotten out of class early anyways. Then it dawns on me that the exits for Route 17 and Route 3 are coming up, but by the time I notice this concern, the middle lane is a steady stream of traffic in which I could not dodge my loyal black StealthGao into in all good sense. Instead, I find myself sandwiched in between two cars and a massive 18-wheeler next to us preventing any of us three from moving out of each others' way. In front of me is a granny with snow on the roof in a car not built anytime during my lifetime who decides it's a stellar idea to bring the right lane to 35 MPH, so I jam my car's incredibly reliable brakes on to prevent sending grandma home to the Lord and quite possibly myself as well and bring the greased lightning Cavalier down to just below the granny's pace. That by itself is enough to give anyone a nice shock to the system and to incite a flurry of inappropriate terms among other things, but my situation worsened. Behind me was some yuppy gangsta-wanna-be-white-boi with his bass on the same level as a Boeing jet engine (which was sufficient to overtake John Reuben's "Hindsight" thundering in my ear pieces which are largely used to dominate the highway and wind noises). That by itself annoys me, but this particular fellow decided HE wanted to go fast and show off whatever it was he was trying to sport (heck if I know) and rode my bumper while I concerned myself with trying not to take out the little old lady from Route 17. Granted the helplessness of my situation, the semi went on and the yuppy took off down the road like some big shot I'm sure he thought he was. Did I go around grandma? Well, no, actually, once the yuppy was gone, she picked up the pace and ended up going way faster than I did at 70. I was a little stunned, frankly. I guess she hates yuppies too? God speed, granny, God speed.
Early this morning whilst on the commute to school, another interesting semi-related problem emerged. This fellow in front of me in a minivan just would not get over 50 MPH, which was quite frustrated (though I had given myself extra time this morning to get to school). A short distance down the road, I realized it was not the man in the minivan over whom I had been badmouthing under my breath, but rather, a BPHS student getting off on the 630 exit towards my old high school. Figures. Almost no one there could ever drive anyways (I said -almost-, Sean, put the knife away!). Anyways, Mr. Minivan guy takes it up to speed and due to not caring quite enough to bother hitting the middle or left lanes, I hang out behind this guy, feeling a mutual connection due to our connection over the dislike of high school-aged drivers. After a while my cruise control (right foot) started hurting due to the way I was positioned, so I set myself more upright and slowed down for a few seconds. In the meantime, a semi went on by me. Normally I wouldn't take notice, but this semi did something I don't see often, but have had nightmares about. The semi started just PULLING RIGHT OVER right on top of Mr. Minivan Guy! Thankfully, Mr. Minivan Guy realizes the situation just as quickly and moves his minivan aside and honks with the FURY OF THE STORM behind it (I saw his elbow whip up into the air as he did this... the man PUNCHED the horn, literally!) and the semi realizes what a careless jerk he's being and returns to his middle lane, where he belongs. Mr. Minivan Guy seemed as exasperated as I would've been, judging from his hand motions as he conversed with Mrs. Minivan Guy beside him. Suddenly, I felt even further connected with him. I miss you, Mr. Minivan Guy... and watch out for semis! They only cause problems.
Finally, last week I was heading down Route 1 (which runs parallel to I-95 for those of you who don't know) heading home from class, and about 3 traffic lights from my turn onto I-95, and traffic was heavy. Suddenly, I take note of a big, red truck wanting to go to the left turn lane, three lanes over, from the lane to MY right. For a better idea there are five lanes. She's second-from-the-right in a straight-through. I'm in the center lane, also a straight-through. She wanted to cut my lane and another lane still. Most Virginia drivers would lunge forward and prevent her from doing just that. I, on the other hand, decided to STOP AN ENTIRE LANE OF ROUTE 1 to allow this fool to cut across the way they wanted to go. I glance up over the rims of my sunglasses and notice it was a young lady who's also in my speech class, having come from right there myself as well. I allow her to pass on by and get a few frustrated people behind me as the light turns green midway, but they got over it. A few minutes later I couldn't help but wonder how she didn't know where he needed to be when she needed to be there? Oh, never mind. I did something good for her at the risk of a few angry Virginia drivers. All in a day's work, I guess.
And my dad says I need more driving experience...
--Jeff
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Stream of Consciousness #5 - Things I Hate. A lot. (9/5/2007)
I hate Hollywood - for the most part anyways. The vast majority of them are idiots and know-nothings who feel that, because they're rich and famous they have some kind of idea about how the world works. Quoth the Tim Robins, "We've killed over 400,000 of their citizens." Sad (for you, Mr. Robins) to say there, bub, but we haven't been killing 300 people a day over the past four years. Actually, according to "The Iraq Body Count" - an antiwar site - the number is 77,555. That's about, what? A fifth of the original BS'd number? Quaint, pal, but no cigar. It's this thing celebrities try to carry about called "The Halo Effect" in which being excellent in one field allegedly gives said person authority to speak on anything (be it politics, Americans being unable to find America on a map, or the odd - sometimes very odd - celebrity endorsements). I hate the Halo Effect too, while I'm at it. It's not that I excuse death - I hate seeing or hearing about people dying. I do, on the other hand, honestly believe it better that we are in Iraq and trying to help them and saying "400,000" while knowing jack about reality isn't helping.
I hate PublishAmerica Inc. Yes, the very people who published my book, and I'll tell you why. First off, they completely skimped out on editing and quality control. The table of contents is completely off - that's right, they screwed up something before you even get to the actual story and once you do, it's been riddled with errors. You know what their editing process was? Transcribing my manuscript (poorly) over to a PDF. Adobe Acrobat Reader file, sending it back and telling ME to correct THEIR mistakes that -THEY- did to -MY- manuscript. A LITTLE backup would've been nice, guys. Instead, they leave it for me to find their mistakes, which even after having read over it about 4-5 times, I couldn't catch them all (some were very little things. Some bigger things, like the TOC I thought they'd have the common sense to adjust themselves - silly me). You'd think in the ENTIRE YEAR it took them to make it into a book format, they'd have noticed things like the entire table of contents being crappily done. Oh, but this gets better - I also learned later on (and too late for me to reconsider my choice in publisher) that these guys basically won't turn down -ANYTHING- (which pissed me off) and that one of their own personally-managed websites said- AND I QUOTE - "As a rule of thumb, the quality bar for sci-fi and fantasy is a lot lower than for all other fiction... [science fiction authors] have no clue about what it is to write real-life stories, and how to find them a home... [science fiction] writers who erroneously believe that SciFi, because it is set in a distant future, does not require believable storylines, or that Fantasy, because it is set in conditions that have never existed, does not need believable every-day characters."
Oh, I'm not done yet. I haven't even started. NOW I learn (again, far too late) that some book stores won't even ACCEPT MY BOOK FOR A BOOK SIGNING because of PA Inc. themselves and they way they distribute books. To be quite frank I'd rather have been rejected by them than to later learn I can't even be taken seriously as a published author and I'm bound to them by contract for another five years (bastards). But don't worry, I'm not gonna stop writing - not for an instant - instead, I'm going to continue my series as I had planned and go to another publisher and once the contract for TDOTDW ends with PA Inc, I'm going to take it to a far better company. Guess what? I STILL HAVE THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT BEFORE YOU GUYS SCREWED IT OVER! SO -HAH-! Anyways, if you're an up-and-coming author, don't even bother thinking about PublishAmerica. If you want to see exactly WHY I'm angered beyond what I've mentioned here look up "Atlanta Nights". Q.E.D. I really wish I knew all this in advance... learn from my mistakes, all.
I hate beets and brussel sprouts. Do I even need to say anything more?
I hate the concept of using murder as birth control.
I hate cowardly tyrants who oppress their people for their own gain/amusement/whatever.
And I REALLY hate forgetting what else I was going to write about after having vented about how much I hate PublishAmerica Inc. Oh, yeah, and before I forget - they made my book too damn expensive.
--Jeff
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Cry of the Brave (#4) (7/16/2007)
It seems entirely reasonable to think that, at least to me, that when confronted with the propensity for life or death, that human beings would (at least, most of us) would choose life. It's not that I'm suicidal, but I really must wonder why that is. Should we have the extra sensory perception to know our own mortality (to "see the clock" as it were...) would we appreciate life more, or would we see just how long we could cheat that clock or do our best to break it? The clock counts no matter what we do, and yet humans ourselves, so eternally bound to the concepts of life and death and willing to cling to them in fear of going outside of our convenient little box we've grown so found of still wish to cheat it so. To live is gain and to die is gain nonetheless, for those of us who already understand anyways, so why should one be so eager to break the clock of another so quickly? Why should those who claim lives see fit to hold the title 'doctor' and take the oath that so utterly swears never to harm another? Why should they speak with forked tongues yet we be so eager to flatter them? A generation has been slaughtered wholesale. Yet another holocaust rages yet here we stand, a silent majority being told by a rowdy minority that we should be so eager to promote it for convenience. Should I live or die? Who's to say? By whose authority do humans speak? Their own? God's? Someone else? Who establishes their credences louder than He whose voice spoke and the universe trembled with power unfathomable to naive humans? So why should we condone the killing of another so callously? Have we grown so cold as to forget them? Are they really just mistakes? I was a mistake, too, you know. If you wish to murder me as well, you may try. I don't see why you shouldn't. You make no differentiations between me and them, in truth. Flesh and blood, living and breathing, the concept of life has been desecrated by those who inherently fear most gravely for their own. Should I care whether I live or die? I really don't. Stab me, shoot me, take your best shot. Iron bars can contain tiny bacteria or massive whales but you cannot bind my, nor their, souls. I often wish I could lay my life down for their sake - it'd be preferable to watching the innocent suffer. Those who oppress the weak are those without true courage. Why are you killing them? Those who suffer wish to flee like cowards and seek the pits. Don't just let them! Help them! Those who are too small, their voices too small, to protect themselves are being massacred. Stop! Stop! Can't you see they're fighting to live too? You burn them alive! Cowards! You bring them into this world to jab a steel pole into them?! Stop! They're alive, they're breathing. Stop killing my brothers and my sisters! They did nothing wrong, yet you'd so eagerly spare he who rapes and kills and pillages and laughs at the sights he beholds? Why? Stop it. If you want to fight, I'll step up to the plate. Do not attack the innocent. You have no authority to judge them, the guilty, nor me. Stop. I'm alive too.
Should it surprise anyone that we are where we are now? We sold our courage, honor and dignity of our lifetimes for momentary pleasure and cravings. Why do you relish the darkness so much? I've been there before - it's like death, but not quick. It's slow. Painful. So, why do you do it? Why do you accept it like it's commonplace when it's not? Why do you so eagerly chase after high after high when you forget your own purpose? You can chase your thrills all you'd like but there's only one end for those paths, and you know it as well as I do. Your body may be temporary, but right now it's all you have. Stabbing yourself to feel good? Exchanging your health and your pride for toxins to flow freely in you? Giving yourself without love to another for carnal pleasures even a beast can feel? Laying with your own family? With animals? With those who are the same as you in so many ways, all of them impure? Why? You are more than a sack of flesh and blood, yet you treat yourself no higher than a dog? Why, I wonder? Pleasure is but temporary though you hunt it even to the extent of hurting others around you without care! You became angry when I rebuke you, yet you're only killing yourself. Please, stop. Listen to me. I love you. I don't want you to die this way. I can see more than just your skin - why can't you see yourself? Why can't you see reality in that mirror? Why do you lie to yourself? Is your reason dead? If you need help, ask. I can't help unless you let me, though. The world is a hard place, but there's more to it than these highs. There may be lows, but that isn't the end of the line. Trust me. Take my hand and jump with me. It'll hurt, but you'll heal eventually - if you change now. You are more than an animal. Let me help you help yourself.
But, wait, why are you doing that? Why are you deliberately causing harm to yourself? Have you become numb and wish to feel? Is that what this act means? Are you so frustrated you lack better means of expression? Are you sad? Angry? Scared? Stop. Please stop. You're not the only one to feel the pain of this world. I feel it too. I feel it, and I feel for you too. You cut yourself, I feel pain too. If you're sad or angry, here! Here is my arm! You can take it out on me, I don't mind. I'd rather suffer than see you suffer. I don't like seeing you hurting. You can hit me, if you'd feel better in so doing. Stab me, or shoot me, if you want. I don't mind. I understand it can be hard a lot of the time. That's fine. I'm here for you. Do you need my arm? My eye? You may take them. My leg? My heart? They are yours, if you need them. My ear? My time? I'd give them to you, if you'd let me. You're not the only one who feels alone sometimes. I feel it too. I feel it and I feel what you feel too. Don't feel alone. I am here. He who was, is and is to come is here too. I may not be able to do everything, but He can. We are here for you.
Why, brother, do you attack me? Destruction won't bring you happiness. Seclusion from the world won't bring you happiness. Dying won't bring anybody happiness. They are just women and children. Don't harm them! I want to talk. I wish I could help you, though when I try you kill me and those around me. I don't hate you, though. You must not hate. If you insist on hitting that trigger, I can't stop you. Though I wish I could. I do not wish to see you - nor anyone else - die. I'm not mad, just wondering what drives a man to tie a bomb to his chest and run at me with such pure and destructive hate. I wish you wouldn't do that. I wish I could help you. I do, really.
You're not the only one to be here now. You're not the only one who feels insignificant. You're not the only one to wish the pain would go away. You're not the only one who wishes that when you walked into a crowded room that people would run to you. You're not the only one who wants to be noticed. You're not the only one who feels scared. You're not the only one who needs help and you're certainly not the only one to be suffering this way. You're not the only one who wishes people would stop looking at you like you were the only person in the world who is different. You're not the only one who wishes things would be different, or that this world would be filled with more love. I've been there. Many times. In some cases, I still am.
Do not condemn them for what they did to you. Do not condemn them for what they did to me. Do not condemn them for what they did to themselves. Condemn the action. Love those people. It's hard, I know. I struggle with it, too. It's hard to love, isn't it? If we do, though, the action will have an equal yet opposite reaction. Maybe if we start the reaction, maybe we can make things a little bit better - even if just one step at a time. That'd be nice, wouldn't it? I love you. We need to love all of them, too. It's a long and lonesome road, doing the best you can - but I'll be there with you too. Let's go, shall we?
Why? Should I better yet ask 'how'? When did mankind become so confused? Did we forget who we are? Have we fallen so low that we forget even the very physiology that composes us? Have we forgotten, further still, we are not just the sum of our parts? Heart, body, mind, soul? We are that and so much more. What started this? Why did you forget? What can I do to help? Why do you do this to yourself and others? Let me help you... or at least try to. I love you all.
--Jeff
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And now for something completely different... (7/15/2007)
Today rather than discuss my bizarre mentality and further proving/securing the necessity for my own little white, padded room in Snowden, I'm taking it upon myself to, instead, discuss different media and my opinions on them. Just a lil' reminder - these are just my opinions, feel free to disagree or agree, whatever. Not like it'll influence me in the least bit.
Okay, let's start with something which has a rapidly-expanding fanbase: anime and manga. I briefly touched on this one before, but now I want to go a little bit more in-depth with it. Okay, when I say "anime", what are the first few to jump into your head, if any? Dragon Ball Z? Sailor Moon? Naruto? Inu Yasha for all you yaoi freaks out there? Well, I got news for you, these are some pretty bad examples. With the possible exception of Sailor Moon (which is considered a staple for the magical girl series. Hey, even I give the devil his due.) these are just some of the infinite number of generic, uninspired animes with the depth of a pothole in Route 1. (Oh... wait... that's actually pretty deep... okay, nix that metaphor, let's move on...) Dragon Ball (the original, I mean) was a fairly comedic, well-done anime that deviated little from the concept of "Journey to the West" on which a ton of anime is based. It had a good mix of action, comedy and character development and it wasn't the most series show ever nor is it considered cartoon gold, but it left you with a good feeling in the end of it all. Dragon Ball Z (and later, DB GT) however, took the series in a new direction. A bad direction. Basically, it became a bunch of muscleheads mindlessly throwing energy balls at each other, screaming, hunched over like they are constipated and screaming for 5 or 6 episodes until they fight - which last all of 3 minutes before we return to the constipation. As a matter of fact, the guy who MADE the Dragon Ball series wanted it to end after the Namek arc, but the people demanded more of him so, in frustration, he passed the series onto another sucker. Naruto. What can I possibly say about Naruto. Well, nothing good, anyways. A generic ninja anime of people going to a ninja school and yet not being in the least bit ninja-ish. I mean, bright ORANGE jumpsuits? What is this? The Ninja Turtles are a better example of being ninjas - they actually ASSASSINATE PEOPLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT not leap around, making up "ninja powers" that, in the long run, do nothing. (And, no, I didn't make that up. Refer to "Eastman & Laird's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles series of comics for more info). It's like Dragon Ball Z, but trying to fill it up with ninjas instead of constipated monkey-men from space. How does crap like this go "mainstream" in America, anyways? Inu Yasha... well... it's Inu Yasha. It's crap. 'Nuff said. Try checking out "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure", then get back to me.
Next up to bat, let's talk about books - seeing as how I am a published author, I enjoy critiquing other's works. I try to be constructive as much as possible, but in the long run, there are a few instances where I just can't take it. A good example of a bad example would be the Harry Potter series. "*Gasp!* *Shock!* *Awe!* *Horror!* How dare you make fun of Harry Potter!" I can already hear the masses screaming. Well, let me explain - I liked the first three books. I mean, wizards? Dragons? Explosions? I mean, seriously, can something like that go wrong? Well, yeah, it can, and here's how. IT'S THE SAME STORY OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. That's how. "Oh, but Jeff, the books are totally different!" yeah, right, that's why each year, Harry and his buddies go to Hogwarts, throw some spells around whimsically, some dark conspiracy is uncovered, evil is thwarted and/or goes on vacation for the summer, and everyone leaves the exact same way they came. Right. It sure isn't the same story over and over again, huh? You truly have shown me the error of my ways. Seriously, I liked the first three and had hopes for a better series in the long run, but, no, it wasn't meant to be. What we got instead of what could've been a long-running series of epic classics became monotonous re-runs and after the getting mid-way into the fourth book I felt like I had seen it all, done it all and had gotten the T-shirt and already worn it out. Well, at least we got some funny YTMND's of the "Snape kills Dumbledore" fad. Oh well.
Huh. This has been kind of negative, I suppose. Are there things I do like? Yeah, obviously! Let's hit up on the movies next, shall we? Both Transformers and Live Free or Die Hard prove that a good story (even if a simple one, like the Transformers movie had) mixed with lots of action and tons of explosions can make for a heck of 2 hours spent. Both were well-written, the actors were great, the action itself was top-notch (even if sometimes nonsensical, such as Die Hard 4's spiral highway to nowhere...) and... well a whole lot of crap was exploding! Just, wow. Great movies. I guess my only real complaint was that in the new Transformers movies, some of the battles just were too short, with robots getting PWNZ'D with but a hit or two. Other than that, good stuff.
In video games - Monster Rancher DS just was released. It can't get here soon enough. ... yeah, that's it. I'm braindead.
Peace out,
--Jeff
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A Real Man... (7/13/2007)
I was thinking about a lot today - largely about human value and the inherent worth of any one person; primarily that of my own. This trail of thought led me to wonder about the meaning of manliness, so oft I would personify with the concept of John Wayne - a man's man. This made me wonder about an article I had read in, I believe, People magazine about "beta males" - losers who make it big, and they largely cite comedic failsafe types such as Shrek or the guy from "Knocked Up" or whatever. In the article it said that the 'losers' were the new 'in' thing and the concept of the manly man was an icon of times long since passed by us. This made me wonder just what it meant to be a man. It dawned on me that it isn't a state of being - but rather, a life-long process and a series of choices through life one makes. Then, I realized manliness is not something to be described in but one expression but, rather, many things too long to be so easily compartmentalized. For instance:
A real man will never use his power to harm another, but will use it to protect and aide those weaker than himself.
A real man will not gloat at the pain or misery of others, but will sympathize with them.
A real man will never look at a woman lustfully but will, instead, respect her beauty as a creation of God's own design and will not discriminate based on appearance - there's nothing wrong with being beautiful, but beauty is fleeting, after all.
A real man will respect authority, even when he disagrees with it.
A real man need not hold the door open for another, but will anyways for no reason other than the inherent desire to be kind to others - not just women, either. This is a mere example, though, and a real man knows just what I mean by expressing it.
A real man will not ball his emotions up within his chest and should be free to express himself if his expressions are appropriate, given the situation. Crying is not a sign of weakness - it is a sign of the strength of his heart. In such, a man will never strike another in anger, nor retaliate in a similar manner.
A real man will always take heart and have courage against all odds. Courage does not mean the lack of fear, but rather, a willing acceptance of fear and the overcoming of it.
A real man will never abuse. That includes (but is not limited to) humans, animals or plants. I suppose you can, if you so desired, abuse minerals, but I can't really recommend it.
A real man will not allow himself to be controlled by unfettered emotion, addiction and/or desire. Instead, he realizes the only masters in this life he has is himself and God.
A real man recognizes that, in general, he will have little from the start, and will recognize the grace of God and humans alike for what he has by the end of it all.
A real man will not boast nor brag. A real man is humble, yet confident.
A real man doesn't need to talk a big game - actions speak louder than words.
A real man will not utilize his talents or resources for evil. Ever. In contrast, a real man should be willing to do what is right against all odds - even if it should cost him his life.
A real man will not take advantage of the less fortunate, but will give generously to everyone.
A real man comes to terms with his strengths and weaknesses and makes of them the best that he can.
The list could go on infinitely. I know for a fact I, myself, am not even half of this little list I presented, but if you're not shooting for the stars, then your sights are already too low. As I said before - it's a process and a day-by-day choice. Someday, I hope to be a real man, one day at a time.
--Jeff
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Stream of Consciousness (Unedited Thought Process #3 with a new name!) (7/9/2007)
I really never have claimed to understand all aspects of society at large. I do feel that I am technologically inclined to the point where I can easily work with most any machine or program with minimal effort. I can pick up a brand new game and figure out most of its mechanics within the first couple of seconds even without a tutorial mode. Even when I got my cell phone, which was also my first one, I was able to figure out all of the major functions with a few button taps. So, stay with me on this one cuz it's a real whopper, why are so many people paying out the wazoo for the iPhone? My father recounted a newspaper article he read regarding a man who used eBay's "Buy it Now" command to purchase an iPhone for over $1700! That much right there couldn't buy you a car, but it would make for a nice down payment, yeah? Now, I sincerely doubt he'll actually pay up on that one, but just think about that for a moment. 1700 bucks. The average selling price for them is nigh on $750 anyways! All for what? Probably paying for the grand total of 10 cents worth of plastic, the 5 buck processor and the 1.75 labor for having them produced in China? Why? My sister's new cell phone, which was not made by Apple, cost less than HALF the average price and did far more than the iPhone even dreamed of being capable of. It really stuns me what people will pay/go through for the sake of brand name and, compared to most high-end cells these days, a downgrade along with it.
While I'm on the topic of electronics, why is it that every time a newer, shinier model comes out, we feel inclined to dispose of our older models and immediately buy up the newer one, even when nothing really changed. My dad is really bad about this one, and I know many other people who are too. If the one you have now works and does everything you need, why should you go out of your way for the next big thing? Seriously, unless there is a fairly severe difference in the 1.0 and the 2.0, there really isn't any justification in spending like a maniac in order to get more shininess and more buttons. I understand that, as a general rule, women like shiny things and guys are easily amused by lots of buttons (I know my dad is) it's not very economical. I know we're in a capitalist system and a largely consumerist nation, but seriously, it needn't be that way. It's not worth it. At least, not to me.
In the same vein as not being worth it - why is the 'emo' trend so popular? It's REALLY very annoying, actually, when single-child upper-middle-class high schoolers make up problems in their lives in order to garner attention. I'm not even kidding - and myspace is notorious for it. YTMND.com actually has an entire fad revolving around the facet of just how humorously overplayed a lot of teenagers try to make their lives. I recommend that one, they're usually pretty funny. Anyways, Americans often are the most spoiled among people in the world and we often take that for granted (I said "we", didn't I? I'm guilty here too, so don't start stoning me just yet) so kids have to MAKE UP their problems in order to get attention. If you want attention - do something worthwhile: join a club, or a sport, or take up writing (NOT dark, angst-y poetry on your livejournal account) or drawing or SOMETHING please, just stop whining. I didn't honestly believe that this problem would follow me to college but I guess that means the joke's on me, huh? Stop it. Grow a spine. Seriously. It's one thing to be legitimately hurting and needing help, it's entirely different to make up problems while trying to get people to pity you. I'm not stupid - I can tell the difference between someone who needs help and an emo kid.
Speaking of completely stupid, let's talk about Hollywood for a bit. When I think about them, I can't help but recall a movie quote (Ironic, yeah?) from Star Wars where Obi-Wan says, "You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy," That's certainly what Hollywood makes me think of. Two-week marriages? Promiscuous sex? Drug addicts in and out of rehab every other day? Y'know, there's a real reason people gloated when Paris Hilton was in jail - it's called "Schadenfruede", which means joy at the suffering of others. Is it mature? No. Is it fun? You betcha! Why? Because we felt that she got what she deserved (and they successfully shut her up for all of like, half her sentence). Maybe it's less about the downfall of those more successful than us, and more about those who publicly make jerks of themselves get their what-for. We enjoy that because we feel that it's justified. Well, actually, in Hilton's case - it is. She's famous for a scandalous sex tape and the fact that her grandfather made something of himself through his sweat and effort in life and she is the heir to that name and fortune. Not to mention, she shouldn't have been driving on a suspended license. Stupid girl.
On to more celebrity bashing! Why is it that celebrities feel the need to name their kids horribly? I mean, seriously... "Apple"? "Scout"? "River"? I mean, I understand a few of these people grew up during the hippy movement, but seriously, cut us a break, will you? Actually, my dad told me the story of a girl named "Abcde". I think he said it was pronounced like "Ab-cid-eh" or something, but, seriously, if she has a younger sibling, they're in dire trouble. Enough about that.
It just occurred to me that celebrities mean tabloids and tabloids mean pure nonsense. All they ever talk about is pleasing your spouse in bed, how to get rich quick, how to cook delicious food (wait... that's not nonsense... I could really get behind concepts involving food...) and which celebrities have gotten fat. Whoa, wait, what? Why is being fat such a social stigma, anyways? Throughout history, it's fluctuated over which was better - fat or thin. In ancient days, being fat meant you were well-taken care of. In ancient Egypt, being fat was on-par with having some of the more serious diseases in history (yikes!). In medieval Europe, being fat meant you were rich and powerful. Now it has a whole flurry of implications not unlike the Egyptian interpretation. Well, okay, but why? Most people (especially women) get bombarded day in and day out with "YOU HAVE TO BE THIN OR ELSE YOU'RE UGLY", but then they fail to mention that only 3% of people in the nation actually LOOK like the models. Hey, that makes me wonder what percent of the nation works in the modeling industry? Oh, never mind. But, seriously, it's one thing to legitimately be concerned for one's health, but it's different when you see a slightly pudgy person and be in the mindset of, "They're lazy, they eat too much and they're a bad person". I'm not even exaggerating these stories, if nothing else, I'm not stressing them enough. I happen to like both thin and plus-sized girls, and I see beauty in all body types, not stigmas to hang over people's heads or labels to compartmentalize human value. That is inherently wrong on so many levels - God loves thin people as much as he loves fat people. All people are God's people. So there.
And while I'm on the subject, let me address the BMI (Body Mass Index). It's one's mass (m) times (x) height (h) squared (^2). Anyone else IMMEDIATELY see the flaw? You should. This gives a new meaning to 1-dimensional thinking! In this instance, you are measuring the perfectly-square cardboard cutout of someone! It doesn't account for guys with broad shoulders (like myself), women's... err... "endowments"... it doesn't even compensate for the fact that your nose and feet stick outwards from your body! The system is so deeply flawed in a rudimentary level as to make it completely worthless. And math is my WORST subject, FYI. Cubing the subject doesn't help at all, because when you're literally making the person out to be a block head! Also, it fails to account for muscle weighing more, and being denser, than fat, or for skeletal, organ, or water mass composition either. It's a joke, at its best.
Well, that's enough for right now. Be sure to leave some feedback, like always. Love one another, y'all! Play nice, work hard, e-mail Strong Bad and always, ALWAYS hug the Jeff! Peace!
--Jeff
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Unedited Thoughts #1 (6/13/2007)
This is a special writing excersize I thought I'd try out, wherein I'd continue to write whatever comes to mind without utilization of the "Delete" key save for correcting typos. So, if my thoughts seem fairly disjointed, just kind of smile and nod and, please, leave some feedback because this is kind of fun to try out and see how it'll roll out and how others will find my thought processes.
Let's start with something fun - has anyone seen "What We Call the News", the new JibJab.com video? I thought it fairly amusing, but my complaint is that I think people really have a tendency to romanticize older things - such as the first three major news anchors on the first three available channels on TV. While I'm certainly not questioning all their hard work and dedication, it's like the entire video is dedicated to the creators' saying that back then there was no bias in media. What? No. There's always been bias, ever since Adam came home from fishing and told Eve his first fishing story (where every time he re-told it, the fish got bigger. Sound familiar?) everyone has an angle to play, even if it doesn't really effect them at all. Which leads me to my next idea...
Why is it that because something was first, or at least the original, it suddenly becomes automatically better than anything to come after it? I'm a Ninja Turtle fan and I can't count the flocks of drones who hum the same song, "The 1987 series was the best! Buzzzzz" well, minus the buzz part... but they refuse to heed anything else because that just so happen to be the first incarnation of the series they became familiar with and they refused to have those concepts replaced. Why? The original comics were far superior in all regards (and were BUTCHERED by the '87 series) especially storytelling and the 2003 series attempted to revive the original feel, and it upset a lot of people just because it wasn't what they had wanted to see, because they wanted someone else's creation to be their envisioning of the series. I have ample counter-examples as to defeat the "1st = best" (at least the "first" by the individual standing as my TMNT '87 example goes) concept. Can anyone say "Kamen Rider"?
And Japan. Why are so many people obsessed with Japan all over anime? Anime and manga are okay (most are utter crap, ESPECIALLY the stuff that ends up "Mainstream" in America, with few exceptions) but nothing worth learning Japanese over. The REALLY good stuff most people don't know exist, even if it comes to America (Rave Master, Monster Rancher, Wild ARMS, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure...) so I get to hear the squealing fanboys/fangirls rave, "OH! KUWAII DESU NE!" don't ask me what that means - I don't know either. Nor do I care.
Speaking of things I care little for, congress actually managed to do something right and shot down that horrible immigration bill. I did vote for Bush, but I haven't been really enthralled with his lax behavior on the seriousness of the war in Iraq and the border issues which, being a Texan by blood and knowing full-well that Mr. Bush ought to understand the situation when it comes to illegal immigration having lived there for such a long time, I'm rather upset. Tom Tancredo made an interesting suggestion not too long ago that all immigration, legal and not, should be put on hold until those who are here assimilate to our culture. How will we know when that is? Well, he put it as, "Being able to dial a hotline and not having to push 1 for English and 2 for another language". The Rio Grande makes a terrible national border. It dries up every summer.
While I'm thinking of things I don't like and are dry, how did Oceans 13 beat Pirates 3? It's not that I'm a pirates fanboi or that I'm real enthralled with Johnny Depp it's that I really hate George Clooney. I mean, the only good movie he was ever in was "O Brother, Where Art Thou?", which was loosely based off of Homer's "The Odyssey".
Speaking of ancient epics, why must every epic hero have some kind of horrible downfall? Did the ancient civilizations frown upon happy endings? Was asking for something different too much? Well, evidently it was. King Arthur, his father Uther Pendragon, Beowulf, Siegfried, you name it something bad happened to them. I think a story ought to be an escape from reality (especially with how fantastic the nature of some of those stories got to be) and thus the hero shouldn't need to meet some horrible fate at the hands of irony. It especially made me mad in the case of Siegfried, because he was really cool and he met a very lame end ALA Achilles. I mean, I wouldn't do that to Azx (the hero of my book), why did the ancient people need to do that to Siegfried?
Speaking of my characters, this may sound rather unusual, but does anyone else (perhaps other authors or artists) ever develop a character so far that you could talk to them? I mean, in your head, and I know that sounds psychotic but bear with me a little longer. When you create a character and give them their own personality and way or life, am I the only one who can see them there and actually imagine what they'd say, or do? ... Kristi, I promise you I'm mentally stable but... seriously, I really gotta know, am I really the only one who has this happen? Anyways, that's enough for now.
--Jeff
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The "Tattered Flag" Editorial (5/29/2007)
Not too long ago, I was outside a Ruby Tuesdays in the Aquia Town Center-- a small shopping center which isn't very far from where I live. While waiting on a friend, I stood outside (it wasn't too cold, so I didn't mind), and I happened to glance across the road and saw the American flag flying there. Most people walk or drive by it without a second thought, but I took a moment to examine it closer. I noticed that at the far right aside (the side opposite the blue) some of the red and white stripes were tattered and coming apart, just a little bit. My first thought was, "Someone really ought to fix that. Sow it up, maybe," but then my next thought was almost immediate.
The flag was not only the symbol of our nation, but this particular flag (which is still there even now) was the representation of our nation as well. There are two very extreme camps, of course: the first being the "Blame America first" lobby, of whom I've met a lot of and the total opposite being the "America can do no wrong" crowd, both of whom are too extreme for me-- but this flag said it all. Simply put, the vast majority of the flag was in good shape, and flying powerfully and beautifully-- but the edges were tattered. For the most part, this country is beautiful. Here, I can aspire to be whoever, whatever, and however I choose to be. I can praise and worship the God of my choice without fear of being shot, or having my houses bulldozed, or hit by a mortar, or being assassinated in my sleep (these things happen every single day around the world). I can say if I disagree with public policy and not have tanks run over my friends and collegues and myself. I can learn about any topic I want-- and interpret it as I want to, without worry of some government official burning my research and killing the witnesses. Here, I can start a petition, change legislaters, intelligently and peacefully debate a topic with other people and the government in all levels. The Founding Fathers of this nation set forth a beautiful foundation upon which much could be built, and altered as the times changed and called for it-- truly the greatest minds that ever lived.
This made me stop for a moment to whisper a prayer under my breath that I never forget this. That this country may not be perfect (of course, no country is perfect...) but darnit, we've come a long way. Those tattered edges will be sown up-- one at a time, as circumstance calls them to our attention. There are those who are just as eager to rip new tatters into the fabric, so that's why it's important that, because we CAN change things for the better, we ought to. No more of this "If I knew who to call to get something done I would!" Instead, it's our right-- no, our OBLIGATION-- as the upcoming generation, the very heiratage of the future of the United States of America to try to fix these tatters as best as we can, using our own discernment and that of the divine nature to examine all things and maintain that which is good, and be rid of the evil from our veins.
Not very long ago, I raved about everything that's wrong with America. Well, y'see, that's what IS wrong with America. Not enough people will stop and think about what's RIGHT with America. My friend, Harriet, immigrated here from Africa with her family and had to start from scratch, but she's in a land where people will take care of her, where there is no civil war, where food and clean water are plentiful, where people go out of their way to aide others, and love one another. Heroism is praised because it has become so rare-- but we can change that too. We can make a beautiful golden future, if we start now. Youth and inexperience are no longer excuses-- the youth of this nation have before and MUST again take the reigns from the elder generation and begin fighting and working hard so that the young men and women can fix and maintain the best of this nation from the old men and women's legacies, and use what we have to make for a better tomorrow. Someday, the older generation will be gone, but never forgotten, and we must step up to the calling and challenges of the future, and not only that but we must embrace our future because no matter what you do, the sun will rise tomorrow and we must be up and ready to see it when it does, so that we don't sleep our generation away as many have done before. I will not be idle. I will work and labor so that our legacy will be for the good of those yet to come. I will do what I must to purify evil, and bring forth good things and hold onto the good of the past.
Not too long ago, I saw a flag that had tattered edges...
--Jeff
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The "Drivers and Courage" Editorial
First off, Virginia drivers need to MELLOW OUT. Seriously, if you gave yourself ample time to get where you're going, there'd be no need to rush-- or, let's say, for nothing more than a completely hypothetical situation of a young, rookie driver in a rental car-- put in said position due to the general incompetence , failure to pay attention and complete and total disregard of any and all speed limit laws-- should so much as *gasp* slow down and look for half a second to ensure the turn is clear on a light wherein I--err-- he doesn't have the right of way that they should honk at him. I mean, really, is there any place really worth rushing to? You rush rush rush your life away, you're only going to rush to an early stress-induced grave, so chill. It's not that people don't "have time" it's that they don't make time or properly prioritize things-- thus we get people who ignore speed limits and smash the rear axle of a '95 Chrysler Sirus who's owner had just named it two days beforehand and thus stop him from attending class or his church's youthgroup for about a good week and a half. Humph.
Oh, and while I'm talking about driving, let's chit-chat about cell phones. Unless your mother's kidney and spleen just spontaneously exploded, your house is on fire, or you just got shot-- odds are, it can wait. As a matter of fact, if you just got shot, you shouldn't be driving anyways, let alone doing so on a cell phone. Cell phones have been shown, time and time again, to be as distracting as multiple alcoholic beverages, so why do people insist on doing it constantly? As I said, most casual conversation can wait, and if it's that dire, keep it brief for the rest of us, because there's nothing more annoying than a poor driver on a cell phone. I mean, bad drivers are nothing new or uncommon in Virginia, let alone NORTHERN Virginia, but you're fanning the flames.
Speaking of cell phones, why is texting so popular? I mean, it's only a gigantic step BACKWARDS from the idea that Alexander Graham Bell's dream of everyone getting to hear each other's voices at any time they need/want to, so why do we do it? I mean, I can understand IM if a phone call is too expensive, but why pay extra to take a technologically advanced phone the size of a soda cracker and utilize it like the USPS? I think it's kind of counter-intuitive-- the concept of the phone was to bring people together, not to allow them to type "L-o-L" while they're driving. As a matter of fact, accidents caused by distracted, texting drivers has it's own acronym now-- "DWT"-- driving while texting. Does anyone else see a problem? I know I do. Seriously, if you wanna get in touch with me call me-- I prefer hearing peoples' voices much more than getting "L0L" or " :) " on my AIM. Yeah, I like IM too, but it has its place. A computer when a long-distance call just isn't practical. Bear that in mind.
While I'm on the topic of text and instant messages, if you get a chain letter, don't send it to me. It doesn't matter how many people you send it to or fail to send it to anyways, but in addition to that, I don't want it. No, I don't care about all the puppies God's going to kill, I'm a cat person anyways and no, you can't win gift cards or money by sending a chain letter and all on-line petitions are damned to fail from the get-go, |
