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Who Has the Power (Poppy Seeds of Doubt)

The Cultural District

          One night you’re hanging out in your city’s “cultural district.”  This isn’t your scene, but you’re an aspiring writer and weren’t invited to your college friends’ corporate happy-hour…again.  You’re at a poetry slam, a coffee shop, or a hipster bar, and feel out of place.  You reek of “sellout” but don’t know why - you’re living week-to-week as a part-time server and freelance writer.  Then you realize; it’s my collared shirt, it’s my pressed khakis.  Every eye stares at you through greasy “emo” bangs.  You want to run back to your Miller Lite specials and Kanye West tunes, but as a writer, you must broaden your horizons and network with fellow artists.

             To survive this situation, you must realize that most of this is in your head.  As a clean-cut, white, American male, you are seldom in the minority; it is unnerving to find yourself there.  Never project your insecurities into the thoughts of others.  Remind yourself that you’re among people that pride themselves on being open-minded and tolerant.     

            However, the voice in your head is right sometimes.  You will wind up across from some hipster with eyeliner and lip rings that does judge you.  He rolls his eyes when you talk about writing.  He sees the watch your father bought you for graduation and remarks that your first novel will be about your frat-brothers.  Your confidence is undermined - and you never even joined a frat!  You start wondering; if my personal style is so “safe”, then is my writing “safe” as well?       

            Do not to buy into what he’s selling, even if his cronies are.  Like all prejudices, his is based only on surface evidence.  Artistry is not about the artist but about the work.  You deserve to be judged by your work. 

            Although an artistic perspective can be reflected in both one’s image and one’s material, there is no a direct correlation.  Moreover, the former does not prove that the latter is any good.  In fact, many live the “artist” lifestyle to compensate for weaknesses in their art.  I use the term “artist-in-attitude-alone” for such people.  The guy at your table might be one of them.

            Even then, don’t discount the creativity he puts into his sense of self.  This is an art form that everyone practices.  We choose our clothes, our friends, where we hangout, and the temper we maintain.  These elements come together like notes in a symphony or scenes in a film.  All of our lives become our masterpieces in that sense. 

            Yet, this bully needs to understand that some elements of artistry are self-recognition and self-acceptance.  Who hasn’t grown their hair out to look artsy?  But if it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit.  Yes, you’re a writer; you’re deep and cultured.  But you’re also a good-looking guy that likes looking good, and likes good looking women.  You’re a sucker for tan-skin, naval rings, tramp stamps, tail-gate parties and barbecues (so maybe you’re a little shallow).  You like to stay within that niche.  Be okay with being okay with the status quo - at least in your social life.  That’s who you are, be it.        

            Although lifestyle is an art, yours doesn’t have to be artistic.  That’s what your writing is for; let the written word be your expression, your passion, your rebellion.  Leave the “image art” to him.  It seems to be a good fit. 

            Why does this guy dress the way he does; maybe his image accentuates his art, maybe his image is his art, or maybe he’s an a-hole that craves attention?  You don’t know the real reason.  More importantly, you don’t need to know - it’s none of your business.

            How you dress is none of his business either.  Enjoy the rest of your night in the “cultural district.”  Dress, speak, and live however the hell you want.  Most people there will accept you.  If this hipster doesn’t - do what anyone should do when being judged or looked down upon - tell him to f--- off. 

            Move on to other, more interesting, people.  You’re an artist now; it’s your job.

Gym Locker Room Etiquette

Casualties of High Definition Optical Disc Format War

The Arcade: School of Hard Knocks

Should I Take a Stand? Where?

When I was in college I thought I was going to be about something.  I was going take a stand.  While taking one course I’d decide to boycott oil companies, then next semester diamonds were off-limits -- no girl I dated would ever get diamonds (yes, I stayed single for a long time.)  Today, however, I have not the energy to care.  Every so often, I’ll watch a move about starving babies and get a spark to change my ways.  Yet the spark never seems to ignite, it just burns out.  It’s different when you get older and passionate, liberal professors are no longer teaching you, no one is paying your bills, and your job is no longer to think but to do.  Or is that an excuse?  In reality you get older, you get tired, you get complacent.  Or is it that you also get wiser?  You learn that corruption reaches further than you ever imagined and is impossible to combat.  A saying that predates Winston Churchill goes something like, “if you are conservative when you are young you have no heart; if you are liberal when you are old you have no mind.”

            In the restaurant business, I meet vegans, of all ages, that have both hearts and minds.  They’ve seen the Alec Baldwin-narrated PETA PSAs with pigs and chickens having their throats slit, hens having their beaks seared off, and turkeys’ legs collapsing under their own drug-enhanced weight.  Vegans take stands against which they are morally opposed.  So what?  The animals are still suffering, still getting slaughtered.  The only change achieved is that their meals suck now.  There is so much injustice around the world, so many things to stand against -- too many to stand against them all.  I don’t know how anyone thinks that they live ethically.

            Every necessity we consume has been created or perpetuated immorally at some level.  Corruption is in every fiber of this society.  The over-worked hands of a thirteen-year-old-Honduran girl probably stitched the shirt you’re wearing right now.  Retail stores contract and subcontract work to third-world factories.  Contracts go to the lowest bidder, so factories pay their workers less and less and sacrifice benefits and safety standards to stay competitive.  The workers put in fifteen-hour days and are unable to attend school.  There are common reports of forced abortions, denied bathroom breaks, sexual abuse, and murder for attempting to organize.  Companies argue that lower wages are sufficient when accounting for the exchange rate.  Yet, in China, for example, the average wage of a factory worker is twenty-three cents an hour where as the living wage is estimated at eight-seven cents an hour.  In El Salvador, the ratio is 59 to 118, Haiti: 30 to 58, and Nicaragua: 23 to 80.  Hanes, Disney, Nike, Gap, and many others U.S. based corporations, do not technically employ the workers and therefore absolve themselves from responsibility.  Subcontracting also makes the origin of clothing hard to determine and, therefore, hard to boycott -- hard to stand against.

            Healthcare is another basic need that a socially conscious person will have trouble supporting.  Pharmaceutical companies pressure doctors into violating their oaths and diagnosing patients with diseases they don’t have and prescribing medications they don’t need.  The FDA approved Neurontin, in 1993 to treat epileptic seizures.  10 million prescriptions later, Pfizer faced a lawsuit based on the testimony of former sales rep Dr. David Franklin.  Pfizer deliberately marketed the drug for unapproved uses and had Franklin persuade physicians to prescribe it for disorders for which the drug had no proven benefits.  The result, Pfizer owed $430 million and Nuerontin is linked to over 200 suicides.  It’s easy to become Johnny Activist and boycott Pfizer, but all of the companies do this.  Why else would “restless leg syndrome” suddenly be a health concern?  What is the moral thing to do?  Eventually, you will have an illness that really does exist that you will need treatment for.  What do you do then; visit a witchdoctor and chew on roots?

            Then there’s Big Oil.  How the hell do you avoid supporting them?  They heat our houses; they power our vehicles.  Even if you refuse to drive, buses guzzle gas and bicycles are shipped in trucks -- as are all of the goods you consume.  200 billion U.S. dollars end up in the hands of foreign oil producers every year.  Some of that money will have had come from your pockets. 

            Should we support alternative energy sources in stead?  This may lower green house gasses and the global climate -- both of which are at a 650,000 year high -- but which alternative is the answer?  Ethanol?  Recent reports suggest that bio-fuels have worse ramifications than fossil fuels.  The ethanol craze is leading to food and water shortages as well as deforestation.  What’s worse; I don’t know what to believe.  Does the corn lobby fuel the pro-ethanol philosophy or are reports of shortages exaggerated by competing oil companies?  Living ethically can be very confusing.

            Let’s say an activist you magically avoid meats, medicine, oil, ethanol, diamonds, and clothing -- his hands still aren’t clean.  These businesses enrich our economy.  Even the drug trade stimulates the free market. Americans spends $150 billion each year on illegal drugs -- much of which funds cruel dictators and kidnapping enterprises.  If you “just say no” you’re still not disentangled from the problem.  Some of that money stays right here in the States.  American drug dealers buy land, cars, and basic goods and services.  I live in Baltimore City where they estimate that 60% of meals are paid for by heroin.  How do you separate yourself from dirty money; not shop because grocers are supported by drug money?  How do you separate yourself from oil tycoons?  The companies use websites, and hire accountants and lawyers.  The profiteers buy goods and service like everyone else.  Their role in the free market keeps your employer in business.

            Do your best to live as an honest American and pay your taxes; but even that is questionable.  We could be facing the military industrial complex that Eisenhower warned us about.  In 2007 there were 3,025 weapon contracts worth $224,617,853,685 -- each one of us supports bombs, murder, and war.  How military actions are justified is a topic for another column, but blood is on our hands either way.  Furthermore, the U.S. supports the World Bank.  This organization claims to reduce poverty but detractors say it really exists to support U.S. business interests.  Aid is given to developing countries -- some led by cruel dictators -- with the stipulation that the money is to be spent on U.S. goods and services.  The debt accrued can be crippling and the nations helped often remain impoverished.  Opponents often blame the World Bank for much of the world’s poverty.  Believe what you will about its intentions, but know that the President of the Bank is nominated by the U.S. President, and with over 15% of bank shares, the U.S.A. can veto any decision; decisions can only be passed with votes from countries whose shares total more than 85% of bank shares.

            What to believe, what not to believe, what will make a difference, what wont -- these thought will wreck your brain.  Socially conscious people don’t eat meat or wear furs, they shop at organic markets and co-ops and take public transportation, yet still manage to support immoral acts around the world.  So what was all of the effort for?  The sun’s gonna burn out one day and none of this will matter.  Such a philosophy at least has you honest with yourself -- not deluded into thinking you make a difference or that you’re actually a good person.  I was taught never to do anything half @ss.  So to be righteous one must move to the forest like Henry David Thoreau; removed from anything human or wicked.  Anything short of that is a hypocritical waste of time. 

            At least that’s what I wish I could believe.  The truth is I’m a softy whose heart bleeds now and again.  I can’t belittle the good will of other’s to excuse the lack of my own.  Nor can I knock someone for trying to make a difference, no matter how nominal it may be.  Edmund Burke said: “Nobody makes a bigger mistake than he who does nothing because he could only do a little.”  I don’t want to make that mistake, but it takes a whole lot to just to do that very little.  I might be happier just closing my eyes.

             I know that most people reading this feel the same way -- they know that they can do more but are not sure what.  Most of you are better educated than I; any suggestions?

The "Lights Outcry"

The San Diego Chargers upset the defending Super Bowl champions on Sunday.  They helped Peyton Manning reclaim his title as Captain Choke-Artist after a slight setback last year when he won it all - a feat that his defense and anemic opposing offense deserve much credit for.  I couldn’t be happier.  This isn’t because I have anything against the Colts per se, but I am elated that the NFL won’t get their w*t dre*m match up next week; Can Peyton upset Brady’s pursuit of perfection, just like he defeated them last year, just like Brady did to him so many times in the past?  The rivalry continues.  I’m just so tired of seeing those two in big games and having them force fed to me in every single minute of every single game, analysis, commentary, and commercial.  I am proud of the officials for not laying down a red carpet for those Colts with questionable calls.  We’ve all seen the phantom pass interferences and the 15 yard roughing-the-passer penalties for looking at Peyton the wrong way.  Now the Colts are out of the race.  But I am a bona fide player hater when it comes to athletes and I feel like hating on one of the guys who helped upend Number 18, former defensive rookie of the year, fellow University of Maryland alumnus and date-stealer of mine; Shawn Merriman.

            His nickname is “Lights Out.”  There is a tattoo of a light switch on his forearm and in his signature dance mimics turning the switch on and off -- not the injecting of a syringe into his vein which is a common yet understandable mistake.  He lays a vicious hit on the star quarterback, jumps up, does his dance; the fans cheer and the announcers rejoice.  But does anyone know where his nickname comes from?  The commentators surprisingly do because they have no problem enlightening people as if it’s completely freaking okay; as a sophomore at Frederick Douglas high school Shawn Merriman knocked four different opposing players out of the same game.  He knocked their “lights out,” if you will.  Are you kidding me?!  This is high school kids we’re talking about, high school.  These fifteen, sixteen-year-olds were physically injured in a game they were probably too young and physically unready to be playing in the first place.  The league thinks this is something to celebrate. 

            Injuries are the unfortunate byproduct of such a physically demanding sport and should be mourned and regretted -- not worn as a badge by the person inflicting them.  When Kevin Everett of the Buffalo Bills sustained a “catastrophic and life-threatening” injury, players, coaches and owners gave their heartfelt sympathies to him and his family.  We heard all of the usual lines; “he’ll be in our prayers,” “we’re here for you,” and everything else.  I have no doubt that most of these sentiments were sincere, although some may have been lip service from well-trained P.R. puppets.  But in any case, no one crowned the opponent, Domenik Hixon, the Paralyzer, tattooed him with Christopher Reeves riding horse, and gave him a dance that mimics a wheel chair being pushed.  That would have been a heartless display for Everett’s family to witness.  The league would not have condoned it.

            For some reason it is okay for Merriman.  Yet, in my opinion, it is worse in many ways.  As a man-child, he injured fellow children and was proud of it.  He then carried that pride with him into his adulthood and, as a grown man, still celebrates the injuries he inflicted on little kids.  It is now incorporated into his profitable public image package for the consumers to indulge and the commentators to swoon. 

            But I really can’t knock Merriman’s hustle on this one.  He’s an amazing player that turned himself into a well-marketed, larger-than-life, icon.  But I am surprised that his persona is not vilified by the league and sportswriters.  We have come to expect more taste from league personalities; ESPN, NFL network, and everyone covering the sport has set the Mr. Softie bar so high.  Every time ninety-five year-old partial owner dies we have a moment of silence and Chris Berman gets choked up when the talks about how the players - who probably never even met him - are playing in his memory.  I’m sorry, were those tears of sorrow?  Or perhaps tears of joy at the thought of an Emmy?  Do you remember how we had to endure all the crap about the Saints saving New Orleans by winning?  Wasn’t that special?  They acted as if the fans would come back from a victory and find their houses magically standing once again.

            Yet, for some reason when Shawn Merriman flicks that little switch on his arm, we hear no violins for the boys he hurt that day.  Although, for four mothers that switch flashes the images of their adolescent sons being carried off of a football field; so afraid for them, so helpless. 

            Seriously, where’s the outcry?  The NFL experts cry about everything else, now “Lights Out” is giving them something to cry about.    

What's the Deal With Scientology?

Can Scientology really be that strange; stranger than invisible men in sandals, seven-headed snakes, or monkey heads?  I had to know so I checked out the official website and honestly nothing I saw was that bad.  Some things I kind of agreed with; they don’t believe in an absolute right or wrong but view virtue in degrees.  That works for me.  It definitely fits in more to our post-Einstein relativity era.  They also encourage reason over blind faith; post enlightenment stuff, I can dig it.   Finally, they believe the human mind has abilities which we do not yet realize.  Sweet, that’s some quantum mechanics action for your dome piece.  All you motivational types who say we only use 10% of our brains should like that one (that’s B.S. by the way.)  Tom Cruise might be a pretty bad actor and closet-case, but that’s no reason to hate on an entire religion.  Or is it?  

            Me being the devoted columnist I am, I didn’t stop there.  I researched what some of the opposers were saying and still wasn’t down on the old COS.  Apparently, it’s more like a business than a religion because you have to pay these “Operating Thetans” for auditing to help rid you of “unwanted spiritual conditions.”  Okay, so they want to make a buck.  This is a capitalist society, and if you believe in your message, you would have to spread the word.  That requires cash money.  Is your church’s collection plate so much different?  The most charitable Americans are the poorest ten percent; they give to their churches.  Furthermore, people are baffled that it takes such an opposition to psychology and psychiatry.  As if those fields aren’t completely freaking subjective; is behaviorism your gospel, Dr. Phil your messiah?  Since when is feuding with a particular field of science new for religions?  

Creationists still believe in Adam and Eve, for Darwin’s sake.  Finally, there are claims that Scientology encourages the abuse of their critics.  That one I can’t say I condone.  But again, is your religion so much better?  Christians had their crusades, Muslims have their Jihad, and Evangelicals say we deserved 9/11.  Of course those are generalizations, but everything you think about Scientology probably is too.  Not many people did research before they laughed at John Travolta.  I guess judgment is not reserved for God anymore.

            Let’s get to the bottom of it.  Besides all of the cookie celebrities attached to it, the problem people have with this religion is all the supposed, weird alien crap.  South Park and talk show hosts have us convinced that Scientology teaches that we are all haunted by the spirits of aliens.  Xenu, a galactic emperor, banished them here and killed them in our volcanoes 75 million years ago.  He then captured their spirits on Earth and made them watch movies that implemented false realities into their brains.  These false realities now cause us to believe the lies of Christianity, Taoism, Judaism, etc. .  Pretty crazy, right?  This is only speculation, however.  The website and the books don’t discuss any of that.  But that’s because “this is taught only to the higher members of the church and not the public.”  This controversy makes me wonder who’s crazier; a church that teaches this ridiculous stuff or cynics that would make it all up.  I guess that’s beside the point.  For the sake of argument, let’s assume they do believe in Xenu and the alien spirits.  That doesn’t give other religious people the right to look down on it.  All religions require faith; belief in the unseen.  You can’t judge a religion because of how realistic you think the beliefs are.  Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. 

            But because I don’t believe in a damn thing, I'm going to judge all I want.  On a scale of wacky faiths, Scientologists might be a notch or two below the widely accepted Abrahamic religions.  First of all, Scientologists don’t dispute all the fundamental origin of the universe.  They don’t contest the big bang theory or evolution, they’ve just added some kooky, new wrinkles to the history of time.  I am more inclined to believe that aliens exist somewhere in this infinite universe, than to believe that angels exist in some parallel plane just above the clouds.  A galactic empire seems more feasible than some magical place without pain or jealously where everybody lives happily eternally after.  Mother Goose didn’t even try to sell us that one.  And at least Scientologists don’t claim that Xenu is an all seeing, all knowing, infallible, infinitely good, being…yet bad things happen to good people.  And what about this holy trinity?  Can someone explain that one to me?  “The father is God, the son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God, yet there are not three Gods but one God,” huh?  Too bad Hubbard didn’t think of that for one of his sci-fi novels.  At least they admit that their teachings were written by a man and don’t claim that God writes books.  And the thought of alien spirits is a little crazy, but I don’t believe in an afterlife at all.  It doesn’t matter if they’re angels or aliens, I don’t believe in ghosts.          

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a scientologist.  Don’t put me in an SNL skit next to Katie Holmes, or ban me from visiting Germany.  I just think you’re all goofy.    

Thank Yous for Christmas

Everyday this holiday season I would walk past Santa’s workshop on my way to work.  Kids were waiting in line to tell Santa Claus exactly what they want for Christmas.  And the parents lagged behind them looking like Night of the Living Dead, half-heartedly trying to keep them from fighting with each other.  The whole thing is just one more obligation of parents this time of year.  I get to see all of this first hand and it’s no Christmas carol for me either.  I work in downtown Baltimore where retail stores cover the few block radius like tinsel; we were flooded with families daily.  Lunch rushes started at 10:00 A.M., service tickets called for smoothie after smoothie, extra whipped-cream, lots of cherries.  By Christmas Eve I felt like Walt Griswald without his bonus; but, I survived.  On December 26^th the Inner Harbor was a ghost town; not a child in sight.  When I passed Santa’s workshop I had to shed a tear.  The only people were the workers taking down the decorations and packing them away.  Poor Santa was forgotten.  He worked tirelessly through the year to make all of the children happy, and was no longer needed.  No one stopped by his workshop to say, “hey, thanks for all of the hard work, we really appreciate it.”  It’s time for him to move on and prepare for next year.

            Kids have it pretty good during the holidays, huh?  Everyone’s bending over backwards to make it extra special for them.  The poor parents, running around to every store in town to find a Wii, a PS3…Tickle Me Elmo?  I’m not sure, I’m a little out of touch.  Some parents have to do so between their two jobs and on small budgets.  They’re out buying trees, hanging lights, baking cookies.  If you’re like me, abstinence and birth control won’t always save you from this.  People with extended families spend time and money waiting in retail lines, wrapping presents, crossing state lines for little runts they barely know and have no idea what they might want.  And for what?  The kid to tear into the present toss it to the side and move on to the next one?  Well, if you’re lucky the parents might remind them to say thank you.  We try to tell our kids that money doesn’t just grow on trees, but it sure seems like presents grow under them.

            I hope I haven’t turned you off; I’m not Scrooge McDuck. I have a lot of kids in my family that I love and am happy to do these things for them.  But I also don’t want to see any of them on My Super Sweet Sixteen crying because their Dad bought them the wrong color Mustang.  We all want to teach our kids to not take things for granted and appreciate other people’s hard work.  However, it’s easy to lose sight of fundamental values under the hordes of wrapping paper and boxes.  Christmas can be a hectic time. Most of us just want to live to see the New Year; responsible parenting will be the ’08 resolution. 

Actually, we should look in the mirror before we come down on our children.  We take so much for granted ourselves.  What is the average salary for teachers or law enforcement?  Think about how we treat our veterans.  Money should never be an issue for them.  As a bartender, I complain that costumers don’t appreciate how much time and work goes into giving them quality service; then I forget to scrape my plate for the dishwasher before I put it in the bus tub.  We’re all guilty of this.  We live in a very luxurious era of this or any country.  Our meals hunted, cooked and packaged for us, our trash magically disappears from behind our houses, with cell-phones we can be reached at anytime or anyplace in the U.S.  Our safety, health, and freedom; all provided by the hard work of other people.  The craziest store every Christmas shouldn’t be Best Buy.  It should be the Hallmark store; the thank you card aisle.

            So I say we drag our kids out of bed and make them wait in the long lines of Santa’s Workshop, after Christmas.  Sacrifice a day of their Winter Break; just like their parents had to do.  Then with no more presents to ask for, they’ll sit on his lap and say thank you.  And while we’re at it, we’ll thank him ourselves.

Happy Holidays!

The Barber Lottery

When moving into a new neighborhood, one of the more important things is finding a local barber that you like.  This can be difficult, particularly if you haven’t moved that far away.  You’d just as soon drive ten or fifteen minutes for the comfort and security of your old barber.    He’s not going to ask you how much you want off of the top.  Like you would know anyway, you want it to be the same length it was last time you got it cut, duh.  He knows just what you want and you don’t have to explain a thing. 

Unfortunately, making that trip isn’t always feasible.  So one day you go to the only barber shop you know of on your block.  You’ve tried it out once before and have been weary to go back because the last time you got butchered.  A woman in her forties with a smoker’s voice hurried you through because she hates her job as well as her life.  The clippers hurt your head, she cut it way too short in the front and forgot to square it off in the back.  You didn’t even get the back of the neck powder happy ending. 

            So as you walk up to the door, your fingers are crossed that she’s off that day, or better yet she got fired.  You walk through the entrance with closed eyes closed and open them once you here that little bell.  Damn it!  There she is, in her striped socks and red Chucks, yakking it up with the other barbers; not paying attention to what she’s doing.  She’s one of only three working.   Every instinct tells you to hit the door.  But you’ve got a hot date and can’t make it across town for your barber in time.  What do you do?  

            You have a couple of options.  The first is just to sit down, wait politely, and play the barber lottery.  This can get a little nerve racking.  All you have is ten dollars and a dream.  It’s left completely up to chance, and crossing your fingers didn’t work in the first place.  You watch the barbers like a hawk and try to measure each one’s remaining time against the people ahead of you.  She looks like she’s just getting started and there’s two ahead of me.  I’m screwed.  But wait, she likes to rush so many she’ll finish before the others.  You’re just going to drive yourself crazy because when it’s all said and done you have no control over when you get called or by whom.  If you do draw her, you’re only bet is to kindly offer your turn to someone who came in after you.  But what if he doesn’t want her either?  Then you find yourself in that awkward exchange of, “I thought you were next” “no I thought you were next.”  Meanwhile the barber wench is getting impatient and the counter girl thinks you’re an idiot because everyone knows it’s your turn.  “It’s not rocket science, just remember who came in right after you,” she mutters.  With this first option you also have to consider that there may not be anyone after you.  In this case you’re really S.O.L.

            Your second option comes if you’re lucky enough to be asked who you prefer.  Very convenient, but this is only your second time at the place and you don’t know anyone’s name.  No worries, it is perfectly acceptable to point at someone and say “him.”  So you forgot the guys name.  It’s okay, it happens all the time.  This second option is a little more solid, but it too can backfire.  What if the person you pick has an appointment and can’t cut your hair?  Now the lottery has been cut to two people; a coin flip.  Also there’s not always a front desk person.  At many places the barbers themselves greet you, and it could easily be the one you’re trying to avoid.  This can be intimidating, especially if she’s available.  You’d be facing the enemy in unfamiliar territory with no friendlies to bail you out.  This would force you to think on your feet, choose someone right away, and do so with confidence.  Most men buckle under the pressure.

            The final option, however, is so fool-proof, so ingenious, yet so simple that it didn’t occur to me until my most recent trip.  It requires thick skin and is not for the squeamish.  When you walk into the barber shop and asked who you prefer simply point and say “anyone but her.”  That’s it.  It’s that simple.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a clerk, a barber, or that devil-woman herself.  She‘ll probably get upset, even offended.  But you can’t care.  I know you never want to hurt someone’s feelings, but this is your hair we’re talking about and you’ve got a date. 

            You have to be one of Brando’s ideal soldiers in Apocalypse Now; a moral man who can act without feeling, passion, or judgment when he must.  Put on your camo paint before you hit that door.  That little bell becomes your bugle and sounds the battle.  It’s nothing personal, she’s just a casualty of war. 

Celebrating Prison Violence?

            There is a scene in the 1992 film American Me where a Hispanic prison gang pulls a hit on the son of an Italian mob boss.  I shouldn’t go into details if you haven’t seen it.  Just know that a knife is inserted somewhere it shouldn’t.  It is a strong scene, and your dark side can’t help but cheer.  The kid is a spoiled brat in prison on drug charges.  He has no street smarts and little idea what his father does.  It is satisfying to see him pulled down into the pain and sickness of an underworld that has provided him great luxury.  

            This version of divine comedy can make for strong cinema.  We see it a lot in media and pop-culture, also.  You turn on Shark, CSI, Cold Case, or any of the 10,000 cop/lawyer shows on TV and see officers interrogating white-collar criminals or child molesters.  They use impending prison violence to intimidate the suspects.  We all have a good laugh.  But we have to remember that this is entertainment, like Charles Bronson or the Punisher killing people and avenging their families’ deaths.  When make-believe, bloody retribution can quench an odd thirst or lust, we must be careful to not apply it to real life.  Prison violence is not to be celebrated.  When it is, we become criminal hypocrites.

            People are put in prison for a reason.  We consider their crimes egregious and unacceptable.  They are not fit for society and must be removed from the rest of the population.  This country puts a lot of time and energy into making that happen.  We spend $60 billion annually toward correctional facilities; this doesn’t include policing, trials, or legislation.  Every year 13 million people enter prison or jail.  In fact any given day of the year there are 2.2 million people locked up according to ABC News.Violent criminals such as murderers and rapists are the least tolerated because they present immediate danger to civilians.  As barbaric as our species has been, governments have always tried to police violence among their citizens.  In fact, the Code of Ur-Nammu, the oldest-surviving tablet containing law, mentions assault in six of the forty discernable laws.  Furthermore, in 1919 Max Weber said, “state has the monopoly on the legitimate use of violence,” meaning individuals can not determine who gets beaten, murdered, or takes a sharpened toothbrush to the throat.    

            These actions are unacceptable on the outside and should not be accepted inside .  Physical or sexual assault is never justified in the streets, so it is wrong for us to think it is justified in the ‘yard’ or showers.  Each year, there are over 2,000 reported incidents of sexual assault in prisons, which resonates across America as little more than a chuckle.  We assume they deserve it.  We look at Enron and think ‘crooks’, at sodomites and think ‘monsters.’  We want to see them pay.  Let’s be honest, we want them suffering, bleeding on a concrete floor, spitting out teeth and twitching.    That’s how strongly we feel about their crimes.  We feel as strongly about them as prisoners felt about their victims. 

            Watch a Carmello Anthony home movie or listen to rap song and find out how brothers in the hood feel about snitching.  Is it  worse than molestation in that community?  I don’t know, “like a dead snitch, it’s hard to tell.”    Let me not single out hip hop.  Play a blues or country song and they’ll tell you what to do to a cheating wife.  Morality is culturally relative.  In some ancient cultures man-boy relationships were divine and adultery was punishable by death.  Today, people preach laissez faire capitalism which by certain interpretations would give Wall Street free reign.  What is not relative is that today, in America, our country, assault and battery, rayp, and murder are illegal.  Not ‘okay sometimes, you know, if they should have known better or really deserve it,’ illegal.  You can’t have it both ways.  If murder is wrong enough to send somebody to jail for life, then it’s wrong all the time.          

            Let the U.S. Government, Weber’s violent monopoly, do their job and prosecute criminals properly.  And if you believe Michael Jackson and Bernard Ebbers deserve prison beatdowns as 4_play, write your local congressman and petition to let guards carry shanks and replace the electric chair with Michael Vick’s r__ stand.  Then, quit your job, put on a uniform, and work as a corrections officer.  Otherwise, don’t encourage convicts to repeat the same heinous acts that cost them their freedoms because “this time it’s okay”. You can’t use them to do your vindictive dirty work.  Dostoevsky said, “The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.”  What would he say of a society that lived vicariously through its prisoners?         

This is When the Real Fans Come Out

Entertainment Enhancing Drugs

          The bat cracks, a single gasp comes from the stands and every head swings around.  The hopes and aspirations of sixty-thousand people hang from that one tiny ball.  That is an amazing that to experience.  Everyone knows it.  That’s how seats get filled, that’s how TV deals get closed, that’s how contracts get signed, jerseys get sold, billboards go up and commercials get filmed.  Baseball is entertainment and the MLB is a business.  They’re not there to bring you closer to your father or help you pass life lessons on to your son.  This is not where boys become men or men become heroes.  The MLB is where men become millionaires.  So what’s my take on juicing in baseball?  Well, the owners and managers have no qualms about exploiting the drug abuse of others for their own benefit.  The players are grown men and have made their own decisions.  They know the health risks of steroids and H.G.H by now; they certainly know the rewards.  And the fans?  They’re happy, don’t let them tell you otherwise.   A fan saying “I did not know they were juicing, I just wanted to see homeruns,” is one more example of plausible deniability to add to this whole scandal.  So aside from the hypocrisy of the fans, I have no problem with performance enhancing drugs in sports.       

            That’s my opinion.  I’m actually not quite that passionate about it.  I sometimes fancy myself a better writer than I really am and try to show off.  Sorry for the overblown intro.  But I do have some thoughts.  I pay little attention to the whines about the purity of the game and the sanctity of the records and the wa wa wa.  And I’ve heard all of the counter-points; every era is different, Ruth only played against whites, Aaron never faced sliders until the end, etc.  I’m not gonna make those again.  But will address an argument that I have a little more respect for.  The one about the kids.

            People say that professional athletes are role-models, or at least should be, and they set bad examples by cheating.  Uh, okay.  They say kids in collegiate, high school, even middle school levels of sports are using performance enhancing drugs.  And that pro-sports are to blame.  Hmmm, maybe.  If I were arguing I would say that private entities, no matter how large, are not responsible for other people’s children.  Then I’d conclude with, let MLB deal with their players and let the NCAA, high schools, and little leagues with their own players.  (Obviously, the government should be able to intervene when minors are involved.)  But I don’t wanna argue with you today.  I know your hearts are in the right place and I do appreciate the sentiment.

            What I do want is to introduce a new perspective.  I see performance enhancing drugs everywhere, in every form of entertainment.  Actors and comedians use drugs to help slip into a role.  The words writer and alcoholic are basically synonymous.  And how many rockstars have died from heroin since you started reading this column?  Even classical musicians rely on beta-blockers to calm their nerves.  But they don’t seem to receive the same criticism.  Yes, controversy circles some celebrities and their drug usage.  But most people take issue with the images they portray and the lifestyles they promote.  The work itself is not discredited.  No one’s ever threatened to take back a Grammy or put an asterisk next to record sales.  Kurt Cobain was called a lot of things, but never a cheater.  There are no cries of foul play.  What about the artists that don’t do drugs?  The ones that suck.  Where’s their violin?   

            You might say that music and entertainment aren’t competitions.  Not they way sports are, therefore fairness is irrelevant.  But I wouldn’t say that to the millions of actors trying to make it in L.A. or the thousands of garage bands around America, all of which are spit in an ocean.  I wouldn’t even say it to the independent labels and productions competing with giants, or the giants themselves that lose numbers to internet piracy.  Entertainment is very competitive.

            And who’s part of that competition?  Who’s in that ocean?  A lot of them are kids.  Children join drama clubs and creative writing classes.  Some play instruments or write poetry.  They have dreams of success just like a varsity letterman does.  These kids have role models, specific routes they want to take, and goals they hope to achieve.  And they aren’t stupid.  They see celebrities doing great things everyday, some of which are aided by drugs. This is true in all of entertainment.  Is it a problem?  I guess.  If it’s a problem in sports then it’s a problem all around.  But for some reason only athletes are demonized.  Congress isn’t questioning the record industry, and they’re not indicting Robert Downey, Jr.  He may get arrested from time to time, but he also stars in movies and wins awards.  Kids see this.  The ones that want to be like him do. 

Overpriced Values

While watching television the other night I came across a commercial for this product called Zillions Deluxe ATM.  This is a toy that kids can deposit money into as well as withdraw from, and it records their balance after each transaction.  They are even given their own PIN number.  “An ATM that works just like Dads,” it is described, “help your children learn money management.”  Naturally, I thought to myself, that’s nice, kids can learn the value of a dollar and how to budget.  Then I saw the price, $109.99!  Are you kidding me?  The irony was priceless.  This is a toy designed to teach kids to be smart with money that the parents would have to be idiots to buy.  What is it really?  A glorified piggy bank.  What’s a good piggy bank go for these days?  Five, ten bucks?  Now don’t get me wrong, I still appreciate the concept.  I’m just not sure if it’s worth the extra hundred dollars.  Why not save your money and teach your kids the value of a dollar yourself; or at least lead by example?

            See, I still remember my grandparents.  They would never throw away an old shirt that could be used as a rag.  And trash bags?  Forget about it, why buy something just to throw it away?  Thirty years ago if you would have bet them that bottled water would cost more than gasoline they’d have put everything they have against it; especially the kitchen sink.  Imagine what they would say to people that ride around all day on their five-thousand-dollar Segways then write an eighty-dollar check for their gym membership. 

            It just seems like there’s no smart consumerism any more.  Take the infomercial for example.  It didn’t exist thirty years ago, but it has invaded late night television the last two-plus decades with flowbees and chia pets.  They offer people magic diets with misleading guarantees such as “if you don’t loose up to ten pounds.”  What does that even mean?  But there are people out there that actually buy these products.  There has to be.  I’m no economist, but I’m sure these companies aren’t buying network airtime for nothing.  And whose up this late at night watching these things, anyway?  People with stable jobs that can afford frivolous expenses?  Probably not.

            Is it any wonder our citizens are racking up debt in record numbers?  The average American home with at least one credit card is in debt $9,200.00 according to cardweb.com.  Furthermore, this is a trend that is growing with our young people.  Between 1992 and 2001 the average debt of Americans ages 25-34 increased 55 percent; for ages 18-24 it raised 104 percent.  Obviously, basic necessities attribute to these numbers.  Housing, healthcare, education and gas are becoming less and less affordable.  But I don’t think Odor Alert Cat Litter, kitty litter that changes color when it detects an odor, is helping this situation either.   

            So I guess I agree with the Zillions toy company.  We should teach our kids to be better with money.  But spending $450 billion a year on Christmas gifts is not the way to do it.  So this year you should scratch the Zillions Deluxe ATM off of your gift list…unless you really think it’s worth it.  After all, it is an ATM that works just like a dad (so you don’t have to.)  While you’re at it, don’t help her blow out her candles during her birthday either.  You can just buy her a Birthday Cake Candle Extinguisher^[1] that can do it for you.