Posts tagged ‘Society’

August 31, 2013

My Objective Is Not To Be Objective


Damn it,  I’m not a news reporter!

Three teenagers were killed this morning when the car in which they were riding went out of control and struck a bridge abutment.  Mourners at the scene told reporters that they were “good kids.”


Three teenagers, with nothing better to do at 2 a.m. and with their parents failing in their parental duties, and while fueled by alcohol and weed, were killed while acting recklessly and irresponsibly as they sped through city streets at a high rate of speed, ending only when a bridge abutment jumped right out in front of them.  Mourners at the scene, calling them “good kids” and having emptied the local Dollar Store of candles which they placed at the scene, creating a shrine to stupidity and ignorance – the bigger tragedy – ignored the fact that the driver had a suspended license for past vehicular malfeasance, and 2 of the dumb little bastards had just been released from juvenile detention for drug violations.

The first piece is normally how these incidents are reported in your local rag of a newspaper, giving you the facts while seemingly blaming the accident not on the stupidity of the individuals involved but on a car that “went out of control,” all by itself like it was Christine.  The piece also presents the Oprah side of the tragedy as family and friends of the dearly departed gather to give reporters nothing but glowing testimony about the character of the “victims.” 

The second piece, while still presenting the facts, in fact, more facts than many want to hear at a moment like this, gives you the writer’s (oh, that would be me) opinion on reckless, unguided, and socially excused behaviors such as this that often lead to accidents such as this.   Hello!

Like most pseudo-writers spewing digital pages of reckless verbiage into the internet universe, my aim is to present an opinion or a feeling about a certain topic while leaving the bland reporting of the “he said/she said,” “he did/she did” facts to the very few objective news sources that exist in the real world.

Opinion does not dilute fact.  However, as Plutarch would agree, the truth can sometimes be a bitch when looked at through an opinionated microscope.  Your not agreeing with or being particularly open to hearing a diverse opinion, does not change the facts.

I bring this up as a self-described “newspaperman” of some years commented on a piece I wrote about the trials, tribulations, and idiocy involved in Puerto Rico’s history since Teddy Roosevelt cleaned his goggles of San Juan beach mist (

Based on the Newspaperman’s Bible, this commenter was put off by of my lack of objectivity in the piece, while also telling me that the piece was too long and he didn’t read the whole thing (imagine that, a newspaperman who doesn’t like to read).   I thanked him for reading and commenting and thought to myself:  hey, it’s about Puerto Rico, how objective can you be while still being conscious?

July 20, 2013

We Are Going To Have A Conversation Today


We are going to have a conversation today that will be based on emotion rather than the facts.  When facts are entered into the conversation, they will be dismissed and ignored as being emblematic of what I consider to be a larger social injustice.

You will know when this occurs as I will become more and more illogical in my retorts.

We are going to have a conversation today where my hypocrisy is not to be made an issue.  Your hypocrisy has been a historic nightmare of oppression and I think it is time some guys like me had some fun.

Equality is a rascal, isn’t it?

We are going to have a conversation today where my irresponsibility, stupidity, ignorance, and failures are not to be questioned.  These are baseless generalizations that have no standing in my perception of the facts.

That white powder in that vial is medicine for a post-traumatic stress disorder – living in society with you.

We are going to have a conversation today where elements of your culture, your religion, and your social norms are to be accepted as prima facie evidence of all of my ills.  I will mix pride and disgust with these issues for selective righteous and defensive evidence of my moderation while showcasing your radical thought patterns.

During our conversation I will give you water but you may not drink it.

We are going to have a conversation today where your intelligent discourse will be curtailed.  When it is allowed, I am obligated to equate that as your maintaining a condescending attitude toward people who haven’t the desire or the skills necessary to think for themselves.  Instead, my classless quips and rhetorical laments shall be inferred as being a unique and strategic method of connecting with those who prefer or better understand such low level drivel.

Words matter.

We are going to have conversation today where, lacking an intelligent response, I may show extreme indignation for what you say.  My illogical emotional outbursts will be considered to be a sign of my competitiveness and drive for freedom from your oppressive society.

You will know when this occurs as I will become loud and obnoxious, while also becoming quite repetitive.

So, less it be said that I am obstructing this conversation, what have you to say?

July 6, 2013

Spending The Day With Stupid


Quietly sitting in my smoking perch, the back veranda (well, it’s actually a porch but I’m trying to sound high-minded here), I am able to observe humanity in it’s less than glorious state.  While gazing at this living edition of Cracked magazine I shake my head and say to the squirrel eating a nut on a nearby tree, “..and these people are allowed to vote, have children, and install your cable TV.”

In this instant, while far too many in society are stumbling their way through a life pattern that resembles a closed circle, I am insulated from this social plague by distance, nicotine, and caffeine.   Unfortunately I do not live on an island off of the coast of Maine, so at some point I have to wrap myself in my stupid-condom and become intimate with what is passing for civilization in 2013.

Entering the house to ready myself for the day, I pass the television in the sitting room (living room for those not of high-mindedness) just as the morning news began a story on a local murder.  It was 6:30 in the morning and there, in living color, was this on-sight roaming reporter, broadcasting live outside the court house, which at this time of the morning was dark and empty, but where in 4 hours the alleged murderer would be arraigned.  Every so often during her story, the reporter would turn, look and point at the court house as if expecting it to saunter up at any minute and issue an official statement.  As to the story, apparently some scumbag disrespected another scumbag (neither one of them who were able to spell or correctly define ‘respect’) and so scumbag #2 shot scumbag #1 through the coconut.  Number 2 was apprehended by the men and women of law enforcement when his getaway was hindered by the fact that he was wearing his pants half way down around his ass.

I make my way to City Hall, whose walls are adorned with the photographs of the convicted and non-convicted felons who once served time as Mayor of this ‘great city’ due to the power of the ‘rational’ and ‘informed’ voter, to pay the property tax on my mobile property – my car. I’m standing in line behind a woman who is wearing house slippers and who is talking loudly on her cell phone (apparently someone didn’t ‘axe’ someone else if they could ‘do dat’) at the same time she was being helped by the clerk-type person.  The clerk handed the woman a form and said, “Sign here, ma’am.”  The woman’s mouth fell open, her eyes bulged out and, disturbed by the fact that her telephone conversation was being interrupted by what the clerk was “axing” her to do, said, “What?”  “Sign here, please,” said the clerk again.  The woman, with an unabashed lack of logic and intuition, said, “Sign my name?”  I’m thinking to myself, “No, sign my name, you ignorant tramp!”

Having paid my taxes so that the non-English speaking residents of this city are able to eat better than I, I headed for a coffee fix at Dunkin´ Donuts.  Putting on my best “no cigarettes and no change” look, I maneuvered my way around the unofficial Dunkin’ Donuts greeters and entered the store.  After 10 minutes of waiting in line, watching and listening and wondering what the hell country I was in, I was one person away from scoring my fix.  “America Runs On Dunkin’,” unfortunately the American idiot directly in front of me did not.  After having spent more than 10 minutes in line, this moron had no idea what he wanted and instead, acted like it was the first time he had ever stepped foot in an place that is on more street corners in America than hookers.  It’s a good thing that God made breathing non-voluntary.

I witnessed a man putting $5.00 worth of gas in his car and then burning most of that as he left the gas station like he was Wendell Scott, taking the red-light he went through as a mere suggestion rather than a minor law society enacts to keep order.

I passed a convenience store where several young people were leaning on and talking around a trash can, while throwing their soda bottles and candy wrappers on the ground.

And then there was the usual sighting of the “red-light creepers.”  You know who they are.  They will approach a red-light but stop well before the light.  As soon as another car comes up behind them, they creep forward a bit and stop.  The car behind does the same.  This process is repeated until the light finally turns green.  Today, the “creeper” was the second car waiting for the light, but with plenty of room between him and the first car.  Car number three comes up from behind.  The “creeper” jumps forward and stops.  Number three doesn’t move.   The “creeper” repeats this but the third car still holds still.  The “creeper” then makes three 3 quick jumps forward.  Again, number three doesn’t move.  Again, the “creeper” jumps forward.  BANG!  He runs into the first car.

Sometimes stupid can give me a reason to smile.

June 23, 2013

Facebook Needs a ‘Thumbs Down’ Icon


Society has been Oprah-nized.

The new social paradigm states that we must be accepting of all and to all we must have faith that if they are number than a pounded thumb, God and a great big hug will heal them.

I say give ‘em a kick in the ass and tell ‘em to smarten the hell up.

We have to be more sensitive to the hyper-sensitive; it is our responsibility to help the irresponsible; we must be positive toward the negative; and “red is gray and yellow white.”


Give me a freakin’ break, already.

Every back-asswards behavior is analyzed as an addiction, given a cute little acronym, or excused due to some historical trauma.

Back in the day the only label that was relevant was Black Label.

Squeezing into this global group hug is Facebook.

Right away you are told to “accept” some digital stranger to be a “friend.”  Your husband or wife is waiting in the bedroom for you and you’re online trading cute little kitty photos with someone who may be a member of Al-Qaeda.

I apologize to all my Al-Qaeda “friends;”  I suppose they’re capable of having an affinity for the furry little bastards.

So you are in this little Facebook community and you got the News Feed thing cranked up and all these “friends” are “sharing” some pretty lame shit.

I mean, is it necessary to let your group of “friends” know that you have to take a break because your one year-old just burped up his strained peas?  “Oh, how cute! “

Cute my ass (this is what the kid is thinking, not me).

Now, if the little shit jumps up, grabs the Gibson and rips off some Kashmir, post that sucker!

The point is that we are, as civilized members of the Facebook community, socialized to accept all “shared” communiqué from what is in some cases a list of thousands of “friends.”

Facebook protocol does not allow you to designate the posting of “friend” as being a total piece of crap. But you can push the hell out of that ‘thumbs up’ icon all day long. 

Yes, you could just fill in the comment section of the egregious post with a…few choice words, however, the social engineering behind Facebook tells us that it is not nice to diss your “friends.”

In the days of our youth, when our flesh and blood “friends” said or did something only a mother could smile at, it was quite normal to call them a dumb fuck.

Not now.  Now we just give that little fake Nancy Pelosi smile and let it stand.

It was once considered helpful, and necessary, to let your “friends” know that what they are doing could be the manifestation of incurable liberalism – no, I’m kidding, that just came so natural I had to leave it in – seriously, tough love and constructive criticism was once seen as a positive, nurturing, blessed thing to show toward a “friend.”

So if you tell me that this sucked, it’s ok, I’ll grow.

Oh Lord.