Where I work we got a guy whose iTunes share is all 80s hair metal. And he's of an age where he'd remember it the first time, a couple of years or so older than me, so he'd have been in his teens when it was around... I was in the preteen years when NWOBHM (New Wave of British Heavy Metal) struck.
Well, tonight watching VH1 Classic with a sleeping kid on me, I watched a succession of heavy metal vids from the 70s and 80s and I'm amazed at a few things. First time around I was quite young. Now I'm in my 30s pushing to 40, I'm seeing it with new eyes.
ONE: The good music still holds up. Even though they culled IN the good tunes (Round and Round, Balls to the Wall, I wanna be somebody) and culled out the Whitesnake/Winger stuff that caused metal to implode in a pile of backcombed big hair and acidwash jeans, the stuff that was good is still quite good. I don't give a fuck who you are - when Bruce Dickinson hits the word "AIR" in Aces High's "Got to get AIRborne, before it's too late" if that doesn't cause a frisson of wow, that was an awesome note to hit, there's something wrong with you.
TWO: Slutty blonde chicks with backcombed hair and LA style chick headbanger gear are hot. Don't give a fuck what you say.
THREE: Jesus, how did I miss the somewhat lesser physical specimenicity of my heroes? The Scorps were half bald, Ronnie James Dio looked like the Crypt Keeper, Blackie Lawless of WASP had gynaecomastia and Bruce Dickinson was five foot one.
Not that it matters - I'd rather wince looking at Jim Croce and hear Jim Croce play than be subjected to Oops I did it again, but still.
Yeah, when that stuff rolled around I wished I was longhaired working class and tough. Listening to it again, there's a part of me that wishes that whole Dungeons and Dragons/Alice Cooper Satanism was still cool.
I went and tracked down an MP3 of Kick Axe. I don't give a shit that they never really made it and the mascot they had was lamer n hell, the singer had a fantastic voice and the guitarist could put riffs together. In looking for info on them I found out the only real resource was some dude out in .cz world (Czechoslovakia?) Jesus.
And sorry, there's times I wished pot was legal, and if it ever becomes so you'll find me in a fringed leather jacket watching the original Heavy Metal film with a Heavy Traffic poster on the wall, listening to Tony Iommi play those classic 70s ass riffs while puffing pot smoke through my handlebar moustache.
I don't smirk at the ICP kids or the Slipknot maggots. Ain't my scene, but I'll admit we had our weirder moments. I've actually backcombed a mullet while asking a good friend (male) "Hey, can I borrow your eyeliner". *facepalm*. Thanks VH1 - I needed a good dose of that nostalgia.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Public transit
The recent round of repairs and upgrades means taking public transit.
Allow me, gentle reader, to enumerate the many reasons why the ALGORES of this world, (who, while consuming more power in a month than entire groups of families do in a year (while strangely enough never signing up for the "green power" option) and flying around in private jets, decides that WE the LITTLE PEOPLE need to take public transit) can kindly shove their public transits up their collective ass.
And there's always some recently-arrived-from-Europe poncy Eurotrash type who sneers down his croque-monsieur and says "Eye doant know why yew doant av ze train system like we doo in YURRUP!"
1) This country is poorly designed. The jobs are in hard to reach outlying areas like Bellevue and Redmond.
Unlike Paris, where you can get after a two minute walk from anywhere in Cergy-Le-Haut onto the RER and be anywhere in downtown Paris in forty five minutes.... when I last had to hoof it on ye bus system to my last job, it took me two and a half hours. For a trip that would take 45 minutes by car. But the real kicker was that I had to get three quarters of the way there before 6:45, which was when the last mile bus did its last trip of the morning that morning. Yup. Three buses in the AM, three buses in the PM. If your boss calls an impromptu meeting at 4:45, you're screwed. Not to mention the problem of having to wake up at 3:45 am to get to work.
But that never stopped the transit system from offering us $25 rebates and balloons and T-shirts and "go green" pamphlets telling us to use the transit rather than take our cars. To which I suggested if they really did want us to use the service, they'd have more than six buses a day servicing the areas where the jobs were.
2) People who take buses are of the lower economic strata.
I would never take my kids on a bus. They don't know the words "nigger", "motherfucker", "bitch", "ho" etc. but by God within three minutes they would.
"'s what am sayin, nigga. I don't fuck around, nigga. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? I'se a REAL nigga. A STREET nigga. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? Bitch put her hands on me, I backhanded the bitch across her motherfuckin face. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? They call all security I was like PUT DA HANDCUFFS ON ME DEN! I'M A REAL NIGGA! TAKE ME TO JAIL NOW, know what I'm sayin, nigga? And Miz Johnson, she a dyke, nigga! For real, nigga! Know what I'm sayin, nigga? She's like "you nasty!" and ize like, "yeah? Well at least I don't eat no pussy!" Know what I'm sayin, nigga?"
etc. etc. etc.
Between that and the drunken crazy white guy who swung for me cause he thought I was talking to him.....
Every time I see some bus propaganda showing a smiling happy helpful driver, with upper Middle Class happy types enjoying their carbon neutral ride it makes me sick. Disinterested unionized fatass turning a blind eye to homeless people vomiting Mad Dog 50/50 on the floor just before we start the 45 minute jaunt between cities.... hooray.
3) The buses do nothing but impede traffic and wreak havoc on the roads.
Ever wonder why there are weighing stations? Because, in order that the roads don't get instantly screwed up, you're not allowed to have more than X number of pounds per axle in a vehicle.
UNLESS
you are a bus.
Buses are exempt from this requirement, because apparently even though this sort of thing will wreck the roads, it's okay.
But then again, even though the ferrying of forty crazy, homeless and otherwise undesirable and mutant people takes forty cars off the road these people couldn't afford anyway, that's more than offset by the amount of idling cars stuck behind the obstructive, slow, time wasting conveyances.
SCRAP THE BUS SYSTEM
BUILD MORE ROADS.
Allow me, gentle reader, to enumerate the many reasons why the ALGORES of this world, (who, while consuming more power in a month than entire groups of families do in a year (while strangely enough never signing up for the "green power" option) and flying around in private jets, decides that WE the LITTLE PEOPLE need to take public transit) can kindly shove their public transits up their collective ass.
And there's always some recently-arrived-from-Europe poncy Eurotrash type who sneers down his croque-monsieur and says "Eye doant know why yew doant av ze train system like we doo in YURRUP!"
1) This country is poorly designed. The jobs are in hard to reach outlying areas like Bellevue and Redmond.
Unlike Paris, where you can get after a two minute walk from anywhere in Cergy-Le-Haut onto the RER and be anywhere in downtown Paris in forty five minutes.... when I last had to hoof it on ye bus system to my last job, it took me two and a half hours. For a trip that would take 45 minutes by car. But the real kicker was that I had to get three quarters of the way there before 6:45, which was when the last mile bus did its last trip of the morning that morning. Yup. Three buses in the AM, three buses in the PM. If your boss calls an impromptu meeting at 4:45, you're screwed. Not to mention the problem of having to wake up at 3:45 am to get to work.
But that never stopped the transit system from offering us $25 rebates and balloons and T-shirts and "go green" pamphlets telling us to use the transit rather than take our cars. To which I suggested if they really did want us to use the service, they'd have more than six buses a day servicing the areas where the jobs were.
2) People who take buses are of the lower economic strata.
I would never take my kids on a bus. They don't know the words "nigger", "motherfucker", "bitch", "ho" etc. but by God within three minutes they would.
"'s what am sayin, nigga. I don't fuck around, nigga. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? I'se a REAL nigga. A STREET nigga. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? Bitch put her hands on me, I backhanded the bitch across her motherfuckin face. Know what I'm sayin, nigga? They call all security I was like PUT DA HANDCUFFS ON ME DEN! I'M A REAL NIGGA! TAKE ME TO JAIL NOW, know what I'm sayin, nigga? And Miz Johnson, she a dyke, nigga! For real, nigga! Know what I'm sayin, nigga? She's like "you nasty!" and ize like, "yeah? Well at least I don't eat no pussy!" Know what I'm sayin, nigga?"
etc. etc. etc.
Between that and the drunken crazy white guy who swung for me cause he thought I was talking to him.....
Every time I see some bus propaganda showing a smiling happy helpful driver, with upper Middle Class happy types enjoying their carbon neutral ride it makes me sick. Disinterested unionized fatass turning a blind eye to homeless people vomiting Mad Dog 50/50 on the floor just before we start the 45 minute jaunt between cities.... hooray.
3) The buses do nothing but impede traffic and wreak havoc on the roads.
Ever wonder why there are weighing stations? Because, in order that the roads don't get instantly screwed up, you're not allowed to have more than X number of pounds per axle in a vehicle.
UNLESS
you are a bus.
Buses are exempt from this requirement, because apparently even though this sort of thing will wreck the roads, it's okay.
But then again, even though the ferrying of forty crazy, homeless and otherwise undesirable and mutant people takes forty cars off the road these people couldn't afford anyway, that's more than offset by the amount of idling cars stuck behind the obstructive, slow, time wasting conveyances.
SCRAP THE BUS SYSTEM
BUILD MORE ROADS.
Marriage
Just finished up the state-mandated parenting course we were REQUIRED to take to get divorced. Wonder what happens if you refuse. Does a judge order you to go?
Part of the course, the woman asked "and how many of you are not dating/getting married EVER, ever ever ever again?"
I put my hand up.
She looked at me patronisingly. "There's always one."
What's THAT supposed to mean?
There are entire reams of jokes about marriage. What's the best anti-aphrodisiac around? A wedding ring. Name one food that can add 50lb on someone in a month. Wedding cake. etc.
And one of the big facts they laid down was couples getting married have a 1/2 divorce rate. For second or third time marrieds, it's 9/10 that will call it quits.
I've already given one woman 70% of a house and all its contents, and half my post-tax income, thanks.
I can't frigging AFFORD to go through a ceremony in which she's the star attraction, having spent a few months' salary on some shiny rocks and a year's salary for her and all her friends to gush around her, while the groom stands there like a spare prick telling everyone he's basically done with screwing everyone else for life.
Even if the whole thing had not turned me into a bitter, misogynistic asshole who's seen womankind at its least nurturing and is not exactly inclined to give it house room.
Her ensuing conversation went something along the lines of how that wasn't healthy, maybe I needed counselling, etc. Nope, maybe I'm one of the few people who frigging wised up. A marriage contract is one of the most one-sided contracts this side of when honkies were allowed to own people.
And I am NOT wearing myself out anymore for some entitled princess. No thanks. Not no more.
Part of the course, the woman asked "and how many of you are not dating/getting married EVER, ever ever ever again?"
I put my hand up.
She looked at me patronisingly. "There's always one."
What's THAT supposed to mean?
There are entire reams of jokes about marriage. What's the best anti-aphrodisiac around? A wedding ring. Name one food that can add 50lb on someone in a month. Wedding cake. etc.
And one of the big facts they laid down was couples getting married have a 1/2 divorce rate. For second or third time marrieds, it's 9/10 that will call it quits.
I've already given one woman 70% of a house and all its contents, and half my post-tax income, thanks.
I can't frigging AFFORD to go through a ceremony in which she's the star attraction, having spent a few months' salary on some shiny rocks and a year's salary for her and all her friends to gush around her, while the groom stands there like a spare prick telling everyone he's basically done with screwing everyone else for life.
Even if the whole thing had not turned me into a bitter, misogynistic asshole who's seen womankind at its least nurturing and is not exactly inclined to give it house room.
Her ensuing conversation went something along the lines of how that wasn't healthy, maybe I needed counselling, etc. Nope, maybe I'm one of the few people who frigging wised up. A marriage contract is one of the most one-sided contracts this side of when honkies were allowed to own people.
And I am NOT wearing myself out anymore for some entitled princess. No thanks. Not no more.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Sex.
Not interested in it.
The biggest waste of time, ever.
Think of all the time, energy, money and other crap we get involved in just to fulfil a biological function that our ever increasing numbers indicate is getting increasingly unnecessary. Sports cars, gym memberships, brands of beer, cigarettes, clothes, etc. Since I have two kids, so I don't need to do such things again.
I also don't need to worry about what the latest hip clothes are, deny myself good tasting food to get "abs". I can spend my money on myself and deal with MUCH less hassle (once the divorce is final).
She's moved on - she's had a couple of boyfriends, one who's pretty serious now. She can't understand why I'm not on the pull, either.
I tried to explain this to her.
For her, "going clubbing" means meeting up with a friend, putting on clean underwear, and then going to a bar and getting free drinks and offers from various men. The lesser men, she can simply happily accept the drinks from and have a dance or two. Then she can triage amongst the offers she gets, pick the guy with the most money/biggest dick/nicest smile and get to know him better and decide if and when he can fuck her. She can simply follow him home, and enjoy a wonderful evening being seduced and romanced.
If I was to go out to a bar, it would be quite different. First, I'd have to make sure I had some place to take her back TO. "Hey, can we go back to your place so as not to bother my wife and kids" would eliminate 99.99% of the female population.
I'd have to have cash. Lots of it. Men are expected to pay cover. "Ladies' night" means free stuff for women but not men. Drinks are $3 to $6 plus bartender tip. I'd have to cruise around, find some way to pry some girl away from the protective herd of women, cigarettes bristling in defensive posture, to try and say something that isn't contrived, maybe buy a drink or two. Strike out, rinse lather repeat.
And let's say some girl doesn't look at me like I'm two week old produce. She says wow, my vagina's gettin real fuckin tingly looking at this cat. So I'd take her back to the babe lair. And then I'd have to work at casting the right mood, the right atmosphere. I'd have to read every movement and body language and adjust appropriately. Roll not too fast or too slow. And then work out the combination to her various parts. Cause no two women react the same sexually. Not only do you have to get inside her brain to figure out how to get the fluids moving you have to figure out which twiddle combination is the right one.
And then worry about lasting long enough or not too long or whatever. Come too quickly and you're "minute man" to be laughed at. Last too long and Jesus Christ get it over with already I am totally not coming because of this on and on and on and on and on etc etc etc.
Bitch bitch bitch.
It says something about women. If sex was for men like it was for women, e.g. you stand there being offered various sex partners, you pick one you like, she takes you home, wines you, dines you, spends money on you, undresses you and does her damnedest to get you off and you can judge her based on how good or how crap that was, there's no fucking way we'd bitch about it. We'd be all for it. Hell, we're all for it NOW, and we have to be the ones doing the spending, the sales pitches AND the heavy lifting. Ten minutes or so of reverse crunches while maintaining a pushup is hard on the body, yo.
And then the score card. Yeah, you did OK. I'll see you again, or "well, that was crap. Let me laugh with my friends about how SHIT you are in bed."
Yeah, if sex was for men like it was for women, I'd be all for it.
But it isn't.
So piss off. If you want me, I'll be spending my time, energy and money on something I know will bring me fun and adventure. I'll be putting time and energy into wrenching my bike.
The biggest waste of time, ever.
Think of all the time, energy, money and other crap we get involved in just to fulfil a biological function that our ever increasing numbers indicate is getting increasingly unnecessary. Sports cars, gym memberships, brands of beer, cigarettes, clothes, etc. Since I have two kids, so I don't need to do such things again.
I also don't need to worry about what the latest hip clothes are, deny myself good tasting food to get "abs". I can spend my money on myself and deal with MUCH less hassle (once the divorce is final).
She's moved on - she's had a couple of boyfriends, one who's pretty serious now. She can't understand why I'm not on the pull, either.
I tried to explain this to her.
For her, "going clubbing" means meeting up with a friend, putting on clean underwear, and then going to a bar and getting free drinks and offers from various men. The lesser men, she can simply happily accept the drinks from and have a dance or two. Then she can triage amongst the offers she gets, pick the guy with the most money/biggest dick/nicest smile and get to know him better and decide if and when he can fuck her. She can simply follow him home, and enjoy a wonderful evening being seduced and romanced.
If I was to go out to a bar, it would be quite different. First, I'd have to make sure I had some place to take her back TO. "Hey, can we go back to your place so as not to bother my wife and kids" would eliminate 99.99% of the female population.
I'd have to have cash. Lots of it. Men are expected to pay cover. "Ladies' night" means free stuff for women but not men. Drinks are $3 to $6 plus bartender tip. I'd have to cruise around, find some way to pry some girl away from the protective herd of women, cigarettes bristling in defensive posture, to try and say something that isn't contrived, maybe buy a drink or two. Strike out, rinse lather repeat.
And let's say some girl doesn't look at me like I'm two week old produce. She says wow, my vagina's gettin real fuckin tingly looking at this cat. So I'd take her back to the babe lair. And then I'd have to work at casting the right mood, the right atmosphere. I'd have to read every movement and body language and adjust appropriately. Roll not too fast or too slow. And then work out the combination to her various parts. Cause no two women react the same sexually. Not only do you have to get inside her brain to figure out how to get the fluids moving you have to figure out which twiddle combination is the right one.
And then worry about lasting long enough or not too long or whatever. Come too quickly and you're "minute man" to be laughed at. Last too long and Jesus Christ get it over with already I am totally not coming because of this on and on and on and on and on etc etc etc.
Bitch bitch bitch.
It says something about women. If sex was for men like it was for women, e.g. you stand there being offered various sex partners, you pick one you like, she takes you home, wines you, dines you, spends money on you, undresses you and does her damnedest to get you off and you can judge her based on how good or how crap that was, there's no fucking way we'd bitch about it. We'd be all for it. Hell, we're all for it NOW, and we have to be the ones doing the spending, the sales pitches AND the heavy lifting. Ten minutes or so of reverse crunches while maintaining a pushup is hard on the body, yo.
And then the score card. Yeah, you did OK. I'll see you again, or "well, that was crap. Let me laugh with my friends about how SHIT you are in bed."
Yeah, if sex was for men like it was for women, I'd be all for it.
But it isn't.
So piss off. If you want me, I'll be spending my time, energy and money on something I know will bring me fun and adventure. I'll be putting time and energy into wrenching my bike.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Television is Evil, part II
I should have gone on with my thoughts before.
Why is television evil? Well, a lot of it is necessary evil. NTSC was required to be the vainglorious hack it is because the engineers were required to transmit something in colour that folks with black and white sets could still watch, thanks to the government. Because of advertising restrictions, a half hour show has a scant few minutes of actual story time - so rather than burn valuable seconds explaining that someone is a drug dealer, simply have a Mexican in a hairnet with hair like El Vez and a Casting Central chicano accent say "jew won some coak, mon?" It's like a racial commedia dell'arte, but we've replaced the old masks with new ones. Smartass mom, retard dad, visible minority hoodlum, harmless token visible minority (the black one is well dressed but still has hair with a bit of "flava", y'all), smartass bratty kid, bad cop, good cop... Also, to reach the widest possible audience, you're required to go no further than a preschool reading level in terms of words and complexity of storylines. Appropriateness for preschoolers, no. But at their INTELLECTUAL level, yes.
It's like constantly being stuck in a jump-cut, hyperkineticly edited world big on closeup shots of faces (which in a movie would be too "in your face") interrupted every few minutes by an ad for some gurning twit selling a pill that will supposedly make your penis grow bigger.
I see my kid watching TV and it scares the crap out of me. He's an active, intellectually curious kid, but the moment there's a cathode ray tube he immediately turns into a gaping mouthed vegetable. It's like an off switch and volume control all in one.
Not so fast, says you. Television isn't all mental bubblegum and some moron skateboarding off a ramp into a river in a bunny costume. Good point. People have tried to make educational shows. Shows about people building motorcycles or cooking. And yet, the de-evolution is visible almost immediately. The smart, interesting shows get cancelled or retooled. The initial idea of following a motorcycle builder in a step by step how-to show went awry when someone saw dollar signs at the thought of people watching fleshy lipped chimps throwing wrenches at each other. Likewise, the Food Network has gone from the science of cooking and some good names in gastronomy to - well, some creepy manly looking woman with a Joker smile throwing away all pretense of sanitation and proper knifework to babble on about EVOO and YUM-O.
Every other form of entertainment requires some buy in from the client. Dilbert did a comic strip about Dilbert putting down Dogbert's day watching television until Dogbert points out he learned to make a cake, watched a fascinating documentary, etc. while Dilbert sheepishly admitted to reading a pulp novel, if I remember correctly.
But Dilbert still had to put some mental energy into reading and understanding the words before his eyes. Until the movie came out people had their own ideas of what Bilbo Baggins looked like, the creeping Gollum, the majesty of the final fight. It played out in their heads and imaginations. Even watching a movie, you have to get your arse out of your comfy chair, pick something to watch, go to the the theater and consciously and actively seek it out.
Television is always around you, whether you actually have the set turned on or not. And once it's on, you're in a Choose Your Own Adventure world where if you want to see a stupid comedy with a dumbass dad, click 23. If you want to see a stupid comedy with a dumbass Latino dad, click 39. If you wanna see a stupid comedy with a dumbass black dad, click 44. Switch it on and switch off your brain. People actually fall asleep to the tube. Imagine going to a rock concert in your pyjamas envisaging drifting asleep to "Undercover".
But the biggest, most insidious thing about television is that it turns you almost entirely from a producer to a consumer. You watch what you're given. Even if you decide never to actually have hobbies, a life, leave your house or do something productive with your time, being a mouse potato means you at least get to talk back to others, to think critically if you can, or even at the very least find a destination from a broad array of choices, not those financed by the same two or three large corporations. You produce words others can read, think about and comment on.
And of course, every three minutes, you're pitched something new. Can't get off the goddamn couch? Hydroxycut. Can't get it up? Whatever you do don't stop smoking and exercise, pop the blue pill. Have a shit personality and can't get a date? Drink this beer. Whatever you do, don't make anything, especially life changes. Just carry on being the same lazy consuming bastard you are, watching stories that resolve cleanly in eighteen minutes and see everyone's problems solved by brand X fabric softener, the YELLOW pill, or calling 1-900-GET-CREDIT.
If I can try and get you to do something, anything.... decide today to do something. If you do stuff, decide to do something different. Look at our trade deficit right now. We suck from the world's teat and don't give back. We sit in our homes and let ourselves be told what to think.
- Go make something.
- Go learn something.
- Get better at something. Either a skill, like chess or drawing, or a trait, stretch to become more flexible or lift weights to get stronger. Pick something you have to do each day. Like playing scales on an instrument over and over to get the hang of playing better.
- Make a difference in someone else's life.
- Hug your kids and your spouse and renew your friendships.
- Get some fresh air and sunshine, and make your own meal.
- Try something new.
DO THIS EVERY DAY.
NOONE CALLS YOU THE NIGHT BEFORE AND TELLS YOU YOU'RE GOING TO CHECK OUT THE NEXT DAY.
Why is television evil? Well, a lot of it is necessary evil. NTSC was required to be the vainglorious hack it is because the engineers were required to transmit something in colour that folks with black and white sets could still watch, thanks to the government. Because of advertising restrictions, a half hour show has a scant few minutes of actual story time - so rather than burn valuable seconds explaining that someone is a drug dealer, simply have a Mexican in a hairnet with hair like El Vez and a Casting Central chicano accent say "jew won some coak, mon?" It's like a racial commedia dell'arte, but we've replaced the old masks with new ones. Smartass mom, retard dad, visible minority hoodlum, harmless token visible minority (the black one is well dressed but still has hair with a bit of "flava", y'all), smartass bratty kid, bad cop, good cop... Also, to reach the widest possible audience, you're required to go no further than a preschool reading level in terms of words and complexity of storylines. Appropriateness for preschoolers, no. But at their INTELLECTUAL level, yes.
It's like constantly being stuck in a jump-cut, hyperkineticly edited world big on closeup shots of faces (which in a movie would be too "in your face") interrupted every few minutes by an ad for some gurning twit selling a pill that will supposedly make your penis grow bigger.
I see my kid watching TV and it scares the crap out of me. He's an active, intellectually curious kid, but the moment there's a cathode ray tube he immediately turns into a gaping mouthed vegetable. It's like an off switch and volume control all in one.
Not so fast, says you. Television isn't all mental bubblegum and some moron skateboarding off a ramp into a river in a bunny costume. Good point. People have tried to make educational shows. Shows about people building motorcycles or cooking. And yet, the de-evolution is visible almost immediately. The smart, interesting shows get cancelled or retooled. The initial idea of following a motorcycle builder in a step by step how-to show went awry when someone saw dollar signs at the thought of people watching fleshy lipped chimps throwing wrenches at each other. Likewise, the Food Network has gone from the science of cooking and some good names in gastronomy to - well, some creepy manly looking woman with a Joker smile throwing away all pretense of sanitation and proper knifework to babble on about EVOO and YUM-O.
Every other form of entertainment requires some buy in from the client. Dilbert did a comic strip about Dilbert putting down Dogbert's day watching television until Dogbert points out he learned to make a cake, watched a fascinating documentary, etc. while Dilbert sheepishly admitted to reading a pulp novel, if I remember correctly.
But Dilbert still had to put some mental energy into reading and understanding the words before his eyes. Until the movie came out people had their own ideas of what Bilbo Baggins looked like, the creeping Gollum, the majesty of the final fight. It played out in their heads and imaginations. Even watching a movie, you have to get your arse out of your comfy chair, pick something to watch, go to the the theater and consciously and actively seek it out.
Television is always around you, whether you actually have the set turned on or not. And once it's on, you're in a Choose Your Own Adventure world where if you want to see a stupid comedy with a dumbass dad, click 23. If you want to see a stupid comedy with a dumbass Latino dad, click 39. If you wanna see a stupid comedy with a dumbass black dad, click 44. Switch it on and switch off your brain. People actually fall asleep to the tube. Imagine going to a rock concert in your pyjamas envisaging drifting asleep to "Undercover".
But the biggest, most insidious thing about television is that it turns you almost entirely from a producer to a consumer. You watch what you're given. Even if you decide never to actually have hobbies, a life, leave your house or do something productive with your time, being a mouse potato means you at least get to talk back to others, to think critically if you can, or even at the very least find a destination from a broad array of choices, not those financed by the same two or three large corporations. You produce words others can read, think about and comment on.
And of course, every three minutes, you're pitched something new. Can't get off the goddamn couch? Hydroxycut. Can't get it up? Whatever you do don't stop smoking and exercise, pop the blue pill. Have a shit personality and can't get a date? Drink this beer. Whatever you do, don't make anything, especially life changes. Just carry on being the same lazy consuming bastard you are, watching stories that resolve cleanly in eighteen minutes and see everyone's problems solved by brand X fabric softener, the YELLOW pill, or calling 1-900-GET-CREDIT.
If I can try and get you to do something, anything.... decide today to do something. If you do stuff, decide to do something different. Look at our trade deficit right now. We suck from the world's teat and don't give back. We sit in our homes and let ourselves be told what to think.
- Go make something.
- Go learn something.
- Get better at something. Either a skill, like chess or drawing, or a trait, stretch to become more flexible or lift weights to get stronger. Pick something you have to do each day. Like playing scales on an instrument over and over to get the hang of playing better.
- Make a difference in someone else's life.
- Hug your kids and your spouse and renew your friendships.
- Get some fresh air and sunshine, and make your own meal.
- Try something new.
DO THIS EVERY DAY.
NOONE CALLS YOU THE NIGHT BEFORE AND TELLS YOU YOU'RE GOING TO CHECK OUT THE NEXT DAY.
Right, let's talk about Harley Davidsons.
I just read through a whole bunch of inane posts about Harley Davidsons.
Internet warrior syndrome be damned - if the initial poster is right, which I don't think he is, he kicked over and punched some holes in the gas tank of a Harley some fuckwitted RUB fresh out of the dealership after seeing Wild Hawgs was gunning at 2 am in front of his apartment.
The following and inevitable pissing match ensued, which I've seen before and I'll see again.
Let me recap my feelings on the subject.
There is no such thing as the Grand Unifying Motorcycle. Just as how one could never produce an all-purpose, one-size-fits-all car, though Detroit seems to be convinced that what we want are variants on the same boring blobby theme. Some people want a sports car, others want and need a minivan. Likewise, someone who wants and needs a BMW 1100RT isn't gonna ditch it for a Sportster.
Iffen you wanna play by the Cool Kids (TM) rules, you're gonna lose anyway. The guy who rides his Japanese sport bike to wing night at Rubbie's hot dog and cola emporium is gonna be told he needs a "hog". If he listens, he'll be told when he rides back on his XL that a Sportster isn't a REAL Harley. Then, when he comes back with a full dresser FL, he'll be told that stockers aren't cool, choppers are. So he'll ditch the bike for a custom, and be told that Choppers were last year, it's bobbers that are cool now. And when he hits up Suckerpunch Sally's for the bobber, and rides triumphantly to the bar, everyone will tell him American bikes were so last year, streetfighters - chopped up Japanese sport bikes - are the hip thing now.
I have more respect for a guy driving a Yamaha XS650 in December in the driving rain than I do a guy on a Road King who won't take it out unless it's perfectly sunny, it's 85F, and he can ride to the dealership with his "H.O.G." "colours" on after he's finished mowing the lawn to his wife's satisfaction.
A Honda Valkyrie has more US based content on it than many Harleys. Check out various parts on your new Twin Cam - Made in Japan. But then again, some people rave about the new Twin Cams and they aren't having any problems selling them. If you're in that camp, more power to you.
Now, that being said, I DO in fact ride a Harley. An antique one. One that you either think is retro cool or NOT a real Harley cause it was made in conjunction with a bowling pin company. Either way, it's my ride, I dig it, and yeah, I've had to take the engine completely apart over various sessions. A stator, some rocker box problems and an oil pump going south that required me to check out whether there was any metal in the gears meant that I have done everything short of splitting the cases, truing flywheels, and honing my own cylinders.
I've turned a LOT of the bolts on that bike.
And yeah, I had WAY more problems with this than with ANY other motorcycle. But then again, I've found out that the whole trip has taught me a lot more than I could have learned if I'd only ever thumbed the starter and put the bike into the dealer's for an oil change.
And I love it. I love cruisers. I love cruising. Seventy miles an hour is top speed for me, and even then only occasionally. I like scenery and time and road ahead in which to stop if need be. A pushrod-driven American V-Twin with hemi pistons sounds and feels right to me. Lotsa torque and just a great ride. For MY tastes. I like the feel of wind in my beard, rain on my face, sun beating down on my arms and the sounds and smells of the environment around me. I know the dude in the Escalade next to me is smoking weed. I drive every day past a candy factory and get the scents of confectionery nobody else does.
I've ridden a sport bike. Damn fast machines, damn cool machines, but not me. Not my style of riding, not my style of bike. Very manoeverable, quick pickup, and tons of top end horsepower. But that's not where I ride. Also covered in plastic parts that can snap in various places and fall off. There's tons of antique Japanese motorcycles out there. Find one with side covers if you can. Most of em fell apart long ago. But then again, I used to own a Honda Magna and I rode the SHIT out of it. Very underappreciated piece of motorcycle, that one.
I also know who my friends are, GREAT bunch of guys, and who I owe a tow truck ride to when I get my own JBT (Junk Biker Truck) post-divorce. And there will be no question I'll help fellow riders out.
No matter what they ride.
I, at one point, rode a chopped Kawasaki Vulcan. Nice bike. Dependable, steep rake, good throaty roar. At a gas station someone in a truck asked me if it was a "Wanna be Harley". I said no, it was a "Wanna be Indian" (the Kawasaki engineers designed the Vulcan after what they thought Indian would have looked like today if it had stayed in business). He said, amongst other things, if it was an Indian, he'd eat his hat. In response to the "other things" I told him to fuck off. Then he asked me if I had any money to spare to help him fill up his Dodge Ram. I told him doubly to fuck off. I'm sick of people who don't ride telling me what I should ride, either way. Buy a bike or shut the fuck up. Vote with your actual ride, not your two cents nobody fucking asked for.
I'm not and never have made a fucking fashion statement with my vehicle. I don't ride because I wanna be seen as an outlaw or a badass, but let me tell you, having walked out of a hospital the night after being unavoidably smashed into construction debris by a careless driver tells me it takes a lot to keep me down, and I'm physically tougher than I thought. Riding a bike (or NOT riding a bike, as the case may be) doesn't make you Speed Racer, Paul Teutul, a hard fighting bad ass, or a patriot. It also doesn't give you the right to be judgmental or act like an asshole. The guy on the Honda Shadow might have crashed his bike or lost it in a divorce and be saving for another Harley. Or he might happen to prefer the Honda Shadow, what's it to YOU if he does? Are you so insecure in your own life you have to shit on random passersby about what they're doing with their lives? If I wanted to go that route I'd join the Republican party. Likewise, don't tell me how awesome your Hayabusa is and how antiquated the technology is in a Harley, and how "underpowered" it is. Harley makes what it makes and people keep buying it because they dig how it drives. Period. The engine I have pulls like a motherfucker even when it's barely ticking over, which I can't say about the alloy and overhead cam wonder you're on. Here's a quarter, go call someone who gives a fuck. Rather than tell me how much bigger your balls are than mine, go ride away as FAST as you can on one wheel. I ride like I fuck. Not in any rush and enjoying the journey as much as the destination.
Every crowd has its poseurs, its solid dependable guys, its Johnny come latelys and its diehards. Judge the guy on the motorcycle once you've spent some time in his company.
I like American V-Twin cruisers. I like the people that ride them, from the bikers and lawyers to the unwashed scooter trash. I like charity runs, wing nights, wet T-shirt contests, swap meets, long rides, whiskey, blues, and lending each other parts.
I'm not saying I don't like the guy in the bleach blonde hair and the dayglo leathers on the Hayabusa, I'm saying it's not my scene. Alton Brown motors everywhere on a BMW and more power to him, and I have to say, though I don't share his taste in bikes or fashion, Alton is cool. Plus, dude's ridden cross country. Not many chest-thumpers can claim that.
In short - yeah Harleys are cool. But not everyone who rides a Harley is cool. I mean, look at Dan "hey, I play the harp" Aykroyd for Christ's sake. Actually, I kid. Dan was commuting from Toronto to Chicago on a Harley while I was still swimming around in my father's balls, so he's OK in my book. But you get my drift, right? And I've met some seriously awesome sportbike riders who can't ride anything else because they drive on the edge with flawless racer technique and just can't find that type of machine made in America. It's cool too. But it's not my cool.
Judge a guy based on his or her possessions and you're no better than a gold digging airhead.
Internet warrior syndrome be damned - if the initial poster is right, which I don't think he is, he kicked over and punched some holes in the gas tank of a Harley some fuckwitted RUB fresh out of the dealership after seeing Wild Hawgs was gunning at 2 am in front of his apartment.
The following and inevitable pissing match ensued, which I've seen before and I'll see again.
Let me recap my feelings on the subject.
There is no such thing as the Grand Unifying Motorcycle. Just as how one could never produce an all-purpose, one-size-fits-all car, though Detroit seems to be convinced that what we want are variants on the same boring blobby theme. Some people want a sports car, others want and need a minivan. Likewise, someone who wants and needs a BMW 1100RT isn't gonna ditch it for a Sportster.
Iffen you wanna play by the Cool Kids (TM) rules, you're gonna lose anyway. The guy who rides his Japanese sport bike to wing night at Rubbie's hot dog and cola emporium is gonna be told he needs a "hog". If he listens, he'll be told when he rides back on his XL that a Sportster isn't a REAL Harley. Then, when he comes back with a full dresser FL, he'll be told that stockers aren't cool, choppers are. So he'll ditch the bike for a custom, and be told that Choppers were last year, it's bobbers that are cool now. And when he hits up Suckerpunch Sally's for the bobber, and rides triumphantly to the bar, everyone will tell him American bikes were so last year, streetfighters - chopped up Japanese sport bikes - are the hip thing now.
I have more respect for a guy driving a Yamaha XS650 in December in the driving rain than I do a guy on a Road King who won't take it out unless it's perfectly sunny, it's 85F, and he can ride to the dealership with his "H.O.G." "colours" on after he's finished mowing the lawn to his wife's satisfaction.
A Honda Valkyrie has more US based content on it than many Harleys. Check out various parts on your new Twin Cam - Made in Japan. But then again, some people rave about the new Twin Cams and they aren't having any problems selling them. If you're in that camp, more power to you.
Now, that being said, I DO in fact ride a Harley. An antique one. One that you either think is retro cool or NOT a real Harley cause it was made in conjunction with a bowling pin company. Either way, it's my ride, I dig it, and yeah, I've had to take the engine completely apart over various sessions. A stator, some rocker box problems and an oil pump going south that required me to check out whether there was any metal in the gears meant that I have done everything short of splitting the cases, truing flywheels, and honing my own cylinders.
I've turned a LOT of the bolts on that bike.
And yeah, I had WAY more problems with this than with ANY other motorcycle. But then again, I've found out that the whole trip has taught me a lot more than I could have learned if I'd only ever thumbed the starter and put the bike into the dealer's for an oil change.
And I love it. I love cruisers. I love cruising. Seventy miles an hour is top speed for me, and even then only occasionally. I like scenery and time and road ahead in which to stop if need be. A pushrod-driven American V-Twin with hemi pistons sounds and feels right to me. Lotsa torque and just a great ride. For MY tastes. I like the feel of wind in my beard, rain on my face, sun beating down on my arms and the sounds and smells of the environment around me. I know the dude in the Escalade next to me is smoking weed. I drive every day past a candy factory and get the scents of confectionery nobody else does.
I've ridden a sport bike. Damn fast machines, damn cool machines, but not me. Not my style of riding, not my style of bike. Very manoeverable, quick pickup, and tons of top end horsepower. But that's not where I ride. Also covered in plastic parts that can snap in various places and fall off. There's tons of antique Japanese motorcycles out there. Find one with side covers if you can. Most of em fell apart long ago. But then again, I used to own a Honda Magna and I rode the SHIT out of it. Very underappreciated piece of motorcycle, that one.
I also know who my friends are, GREAT bunch of guys, and who I owe a tow truck ride to when I get my own JBT (Junk Biker Truck) post-divorce. And there will be no question I'll help fellow riders out.
No matter what they ride.
I, at one point, rode a chopped Kawasaki Vulcan. Nice bike. Dependable, steep rake, good throaty roar. At a gas station someone in a truck asked me if it was a "Wanna be Harley". I said no, it was a "Wanna be Indian" (the Kawasaki engineers designed the Vulcan after what they thought Indian would have looked like today if it had stayed in business). He said, amongst other things, if it was an Indian, he'd eat his hat. In response to the "other things" I told him to fuck off. Then he asked me if I had any money to spare to help him fill up his Dodge Ram. I told him doubly to fuck off. I'm sick of people who don't ride telling me what I should ride, either way. Buy a bike or shut the fuck up. Vote with your actual ride, not your two cents nobody fucking asked for.
I'm not and never have made a fucking fashion statement with my vehicle. I don't ride because I wanna be seen as an outlaw or a badass, but let me tell you, having walked out of a hospital the night after being unavoidably smashed into construction debris by a careless driver tells me it takes a lot to keep me down, and I'm physically tougher than I thought. Riding a bike (or NOT riding a bike, as the case may be) doesn't make you Speed Racer, Paul Teutul, a hard fighting bad ass, or a patriot. It also doesn't give you the right to be judgmental or act like an asshole. The guy on the Honda Shadow might have crashed his bike or lost it in a divorce and be saving for another Harley. Or he might happen to prefer the Honda Shadow, what's it to YOU if he does? Are you so insecure in your own life you have to shit on random passersby about what they're doing with their lives? If I wanted to go that route I'd join the Republican party. Likewise, don't tell me how awesome your Hayabusa is and how antiquated the technology is in a Harley, and how "underpowered" it is. Harley makes what it makes and people keep buying it because they dig how it drives. Period. The engine I have pulls like a motherfucker even when it's barely ticking over, which I can't say about the alloy and overhead cam wonder you're on. Here's a quarter, go call someone who gives a fuck. Rather than tell me how much bigger your balls are than mine, go ride away as FAST as you can on one wheel. I ride like I fuck. Not in any rush and enjoying the journey as much as the destination.
Every crowd has its poseurs, its solid dependable guys, its Johnny come latelys and its diehards. Judge the guy on the motorcycle once you've spent some time in his company.
I like American V-Twin cruisers. I like the people that ride them, from the bikers and lawyers to the unwashed scooter trash. I like charity runs, wing nights, wet T-shirt contests, swap meets, long rides, whiskey, blues, and lending each other parts.
I'm not saying I don't like the guy in the bleach blonde hair and the dayglo leathers on the Hayabusa, I'm saying it's not my scene. Alton Brown motors everywhere on a BMW and more power to him, and I have to say, though I don't share his taste in bikes or fashion, Alton is cool. Plus, dude's ridden cross country. Not many chest-thumpers can claim that.
In short - yeah Harleys are cool. But not everyone who rides a Harley is cool. I mean, look at Dan "hey, I play the harp" Aykroyd for Christ's sake. Actually, I kid. Dan was commuting from Toronto to Chicago on a Harley while I was still swimming around in my father's balls, so he's OK in my book. But you get my drift, right? And I've met some seriously awesome sportbike riders who can't ride anything else because they drive on the edge with flawless racer technique and just can't find that type of machine made in America. It's cool too. But it's not my cool.
Judge a guy based on his or her possessions and you're no better than a gold digging airhead.
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