Oh, they’re attractive and everyone’s talking about them.    They seem important, even ground-breaking, until you really break them down and look beyond the hype.    If you share and talk and rant about them, passing the news on Facebook and Twitter and getting in heated discussions on this aspect or that around the water cooler, you’ll feel a part of the action — the here & now — taking an active role in current events and shaping the opinions of the people around you.

Except — you’re not really making a difference, and that issue you spent all day raving about?   A fart in the wind of noteworthiness.

OMG!   A mosque at Ground Zero!?  How despicable!   How revolting!   Have they no respect, no sense?  Desecration, abomination, unlawfulness!   The entire Muslim world thumbing their noses at us and crapping on our national treasure!

Until you look at what’s really going on — a community center; yes, Islamic-based, but not Islam-centered, built in an abandoned eyesore so far from Ground Zero that you can’t even see it, while the strip bars and porn shops and other questionable stores are right across the street from where the towers were.   Holy ground?  Hardly.   The ground’s no more holy than my garden; the lives spent there are the real power of the place and they have no ties to the ground itself.   If that was the case, every speck of concrete should have been kept in a shrine and yet it’s most likely at the bottom of a trash heap by now.   Surely a little community center isn’t…that big of a deal?

A girl chucking puppies into a river!   EVIL!!!

Well, yes, it was rather disturbing that she actually appeared to be enjoying the act, and nobody wants to see animals being treated like that, although there are thousands of kittens and puppies that receive similar treatment every week due to being born and euthanized to avoid the hassles of raising them.   Oh, and let’s not forget the “kill” shelters that put down millions every year.

And I get it that the animal people are all up in arms about this, but…has anyone ever heard of Darfur?   No?

Paris Hilton’s on crack!

And she’s a spoiled brat, a skank, and a poor choice for a role model and celebrity.   Next?

How dare they burn the Qu’ran!   This is terrible and disrespectful!

Look — you’d never catch me burning a Qu’ran or a Bible or any other so-called “holy” book or, for that matter, any book at all, but at the same time — it’s just a book.   The fact that it has some words printed on it that are precious to some and bollocks to others has zero impact on the fact that’s it’s still just made of wood fibre and ink.  I realize what the meaning was that the “church” was trying to convey and distribute, and that’s disturbing and hateful and horrid, but these are not the first people to do so.   They won’t be the last.

There’s all sorts of crazy bastards out there, burning flags, burning books, burning effigies of the President, stepping on crosses, holding “White Power” meetings, and the like.   They’re all crazy as loons and terrible people, but on the large scale of things — they’re pretty minuscule.    To take one of these nutty groups and put them out on a line for everyone to see and go nutty about is nice and all — obviously they’ve been shamed into oblivion — but it’s a huge distraction.

Anyone care to notice that the economy is dipping downwards again?   That housing prices haven’t gone down much but jobless rates haven’t climbed?   That growth is slowing despite all the efforts to the contrary?   That there are all sorts of folks without insurance, unemployment, or other benefits, daily suffering trying to stay afloat, feed their kids, and keep up hope?   And that’s just in our own country!

Besides that, it’s perfectly legal.    The price of freedom, folks, is that people get to burn Qu’rans if they like, hold signs saying, “GOD HATES FAGS’, and churches get to be discriminatory towards THE GAY and the like.   I don’t like it one bit, I hate it all, but I have to stomach it if I believe in freedom, and I do.

Avoid the Distractions

I love wrapping myself up in politics and current events from time to time but it disturbs me to no end that the national consciousness has become a spoiled, ADHD-addled child who is quick to forget, move on, and regularly burst out, “OOOOH — SHINY!”   When you look through the stories in the papers, news sources, Facebook, Twitter, and other sources, it’s so easy to see what trivial matters 99.98% of it all is and how the media and the people feeding on them like lampreys have taken it and put it front-and-center when it barely deserves the last page, if any mention at all.

Where’s our trending tweets about the families who have lost their pensions to the financial crisis and now are retired and dirt poor?  Where’s the celebrities coming out to lead huge marches and protests and pleas to the government to stop the genocides?   Why aren’t there Facebook groups entitled, “I’m tired of the homeless!  Let’s save them all!” or “1 Million Strong to Save Our Education System”?

It smells like fish in here and everything’s turned so pink I can’t see what I should.   What I must.   Before it’s too late to care.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2010. | Permalink | 4 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

You can now buy spray cheese in a can and strawberry edible underwear but if you’re not a graduate student in fluid dynamics you end up with sprinkled shoes?

The urinal has some serious issues, people.

The good old design that has carried us forward from the days of cavemen shooting it down a cracked rock is just not cutting the mustard anymore.   I realize that tradition says a lot — who doesn’t love those adorable porcelain hairwashers all hanging in a row, looking like so many faceless golems with their mouths agape, awaiting the spring rains?   In middle school they were our targets as we frogstepped backwards and attempted to best our pals’ records.  The college gals living on a previously-men’s floor found them to be great planters and grew some mighty philodendrons.   They’ve certainly seen their days of glory.

I am not suggesting, mind you, that we revert; even if you’ve never lined up at the 20′ Stainless-Steel Trough of Hell in a sports stadium, you can just imagine how pleasant that experience is to the participants.    Let’s keep in mind that function is king but form is definitely a close second.

I mean, good lord — a TUBE would be a better choice, eh?   A funnel?   Something that gently cradles the stream in and gradually alters the course towards the drain?   Anything better than that sharp, harsh backdrop.   Approaching this and attempting not to get anything on you is akin to trying to fire a gun at a brick wall and dodging the rebound.     This is not good technology, people.

Technology has provided us with toilet seats that pre-warm themselves, low-flush solutions, and if you’re really daring, self-mulching bogs for those of you who like to self-fertilize your own roses.

How has the urinal been left behind in development?

Who did we piss off?

Or on?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2010. | Permalink | 2 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Lately it seems that I can’t get anything right when it comes to being in the right place, with the right answer, resources, or presence and instead of events going off without a hitch they go off with a stutter and a choking sound.    I am the woodwind with two left feet in an army marching band.   I’m the drummer that can’t find a beat.   I’m the clock with a tooth missing on the main cog.

So much of life is a matter of timing — that innate sense that some people to push when you need a push, pull when situations require a pull, and to back the hell off when you’re best to leave a circumstance alone.     I’ve always been envious of the folks that always seem to make the right step, follow the correct path, and construct the perfect plans.   You know the type — he’s the one that always dodges the bullet despite the gung-ho attitude, and she’s the one that you are sure will falter and yet comes out smelling like a rose AND with a gift certificate.

Maybe I get too passionate in one direction or another and I should mellow out and float rather than fight the current; or, maybe I should be bolder than I am.   People make great strides by being complete and utter dicks — maybe that’s my calling?   It was always the “bad boy” that got the bombshell girl, maybe taking the same approach with life has its benefits?

Most of the time, I’m not sure if I’m striking out because I missed the ball or I simply missed the fact that there was a pitch thrown at all.

It’s probably all in the timing.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2009. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

Senator McCain, failure is a part of life, and in some times and in some situations, far more preferable to the alternatives in hand which only start with embarrassment and humiliation and can extend anywhere as far as grave injury and writing a death sentence.   Surely you have learned from some of your failures in your life and become a better person because of them?

Maybe not.   One has to wonder how yourself, Bush, and the entire neocon movement continues to support such a farcical operation, founded on some outright lies and many half-truths and partial facts; a quest which continues to flounder about like so many chickens in chamber pot, its mission to bring democracy and peace to a nation that cannot yet fathom a dictatorless society let alone true unadulterated freedom.  Meanwhile, a great many hardworking men and women simply doing their job in the armed forces and following orders are putting themselves and their family futures on the line for a war never declared around a reason that never existed.

Stunningly, amazingly, dense.

And yet, regardless of all these stark pieces of reality, if we even partially accept that invading Iraq was necessary, moral, and justified, this does not change the fact that one option for getting out of there and returning to a life of normality is, indeed, the F-word:   Failure.

Why must it be such a frightening thing?

The most successful of businessmen will no doubt regale any listener kind enough to bend an ear in their direction with countless stories of the most spectacular and horrific moments in their lives that darned near ruined them completely and shot their dreams and hopes to hell.   You’ll probably even find a few that strongly regret some of these transgressions, no matter what the outcome was.    Failure is, and always has been, one of the best ways for life to grab the nearest sand shovel and bean us over the head in teaching us a lesson.

Sure, it can be a painful experience, but so is giving birth, from what I understand, and yet folks seem inclined to keep doing that, don’t they?   Mind you, sometimes babies happen because someone didn’t pull out in time, but….wait.   That relates rather nicely here, don’t you think?   I digress, and I think there’s a law against saying the word, “Touché,” to yourself, especially during inner monologue.

Frankly, you do not speak for me when you state that failure is not a good option.   It is a very plausible option, given the fact that we not only continue to create and/or maintain chaos in that state by our very presence, and the fact that the Iraqi government has specifically requested that we get the hell out in a timely fashion, thankyouverymuch, but most importantly because by staying in the Middle East and exerting such a bullying influence on the region will only come back to chomp us on the southward cheeks in the end.    If this is a key strategy in the War On Terrorâ„¢, please don’t play Risk anytime soon for any great amount of cash.

In addition, I do not believe that having a leader that sometimes accepts failure or defeat is a bad or unworthy trait.   Rather, I am convinced that is is the character of the person’s response to such a situation that determines their ability to lead and gain respect.    Avoiding failure altogether is simply a sign of a coward, an idiot, or both.

Another very important question everyone should be asking is this:   If the U.S. pulls out of Iraq in a timely fashion, and the country collapses upon itself in howevermany months afterwards, is it truly a failed operation?   Are we artificially placing blame and responsibility on our shoulders for the entire welfare of a nation’s stability?   That is not a situation that I am comfortable with nor one that I wish to start setting a trend for around the world.   The fact remains that, despite the fact that we were the aggressors and we were the ones that shot their entire society and way of life to hell and back does not mean that we are now the permanent caretakers of their society and future to the end of perpetuity.   If they were incapable, perhaps, but they’re not — the Iraqi people are a strong and productive folk, and perhaps it’s time we let them prove it as such.  They certainly feel ready for the challenge.

So, Senator McCain — I am not afraid of failure, either in the case of Iraq, or Afghanistan, or any other failed mission.   I am far more impressed and far more respectful of an admittance of wrongdoing, a pledge to correct wrongs and prevent a reoccurrence, and a skillful and tactful withdrawal from the fray.   This is the mark of true character, success, and leadership, and you sir are simply afraid of it.

It is a mistake to suppose that men succeed through success; they much oftener succeed through failures. Precept, study, advice, and example could never have taught them so well as failure has done. — Samuel Smiles

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 4 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Nathan Pralle, 30, hefted the 4-foot implement onto his shoulder in a casual pose as he waited on the curb for his next target.  “You see, I’m a guy — I appreciate the macho things in life as much as anyone else; football, hotties, and the roar of loud engines,” he explains languidly, “but these bikers are really square-dancing on my last very last nerve in stock.”

The curve of the road that passes by his house, Pralle explained, has a fairly high traffic load for this small 900-odd person burb in central Iowa, especially on the sunny days of summer when everyone and their dog is out enjoying the few brief moments of gleeful warmth.  But such giddiness is not to be found in Pralle who has clearly had enough of the noise.

“They turn the corner and then hit the throttle as hard as they can.  Doing it once just to hear that roar is fine, ” he says as he shakes his head, “but what the fuck are they trying to prove by doing it EVERY SINGLE TIME???  ARGH!!!  And god help them if they ever wake up my baby son from his nap.  Do they have kids?  No, they have a chrome dick extension and it’s having size issues.  Time to change that stinky diaper, and I am not handling out Huggies,” he growls.

An approaching two-wheeler from the east halted our interview and the vigilante lined up to see what would happen.  True to his predictions, the Harley, complete with leather-bejeweled rider, turned the corner and started to lay on the typically loud YAP! YAP! YAP! from the straightpipes.  Pralle suddenly sprung into action, sprinting into the street, yelling like a banshee on a bender and waving the crowbar wildly over his head in a war cry.  The biker barely got turned around to inspect the commotion behind him when he was promptly beaned senseless and the bike’s exhaust was flatted into linguine before Pralle placekicked the muffler and yelled at the fleeing motorist, “Let’s hear the sound of those pipes NOW, fucker!”

Puffing heavily, he returned to his post, setting his “justice stick” down and against a maple tree, but not before he added a small notch to a growing list on the trunk.  “Looks like today might be a great day to be me, a really crappy-ass day to be a biker,” he grinned with a smile that would send sane men scampering into the foliage.

So, if you like to surf the pavement on a crotchmobile in this lovely weather of summer, enjoying the beauty of the season before plunging back into the freezing cold of winter, a simple word of warning goes out to you — avoid main street Sheffield at all costs or at least, for heaven’s sake, don’t forget your helmet.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 3 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

I have a few friends in the forces at the moment. One is in Iraq right now and regrets getting involved in the Army in the first place because she’s stuck in that hellhole. Another is going over shortly and he’s excited for it simply because of the experience he’ll get in his field, but isn’t very amused at the idea of leaving his family behind.

But the one that really flabbergasts me is a woman I know through my wife who is going into the forces simply because it’s good money. What???!? Are you crazy? Sure, being a mercenary or an assassin is good money, too, but you could end up DEAD, very easily, and what good is the money then?

I simply cannot fathom what goes through these folks’ heads. Do they not read the news? See the pictures of people brought back in boxes? Families torn apart because their father or mother is a corpse thanks to some random bomb or bullet in a foreign land?

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times — “Oh, the recruiter says they won’t send me over.”   Bull.   Shit.   Folks, they’re thinking of reinstating the draft for the love of god, and you think they’re not so short on people that you won’t go over?   Hah, Hah, and Double Hah.   If you trust the word of the military, I have a pretty golden bridge out west that I’d love to sell you.

Don’t get me wrong — I have nothing against the troops and I support their work greatly. Of course, I disagree with what they’re doing in the first place, but my beef is with the administration, not the movers and shakers of it. Never would I want them to think that I didn’t stand behind the fact that they’re throwing themselves on the line regularly for various causes. Much like being a mortician, I’m not sure I could do it, so I’m glad someone can.

My incredulousness is with the fact that people are currently entering the forces willingly for such inconsequential things such as money or education. Surely this isn’t responsible — who says, “Sure, I’ll take a high death rate for myself in exchange for some CASH!”? Yes, the government makes is MIGHTILY appealing — tons of sign-on bonuses, education credits and assistance, etc. But they know that a) nobody wants to do it right now because of the situation and b) there’s a high chance of ending up as a shrapnel pincushion. So they sweeten the deal until dollar signs cloud vision and reason both.

What do you think? Is it still smart to enter the military despite the facts at hand, or are these people just being twits? I have to think the latter, but perhaps my thinking is clouded or skewed.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 12 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Nowadays I listen to a lot of public radio while driving to and from work, simply because it allows me to get some information into my life about news, culture, and other interesting topics while mostly avoiding the incredibly irritating commercials that plague about 68% of the airtime on commercial radio.   In the mornings, I alternate that with Bob & Tom, depending on my interest level.    That statement alone has caused the death of about 50% of the Twin Cities white collar population from being terminally aghast.

One thing that has really gotten to me of late is how much detail you can hear in your broadcast when listening to the reporters speak.   Now, I’m all for clear radio and wonderful reception, but when I can hear Michele Norris‘ saliva glands squirting, I think we’ve gotten a bit too realistic.  For that matter, I guarantee that unless I was tonsil deep in a passionate kiss with her, I wouldn’t normally hear those sorts of inflections in normal conversation, let alone broadcast at 100,000 watts to the surrounding countryside.

I’m sure NPR, being the quality organization that it is, has dumped excessive amounts of cash on the state-of-the-art microphones and studios to accompany their reporters and compliment their well-suited voices.    But can we back it off a little?    The clarity is wonderful; no matter if I am running the A/C or passing a semi, I never lose the conversation or mis-hear a word.    But do I really need to hear your tastebuds begging for Cheetos?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 2 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Let’s jump on in:

Taking It to the Next Stage — I suddenly had this extreme urging to do some acting again today. I haven’t been on a stage in character since freshman year of college which makes it about 11 years ago, but I still miss the thrill of it all. There’s just no time in my schedule to put in for nightly rehearsals, alas. Gah.

Experts-Exchange Sucks — For those of us in IT, there’s a website called Experts Exchange that allows people to ask technical questions and get responses from supposed “experts” in the field. It used to be open for anyone to read and view, but now they charge you a membership to view the answers to questions and to participate. The problem is that Google is allowed to spider their pages and so when you search on a problem, oftentimes EE is the first few links on the search, but you can’t actually see the answer. Sometimes Google has it in the cache, but not always. So they suck because they waste my time over and over.

Jesus is NOT Your Personal Coach — I’ve had it up to *here* with folks that use Jesus as their personal trainer, coach, or motivator, but only when they’re ahead in the game. Athletes are always responsible for this — “Well, I’d like to thank Jesus for this opportunity to score big for my team” — or call upon Jesus or God to help them win a contest (Big Brother, anyone?) as if God favors the believer. This is a really good reason why most religious whacks are considered to be mental twinkies, folks. If you have nothing else better in your pocket than your religion, you have issues. Quit using it as your personal crutch or fairy godmother. Either that or be sure to blame God when everything goes to hell as well — I mean, c’mon; let’s be fair, hrm?

A Weekend for US? Surely not. – Sometimes it seems like all of our time is spent trying to please everyone else in life but ourselves, doesn’t it? We were home all weekend this week and it was wonderful; we didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything in particular other than take care of ourselves. I got the hallway painted, lots of dishes done, a bunch of food cooked for the upcoming difficult week, and played with my son a fair whack (got puked on once, just for good measure). It’s not that we don’t like our family and friends, but it’s good to be apart sometimes, too, ya know?

Mitsubishi, Is It Always Cold in Your Offices? — I am really, really unhappy with the automatic climate control system in our 2007 Mitsu Galant Ralliart. It’s intended to keep the temperature at whatever you set it and make it nice and easy to control. If you’re doing air conditioning, it works really, really well, but with heat it’s either 62F or above, and you get no lower choices. Now, I don’t know about you folks, but when I go outside in winter, I am wearing a good insulated leather jacket, gloves, and probably something fairly cozy underneath. I’m naturally warm anyway, so this is a great get-up for me to stay unshivering. In reality, I only need the car to be a mere 50 or maybe 55F to keep me happy, but the lowest is 62, so what the hell? My options are HOT or OFF. I think that’s rather limited, don’t you?

No Heart In It — While talking the other day about the lack of sales of tickets to my barbershop show coming up this weekend, my wife commented, “Nobody’s heart’s in it,” and it made me pause to think — you know, she’s absolutely correct. Have you noticed it lately? The heart has gone out of a lot of people for lots of things — hobbies, work, life in general. Why? Well, there’s a lot of negatives going on right now — the housing market taking a dump, medical expenses rampaging middle America, idiots in the White House, serious fear of a recession, less jobs, less well-paying jobs, higher food and fuel costs, etc. In short, we’ve lost any sort of spark in our step and spring in our eyes for much other than buckling down, working hard, and maintaining the status quo. I have a great fear that if the country slumps into a full-blown recession our hearts will go down the tube right along with it, and I’m not fond of looking forward to that.

Speaking of No Heart — Insurance companies and medical bills are plaguing us once again. Almost weekly I have to deal with one or more things that aren’t getting filed correctly with insurance or yet another bill coming through from something or other with my son’s birth and my wife’s surgery. Collectors are starting to call and we got approved for a repayment plan that is higher than our biggest car payment. Our crappy-ass drug plan goes through Express Scripts which is anything BUT and ends up being almost more hassle than it’s worth. (You know it’s bad when you prefer to pay full price than to file it with insurance.) It should NOT be this hard to get good, consistent coverage for healthcare given what we have to pay to get this. If I was paying this sort of money for a meal at a restaurant and got the service I have so far, I’d storm out and leave my meal behind. While I don’t think universal health care is the answer, I can fully see why people are hopping mad and demanding it — they’re tired of being treated like shit by companies that simply don’t care if you have a hard time of it.

We Are Too Desperate For Entertainment — This I have decided after watching TV shows get harsher and stranger the more they try to milk the ratings and get viewers, and the American public is apparently lapping it up. Reality shows are pushing the boundaries as much as possible, pitting violent extremes of personalities against one another just for the clash of it all. (“Let’s see what happens when we trade spouses between an African-American upper middle class suburban family of five and a white-trash family of skinhead Mississippians.”) Mind you, I wonder about the people volunteering to be on these shows — they’re clearly not right in the head, or money speaks volumes, but wowzers — can you get any lower? And we sit back and watch it all, like a train wreck where it’s so horribly you can’t possibly take your eyes off it.

—–

Never have I looked forward to summer so much as this year, when I can get outside, breathe some freshly mown grass, listen to the birds, feel the warm air on your skin, and watch the sun set. My soul needs it about now. There’s plenty of space on my front step if you care to join me.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 8 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

I like to think that I’m rather accepting of the area of the country in which I live and its weather eccentricities, but on the whole I, too, find myself participating in these scathing attacks against Old Man Winter. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the winter — I do. I simply disagree with its tactics and efforts to make even the most simplest of operations outside a complete nightmare to navigate. One doth not understand the agony of winter until you have attempted to safely transport a 3-month-old in a blizzard.

This is compounded by the fact that this year I must make a 42 minute drive to work each way, either by tracing a county blacktop as it winds through the farmland wilderness or via a roundabout way on state highway and Interstate, the latter of which takes me nearly an hour but is by far the preferable in the case of crappy roads. This happens far, far more often than need be, as my more scenic and shorter route takes me through three counties, none of which have mastered the art of running a snowplow. Considering the simplicity of the machine, akin to a snow shovel welded to the bumper of a Jetta, you would really assume that they could make a significant dent in the crystallized water population. This is not the case, however; folks, your tax dollars at work.

So the other day, after Iowa had been calmly slammed to the mat by Mother Nature with near on a foot of white fluffy headache, I trekked northeasterly along the highways to my workplace. After making it to the Interstate and shooting along for some time, I entered a whiteout doing about 45mph or so. When I emerged, the scene before me would have sent sane men scampering for the treetops — three semi trucks side-by-side in front of me, blocking both lanes. Apparently one was already mostly on the side of the highway, another had been passing him, and yet another was trying to speed past on the left.

This was not good.

Imagine the further dropping of my heart as I looked into my rearview mirror and saw two more semis barreling down behind me in both lanes. Suddenly, sitting there in my little econobox, I felt cold, tiny, and very alone.

The thoughts that ravaged (quickly) through my head were storms of expletives, silent urgings to light fires underneath the asses of my angels, and wondering if my underwear would pass my mother’s emergency preparatory test. I started the oh-so-important self-debate of whether I should head for the ditch and turn my car into a four-wheeled flying sleigh from hell or allow the airbags to deploy turning me into a very safe, very snug, and very tenderized chunk of sirloin.

Fortunately for me, the semis sorted themselves out somehow without leaving pieces strewn across the highway and I was able to avoid becoming axle fodder for that day. My morning this enbrightened, I continued onwards to work where I found great solitude in not being behind a wheel for many hours.

Many people have said that if you don’t like the weather here in Iowa, just stick around for the next 5 minutes, but I’d like to cordially add that if you’re not into intramural dodgeball involving vehicular transport, you might consider staying tucked into your beach blanket and reading Cosmo. It is by far the less stressful of the two.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2008. | Permalink | 4 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

No doubt a lot of you have heard about President Bush’s latest dubious action, which was to strike a deal with the mortgage market and attempt to freeze some interest rates from climbing so people didn’t have to foreclose and lose their houses. The essential idea behind it is this — during the housing bubble of the past few years, a lot of people either bought their first house or upgraded. Because interest rates were so low and lenders were giving out mortgages left and right for great terms, a lot of people bought a bigger place than they could really afford. They could do that because lenders gave out a lot of ARMs — Adjustable Rate Mortgages. It essentially means that for the few few years, your payments are low and your interest rate is, too. After that, however, the interest rate readjusts, usually higher, and your payments go up steeply.

Well, three or four years later, here we are, and a lot of homeowners are finding themselves in dire straits. Their ARMs have readjusted and, because interest rates went up, so did their payments — significantly. Suddenly that $350,000 house in Orlando is sucking up all of their income and they’re eating ramen to make it. If borrowers can’t make the payments, the lenders foreclose on the property and take it back and they lose their house as well as getting a black mark on their credit history.

So, the government is stepping up and saying, “Hey — a lot of foreclosures are bad for people and bad for the economy, so we’ll help you folks out and here’s some programs to assist you through this tough time.”

Excuse me? Since when was this a good idea?

Frankly, I’m miffed. By doing this, the government is basically condoning the actions of stupid people. Just like investing in Internet startups in the late 90s, everyone got too excited and did dumb things that they’re now regretting. Feeling a bit bad about buying a house that cost you $600/month for the first few years and now costs you double that? Want me to call the waaambulance?

As I heard one financial analyst say on the BBC, people are financially motivated in two ways — the pursuit of gaining wealth and the fear of bankruptcy. Both features exist in capitalism to balance the system out and make it dangerous to be reckless with your money. Sometimes that risk pays out — and sometimes you hit snake eyes.

I feel bad for anyone who had the wool pulled over their eyes about a bad mortgage, but only a little bit. Buying a house is not a trivial matter — you’re are making a huge purchase that will extend over years of repayment and financial situations — it behooves you to know exactly how your loan will behave at any point and what your risks are. Assuming everything will be fine because the banker says so is stupid. Failing to understand the risks you are taking is also stupid.

Call me cold-hearted, but I think this sets a bad precedent. Just like my childhood friend, this basically says that being idiotic with your money will result in the government stepping in to make sure you don’t suffer from it. If they do that now for mortgages, do we get a slippery slope to other risks in life? Oh, you made a bad choice by jumping off a roof — let us help you pay for that. You bought a huge-ass SUV and can’t afford the gas now to drive to work? Let us help you subsidize that. A bad hand at poker? You didn’t mean it, did you — here’s a Benjamin to keep going.

A bankruptcy would suck — but life isn’t all tea and sandwiches, either. Sometimes the only way people learn is by making mistakes, but apparently letting people make them isn’t ok anymore?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 8 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

No, I harbor no ill will towards my neighbors or passer-bys, but when I exit the house, my right nad looks at the other and says, “So, Left, headin’ north for the winter?” “Damned straight,” says Left, and then both proceed to snuggle up tightly against my kidneys and pull out War and Peace. This sort of do-see-do by my giggleberries makes me think that, instead of laboring for hours outside, I’m better off just gunning the car and hoping it makes it out of the driveway yet again, compacting another layer of freshly fallen frozen headache onto the one below it. And no, it’s not even really cold out yet, but the sensation of blotchy-red skin and tingling extremities has its downsides, too. I’m just trying to be practical.

When it comes to snow clearning, I’m apparently in denial.

Actually, I am supposed to call a local snow removal service to come take care of it for me. Their rates are very reasonable (something like $15 for heavy snow, $8 for light) so it’s very worth it to me (and my bits) to take advantage of it. Personally, I have better things to do in my day than to deal with snow removal. I wonder at their reaction when they come by the first time and note that some dickhead has been creating a layered fossil record of the snows of winters past and they have to chip through a half-foot of industrial ice to get down to the ground. Somehow I suspect that the work I’ve done so far will be around till spring.

I went out earlier today to give it the old college try at making a dent on the piles, but all I really managed to do was get a somewhat decent workout. There I was, swinging a garden hoe like I was John Henry and the weather was fine for building railroad, and the all the ice did was glance up from its crossword and give me a nasty frown. I at least cleared the steps and scraped the top off of the mound of snow so generously piled at the foot of my driveway by the snowplows; otherwise, I wasn’t making hardly any progress so tossed in the towel, figuring that I wasn’t going to make much of an impact and by now my boys had had a long enough tropical vacation.

Now…where did I put those tire chains?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

So, in lieu of writing something that’ll make you think, I’ll simply run through a brief outline of some areas of my life that have been on my mind lately. If you don’t care, no worries — I don’t, either.

My Job

I left my employment of seven and a half years and started the new position of Systems Programmer at Cambrex Charles City on the 19th of November. While I’m still the “new guy” and I’m very much in a learning role, I’m starting to find my footholds in this interesting corporation. I have not met everyone yet in the 200+ employment, but so far my impression is that Cambrex is staffed by people who are intelligent, friendly, and absolutely dedicated and dead serious about the work they perform.

I’ve quickly learned that, while you can joke about your weekend or lunch or your retirement plan, humor concerning the job is taken about as well as yelling, “Freeze!”, in an airport. Which, considering that the company is making human pharmaceuticals, is very comforting. My role is still fleshing out and I’m still learning the various tasks and projects that I’ll be involved in, but it will be more responsibility and mental work than my last job, but in a good way. So far the commute hasn’t been awful (40 minutes each way), but I’m sure it’ll get old in the long run. All in all, enjoyable.

My Moonlighting

As some may know, during my last job I would have periods where we needed extra funds and would do contract work at night or on the weekends to get a bit extra on the side. Now that I have the job with Cambrex, this is no longer needed and, indeed, with Keston in the picture is almost impossible if I want to have anything to do with his upbringing and/or seeing my wife. However, I have obligations to finish off a couple of jobs and they driving me crazy to try to get done. I’m struggling to finish them and/or back out as I can, but it’s taking some time and a lot of Maalox to do. I’ll be forever relieved when they are completed.

My Son

He is a constant source of amusement and education or, in the case of today, poopy. While I was feeding him he obviously shat himself, so I hauled him upstairs. Sure enough, there was a copious amount deposited in his diaper, so I took it off and got a new one underneath him, then proceeded to clean him up. It was at this point that the little firehose of his went into spastic mode and sprayed everywhere, prompting me to cuss and quickly cover his willy with the new diaper — 2nd one down. I pulled that diaper out, put a new one underneath him, and just got done cleaning him up again and he farted and shot liquid crap everywhere. Finally, after four diapers, a clean onesie, a new changing pad, and an untold number of wipes, he was clean and happy. I tell ya, the fun never stops when you’re a parent.

We recently found out that he is officially a carrier, but not a demonstrator, of the disease cystic fibrosis, a fact that we are forever grateful to find out. That being said, the doctor that came and told us the news should be hit over the head with a tack hammer for taking 15 minutes to explain to us the nature of the disease and then say, “Oh, and I don’t think your son has it.” Or should that be a tact hammer?

My Wife

The woman of my dreams has been having a hard run of it lately, I’m convinced. After having an interesting labor and delivery, she had a lot of pain in her abdomen, which we all associated with the two hours of pushing needed to get Keston out. However, of late she has had major pain attacks that last from an hour to five and cause her no end of agony. As it turns out, the doctor is convinced her gall bladder has gone tits up and needs to come out, but we have a specialist looking into the matter on Monday morning. Likely it will be a keyhole surgery and therefore easy and quick, but it’s still a surgery and not one that she looks forward to. Hopefully this will be the end of problems that she has had recovering and she’ll be back on her feet, better rested, and in no pain soon.

My Health

It’s shit, really. I’ve been constantly gaining weight since I came back from Australia in February and/or losing muscle tone. My need to work contracts at night and my job in the day lent to days of sitting on my ass and not doing anything physical at all. Now, at this point, I’m out of shape, tubby, and completely and utterly lacking the motivation to get going on a healthier eating plan and exercise, despite my desperate need to do so. My blood pressure is up, I’m pretty sure, given the number of times I have red ears and/or face, clothes are fitting poorly, and I find myself out of breath easily. I know it all has to change, I’m just trying to find that trigger that will lead me down the right path again. Why does maintaining health have to be one of those things that takes every fiber in your body? Should we just default to being healthy?

So yes, dear reader of mine (who is still reading — bless each and every one of you) — a few things have been plaguing my tendrils of thought lately. I hope to be back in the saddle soon and making you all scratch your heads, but until then, think of me, think of me fondly….to quote the Phantom.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 3 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

As is my personal rule for any twink who wants to send me a nasty letter, I’m going to post it here for everyone else to laugh at. Now, don’t get me wrong — if you write me an email and have a legitimate bitch about my blog, an argument with my viewpoints or content, or an issue — I’m not going to publicly humiliate you. However, if you resort to homosexual epitaphs to make your point, you will be labeled an asshat and strung up for all to gawk at.

Here’s the mail I received earlier today (posted as a comment):

your best friend | biteme@youblow.com | IP: 69.139.157.104
I just wanted to let you know how gay you actually are. I searched an image on google and found one I thought was pretty funny. It happened to come from your website. Yet for some reason you think I should have to ask you to link to it. As if your some brilliant person for putting some text on top of a picture of a donkey. I wasn’t profitting off of it. It was meant as a joke on a fantasy football page. Yet you felt the need to be gay enough to to replace the picture with some gay ass message. Just wanted to stop by and thank you for being such a fag.

Wow. Here’s a news bulletin: the use of the words, “gay”, “fag”, and “gay ass” don’t really hold the same weight that they used to back in the 80s when they were the nomenclature of middle school children. Today you might find more mileage out of the words, “fucky”, “shittard”, and “cockmaster”, but I don’t recommend you strain your weak braincells on the complexities of their proper usage.

Despite the fact that this letter just reeks of a wankstain in mustard-stained sweats drinking Milwaukee’s Best, I’m going to attempt to educate both this dork and my general population as to what “hotlinking” is all about and why it’s a bad thing, mmmkay? Hotlinking is when you see a graphic on someone else’s website and you use it on yours, but you don’t actually download that graphic and upload it to your site, you simply link to it from another site. The net effect of this is that the graphic is loaded from the original site every time the site you posted it on is loaded.

While the spirit of sharing on the Internet is alive and well, people who have websites pay for the bandwidth that they use. If other sites are using up bandwidth because they’re loading images off of your server, you’re going to be pretty annoyed. On top of that, when images are hotlinked, the original website that hosts the image never gets any credit for that image — nobody visits the original site, because the visitors to the hotlinking site can’t see where the images came from! All in all, it’s a Bad Thing(tm).

So, yes, the other day I implemented some code changes that detect when an image is being hotlinked and replaces it with another image. I noticed this dork’s hotlinked image (because it was loaded by his football site a lot) and knew that it would start being replaced by an alternate image. Frankly, I don’t give a wet slap if he thinks I’m a loser. The issue isn’t that I wanted credit for making the graphic, because I didn’t even make that original image. The fact was that my webserver doesn’t deserve being hit for his site’s amusement when I’m not benefitting from it. I have real visitors that deserve better.

My original hotlinking image was a bit rude, I’ll admit, but it got the point across. So, to combat the rudeness and educate the offenders, I’ve made a new graphic, which I’m posting to the right. Perhaps I can finally get into these folks’ thick skulls the problems associated with hotlinking graphics and make the world a better place by providing free education. A win-win situation, don’t you think?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 9 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

The procedure works. In fact, it works so well, the couple now has two healthy, baby girls. And they don’t want one of them, so they’re suing the doctor over it.

An Australian lesbian couple who underwent embryo implantation is currently suing Canberrian Dr. Sydney Robert Armellin for destroying the couple’s social life with children.  You hateful, terrible person — how dare you give this couple children when they went in for treatment?

Here’s some reasons why this couple of women should be taken out into the streets and hit over the head with a garden rake repeatedly for being selfish, ignorant, whiny, immature, disgusting human beings:

Reason #1: They don’t want one of the girls.

This is just awful. You underwent a procedure that has risks just like any other treatment, and not only did you get one healthy child, you got TWO! But, instead of being unbelievably happy and feeling blessed when so many other parents can’t even have one child, you turn around and sue them for giving you too many. I can’t imagine the thoughts that will go through the girls’ heads when they find out that one of them wasn’t wanted. Good job, Mum & Mum. That’ll be $3,000 in therapy to fix later, assholes.

Reason #2: They want almost A$400,000 in compensation for raising one of the girls.

I don’t know what the going rate for children is these days, but can you really quantify this and, if so, I think you’re spending far too much time worrying about money instead of raising your child. And they want this much money to help pay for a private, non-traditional Steiner school for the girl in question as well. So, not only do we want compensation, we want primo monies.

Did I mention that they make A$120,000 combined already? Yeah — does this greed make my butt look fat?

Reason #3: They want $15,000 to compensate for having to take time off work.

WAAAAH. Waaaaah. Do you want me to call the waaaambulance? You utter cretin. That’s part of the job of being a parent, taking care of your kids. I’m so glad that you feel like your time was wasted on your childrens’ well-being.

Reason #4: The women act as if their lives shouldn’t change by having children.

Quote: “She said the pair lost their lives functioning as a couple, becoming mired in everyday tasks associated with raising two children.” I’m sorry, but what did you expect to happen when you had kids, that you could go out every night, boozing it up with your airhead fag-hags, and crawling home at 3am to bump beavers until dawn? Did you not realize that having children involves being up to your elbows in poopy and saying, ‘hi, who are you?’ to your partner on a regular basis? How utterly shallow can a person be?

The one woman reports her partner as having “lost the capacity to love”. Fine. I’ve lost the capacity to avoid popping a cap in your ass. Twit.

Thankfully, the doctor’s lawyer sounds 300 times smarter than the plantiffs and has said that this is a pretty common occurrence experienced by most parents when they have children, and although they might feel unique, they’re not. I would have felt a lot better if she had said, “Suck it up, bitches.” Somehow, I think that was probably in her mind anyway.

To be honest, I’m a little surprised that the case has gotten this far in the Australian courts, as they usually tend to throw out this trite bullshit with judges laughing all the way, but I suppose they’re attempting to make a case based on the “medical malpractice” part of the entire episode, not the fact that the parents are complete and total flakes.

This just…astounds me, and it should make you shake your head, too. We’re going into the whole parenting game with as realistic viewpoint as we can, that it won’t be all smiles and giggles, but the benefits will far outweigh the trials and tribulations of the experience. To see other parents treating their children like mere commodities or inconveniences pains us to no end and we’d love to beat them senseless given the chance. In lieu of that, we’ll simply strive to love the dickens out of our children and raise them so they don’t turn into asshats like these jerks.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

“Well, you’d better get your sleep now, because you won’t for the next 18 years!”

“Getting up a lot at night to pee? Get used to it, it’s gonna get worse.”

“Don’t worry, honey, it’s just your body getting used to getting up all the time and running on no sleep.”

If I have to hear one of these phrases once more, I’m going to shove the person ass-first onto a sharpened column of salt backwards and pour lemon juice all over them. With a pickle on top for color.

Hey, inconsiderate asshole — do you think we don’t realize this? Do you think we’re stuck in some sort of hole in the ground where we don’t realize that babies are demanding little suckers that will hound us night and day to feed/bathe/clothe/coddle them? Gee, we kinda thought you could take the same approach with them as we do with our cat — dump a scoop of pellets into a bowl and change the litter once a week. Oh, and of course, a scratching post for those frisky moments.

And for the record, the kid isn’t due to arrive till mid-October at least, which means we still have a few good months to expect decent sleep without a really good reason to be up at night. If we complain about not getting enough sleep, don’t be a jackass and say we shouldn’t complain because it’s, “only going to get worse”. Screw you — what about sleeping now? Don’t I have the right to get some decent shuteye for the moment when I don’t have to be up for someone else?

I’m not entirely sure what people are trying to accomplish by saying such stupid things. I have some theories about these sour little rainclouds:

A Bad Shot at Humor – Are they simply trying to give us a cute quip? If so, your material is horribly outdated and stinks like Tom Cruise’s acting abilities. “Oh, ha ha! 18 years, yes, you’re so right. I never thought of that before!” *puke* Everyone uses these phrases and nobody thinks they are funny, not even remotely. We Americans, especially, have a penchant for restating the obvious in the hopes of it becoming humor, but in this case, it’s not working and hasn’t for the past 50 years. You’re not funny, you’re annoying.

Misery Loves Company – Sometimes I think that people are trying to make everyone else feel as bad as they did. Well, to be frank, I don’t give a rat’s ass if your kid was a shithole and kept you up 24/7 with colic and screaming. I mean, I’m sorry that had to happen to you, but tough crap, it goes with the package. It may very well go with our package, too, or we may be extremely lucky and get a perfect angel. The fact is, it’s Vegas and you’re rolling in a high-stakes game, blindfolded, with some blonde bimbo fondling your junk. Who knows what you’re going to get? I doubt we’ll try to send the package back.

At any rate, it’s time to stop trying to make everyone else feel bad because you’ve had a bad experience. It doesn’t make us any more prepared for the situation and if anything makes us feel crappy for trying to have a kid. They’re not all about keeping you up at night, but hey…if you’re resentful of having to feed your child at night and concentrating on the shitty parts of parenting makes you feel bigger than me, kindly go sit on an anthill with honey in your crack, thanks.

Conversation Fodder – This one drives me up a wall — I don’t know what to say, so I’ll say something inane. Lovely. So you’re not the world’s greatest conversationalist and don’t know what to say — then keep your trap shut! Whipping off a predictable response to a common life event is just being a moron, not a clever person.

In short, unless the parents (or future parents) you are talking to are really, honestly clueless folks, please refrain from saying such things. Yes, we realize that the baby will keep us up at night, we’re quite prepared for it, and in fact, have talked about how we’ll handle it already so everyone’s as happy as can be given the circumstances.

But you know what? We’re not concentrating on it. We are, instead, looking forward to holding our child, snuggling them, kissing that baby softness and smelling that lovely baby smell, having it snuggle up on our shoulders and fall asleep, watching its eyes light up at seeing us, blowing raspberries on the bottoms of its chubby feet until it giggles — all the parts of parenting that make it worth the experience.

We’ll have terrible diapers, long nights, mountains of laundry, billions of bottles to wash, and a hundred other nasties to handle, but we are hoping (and anticipating) that all of these will be outweighed by the good things of the experience. We’re not being ignorant of what the world is like, we’re just choosing to look forward to the glass being half full for once in our lives.

Please quit trying to ruin the sunrise by describing the heat, hrm?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 9 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

It’s Called Modern Communication Methods, Dumbass!

The Answering Machine

Around since 1904, this terribly handy device is still not understood by the masses of people that call my home phone. Our phone message is simple: “Nathan and Yolanda’s answering machine, leave a message.” We’re even being way obvious in our communication — yes, this is an answering machine, as if you had any reservations about the tinny recorded voice coming to you down the line. Yes, you should leave a message. When? Well, there’s this little beep thing — well, most of you have heard this before, haven’t you? You know what to do.

The problem is — you fuckers haven’t figured it out! The damned devices have been around for over 103 years (that’s 1,236 months for you parents out there) and you still don’t know what to do when you call one! So, as a review, here’s what NOT to do when speaking to an answering machine:

1. Leave. A. Damned. Message. Do not hang up without leaving a message. Nothing will make me want to come over to your house and hit you over the head with a brick as much as simply not saying anything. You obviously called for a reason, otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered, right? Feel free to say, “Was looking for you, wanted to know if you wanted to do lunch, guess you’re not home.” or something similarily trite, but leave a damned message.
2. Leave a GOOD Message - Saying, “Wanted to talk to you about something, will try to get ahold of you later” is only going to make me hate you more.   You left a message — a good start — but it was just as though you didn’t, because it didn’t TELL me anything.   Is it urgent?   Trivial?   What’s the real meaning here?   Give me SOME indication as to your intentions so I have a thought as to whether I should call you back today or next week or NEVER.
3. I’m Not Home – Do not act as if we are standing there, watching the light blink on the machine, and listening to you talk. While this may be true on occasion, 99% of the time we aren’t there. Saying, “Hello? Are you there? Hel-looooo????” and then waiting like a moron wastes our time and yours and only makes me less apt to return your call. If you’ve reached the machine, act like we’re not there and professionally leave your message.
4. Keep It Really Short - Do not waste the first 5 minutes talking about the weather, your dog, or saying, “uhm”, unless you are specifically calling for one of those particular reasons. While the days of a tape-based answering machine are long gone, my time is still precious and if the message is rambling, I’m very likely to simply wander off while it’s playing back or weep while standing there and my soul drains out of my ears. Know what you are calling for and leave a concise message about it. Whereas phone conversations may very well ramble, answering machine messages should be short, sweet, and to the point. If you think you’re being short and blunt, you’re probably not short enough. 30 seconds or less, preferably 15 seconds, should be all the time you need to leave your point. Anything more is killing me.
5. Digits, Please – State your name at the beginning of EVERY phone call. If this is the first time you’ve called or you do not talk to us on a regular basis (meaning: weekly), leave your phone number, too. Do not assume that I will automatically recognize your name or have your number in my records. I do have Caller ID, so there’s a darn good chance that I have your information anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to double-up on that. Stating it at the beginning of the call means that if I miss it the first time around (or forget to write it down right away), I can still replay the message and don’t have to listen to your entire Butt-Scorcher chili recipe before getting what I need. People’s voices (if you haven’t noticed) are distorted on the phone — don’t assume that I’m buddy-buddy with the Psychic Friends Network

One last point — if I hear one more person say, “Well, I just don’t like talking to answering machines, they’re so impersonal,” I’m going to drag them by the hair out into the woods and staple them to an elm upside down with their head in a vat of freezing-cold tapioca. Get over yourself. You’re not so special to talk to that I’m going to say, “Gosh, I’m sure glad she didn’t leave a message, I’d much rather talk to her on the phone.” The more likely scenario is that I’m standing in my kitchen, screaming obscenities at the answering machine because you have, yet again, refused to leave a message and let me know why you called. However, here’s a more important point: If you do not leave a message, I will not call you back. I refuse to play such games — no message, no call, end of story.

Email

Even worse than the answering machine is how email is still being abused by the hundreds of users out there that haven’t figured it out. I could go on and on about various aspects of writing emails, clarity, brevity, proper form, etc., but others have covered these subjects and it still doesn’t cover the one point that I want to bring up:

If you have email, you must check it at least once per day. This is mandatory.

Like it or not, email is a modern means of communication between people. Those in almost every business setting use it daily to transmit many important messages between colleagues. Teenagers use it to transmit…well…giggles between each other.

If you do not check your email at least daily, you are being horribly and unforgivably rude. Notice I didn’t say answer your email — I never said that had to be done daily, and can’t blame you if some messages take time to reply to. However, if you do not check it, you won’t know that something important has come in, and that’s where you’re being a snob.

“Well, I don’t check it often because all I get is junk.” Tough titties, little kitty. I get over 300 spam emails per day and you don’t hear me weeping about it. The fact is, email is like postal mail in some ways. You might get only magazines for days on end, but eventually you’re going to get that check or prize winning certificate or summons to appear in court — those sorts of messages you don’t want to miss and you’re glad you checked the mail regularly.

Email is the same way — if I know you have it, then I very well may use it to send you some important information. If you don’t check it, then you have no idea that time-sensitive correspondence came in, and you’re being a royal prick.

In Conclusion, Such As That Is

To avoid being labeled as a pain in my ass, please kindly do the following:

• Use an answering machine properly.
• Check your email.

It’s not hard, really, and will save me a lot of headache and angst in the future, and my poor walls which are starting to look awfully dented from all the banging of my head.

Thanks…and have a great day, suckka.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 5 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

So, in response, I give you the modified lyrics to this ignorant, piece of shit song. Anyone want to try covering this?

Are You a Moron?

I hear people sayin’. We really need this war.
They say, “There’s some things worth fightin’ for.
What about our freedom, and this piece of ground?
We didn’t get to keep ‘em by backin’ down.”
They say we don’t realize the mess we’re gettin’ in
Before you start preachin’ let me ask you this my friend.

Are you a moron? Are you a dumbass, too?
Believing that this fighting crap
is really good for you?
Are you a moron? Have you lost your mind?
Killing random people just to give you peace of mind?
They say we should be worrying about Bin Laden…
Are you a moron?

We took the footage off TV
Because it doesn’t help you or me
It’ll only breed anger, hate, and fear
People acting like scared sheep with a bear
This country is out looking for a fight
9/11 sure as hell doesn’t give us the right

Sending all those soldiers
Away from us to war
Does anyone here remember what they’re fighting for?

Are you a moron?
All those people killed
Won’t come back to see us
If we kill everyone else
Are you a moron?
Just ’cause you’re American
Doesn’t mean you’re always right
Or the way of light is might
Think about what those gone would want you to do….

Are you a moron?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 2 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Green tea, ginseng, fingfing, lizard tongue, extract of newt — you’re pretty sure that you’ve been transported to a small village in the middle of fartfairy nowhere and the local medicine man is shoving a dusty bottle into your hand, telling you to take a couple of slugs and call him in the morning — if you make it.

Really — these are the visions of my childhood, made real in the crappy, 12 frame-per-second illustrations of a half-lit Saturday morning at the boob tube. I imagine that Lipton consists of a bunch of green-faced, cranky old ladies with gigantic cast iron tubs in front of them over a flame and mumbling, “Bubble, bubble, boil and trouble.”, all the while fondly caressing their flying cleaning devices and sipping Snapple.

But, at any rate, why did these suddenly appear? I can’t imagine that these various plants have been hidden all this time and people have suddenly decided that they make something good to chug after a run around the block. It has definitely become a popularity contest, except that, unlike in 5th grade when it was a challenge to see who would eat the nastiest thing, it is now, “Who will buy a drink made with the juice of an X?”

I want to be one of those researchers who discover ingredients for these things.    I’ll bet they get very nice trips (first class, of course) to remote locations where a tour guide named, “Fantot”, leads them to the top of a hill to show them the native flora.   The researcher then spends an hour or two looking at the strangest plants in the vicinity and saying to himself, “Sure, it kills all flies that land on it and looks like the ass-end of a squirrel, but can I squeeze it and make people drink it?”

The slogans and claims are even better.    We’ve gone far beyond the mundane and everyday, “refreshing”, beverage — now they must do something for you.    “Fold laundry faster!     Pave roads quicker!”   Anything and everything can be written on the side of these cans and bottles, and the funny thing is — people really go for it.

Here’s some translations for you all who are wondering what the latest terms really mean:

“Greater mental clarity!” — The air is so pretty, I could just snort it.

“More energy! Greater stamina!” — And you’ll be up all night, hovering over your bed, because you’re hyped on smack.

“Burns calories!” — Well, of course it does.   It also causes cracks in the concrete from your knee bouncing like a guitar string on speed.

“Mellowing”  — If you mean bringing you up to a speed where you’re shaking so fast that your vision clears, then yes.

All of these products are clearly marketed to the teen to 35 year old group, because they all look like you could slap four Goodyears on them and have yourself a race-worthy vehicle — when all you’re really getting is a Dodge Caravan with spinning hubcaps.    You could probably zip open the can, flatten it, and use it to decorate a disco afterwards — and with the boost in energy, who needs a hammer to pound in the nails when your own fingertips work fine?

So, head on over to your local store and slug back a few of these “wonder drinks”.   Just when you think life couldn’t get more hectic, we’ve now invented a way to make it go faster.   Just nevermind the powdered teeth in the morning, eh?  

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

I see and/or experience this phenomenon almost daily. Either it is expressed in the news how some fundamentalists or another are raining hellfire and damnation on another group of people for not following their specific credo, or I am exposed to it as I interact with members of my family and people in the community who are “gung-ho for God”.

The thing is, these folks are disillusioned. They have conceptualized their role in the world to be the warriors for their cause, the knights in shining armor, the heroes of the town, charged with defeating evil, righting the wrongs of the world, and turning the unrighteous from the Dark Side back into the Light of Truth. The sad part is, they’ve missed the entire point and are, instead, tilting at windmills in a crack-fueled haze.

Most religious folks I know feel that their belief system propagates itself best by active promotion and display, whereas most writings seem to indicate that leading by example is the better method for changing the world. Certainly both tactics might be used if one feels it is necessary, but here’s the important point that everyone is missing — you cannot preach your talk until your own underwear is clean. In their zeal to quash the misdeeds and thoughts of the world, they have left their own lives and actions in disarray. In fact, more often than not, the very actions and words they use to promote their religion violate the very criteria that they are judging the world against.

This, my friends, is called a hypocrite, and it is far from being an endangered species.

Believing that you have been “saved” by your religion and your devious and evil actions against your god(s) have been eliminated, nullified, or otherwise rendered inactive does not exclude you from needing to continually evaluate yourself against the ruler of your beliefs to ensure that your actions and deeds are toeing the line.

For an example, let’s say Mary condemns Joan for not getting married to her boyfriend Jack because Mary believes that is a sin to live together and not be married. In fact, Mary goes so far as to shun Joan and Jack because of this. Mary has, in effect, turned evil herself by refusing to offer up acceptance, understanding, and love to Joan and Jack and instead chose to ignore her own actions simply to be able to rag on theirs.

There’s a few principles I think all religious folk should learn to live by, making them compatible with the major teachings of their religions and overall making them less of a burr in the eyesocket:

Principle One: You do not have a Free Pass – Whether your religion teaches that you are forgiven unconditionally, that your actions as a person will save your ass, or you are the chosen one of God and automatically get into heaven, this does not entitle you to act like a self-righteous jackass. God did not intend these provisions to be whipped out like an insurance card, snapped onto the countertop, and you, with a gleam in your eye, stating, “I don’t have to worry; I’m covered.” I fully believe that God will slam each and every one of you down on a hot, barbed spike, headfirst, when the time comes for being a pompous prick. Nothing makes you above your own code of morals and ethics, I don’t care how holy you profess to be.

Principle Two: Your responsibilities towards your religious tenants come before anyone else’s – The Bible said it best when it stated that you cannot remove a speck from a person’s eye before yoinking the chunk of 2×4 out of yours. Until your life is a golden gem of a wonder to behold, don’t start sawing on the person in line with you at the bank. People outside your religion look at you and automatically think, “Assssssshooooooole”, and shut down. They don’t give a rip-roaring whiddly-fuck what you have to say if you turn around and cheat on your taxes or get stupid-drunk and drive into a lightpole. Clean up your own act and keep it clean prior to messing with anyone else’s.

Principle Three: Don’t forget what sins are. You’re probably committing one right now. – The religiously fervent often tend to forget what things in the world are sins and instead revolve their life around a subset of wrongdoings designed to maximize their placement and devalue the worth of the targeted individual. “I haven’t cheated, murdered, or stolen — I’m a really great guy!” Right, and you’re also a pompous shithead — that’s a sin, too.

The fact is, intolerance, a lack of acceptance, excessive pride, being a know-it-all, being dumber than your capabilities, and refusing to see another side of an idea simply because you are stubborn are all sinful activities that are often shown by the religiously zealous. Yet they are loathe to mention these, lest their opportunity to verbally roger their neighbor is taken away. You cannot clean a sink full of dishes with a food-caked sponge.

Principle Four: Everyone else’s religious beliefs are just as valid as yours. – Religious beliefs are based on faith. Even non-religious beliefs have an element of faith, too, but they’re not the discussion here. Faith is, essentially, assuming something is true even if you do not have concrete evidence to prove it — you are emotionally affirming the unaffirmable. And when we say “unaffirmable”, we are meaning by normal, scientific methods. Your religious viewpoints are based on faith, and so is Jack’s, and Helen’s, and…well, you get the picture. So their belief systems are likewise unprovable by science, too.

Therefore, where is your common ground for saying that you are correct and they are wrong? The fact is, there isn’t a common ground — you can only judge Jack’s religion in the context of yours (which probably says that Jack is dead wrong) and Jack can only judge you through his. Since this is clearly bias, the comparisons are null and void — they don’t hold up in a logical contest. Thus, you must assume that your faith has just as much validity as Jack’s, or that neither of your faiths has any validity. It’s an ambiguous outcome either way.

This is very important, because there are so many people in the world today who have stated, “I’m right, you’re wrong” on issues that they cannot possibly prove, and yet they use this as their weapon of choice, the device that separates them from others. Nevermind that if the Christian was raised in a Hindu household they would have probably had the Hindu faith — no! I’m Christian, therefore I’m correct. This is clearly disillusionment.

This does not mean that religious people are not allowed to believe whatever they choose. Instead, it is simply pointing to the fact that since you cannot prove that your belief is the correct one, you must assume that any other belief may be the correct one and to give them the proper respect and acknowledgement that they deserve. It may turn out that nobody is correct — or everyone is. It is simply impossible to tell given that no religion has all the pieces of evidence necessary to make a concrete, logical conclusion.

The Future: A Dim Prospect for the Masses

The unfortunate aspect of all of this is that the situation is improving on some fronts and dissolving on others and there doesn’t appear to be a clear path to religious tolerance forming anytime soon. The phenomenon that I am seeing more often is that, although a large number of people are opening up to the idea that the religions of the world are all essentially the same basic principles, that their particular flavor might not be the chosen way, and that everyone deserves respect, there are also large groups of people who are digging their heels in deeper and pushing back much harder against these ideas of tolerance.

Humans are dizzy wreaks of illogical results about 75% of the time, easily persuaded by emotional and psychological manipulations. Fundamentalist religious groups have managed to imbue their members with a greater fear of the unknown and are pushing them to shun the principles that lead to logic, understanding, and acceptance, telling them instead that these things will cause them to lose their faith and all that they hold dear. In essence, they are terrorists of the mind, polluting the senses, striking fear into the hearts of their parishioners, and forbidding them from engaging themselves into the world they live in.

This will be an uphill battle for many years to come, perhaps always, and I can only hope (foolishly, perhaps) for the best and a turnaround of those folk who insist that their crap doesn’t stink like everyone else’s. Remember, Everyone Poops. Just because your poop is saved doesn’t mean mine isn’t as well.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | No comments....YET! Make one! | Subscribe RSS

Guess what today is?

I shot to Hampton today over my lunch hour so I could pick up a present for my wife, a set of personalized license plates for her car that read, “IMAUSIE”. They finally came in although I ordered them ages ago when I renewed both cars’ registrations, but since you have to take in the old plates to get the new ones, I headed in to the courthouse to exchange.

The ride INTO Hampton was pretty nice, and the service at the courthouse was fast and friendly and, despite the long line at Subway, I still got a sandwich in a reasonable amount of time and back on the road. But that’s when the sky clouded over.

The first asshole was the truck with two men gawking at Hampton. Now, being a small town of about 4,500 people, Hampton isn’t all that impressive, but these two yokos were driving down one of the two major highways at 15mph, pointing at things along the side of the road, and slowing down to see such landmarks better! And this wasn’t just for a monument or a big huge building, they hit the brakes in front of a gas station and pointed at it! I was the third car behind them and there was at least another 3 behind me, all in a line. Since it’s an in-town highway, there’s not much passing opportunities, but the car immediately behind him chanced it anyway and zizzed around the truck in a no-passing zone over a railroad track. I could have screamed.

So these yayhoos continued their leisurely pace all the way out till about 1/4 mile past the 55mph sign headed out of town and then pulled over into a farm driveway to gawk some more. This display of idiocy earned them a snappy shot from the birdie-gun as I finally got around them.

Only two miles later I came up behind my second Emmy award winning driver, the one breaking the camel’s back and declaring today to be Asshole Day. This little red import was weaving back and forth across her lane, not really picking any one side or the other to stay with, but playing the entire field. Oh, and she was zipping along at 50mph.

Highway 65 from Hampton to Sheffield is terribly hilly, a feature that I believe they should have corrected when they re-did the pavement 10 years ago, but they took the lazy route. You know the DOT — hard-workin’ bunch there, eh? So after another 4 miles, I finally find a strip long enough to pass and…

The girl driving has hair from the 80s, I shit you not. Big, boofy hair. Think Flashdance on crack. And she’s snapping gum. And she’s gazing somewhere in the vicinity of either her crotch or the transmission, I’m not sure which as *my* eyes only left the road for a split second whereas hers may have never seen one before in her life. She may have been rebuilding the gearbox on the fly; you never know with these midwestern gals. But in all likelihood she had dropped her lit cigarette and was trying to fish it out of her sixer of Schlitt’s.

Having passed this gem of a human, the rest of my ride back home was rather uneventful. But clearly the idiots are out on the highways today, so for the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary, keep your eyes peeled and your foot on the brake — you never know what they might come up with next.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 2 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

And, frankly, Iowa driving license law is to blame. While I fully support the ability for all ages of people to possess a license to drive, the fact remains that it is a privilege, not a right, and the laws are too flexible for those who have reached their golden years and past, allowing them to continue to renew over and over with only passing a simple eye exam. I fully believe that if these folks were required to take a driving test every so many years to maintain their license, 50% on the road right now would not pass.

Let me describe to you the scene as I left work for lunch today. I pull out from the parking lot to the side street and drive up to the stop sign on main street, where traffic is headed perpendicular past me without any signs to stop at all (as one might reasonably expect of a main through street). After I pull up, stop, and have my indicator blinking for a left turn, a decrepit old lady in a older tan car approaches the intersection from the left, followed by one of those stupid-looking jacked-up trucks with the big Mud Gripperâ„¢ tires on it, towering over the Buttoldmobile by six feet or so.

The lady sees me sitting there, blinker flashing, and STOPS — right in the middle of the street! Remember, there is NO stop sign on her side whatsoever, but contrary to how you think this intersection should be approached, apparently no sign means to stomp on the brake and bring her vehicle to a screeching halt in a hurry. WHY??!?!

Not that she was going at a rip-roaring pace to start with — she was flying by at all of 10mph beforehand. It wasn’t like I had started to pull out, like I sometimes do (it’s a rather blind corner — for the side streets). I was sitting there, patiently, but as soon as she saw that I had the potential to pull out, she went into panic mode. OH GOD, ANOTHER CAR ON THE ROAD — WHATEVER SHALL I DO!?

*headdesk*

I am sitting in my car, screaming obscenities and incredulousnesses at her, completely flabbergasted as well as being incredibly annoyed all at the same time. The driver of aforementioned idiotic-looking Bigfoot truck was looking less-than-pleased himself as I’m sure he was contemplating letting his huge-ass tires roll right over the damned car and put it (and our clueless granny) out of its misery.

This isn’t the first time this (or something similar) has happened, of course. We’ve all gotten stuck behind the occasional bluehair driving at 43mph on a country road, the one weaving from side to side as they gawk at everyone in town, and the dumbshit who hits their brake randomly on a straight road, just because they get a giggle out of being hugged tightly by their seatbelt.

What to do about this?

Well, I think 2 essential things need to be done to help alleviate this situation:

ONE: All persons, once you have reached 70 years of age, should be required to take a comprehensive driving test every 3 years (at least) to maintain their license. The fact is, over 70, people start going downhill fast. Some slower, some faster, but it’s very, very easy for someone to go from good to bad. This is NOT the fault of the individual (usually) — it’s just a phenomenon of getting older. But the fact that it exists is very real and we should not be putting other drivers’ safety at stake just because we’re uncomfortable about giving Grandma a test to make sure she can still navigate properly. Sure it’s a bitch for those older folk, but look — it’s for your safety and mine. Tough crap if it offends your sensibilities or pride; suck it up.

TWO: There needs to be some re-education for older folk there on proper driving habits, and some of them need to learn how to drive from the get-go, as technology has changed a lot since they learned how to drive by taking the family pony to the General Store and double parking it at the hitching post. Here’s some things I wish older drivers knew and would practice:

1. Even though the signs say, “Speed Limit”, the meaning between the lines should be interpreted as, “Speed Average”. True, according to the letter of the law, you CAN do 35 in a 55 zone, but it is dangerous to do so and any competent driving instructor will tell you the same. Cars all traveling near the same speed on a road keep everyone safer, because nobody is causing any backups nor is anyone zipping ahead and around people. Think of a boat in a river: If it’s going slower than the water, it causes ripples. If it is going faster than the water, it causes ripples. Only by going the same speed does it leave the water smooth and uninterrupted. This principle is the same on the road. If driving near the speed limit makes your heart beat fast and palms sweaty like they did when you were a teenager in heat, please avoid subjecting the rest of us to your “country drive” attitude towards speed. “Sunday drive with Grandpa” is also now obsolete due to the fact that people now have more places to go on a Sunday than to get home to the roast in the oven.
2. Brakes are used for 2 reasons: Adjusting speed when coming to an area that requires slower speed (lower speed limit, going into a turn) and stopping at an appropriate crossing that is marked for a stop. Other uses of brakes, including “I felt like it”, “I thought I saw a paper bag roll across the road”, and “my goddamned gout is acting up” are inappropriate and dangerous; kindly keep your fucking foot off the pedal at these times.
3. If you are unable to easily see over the dash of your car, turn your head to observe events to the sides and rear of your vehicle, and/or spin the wheel from lock-to-lock without shifting your hands more than twice, you are physically unfit to drive. Getting shorter as you get older must be a real drag, but stiff-necked, weak armed old ladies who can barely peer over the dash of their car, let alone tell where the nose of their 1979 Buick Boatmobile is, are a huge danger to the rest of the people and should be prevented from operating a large piece of machinery. You wouldn’t dare throw Grandma into the backyard with a chainsaw and tell her to trim the hedge, so why toss her into a 3,000 pound bullet on wheels and send her for milk?
4. You must observe normal traffic rules, not the ones you make up in your head as you go along. The rest of us aren’t psychic enough and we do not subscribe to the publication that your ass makes as it pulls things out, so please don’t subject us to your every whim when you’re headed down the highway. Stop signs are for stopping, turn signals are for turning, lane markings are to mark where the lanes are, and, if you can believe it, roads are for driving on. These are not items subject to interpretation, even though I regularly observe people using stop signs for gawking, chatting with passengers, or taking a breather; turn signals to celebrate the festive feeling of the day or indicate where you used to be; lane markings as decorative flair on the road upon which to weave your car’s path; and roads as a personal rollercoaster ride, white knuckled and unpredictable, where everyone is surprised at the outcome.

I think these are pretty decent rules to follow and don’t really require much out of the ordinary of the drivers on the road. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I really like older people (they taste like chicken), but my patience and sense of safety is wearing thin. I’m happy to see Old Miss Leary out and about and enjoying her golden years, but not if she’s going to end up sideswiping a cow and causing a ditch fire.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | 2 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS

Here’s the stupidity in its glory:

Thousands of Iraqis took to the streets Monday to protest a concrete wall surrounding Adhamiya, a Sunni neighborhood in Baghdad. CNN Story Here

Oh, well, that’s grand. A wall being built by the military in a city. Does anyone have a sense of deja vu here? Hello, Germany? It’s Iraq on line two.

I don’t know about you, but just about every headline I see about this damned “war” in Iraq portrays the soldiers as doing efforts equivalent to stopping a lava flow with sand shovels. I have no doubt that they are working their hearts out and, as we well know, dying for the cause, but the mountain is still erupting, is still going to erupt, and there’s not much that we can do about it at this point. This “wall building” exercise is just another attempt in a long line of bad ideas about this entire historical event.

A lot of people I have talked to have stated that while they’re for pulling out of Iraq, they’re for doing so in a responsible manner so that the system doesn’t completely collapse. You know what, folks? I think I’ve realized that lately it’s not going to matter anymore. Their system is going to collapse, period. No matter if we try to shore it up and leave gently or pull out all at once, they’re screwed. The cave walls are going to collapse the next time someone sneezes and the whole thing is going to go straight to hell. I’m not sure there’s anything we can do about it at this point.

Not that it’s not the United State’s fault. It is, 100%. We screwed up, we had no business being there in the first place, and we have no business being there now, other than the fact that it’s our fingers in the dam at this point. We owe it to the Iraqis to try to give them as many resources as possible to hold things in place the way they are, but on the whole, I don’t think it’s going to last. It’s a nice gesture, but it won’t work. Our attempt to reverse hundreds of years of a way of life isn’t going to happen this time around.

Public opinion is swinging this way slowly, I think; nobody wants to come out and say, “Game over, man, game over,” but that’s what a lot of them are thinking. The Democrats are for pulling out gently but firmly, leaving responsible systems in place. Republicans are, too, in some cases, or in some cases you have nutjobs like Mitt Romney who want to increase the spending and number of troops in Iraq by 100,000! What in blazes anyone like this is thinking about is up for grabs.

You’re seeing less and less of the, “Support Our Troops” magnetic ribbons on the back of vehicles – thank fuck for that! Well, that’s a 2-sided issue. On the first half, nobody should ever, ever have those damned things on your vehicle or anywhere else. There’s nothing stupider than seeing a vehicle go by with about 20 of those on the back end. Expressing your patriotism through $1.99 magnets from the Walmart is not a very strong sign of devotion. Please refrain from looking like an idiot.

On the second half, nobody should be wishy-washy about supporting our troops. Either you support the men and women working for our country or you don’t. The fact that they’re being led by a bunch of whackaloons has Jack M. Squat to do with anything, as they’re just doing their jobs. And please, remember: They signed up for this. If you go into the Army/Navy/Marines/etc. and get sent overseas on some child’s mission to impress his Daddy, you asked for it. I only have so much sympathy for these folks and their families for this reason. I do, however, respect them in the same way I respect morticians — I’m glad they can do it, because I wouldn’t be able to.

Students of Turner County High School started what they hope will become a new tradition: Black and white students attended the prom together for the first time on Saturday. CNN Story Here

You. Must. Be. Joking.

What is this, the 1960s? Are we still seeing drinking fountains with “colored” above them? You HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!!!

I thought this shit was in the history books for good, relegated to a long-past story to tell our kids, much like World War II or the Mayflower or….

I’m just…astounded. And the amount of idiotic commentary in the article has me even more amazed and flabbergasted:

Adkinson’s sister, Mindy Bryan, attended a segregated prom in 2001. “There was not anybody that I can remember that was black,” she said. “The white people have theirs, and the black people have theirs. It’s nothing racial at all.”

What do you mean, NOTHING RACIAL!? Black. White. What part of “race” in “racial” are you missing, you twit?

Nichole Royal asked her friend why she wasn’t coming to the prom.

“I’ve asked, ‘Why can’t you come?’ and they’re like, ‘My mommy and daddy — they don’t agree with being with the colored people,’ which I think is crazy,” she said.

Colored people!? Since when has it been acceptable to use that nomenclature? I think “mommy and daddy” need to come up here and attend my, “Baseball Bat to the Head for Being an Complete Moron” prom. I’m….speechless.

The stupid commentary wasn’t limited to racial stupidities, either:

Valerie McKellar echoed that sentiment as she watched white and black students pose together. “That is so fake. There is nothing real about that,” she said. “That’s just like you’re cooking a half-baked cake, putting the icing on it, and when you cut the cake, the cake ain’t no good. That’s how this prom is,” she said.

Cake? Icing? What in the fuck is this girl talking about? I’m half inclined to think that Val is half-baked herself during this interview. But I apparently can’t expect someone from Ashburn, GA, to have much of an intelligence when we’re still referring to “colored people” in our day-to-day lives.

However, I do have some kudos which are going out to the upperclassmen of the school who voted and won to have the integrated prom. Excellent job, folks. I hope you had an absolutely wonderful time. I just wished it would have happened about, oh, fifty years ago, but I guess I’m asking a bit much, hrm? Do me a favor and those of you with a brain, get yourselves out of Ashburn, GA, as fast as possible and stay out. It’s for your own good. Really. The world will be a better place if your minds aren’t clamped in that vise of ignorance.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

For those of you still under a rock, the past few days have been surrounding the saga of Don Imus, a n’er-do-well in the world of shock jock radio, who has recently been crucified on a burning cross for some offensive statements he made while on his daily radio show.

Read that above paragraph a few times — go ahead, I’ll wait.   Do you see the stupidity yet?

A shock jock.   Making offensive commentary.     Oh, REAAAAALLLY?

I, personally, am flabbergasted.   I thought they were all about fat yellow bumblebees, sunshine on tulips, and fuzzy bunnies in fields of clover.  All the things that make cherubic angels sigh in orgasmic joy.   (They are, of course — as long as the bumblebee is sodomizing the bunny with the tulip stem.)

But what is even worse is the uproar this has caused from the American people.   Fire Imus!   Punish him!   BAD, TERRIBLE MAN!!!    And then in the next breath, they head to the nearest Sam Goody and buy Punky Honkie Rapper’s new album, “My Hos Have More Bitch-Ass Than Your Hos”.

That burning smell?   That’s the scent of brain cells frying in consternation.

You see, because we’re a wonderful nation of hypocrites, ranging from the dieters who insist on following the latest diets but can’t be bothered to wedge their fat asses out of a chair and walk to work to religious whackaloons that preach a policy of love for all mankind and tolerance and in the same breath condemn homosexuals, other religions, or whoever they feel like that particular day.  The public apparently thrives on the extreme stories, the nutcases, the oddities — I imagine simply because “regular” news is far too boring for simple minds to be entertained by.    In a nation where daytime talkshows are huge hits and confrontational episodes featuring, “the girl that screwed my brother while I was sleeping with her mother”, are good entertainment, news stories have to keep up or we’ll just switch the channel to something more, “inspiring”.

The real deal is that this Don Imus episode isn’t a big of a deal at all, really.   There’s a billion tons of shock jocks on the radio these days because, frankly, they sell — the American people love folks with cojones  enough to say and do the things that they are just too frightened or shy to think about, no matter how apolitically correct.   The things they talk about and utter are meant to be offensive and this isn’t the first time that someone has targeted a particular group and made fun of them.

The only thing that separates this from other inflamatory remarks is that it happens to hit so many targets at once and really pisses off a large number of radical organizations whose sole mission is to drive the rest of us barking mad.   From one insult we have gotten the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, the National Association of Black Journalists, the NAACP, NOW, and The Reverend Jesse Jackson involved, not to name the tons of others that have risen up against Imus because he made such a shotgun comment that hit tons of nerves across the nation.

But really — who are you people fooling?  You’ll piss and moan and whine about this guy whose job is to offend people, who is supported by a vast number of Americans who enjoy his banter, and then you’ll go home and listen to your incredibly-stereotypical African-American rappers, watch stereotypical gay comedies on TV, and giggle at movies featuring oppressed women opposite chauvaunistic men.    Just keep locking your doors as you drive through the ‘hood and pulling the shades on your windows at night, because your hipocrisy will keep you safe.

I have no time for people such as these.   If you are not going to stand for something and stand for it 100%, then shut the hell up.   All you do is make yourselves look like complete and utter nutcases on the news, ranting on and on about sexual deviants while the hamster in your sock drawer is hoping that tonight isn’t “Play Night”.   You’re wasting our oxygen and, according to the environmental bozos, there isn’t a lot of that left, either.

While true redemption can only come by heeding my choice words of wisdom,  in the meantime, poor Don Imus will be strung up, flayed like a squawking rooster, and dragged through town on his nipples, apologizing and committing himself to “tolerance classes” or paying restitution to minority charities or some such, all in the spirit of getting the hellhounds off his back for doing his job in the first place.   Even nicer yet, his parent company (MSNBC/WNBC) won’t step up and say something, like, “Well, we told Don to be as offensive as possible beacause, frankly, you people enjoy it and it gets fabulous ratings.”     There’s no finer spirit in the entire world than a corporation covering its own ass to the deteriment of all.

If you’re smart — if you’re fair — if you’re logical — you’ll stop perpetuating this crime of mis-placed effort in reform.    I am all for equal rights for all, for stopping disparaging commentary about races, religions, and ways of life, and for ensuring that smart, intelligent, progressive, and inspiring stories and activities take place in our world.    But these groups attack the end result, not the source, and thus they aren’t actually doing any good in the world at all.    Swimming out and hitting the iceburg that sunk the Titanic with a hammer won’t actually do any good, other than providing icecubes for your martini.   Getting the drunk captain off the bridge might have been a more effective move in the first place.    For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary — don’t waste your efforts.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | One comment. One lonely comment looking for a friend. | Subscribe RSS

In another move to protect idiotic people (who should never be parents) from themselves, Hasbro has recalled 985,000 Easy-Bake toy ovens from the market, citing that the door could catch youngsters’ fingers in it, resulting in burns; indeed, apparently at least 5 incidents have already been reported.

You know the Easy-Bake ovens; you (or your sister, or a cousin) probably had one when you were little. They use a 100 watt light bulb inside a steel cage inside a cheap-ass plastic oven fascade to heat up a chamber where you can cook nasty-ass cakes and other confectionaries, lovingly mixed up from stale little cardboard boxes with cheesy pictures on the front. Kids love them, parents dread having to sample the little culinary horrors they produce. It results in a successful day in the kitchen, all in all.

There must be an overwhelming sense of patience at Hasbro to recall almost a million units of this toy because of 5 stupid children who got burned by them. FIVE. That is 0.00000005% of ALL owners of this toy who got injured, and I bet out of that, 99.998% of those were the parents fault because they let 3 year old Timmy try to make a muffin on his own while they watched Oprah.

Give me a break, folks. Poor Hasbro, I say. I’m sure they have tons of nervous lawyers in their offices, but, given that they make toys for children, I really don’t think they’re out to purposely be shoddy in their products. 5 hundred millionths of a percent of children getting injured is nothing to get in a tizzy about. More kids probably choke on Easy Cheez in a year than that, and you don’t see them recalling cans of that nasty concoction. Again, parents need to stop pointing their fingers at everyone when the default answer is usually pointing back at themselves for being stupid.

Armour Pork Brains in Gravy Really DOES Contain Pork Brains, However

Fortune carried an “analysis” article today stating that modern food labeling may “mislead consumers”, as if this was some sort of brilliant revelation he had while doing his morning Yoga With Mary.

REALLY!?

I can’t imagine. C’mon, folks. Let’s not kid ourselves about how stupid the average and below-average consumer is. They are the ones that watch Subway ads and think that by mowing down meatball subs all day every day you can lose 150 pounds and are shocked when it doesn’t happen quite that way. They are the ones that sue because coffee is hot, ice cream is cold, and driving heavy machinery while drunk almost always ends up with bad results. These are not the valedictorians of the class, people. Food labeling hardly has to be subtle to result in someone eating fish heads without knowing it.

That being said, I find it highly amusing as to what lengths manufacturers DO get away with product labeling. The fact that Kraft Guacamole Dip contains less than 2% avocado is funnier than hell. The idea that a softdrink (Enviga) burns calories is a laugh and a half.

Not that I think that they should be forced to change! “You shouldn’t have to read the small print when you visit the supermarket,” says Michael Jacobson. I disagree completely. If you’re not concientious enough about what you eat to examine the label, then you don’t deserve to know what’s inside. You are eating a pre-packaged, processed food — nobody checks the label of an Twinkie package, because really, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW. You’re buying them because you want an Twinkie, not a lesson in chemistry.

Parke Wilde also covers this in his blog, stating that, while there are rules about what can and cannot be called a particular food by the FDA, they’re somewhat…lenient. Thankfully, he does not seem to suggest that the onus of responsibility exists with the government to protect the stupid from their gluttony, which is why we have bloated federal departments in the first place.

Wise up, people. Chemicals are ever-present today in almost any food that has been cut, sliced, diced, mashed, pulped, whirled, deburped, or centrifuged. Pay attention to what you’re sticking in your gob or learn to get over it.

New Food-Free Food Promises a Healthier Lifestyle

In a blasé effort to cover the status of the consumer product market, Lynn Dornblaser of the market research firm Mintel has declared the end of the low-carb food fad and the beginning of the “gluten-free” fad, based on the number of new products being released into the market. I’m sure these sorts of stats are interesting to someone, but I really don’t know anyone, personally, who gives a damn.

Having said that, I’m a pretty big believer that we are consuming far too many carbs for our lifestyles these days. That certainly doesn’t make me an Atkins hippie nor does it mean I am a solid South Beach adherant; however, I do see value in the underlying mentality behind these fads: The amount of pure caloric intake we are subject ourselves to does not match with the requirements of our mostly-sedentry lifestyles.

I suffer greatly from this, myself. I am a computer programmer and online geek, which puts my ass squarely into the seat of my chair for at least 12 hours out of the day, sometimes more. I must make special efforts to induce movement into my schedule or my muscles might as well be vacationing in Aruba for all the good they are doing me.

I see the introduction of these products as an overactive, marketing response to a real shift in people’s mentalities. While the low-carb diet craze has died down, the underlying shift in people’s thinking has not. They are still concerned, in general, about carbs and will continue to keep that in mind as they make food choices. We’re now adding things like like trans-fats, salt, sugar, etc. to that thinking as the country struggles more and more with obesity and health issues associated with diet. I think, on the whole, it’ll end up in a good result. The key, I believe, is not to take any of it too seriously, but to glean the best features from each fad that comes along.

Aqua Teen Terrorist Force

And lastly, a short blurb about an advertising campaign gone wrong and the officials who twisted their panties over it: It seems that, in the sleepy town of Boston, an ad campaign featuring LED-powered caricatures of figures from Comedy Central’s “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” cartoon shut down the city and several bridges while officers inspected the devices, afraid that they were bomb threats planted by terrorists. Now, I’m sure while having a cartoon character flip you off in bright lights isn’t perceived as “family-friendly”, it certainly doesn’t look like a threat to my safety. Ah, those silly Bostonians — they’re good for a laugh, you know?

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2007. | Permalink | No comments....YET! Make one! | Subscribe RSS

Peace on earth? Not in our subdivision!

It seems that, in a homeowner’s conclave somewhere in Denver, CO, the association that dictates what you can and can’t do with your property has voted that a resident’s Christmas wreath in the shape of a peace sign is offensive and might even be Satanic and are fining her and asking her to take it down.

Now, first of all, if you’re enough of a fucking idiot to buy a house in some sort of uppity enclave where a group of people determine what you can and can’t do with your own fucking property, you have already asked to be bent over, so part of this is the whining twit that signed up for this in the first place. My beef is not with her, however. She’s stupid, but there’s too many people in the world who are dumb for me to waste words on them.

The Person Who Sucks in this case is this jackass Bob Kearns, the president of their precious little association that determines what you can and can’t do with your own things. From the article:

Kearns ordered the committee to require Jensen to remove the wreath, but members refused after concluding that it was merely a seasonal symbol that didn’t say anything. Kearns fired all five committee members.

Not only did he order the committee to require the removal, but he fired them because they didn’t agree with him? WOW. What a prick! That’s such a great way to run an association!

Dear Loma Linda Homeowners Association: Please tell Bob Kearns to cordially kiss your ass and kick his bitchy hide all the way to Utah. Bob, you’re the reason people own baseball bats.

Calling a child ‘naughty’ can traumatise them, say experts

This sort of hippie bullshit is why the world is going down the shitchute at an enormous rate, folks. First they declared that we couldn’t spank our children, a method of punishment that had worked for hundreds of years without any repercussions. Then they said that we can’t grade our children, because they might develop bruised esteems due to bad grades. Most places now won’t keep score at sports events because nobody is really a “loser” in life. And now….we can’t call a child, “naughty”?

You must be joking.

This Annette Mountford is suffering a very large case of Dumbassitis, probably rooted in some sort of guilt trip that she’s laid on herself. This twit insists that we are bruising and possibly even permanently damaging our childrens’ self esteems by punishing them!

They should also stop referring to the “naughty step” – a disciplining technique from TV’s Supernanny – in case their child thinks the word refers to them. She said misusing the word can affect the “mental health” of both the child and the subsequently guilt-ridden parent. You are analyzing this WAY too much, and you’re certainly protecting your child from developing into a well-balanced adult. Children, just like adults, have to learn to tell the difference between calling an activity bad and the child bad. They’re not going to learn this unless you give them the chance to figure it out! If your child didn’t and you didn’t help them to see the difference, then you failed as a parent, Annette. Part of your responsibility is teaching your child to be a thinking human being, not a robotic numbskull. Quit being so pandering to your offspring.

Parents: If you are having “guilt” about the punishment that you give to your children, you are NOT GOOD PARENTS. Good parents realize when punishment is necessary and, although it may not be pleasant to deal out, know and realize that their punishment is for the greater good of the child. There should be no “guilt” involved about a punishment. Now, if you failed to educate your child about something you should have and they got into trouble, you may feel guilty about that, and that’s correct — it’s to keep you on your toes. But if you felt the punishment fit the crime, feeling guilt is wrong.

Despite quizzing, Mrs Mountford, who previously worked as a health visitor for 13 years, insisted that children are not naughty in themselves. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! I don’t know what a ‘health visitor’ is, but this attitude is anything but healthy.

Behavior of a child stems from their inner psyche and, ultimately, from the patterns stored within their brain’s neural net. Neural nets form and modify and enhance based on feedback patterns fed back into the net that alter or reinforce the patterns already there, or create new patterns as appropriate. Calling a child “naughty” is NOT incorrect — if they have produced naughty behavior, then it has come from the child, not from the Behavior Genie. Coupled properly with instruction on how to avoid producing naughty behaviors again, along with an appropriate punishment, will rewrite those neural patterns to form non-naughty habits, changing the once-naughty child into a well-behaved one.

Punishment, of course, is not a simple system, and no parent should treat it as such, although many do. It involves not only swift and accurate compensation for an inappropriate action, but good instruction, explanation, and love to support that punishment, review the action, and offer ways to correctly respond in the future. Parents who simply provide whacks to their children are not helping them.

When asked whether she had ever shouted at a child, Mrs Mountford, who has two grown-up daughters, said: “Yes, of course I have, I’m human. But golly you feel awful afterwards. I’m interested in the parents’ mental health. When you do lose it as a parent you feel dreadful and that ruins your day, ruins the child’s day. They have a rotten time at school, you do at work or home.”

Annette — may I call you Annette? — again, if you’re feeling guilty about punishing your kids, you have issues as a parent that you need to address. If, however, you are more interested in the problem of parents taking out the stresses of their day on kids in unwarranted ways, well, then…that’s a whole different ball of wax and you’re only complicating the issue by suddenly saying that parents cannot call a spade a spade and punish their kids in good, healthy ways.

It sounds to me like you are fuzzing the issue too much and are lost in your own research; either that or you’re trying to justify the blowing of thousands of taxpayer’s dollars in a study that does nothing useful at all.

Go to McDonalds, have a chocolate sundae, and go plant some tulips. I guarantee you’ll feel better in the morning. But, in the meantime, YOU SUCK.

No doubt other people earned a big YOU SUCK today, but I can only comment on so many things at once. So, if you’re reading this, I hope you didn’t suck today. If you didn’t, give yourself a gold star for making the world a little bit nicer to live in.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2006. | Permalink | No comments....YET! Make one! | Subscribe RSS