Here in Iraq, my view of the outside world is perhaps like the view through a large glass window, than that of the small port hole that the United States allows. This is because, even if it's news on the TV, it's CNN from Europe, which covers a larger portion of the world than just the United States. I read the news from different sources on the internet and try and get a better understanding of the whole spectrum of what's going on everywhere. And yet, somehow, and I guess along the lines of physics, the bullshit, the fluff with no weight, no substance, always floats to the top. Every time, on LATimes, or the Washington Post, or Yahoo, or Bullshittybullshitnews.com, it's always the same. The big headline, one of unimportance in the grand scheme of things. Usually some insignificant tragedy, assuring the readers that they have missed another one, and they will live again to read tomorrows edition.
I'm not talking about fires in California, or Tsunami's in Somoa tragedies. I'm talking about Taylor Swift tragedies, and the Boy in The Balloon. This all reverts back to the idea of what we have done. It's actually a tragedy, though you won't see it in any newspaper. The tragedy of what we as people have done, civilized people anyways, with our interference of natural selection. We have been catering to the dumb and stupid for too many generations. Giving them the handouts they want, the freedoms that they only take advantage of, and the burden they put on the strong. It is a truth of life that the strong will carry the burden of and for the weak. It's the competent that will do more work, take less, and seemingly be punished.
I read the news, and all I get is this sad story, about stupid parents and a 6 year old boy in Colorado. The disdain grows like a disease in my mouth, and I can barely swallow my now infected saliva. I can't believe that this is getting so much attention. It's not right in the category with the idiots who spill hot coffee in their laps at drive thru's, but it's overlapped in that circle. These parents should pay, not just in apology, but some kind of sentence to the people of Colorado, to America, to the World for wasting all of our time. They should be sentenced to hours of community service, and be under court supervision for the raising of their child.
The more we cater to these kinds of people, the further our social system is going to crumble. The movie Idiocracy is not that far off. We make so many rules that do nothing but protect, cater to the stupid, lazy, and lame of our communities. They take advantage, and the competent work harder, pay for it more and more, and eventually start to turn into those who take advantage of the system. Become players in the game. Lessening the amount of smart people in our society. The amount of good working hard people gets lower and lower every year. We suffer.
It's amazing that we still allow, with all the smart people we have in the United States, all of these idiots to live and actually thrive in our community. The person that sues McDonald's for making them fat. The person who sues Starbucks for too hot of coffee when they burn their genitals by driving out of the drive thru too fast. These people win their cases, and make their millions of dollars. They make it inconvenient for the smart people of the world to put out a product. Putting tons of warning labels on everything. The saddest part, is when you read a warning label that says not to do something that you would never think about doing, ever. Something like opening up a blender, and it's warning label tells you not to place your hand in the blender when it's on. No shit Sherlock. People have actually done that! It's not some this might happen so we'll put it on there, it's this has happened so now we must pay for you being a fucktard.
These people don't get punished for being stupid. They are taken under the wing of society, and protected. They get their settlement, and plastic surgery, wasting court time, tax payers dollars, and brain cells. They don't get punished as nature intended it. Karma even has a hard time believing that they would do something that stupid, and can't even think up a fair enough punishment. The Darwinism Law needs to be made real. People should have to pay for their stupidity. If you're 4'0" and 320lbs, you should not be allowed to go eat 35 cheeseburgers at McDonald's. If I burn my mouth on the coffee I make at home, there's not going to be any class action suit. It won't even be mentioned due to embarrassment. Just because I'm an idiot that can't test weather a liquid will be to hot for my mouth or not, doesn't mean that I should get some kind of reward for being that idiot. I probably should be stoned, or at least laughed at and made fun of for being an idiot. The way nature intended it.
They should close down drive thru's to the lazy, and actually label people with a stamp to the forehead, as lazy, non-contributor, or idiot. And they should be treated as such. If you're a non-contributor to society, you should be banned from using the system. From getting food stamps or welfare. At least have a program that you can only be on welfare for so long before you have to get a job. If you're labeled Lazy, you should not be allowed to use drive thru's. If you want that cup of coffee in the morning, wake up 20 minutes earlier and brew your own cup. Make your own bagel. Idiot, they should just wrap you in bubble wrap and castrate you before you can do the rest of the world any damage.
I know all of this sounds a little harsh, but damn it that's life! It's cruel. And the more you try and protect the dumb, the weak the worse it's going to get. The more we allow the 'not right' to continue, the more people are going to start taking advantage. It's amazing how many people I know say they 'hate cops' but the moment their own situation turns into a shit sandwich they rely on them to help them and save them. It's amazing how many people skip out on paying taxes and then complain about not getting taken care of by the government. It's amazing that I should even have to point this out, how our society is on the cusp of Idiocracy. Don't believe me? In a free democracy like we have, we RE-elected the likes of Bush.
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light....
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Condition I Got From A Movie
I have been discriminated against long enough. It's not really any one's fault but perhaps my own, but regardless of that small fact, I think it's time that people are aware of a condition that effects more than just me. Some people will tell me that I do not have a personality, that I only have my quotes, from movies and tv shows. I learned recently that I am not the only one with this condition. I am not the only one that gets criticized and discriminated against. There are more like me out there, and it's time the world learns to make exceptions for us. Why not? everyone else gets a handout, time to take ours.
I'm your huckleberry.
My condition began at an early age. 6th grade was the year that Austin Powers had come out, it was hugely popular for at least my age group. I found my popularity there because I could do impressions (which had gone unnoticed) of Mike Myers. Quoting that movie then made sky rocket to the top of school popularity, not that it matters now, but it did then. I remember being summoned by all my peers, pressured to repeat line after line. Laughter, smiles and joy were prevalent in the circle of faces leaning in to hear every last word. The similarities to the middle school click and the click of faces leaning in to hear a Christopher Walken impression are almost a flashback of the nightmares of middle school peer pressure. But as long as everyone is laughing and having a good time, I suppose I'll continue. I can't stand people not being happy around me.
Do you want me to use the Spanish accent?
After middle school, after Austin Powers was long and gone, in the days of high school, my passion for remembering movie quotes kept on keeping on. The more obscure, the more powerful, the better. I would come into conversations with a one liner or a short monologue only to be stared at blankly, or if it were directly in the right context, I would be applauded, laughed with or looked at with some kind of fondness of a better understanding and perfect way to say what everyone was thinking. That didn't happen to often, only rarely. If it wasn't a very popular movie, did anyone get the reference and laugh along with me. Creating a secret club where only we really understood what was said.
Do I make you horny, randy, do I baby? Yeah!
After high school, I suppose things only got worse. I started watching more movies, and my 'new' group of friends were very similar. Randomly throwing out movie quotes and demanding to know where the quote came from. Some kind of weird, but fun game. You would try and find those obscure references. Movies like Snatch, Boogie Nights, The Big Lebowski and Tombstone were always favorites, with tons of powerfully obscure lines that we could throw out nearly anytime. My obsession grew, and with it my condition worsened. Movies like American Psycho consumed me with all of it's hilarity lines, and I think I lived for a pure month not even talking as anyone but Patrick Bateman.
Two minutes Turkish
My newest group of friends, my work mates in the Army, they just don't understand the disease, the comedic side of it all. They don't understand I have a condition. Have I ever told you about Sammy Jankis? My condition wasn't able to be cured as it had been started, by peer pressure. The constant comeback, 'Did you hear that in a movie,' 'What movie did that come from?' They were all slices that hurt deep, and yet I let them bleed, inflicting more pain on myself. My condition won't allow me to revert back to normal, un-plagiarists times. It appears my hypocrisy know no bounds. Hypocritical in the fact that I love originality, but use movie quotes as personal dialogue. Isn't it all about the context though? If I can't say it as good, but can reference that one line that fits perfectly, isn't that better for the conversation as a whole?
That rug really tied the room together
Well, in lieu of the shenanigans and lack of understanding of the people of the world, I continue to randomly quote movie lines. And with the addition of some knew people in my life, two others who suffer the same condition, I have new strength. The arrival of our new LT into the platoon, also brought a fellow sufferer of this condition. The couple extra years Lt. Dan has on me, showed the more advanced stages of this condition. The inability to only quote more popular movies, and less obscure quotes. As you do at my stage so that you can include everyone. He says things like, "note to self, sex with blowup dolls, not as good as advertised." I know what you're thinking, of course, that's a quote from Dirty Work, a B-movie from the 90's. Know one knows though! They haven't seen it, and if they did, they don't remember even the simplest of lines from it! I find myself the only one laughing with him, at his obscure quotes. Then again, maybe Lt. Dan wasn't quoting a movie. It's especially bad though, when he starts saying things from Monty Python's Flying Circus. I think it's possible we are the only two Americans to even know that show existed. Sometimes we get so criticized, it feels like we're facing the Spanish Inquisition.
I've never seen so many dead hookers in all my life!
Lord knows I have.
But guys like Me and the LT, my brother and my old Cali roommates, we are not the only affected by this condition. It's apparently doesn't only effect guys either. My friend, the enemy blogger, Kennan also randomly quotes movies! We are the minority in this world. Constantly discriminated against, misunderstood and usually alone. The boys of the platoon give me the most shit, but it's the spike that divides personal relationships even. Gina, my girlfriend, tells me that when she sees movies, she hears things I say all the time. I have a condition. Did I ever tell you about Sammy Jankis?
Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?
So what that we aren't original in everything we say? At least we aren't part timers, occasionally throwing out a funny quote here and there. We don't take credit for it or anything like that, we just suffer from the condition of random, obscure quoting of movie and television lines! It's time that you start being more tolerant of others problems, get off your high horses, and help find a cure for our condition! Until you can do that, go home and get your fuckin' shine box.
Remember Sammy Jankis?
NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again....
I'm your huckleberry.
My condition began at an early age. 6th grade was the year that Austin Powers had come out, it was hugely popular for at least my age group. I found my popularity there because I could do impressions (which had gone unnoticed) of Mike Myers. Quoting that movie then made sky rocket to the top of school popularity, not that it matters now, but it did then. I remember being summoned by all my peers, pressured to repeat line after line. Laughter, smiles and joy were prevalent in the circle of faces leaning in to hear every last word. The similarities to the middle school click and the click of faces leaning in to hear a Christopher Walken impression are almost a flashback of the nightmares of middle school peer pressure. But as long as everyone is laughing and having a good time, I suppose I'll continue. I can't stand people not being happy around me.
Do you want me to use the Spanish accent?
After middle school, after Austin Powers was long and gone, in the days of high school, my passion for remembering movie quotes kept on keeping on. The more obscure, the more powerful, the better. I would come into conversations with a one liner or a short monologue only to be stared at blankly, or if it were directly in the right context, I would be applauded, laughed with or looked at with some kind of fondness of a better understanding and perfect way to say what everyone was thinking. That didn't happen to often, only rarely. If it wasn't a very popular movie, did anyone get the reference and laugh along with me. Creating a secret club where only we really understood what was said.
Do I make you horny, randy, do I baby? Yeah!
After high school, I suppose things only got worse. I started watching more movies, and my 'new' group of friends were very similar. Randomly throwing out movie quotes and demanding to know where the quote came from. Some kind of weird, but fun game. You would try and find those obscure references. Movies like Snatch, Boogie Nights, The Big Lebowski and Tombstone were always favorites, with tons of powerfully obscure lines that we could throw out nearly anytime. My obsession grew, and with it my condition worsened. Movies like American Psycho consumed me with all of it's hilarity lines, and I think I lived for a pure month not even talking as anyone but Patrick Bateman.
Two minutes Turkish
My newest group of friends, my work mates in the Army, they just don't understand the disease, the comedic side of it all. They don't understand I have a condition. Have I ever told you about Sammy Jankis? My condition wasn't able to be cured as it had been started, by peer pressure. The constant comeback, 'Did you hear that in a movie,' 'What movie did that come from?' They were all slices that hurt deep, and yet I let them bleed, inflicting more pain on myself. My condition won't allow me to revert back to normal, un-plagiarists times. It appears my hypocrisy know no bounds. Hypocritical in the fact that I love originality, but use movie quotes as personal dialogue. Isn't it all about the context though? If I can't say it as good, but can reference that one line that fits perfectly, isn't that better for the conversation as a whole?
That rug really tied the room together
Well, in lieu of the shenanigans and lack of understanding of the people of the world, I continue to randomly quote movie lines. And with the addition of some knew people in my life, two others who suffer the same condition, I have new strength. The arrival of our new LT into the platoon, also brought a fellow sufferer of this condition. The couple extra years Lt. Dan has on me, showed the more advanced stages of this condition. The inability to only quote more popular movies, and less obscure quotes. As you do at my stage so that you can include everyone. He says things like, "note to self, sex with blowup dolls, not as good as advertised." I know what you're thinking, of course, that's a quote from Dirty Work, a B-movie from the 90's. Know one knows though! They haven't seen it, and if they did, they don't remember even the simplest of lines from it! I find myself the only one laughing with him, at his obscure quotes. Then again, maybe Lt. Dan wasn't quoting a movie. It's especially bad though, when he starts saying things from Monty Python's Flying Circus. I think it's possible we are the only two Americans to even know that show existed. Sometimes we get so criticized, it feels like we're facing the Spanish Inquisition.
I've never seen so many dead hookers in all my life!
Lord knows I have.
But guys like Me and the LT, my brother and my old Cali roommates, we are not the only affected by this condition. It's apparently doesn't only effect guys either. My friend, the enemy blogger, Kennan also randomly quotes movies! We are the minority in this world. Constantly discriminated against, misunderstood and usually alone. The boys of the platoon give me the most shit, but it's the spike that divides personal relationships even. Gina, my girlfriend, tells me that when she sees movies, she hears things I say all the time. I have a condition. Did I ever tell you about Sammy Jankis?
Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?
So what that we aren't original in everything we say? At least we aren't part timers, occasionally throwing out a funny quote here and there. We don't take credit for it or anything like that, we just suffer from the condition of random, obscure quoting of movie and television lines! It's time that you start being more tolerant of others problems, get off your high horses, and help find a cure for our condition! Until you can do that, go home and get your fuckin' shine box.
Remember Sammy Jankis?
NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again....
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A Little Slice of Heaven
Sycamore Canyon State Park will always have that special place in my heart. The place in the heart that makes your vision fuzz & crisp, your stomachs rise and swim, and allow that extra pep in your step. The campground, though in a canyon, has direct access to the best vacation destination in the world; The Pacific Ocean.
The campground itself is nestled tightly between the two mountain ridges that tower high and close above. The mouth of the ridges opens up to the vast blue of the pacific. The beach is guarded on both sides by seawalls and rocks that fall into perfect formation or stand out for their own attention, white foam smashing and leaping to grab hold and tear down their defiance. The foam staying near, not defeated, as defiant as the rock itself. It lingers.
The beautiful blue water is always cold but refreshing, like the beer half buried in ice. The activities on the drift wood and rock filled beach seem to vary between the dog chasing the tennis ball, or kiddies building sand castles or narrowly escaping the splash of waves. From picnicking and barbecuing to running with the sand squishing through your toes. Or as simple as laying, listening to tunes reading and watching the sun glinted waves roll in. The beach is always the funnest adventure, and when it comes to my family and friends, we've always at least made one.
The mornings in the campground, the neighbor to the beach, separated only by the Pacific Coast Highway, are always good mornings. The fires embers still give off their heat from the long nights before, with coffee brewin', eggs cookin', and the morning sun pampering the sleep from you. After a breakfast or two, it's always the best time to start the days adventure. With a backpack full of goodies and water to boot, a relaxing hike to the summit of one of the coast keepers allows for that humbling tell tell of human existence. As you look westward, the ocean with it's thousand diamonds strewn across it's endless blanket, and below you to the east, the sycamore and oak trees like shrubs from such a heighth, the realization sets in. How small we really are. How vast the world is, and how wonderful it is to stand at the top, feel the breeze and smell the salty air.
After a race to the bottom, the sweat working up the perfect excuse for a mid-morning dip. Dive under a wave or two, and catch one back to shore. The appetite has grown and it's time to refuel. Of all of the divine foods in the world, none even remotely compare to that of a creamy peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich cut into four triangles, and crust-less. Another few hours spent in the caress of the pacific, ending with a dangerous ascent up the seagull covered cliffs and watching the sunset on the horizon. The blue of the water no longer, only that of the matching hues of the reds and oranges of the fire burning in the sky. You sit close with friends, arms wrapped around the backs of one another, waves crashing low beneath, spraying you with the fingertips of it's touch. You all talk, enjoy the company of one another, but eventually the conversations stop. Cease to exist. You sit and stare at the falling sun, the never ending horizon, and the never ending assault of waves coming forward. It's too much to take in, and the many questions scramble in your head. You scratch your thoughts until you figure it out, why the feeling inside is so warm. Then if it was almost to obvious, you put your finger right on it. You have your little slice of heaven. An error in the gods construction, they left part of their kingdom accessible to mortals. You breath it in, and hold your breath. It's to clean and crisp a breath to ever let out.
Back at the tents the fire is holding the cold of a night at the shore back. It's flames lighting the area enough to see faces, but not fully. You drink a beer and eat your carne. Roast some mallows and tell stories. After you wash the sticky off the cheeks and throw on a sweatshirt and pants, you can't but stroll back towards the beach. The starry night, complimented by a few moonlit clouds and white of waves of the black sea and sky. Sitting in the cool sand, you stare for hours, talk without saying a word, and hope there is no cleaning crew coming from the heavens to sweep up this gods mess. You exhale finally, and have to admit that life is that good.
Shine on you crazy diamond...
The campground itself is nestled tightly between the two mountain ridges that tower high and close above. The mouth of the ridges opens up to the vast blue of the pacific. The beach is guarded on both sides by seawalls and rocks that fall into perfect formation or stand out for their own attention, white foam smashing and leaping to grab hold and tear down their defiance. The foam staying near, not defeated, as defiant as the rock itself. It lingers.
The beautiful blue water is always cold but refreshing, like the beer half buried in ice. The activities on the drift wood and rock filled beach seem to vary between the dog chasing the tennis ball, or kiddies building sand castles or narrowly escaping the splash of waves. From picnicking and barbecuing to running with the sand squishing through your toes. Or as simple as laying, listening to tunes reading and watching the sun glinted waves roll in. The beach is always the funnest adventure, and when it comes to my family and friends, we've always at least made one.
The mornings in the campground, the neighbor to the beach, separated only by the Pacific Coast Highway, are always good mornings. The fires embers still give off their heat from the long nights before, with coffee brewin', eggs cookin', and the morning sun pampering the sleep from you. After a breakfast or two, it's always the best time to start the days adventure. With a backpack full of goodies and water to boot, a relaxing hike to the summit of one of the coast keepers allows for that humbling tell tell of human existence. As you look westward, the ocean with it's thousand diamonds strewn across it's endless blanket, and below you to the east, the sycamore and oak trees like shrubs from such a heighth, the realization sets in. How small we really are. How vast the world is, and how wonderful it is to stand at the top, feel the breeze and smell the salty air.
After a race to the bottom, the sweat working up the perfect excuse for a mid-morning dip. Dive under a wave or two, and catch one back to shore. The appetite has grown and it's time to refuel. Of all of the divine foods in the world, none even remotely compare to that of a creamy peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich cut into four triangles, and crust-less. Another few hours spent in the caress of the pacific, ending with a dangerous ascent up the seagull covered cliffs and watching the sunset on the horizon. The blue of the water no longer, only that of the matching hues of the reds and oranges of the fire burning in the sky. You sit close with friends, arms wrapped around the backs of one another, waves crashing low beneath, spraying you with the fingertips of it's touch. You all talk, enjoy the company of one another, but eventually the conversations stop. Cease to exist. You sit and stare at the falling sun, the never ending horizon, and the never ending assault of waves coming forward. It's too much to take in, and the many questions scramble in your head. You scratch your thoughts until you figure it out, why the feeling inside is so warm. Then if it was almost to obvious, you put your finger right on it. You have your little slice of heaven. An error in the gods construction, they left part of their kingdom accessible to mortals. You breath it in, and hold your breath. It's to clean and crisp a breath to ever let out.
Back at the tents the fire is holding the cold of a night at the shore back. It's flames lighting the area enough to see faces, but not fully. You drink a beer and eat your carne. Roast some mallows and tell stories. After you wash the sticky off the cheeks and throw on a sweatshirt and pants, you can't but stroll back towards the beach. The starry night, complimented by a few moonlit clouds and white of waves of the black sea and sky. Sitting in the cool sand, you stare for hours, talk without saying a word, and hope there is no cleaning crew coming from the heavens to sweep up this gods mess. You exhale finally, and have to admit that life is that good.
Shine on you crazy diamond...
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