Do what I tell you and don't ask questions

I know I'm not supposed to hate my Quarterback, but...

2010-03-07T06:54:00Z

As a Steelers fan - a devout, rabid Steelers fan - I understand the special kind of blasphemy I'm guilty of by not liking Bradshaw. I can't really explain it, I've just never liked the guy in my adult life. Every time he speaks, a little more luster comes off those trophies. And, just to make sure the rest of Steeler Nation eyes me warily, I've also never particularly liked our only other Super Bowl winning QB.

I trust my ability to read people. Almost implicitly. I am rarely wrong, and in the very few occasions that I have been, those people generally end up being some of my best friends. So, that being said, in all honesty, I didn't like Roethlesberger from day one. I didn't like him as a rookie. I didn't even like him after the first ring. I really didn't like him after he smacked his head off the pavement that offseason (I mean, really. You're worth, potentially, hundreds of millions and you can't be bothered to don a helmet while you're on the fastest street legal bike in the states?). He has just always struck me as the second coming of The Blonde Bomber, but in all the bad ways. I appreciate Lombardis, I really do, but I would prefer that the face of my beloved franchise not come across as an, arguably, entitled "big dumb jock".

In fairness, I don't know the guy, so all of my opinions are based solely on reading or seeing interviews and press conferences. I don't even base it on other peoples' accounts, just on what I've seen and heard.

Which brings us to my latest reason to not like him. Twice now, in 8 months, he's been accused of some form of sexual impropriety. Whether he's guilty of any of it or not is not the point of this rant. I don't know if he did it, and really, neither does anybody else that wasn't there at the time. But simply the fact that there IS a second issue is enough for me to want to smack this kid. If there is one overall, defining characteristic of Ben Roethlesberger, as far as I can tell, it's a belief in his own, for lack of a better term, bulletproofness. This kid honestly seems to believe that he can do no wrong. That nothing can touch him.

I'm no puritan and I'm pretty sure that if I was him, I'd be enjoying it to the absolute fullest too, but I'm at least smart enough to know when to lay low and stay home. When you're already in the midst of a PR killing lawsuit, is it really a good idea to go clubbing in a college town? Really? Is there no one that can simply tell him to stay the fuck home for a while? Does he not understand that, regardless of whether or not it's true, that first accusation ups his profile and, at very least, makes him that much bigger a target? Is he truly that fucking self-absorbed?

Again, I don't (and neither do you) know whether any of the shit is true or not, but why tempt fate? Why make your lawyer's job that much harder? And, more importantly (for me at least), why make one of the best owners in all of sports have to worry about your stupid shit while he's supposed to be enjoying his (somewhat Joe Kennedyish) ambassadorship? You ungrateful little fuck.

OK, that may have been slightly un-called for. But fuck it. I'm irritated.

Ben, rings or not, you're fucking up my team and I don't appreciate it. Get your shit together.

Cuz, after all, it really is all about me.

Really, Matt?

2009-12-19T21:59:00Z

"Springsteen used to write about people he knew, now he writes about people he reads about."

I can't remember the exact source of this quote but it was one of Bill Simmons' friends. I wish I could give the name since I truly believe ultimate credit is due. There is more truth in that quote then most people will ever realize. Springsteen made his bones singing songs about guys he grew up with. Working class, Jersey guys. Even with Nebraska, he was writing songs from a perspective that he understood, even if he didn't know the actual people. He still thinks he's that guy, and that's the problem. He hasn't been that guy in at least 25 years. He could still make good music in the 80's by remembering what it was like, but he's been removed from normal life for so long that he just can't do it anymore.

I bring this up for this reason. People, and I even include myself in this, lend way too much credence to what people with a mic or a camera perpetually attatched to them have to say. Dylan has influenced my life almost as much as anyone I actually know. Springsteen, Neil Young, Clint Eastwood, George Carlin, Lenny Bruce, Steinbeck, Kerouac, "The Dead Poet's Society", "Good Will Hunting", hell, even "Tombstone" have all had a fairly dramatic impact on my life and how I view things. It bugs me to some degree, but there's no point in lying about it.

However, I can say, whole-heartedly, that every bit of impact any of them have had is based on the art created and not in what they have to say in real life. With the notable exceptions of those who the one is completely based on the other (Bruce & Kerouac, mostly). I still love Pearl Jam's first few albums, but there's no way in hell I'll pay to see them live at this point. The last thing I need is to drop $50 to listen to the Vedder Monologues. I love Minor Threat and Fugazi, but if I had to hang out with Ian McKaye for any extended period of time, I'm pretty sure I'd kill one of us. Matt Damon has made a couple of my favorite movies, but even the idea of listening to him talk about politics makes me need a drink.

What prompts this whole diatribe is "The People Speak". It's a very well done History Channel special where a bunch of mostly famous people read other people's words about other people's lives. It is blatantly and unapologetically slanted to the left. It's essentially a commercial for socialism. There isn't a single opposing view in the whole thing. And I'm ok with that. It's entertainment, nobody said it has to be unbiased. But it just reminded me of all the things I hate about celebrity activisim. Vedder commiting the sin of covering Dylan, and badly. Springsteen singing a Guthrie song. Damon reading the Joad monologue from "Of Mice and Men". At least when Dylan covered Woody it made sense. He started out as a Woody clone. Plus, Dylan has always been the king of leaving it in the song. He doesn't spout off anytime someone gives him the chance like most of the rest of them do.

I'm amazed Paul David Hewson didn't find some way to muscle in on the thing, but from what I could tell, they were all American citizens. So that much was good.

Lastly, the meaning of the title of the post is this: Does Matt Damon really think he's worthy of Steinbeck? Steinbeck actually lived, purposely, what he wrote about. He traveled the country during the depression to write his books. That alone is enough for me to put him above his contemporaries. I have learned to accept that Hemmingway was actually a good writer and Fitzgerald was one of the greats, but neither of them (or any of the rest of the Lost Generation, for that matter) were on Steinbeck's level. Matt Damon is just a good actor and sometimes screenwriter. That's it. That's all.

Steinbeck lived it. Guthrie, Langston Hughes, Mohammed Ali, Malcom X, Caesar Chavez, Susan B. Anthony, John Brown and everybody else that got quoted in this thing actually lived it. I'll listen to them. But if Damon or Strathairn or Vedder or any of them think that they belong in the same sentence, then they're kidding themselves.

I Absolutely Hate Being Petty, But......

2009-12-13T04:49:00Z

OK, so we've established that even with pre-existing material to make fun of, I still can't make myself keep any kind of regualr schedule with this thing, so I give up. I'm not even going to pretend anymore. If you want to check in every now and then, you may actually be surprised to find a new post or two, but I wouldn't bet on it. I'd say I'm probably good for one every couple of months or so. Because, after all, I am a lazy son of a bitch. Anyway, that being said, I need to rant for a minute.

I like to think that I'm better than the vast majority of you. Truly, and for many reasons. And if you know me at all, you've undoubtedly heard at least a half dozen or so. Say what you will about it; at least I'm honest. But what it really comes down to the most is pettiness. I hate pettiness. I try, very hard, not to be petty. I hold a clinic in self-loathing every time I find myself being petty.

Like now, for instance.

I hate myself for being hugely irritated that my daughter calls my son's "father" Da-Da. I get that it's his name to my son. I accept that. And I understand why she calls him by that name. But I can not begin to explain why and in how many different ways it makes me want to choke somebody every time I hear it. My son calls me Nate because it's what he's known me as since he was four, and so when she says it, I hate it, but I understand. I simply explain to her that, to her, I'm Daddy. It hasn't happened in a while, and I'm very happy for that. But to hear my little girl call that piece of shit "Da-Da" makes me want to put him through a wall all over again. Every time.

I make myself be civil to this guy when I see him. I honestly, in the past, have even tried to see the situation from his point of view (something that is as normal to me as, say, eating glass). But ever since he didn't so much as speak to my son for three months (including Christmas for fuck's sake), I have done everything but wish death on his worthless ass. And my daughter calls this fuck "Da-Da".

I understand that, in the long run, it means nothing. And that's why it bothers me that it bugs me like it does. But I can't help it. I wasn't the perfect husband, and I'm not the perfect father. But there is nothing in this universe more important to me than my kids. It's at the root of why I got divorced in the first place. So I simply can't fathom how this piece of shit can treat my son like a hobby. Like I treat this stupid fucking blog. I don't get it. I never will.

And so, I can't stand hearing my daughter call this motherfucker "Da-Da". And I hate that it bugs me in such a profound way. It really just makes me want to stomp on his head even more than I already did. So I sit here and admit to all of you (luckily, nobody reads this, so I don't have a whole lot to worry about) that I hate myself for wanting to stomp this motherfucker out for something as simple and ultimately meaningless as what my 3 year old daughter calls him. But that doesn't change the reality that I hate it, and him, on a level that I can't even properly explain.

And to think, I used to consider myself a writer.

Laziness as an Art Form

2009-09-14T00:11:00Z

Ya know, truth be told, after I realized that being a lawyer isn't all about arguing and making people cry on the stand (not to mention a whole lot more class time), I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up - for that matter, I'm almost 35 and I still don't. The only thing I did know is that I didn't want to go 100 grand or so in debt trying to find out. I had absolutely no intention of going to college after about the 7th grade. The rest of my scholastic "career" spoke directly to that decision. I repeated 8th grade (although, the school that held me back refused to take me back. That always makes me chuckle). In my junior year they changed the system to reduce the impact of exams on the final grade, thus destroying my "show up every couple of weeks, do nothing, ace the exams and end up with a D" strategy that had gotten me through high school to that point. I was going to fail 11th grade anyway when we all agreed that me parting ways with the Prince William County School System was really in the best interest of everyone involved. Except my parents. But, hey, I was 18 so they didn't really have a say in the matter. Walking out of school that last time, cigarette in hand, is still one of my favorite memories. Getting a 1380 on the SAT with a raging hangover a couple of months later (and mailing the results to my old principal) is on the list, too. Basically, for me, high school existed simply to annoy me. It's really just there to get you to college, and since I wasn't planning on going to college, it held absolutely no importance for me.

So I spent the majority of the next decade tossing sautee pans & liquor bottles and trying to convince myself that I was a writer. But the more I think about it, the more I think that I never really wanted to be a writer any more than I ever really wanted to be anything else. The idea of it just appealed to me. No set hours, you can do it from anywhere and if you're good enough, at some point people will convince themselves that you were some kind of god even if you just filled pages with broken sentence fragments and stilted dialogue while you drank yourself into a coma (Hi Ernie!). "Hell," I thought, "now there's a job I can get down with". Sadly, the complete lack of an attention span doomed that idea before it was even truly formed.

Anyway, today's assault on your brainpan is my attempt to explain my inherent sloth and apathy to the piece of paper I wrote it on. It even has a title!

When I was Young

I wanted to be a writer but I didn't have the words
I wanted to be a poet but I didn't have the soul
I wanted to be a rockstar but I didn't have the magic
I wanted to run forever but there's nowhere left to go

I wanted to be a lover but I didn't have the time
I wanted to be a fighter but I didn't have the balls
I wanted to be a genius but I didn't have the vision
I wanted to be a martyr but I couldn't find a cause

I wanted to be a hero but I never really cared
I wanted to be a leader but I couldn't play the part
I wanted to be alone but I couldn't lose the voices
I wanted to a savior but I didn't have the heart

Now, I know what you're thinking. "But, Nate," you say, "you obviously wanted to be so many things. It even says so in those twelve ridiculous lines." and I understand your confusion. Here's the explanation. I'm lazy. Sure, I've "wanted" to be many things in my life, but I've never wanted to be anything enough that I was actually willing to do something about it. It's just so much easier to lament my shortcomings in small word groupings that normally didn't even span a second page. Hell, as I've made plainly aware, I can't even maintain a proper blog. I work like a sherpa when there's a paycheck involved but thast work ethic has never carried over into the rest of life. I'm like an Ox in a way. Hook me up to the plow, and I'll work all day, but in my downtime I can be perfectly happy wandering around my pen, grazing and fucking. Although, I must admit, I can even be too lazy to bother with those two.

Go in peace.

Cuz who doesn't want to be a Rockstar?

2009-09-07T23:16:00Z

My son has a toy guitar that he's had for years and one day my 2 year old daughter handed it to me and picked up a little plastic hockey stick. She pointed at me and said "Agh!" so I started strumming. She leaned into the hockey stick in a full on Vedder pose and started howling. I couldn't believe that she was actually doing it, so I stopped strumming and she pointed at me again and yelled louder. I started again and she started signing again. It is one of my all time favorite moments to date. So now I have two guitars that I have to try and learn how to play. I mean, if she wants to be a Rockstar, Daddy's gonna do everything he can to help.

I've always said that Rockstar is the best job in the world (the top five rounds out at #2 - Cult Leader, #3 - NFL player, #4 - Actor and #5 - Dictator of a small Carribean island country). After all, name another profession where all of your natural, self-destructive tendencies are not only over-looked, but actively encouraged. Slap a groupie with a shark & trash a hotel room and people will think you're the greatest band ever, even if the only thing you have going for you is a world class guitarist and an obscenely long song about absolutely nothing.

Now, of course, I don't want my daughter to be that kind of Rockstar (I'm thinking Tori Amos without the obvious daddy issues), but I always wanted to be. As I got older and realized that the whole literary icon thing probably wasn't going to happen and my best friend (like every other brother, apparently) kept thinking he was gonna drop an album at some point in his 20's and liked to try and rope me into it, I started thinking about songs. Not that I have any kind of inate musical ability (or, as I'm sure you're coming to realize, any kind of creative spark at all that doesn't involve avoiding jail time), but hey, I can make shit rhyme as well as half the song writers populating the pop charts, so I thought "what the hell". Here, as far as I can remember, is the first song that I ever penned. I leave the music up to you.

I am the Outcast
The Loser
The Freak
Not like you
All of you
Your conformity would crush me

You look down on me
You look over me
You try not to look at me
As you insult me
Because I'm not like you
All of you
Your conformity would crush me

So I have a mind
So I have a soul
I never sold mine
To fit a role
What you see is me
I choose to be the freak

I never liked your rules
Or your games
Or you dramas
Or your fames
I'm not like you
All of you
Your conformity would crush me

But know this
I am stonger than you
I am smarter than you
Simply for the choice
Not to be you
All of you
Your conformity would crush me

Nothing like classic teenage angst coming from a 24 year old. And to be completely honest, I was never really an outcast. My jackass friends wouldn't let me be. They kept dragging me out to parties I didn't want to go to so I could hang out with people I didn't want to talk to. And a good number of the people I hated in the few hours I bothered to spend in high school, I ended up hanging out with in my vagabond restaurant years. I was a hell of a lot more judgemental than any of the "cool kids". It's hard to have a raging superiority complex and feel shunned at the same time. Oh, and I'm pretty sure this was a blatant Korn ripoff, but to slightly misquote TS Eliot "immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." So there ya go.

Booze: The Would-be Literary Lion's Best Friend

2009-09-03T23:57:00Z

In the wise, wise words of the immortal Mr. Bojangles, "I drinks a bit". In fact, there are good solid chunks of my 20's that live on in the fog banks of my memory. Scotch has long been my best friend in the world of spirits, but due to many reasons (mostly cost related) I have always spent the majority of my time with beer. I'm a fan. Beer, Scotch and Vodka were constant companions throughout my restaurant years.

I bring this up for really only one reason. It could help explain the next jumble of words I'm about to subject you to. Although, I must admit that it is a personal favorite. I even remember writing it, drunk, when the evening it chronicles finally ended. Grab a drink and enjoy.

The Dimestore Wisdom pours from my mouth
As the liquor pours from the bottle,
And I'm exactly where I like to be.
Wrapped up inside the Golden Buzz.
Still mostly aware
But at the same time, oblivious.
Just kind of drifting.
I'm drunk and amusing myself
(And everybody else, for that matter)
With tales of my escapades
And one-up games with the rest of the reformed fuckups.
And we're killing the time
And our minds
And it all seems a little surreal.
But I'm happy for a change
And who cares if I look like an idiot?
I'm not here for them anyway.
And they're definitely not here for me
It's just that nobody likes to drink alone,
It takes all the fun out of it.
"Another round!" we cry
As we delve into the history of time
And the meaning of life
(Not to mention who we'll end up with
When the lights come on)
And here I am again,
Searching for the profound.
I tend to get philosophical when I drink.
The answers may not be at the bottom of the bottle
But for me, at least
The questions sure as hell are.
But no time for that now!
There's a beer to be drunk
And a shot to be shot
And a very cute waitress to deliver it all.
"A whole hour til last call?"
So what if I have to work in the morning?
I'm talking Kerouac dammit!
And this blonde on the right might my next ex.
No, Tequila is not my friend
But I've been through Hell and back with Vodka
And we still talk.
Suddenly the place gets bright.
Time to go already?
What the hell, I've got Scotch at the house
And no sleep is better than a little.
Fundemental truth of life.
So the higher level drunks retire to my aboad
To continue the revelry
(And the blonde comes too).
And so we finish the evening right;
Blissfully, catatonically drunk as the sun comes up.
Work in two hours?
But I've still got beer
And half a bottle of single malt.
Fuck it, I've done it before.
One by one the drunks abandon me
For their homes or my floor
And I'm alone and drunk
And still amusing myself.
Screw work.

(Editor's note: This "poem" brought to you by the words And & So)

And that, Gentle Reader, is a pretty good summary of my early 20's. My liver thanks you for your support.

God Bless This Man!

2009-08-30T05:37:00Z

Turns out, not all Brits are poncy wankers. Who knew? But it's good to know that, not only am I not alone in my completely justifiable hatred of Paul David Hewson, but it also seems that a large portion of the land across the pond (and at least one lovable Aussie) share my bile for the loathesome mick. My only fear is that The Bono Army may have pulled some sort of black op on the author since the most recent post is almost a year old. That's almost as frightening as the "fan fiction" itself.

A Portait of the "Artist" as a Young Man, Part Deux....

2009-08-30T01:19:00Z

I suppose there's something to be said for introspection. It can be a good thing to take an honest look at yourself, sometimes. However, when you make a career out of it, it can get to be a little monotonous. Plus, you risk the possibility of becoming obnoxiously self-obsessed. Or of just simply tuning yourself out. Being that I've pretty much always been kind of legendarily narcissistic, self-obsession is just part of the package, but when you can't even hold a decent conversation with yourself, well, you've probably hit some kind of existential wall. Or something. I don't really know.

The point is, I spent a huge amount of my youth locked inside my own head. After all, I was supposed to be a god. I just couldn't figure out how to do it, and that bothered me. Anyway, I'm just warning you (all two of you) that while I torture you with my decade or so old ramblings, you will notice a theme. And it will almost surely annoy the shit out of you (hell, I wrote 'em, and it annoys the shit out of me). So, anyway, back to me at 22 (I think. Definitely 22 or 23. I do know that I was working at Red Robin at the time. Yeah, envy my life). You have been warned.

Coffee and words
And thoughts
I want to be Kerouac
Or Dylan
Or Steinbeck
But no
I'm me
Whatever the hell that is
Trying to keep my sanity
Through literary therapy
So much in my head
Wants to get out
Be heard
But I can't seem to get it right
It's never right
Just words on paper
I'm hoping for some dam to burst
And pour out profound floods
Through my pen
And I guess I'll just keep trying
And waiting

You're welcome. And feel free to bill me for the aspirin, I understand. See you soon, Gentle Reader.

You can blame my ex-wife

2009-08-26T05:04:00Z

    Years and years and years ago, I was convinced that I was going to be the next literary giant. A god. Hemmingway, Kerouac, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Eliot. I would be mentioned in the same breath as these men. I would be taught in schools hundreds of years after my death. I would, of course, be unappreciated in my time, but lauded post-mortem. This was simply what I was born for.

    Yeah, then I grew up. It's amazing how profound a 17 to 25ish-or-so year old can kid himself into thinking that anything he has to say hasn't already been said, better, hundreds of times before. My first glimpse of the reality of my unoriginality came while watching Carlin on HBO roughly a decade ago when my girlfriend at the time said something to the effect of "Holy shit, he's your real father, isn't he?". It really was like I was on stage. He was saying all of the shit I had said for years. And I never once bothered with Carlin before that night.

    That's when it first really occurred to me that nothing I have ever thought, said or felt, hasn't already been thought said or felt by god knows how many people. That's a crushing moment by the way. After all, I was convinced that I was supposed to be a god. I was clearly different than everybody else. I had insight dammit! Ah, youth. God bless it. Anyway, in the decade or so since my painful realization, I have come to discover that I'm really just your average hateful angry bastard. Nothing special. Just me.

    But, my ex-wife recently found a bunch of my old "poems" and thought that I might want to keep them for my daughter when she grows up and wants to know what daddy was like when he was young. I like to think that I haven't really changed much in the last 20 or so years, but looking at this stuff makes me realize just how much different I am in my 30's. It's actually kind of painful.

    So, in the interest of catharsis (and the fact that I'm obviously too lazy to keep up with this thing through any kind of regular circumstance) I have decided to dedicate this spot of the interwebz to my 17 to 25ish-or-so year old self's sometimes incoherent ramblings. Cause, after all, the world deserves to hear (read) my oh so important words.

    We start with one of my all-time favorites. There's nothing quite like a 22 year old under-achiever questioning his place in life. God help you all.

Am I really what I appear to be?
Am I really this self-destructive, Gen-X posterboy
I make myself out to be?
Is there depth beneath the surface?
Or is that all there is to me?
Am I fooling myself by thinking
I go beyond what I show?
Is the act really the truth?
Is there something behind
The image?
Or am I just another wasted mind
On a tired planet?       (Editor's note: Holy fucking cliche Batman! Wow. Just, wow)
Is the real reason I fight society
Because I know I'd fit in all too easily?
Or do I fight just to fight?
Am I really giving secret handshakes
The whole time I'm looking
Down my nose at humanity?
Am I really that much better than
The rest of them
Or do I just tell myself that
To keep my sanity?
Is the image real
Or just a reflection of my surroundings?
Should I honestly believe
That I posess some special insight
Into the rest of the world?
Do I honestly believe it?
Do these words I write really mean anything
In the end
Or am I just indulging myself?
If I stick to my guns
And keep fighting
Am I really going to be any better off
When it's all done?
If I saw god
Would I believe it's him?

    Yeah, that's right. Soak it in. I was so, like, deep and stuff. But have no fear, I have many, many more for you. And it just gets better. Til next time kiddies.

Fuck Vick

2009-07-28T08:18:07Z

That is all.

Even lazy bastards have to chime in occasionally

2009-06-17T20:30:00Z

I'm still here, I just don't really have anything to say. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, I offer you this little diversion:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuMWXhT5ewg

Enjoy. All two of you.

Blame it on the weird mood

2009-04-10T02:45:00Z

I love Ronald Reagan. I pray at his alter. I stood in line for six hours to walk past his casket for roughly 10 seconds. And I'm the guy who got out of line for Ramones tickets because I hate waiting like hippies hate bathing. Reagan and football are as close to religion as I come. I exalt the man and have my entire life. Ask any one of my friends, they'll tell you as much. I don't believe in god, but I believe in Reagan. I will until I die. Hell, Reagan was supposed to be my daughter's name until my brother stole it from me (and I married a rabid liberal). I worship the man.

All of that being said, if there is any one person in my life that I would truly want to emulate, it's Jimmy Carter. To all but a very few people, this, I believe, would probably come as a shock. But it's true.

I'm a facist. A social darwinist. I really don't give a shit about people I don't know. But I should. And that's the point.

I make a lot of jokes about Carter because it's easy. We've been raised to know that the Carter presidency was essentially a joke. The Vietnam hangover, the oil embargo, the hostages. The man inheriited issues that almost nobody under 35 could even begin to truly understand. And while I don't have the optimism that Carter seems to have had his entire life, I would really like to. I feel like we're supposed to.

I love a politician for being a politician. Honestly. It's part of the job to be at least half an ass. I don't have to believe in the man to appreciate him doing his job. Clinton is a perfect example. I was never a Clinton supporter, but I can say that he was the best pure politicain that ever held the office. And I'm ok with that. But Jimmy Carter is what we're supposed to aspire to. Sure it seems simplistic. But it's true. We're supposed to listen to our "better angels". And truth be told, Carter was more idealistic than Lincoln was on his best day. Name another American public figure that would have the balls to say that the Palestenians have been shafted from the get. It's not a popular view, but it's the god damned truth kids. And NOBODY of Carter's status has ever had the sack to say as much. At least not in my lifetime. The man has a fucking Nobel Peace Prize for fuck's sake. And there are people out there calling him anti-semetic just because he had the nuts to publically question the Israeli policies regarding the West Bank.

Seriously?

Okay, Sure, Palestine elected a Hamas government. And, yes, Carter purposely used the word "Apartheid" to churn up some dischord. But bear with me.

Now, I understand the arguments from the other side. I really do. If I had people blowing up school buses in my backyard, I'd be pissed off too. I'd be completely willing to blame everyone on the other side for the issue. Hell, I've got two kids, I'd be waging a holy war. But here's the thing: the U.S. and England essentially created Israel. We went into Palestine and said "Here ya go. Have a country." How is that OK? Wouldn't you be pissed off if somebody decided to give your back yard to a bunch of people you didn't know?

Don't forget that Carter got Israel and Egypt to shake hands. Sure, it got Saddat killed, but it's closer than anybody else has gotten. And maybe he should have known better, but he is lead by a true and pure optimism. The man truly believes that we are better than we've been. Aren't we all supposed to believe as much? And, fuck, I'm the most bitter, most pessimistic guy I know.

In a perfect world we'd all be liberal, but we live in this one. So I understand why we are where we are, but that doesn't mean that we aren't supposed to aspire to something better. And I guess, at the end of the day, that's the point.

Jimmy Carter 2.0!

2008-11-05T17:34:00Z

So, a few weeks ago I let it be known that I had decided to back Barrack Obama. Now, being the staunch facist that I am (not to mention an unabashed Reaganite) I ended up catching a lot of shit from people on both sides of the fence. The folks on the right accused me of selling out and jumping on the bandwagon (even though I've never called myself a Republican). One even said that he never thought the Obama hype machine would manage to scoop me up. Those on the other side said that I wasn't a true supporter and that I just hate losing.

Here's the truth. There are three reasons I chose to go with Obama. One, Johnny Mac turned his back on his life's work in the Senate, on his legacy as the Barry Goldwater Conservatism standard bearer and on every independent and moderate from both parties the day he went to Liberty. How can a man who spent his entire career fighting against the Fallwellians justify what was the equivalent of getting on his knees and sucking off Pat Robertson? I love politics for what it is, but I can't even swallow that one.

Second, while Sarah Palin did, indeed, energize the Republican base (which is what he was going for), they were going to vote for him anyway. And it was really just another hand job for the right. I, personally, don't care about her lack of experience. I just have never liked having Jesus that close to the Oval Office. Call me crazy, but I happen to be a fan of the Seperation of Church and State. And I hate Zealots. Any kind.

But, really, at the end of the day I backed Barrack for one reason above all else. Jimmy Carter. Stay with me, it's gonna take a minute, but it'll make sense by the end. In '68 this country had a chance to really learn something about itself. We could have elected McGovern. We could have gone with Hope and Change and all the warm fuzzy bullshit that came with it. But we elected Nixon instead. Why? I believe it's because when people stepped into that booth, they were suddenly hit with the reality of the situation. McGovern would have failed. He would have failed miserably. And no one wanted to see all that hope and good feeling go up in flames while he tried to reconcile himself with the fact that it simply wasn't going to work the way he wanted to. The way he sold it. We knew in '68, and then we forgot all about it in '76.

I love Jimmy Carter. I really do. He's a great man. He's an honest, caring, genuine man. He truly wanted to help this country and he believed that he could. And 52% (remember that number, we'll come back to it) of the voting public believed with him. And, of course, he was a legendary failure as president. Not because he didn't try, but because he was simply in over his head. The economy was shot. We just came out of Vietnam. To use his own words, there was a "great malaise" in this country (anything sound familiar yet?). He tried all kinds of things to make it better, he even shit-canned the entire cabinet to try and get some fresh ideas. A new approach. None of it worked, and he ended up ushering in the Reagan Era. And he, kind of unfairly, gets blamed for all of it.

Here's my point, the lesson we should have learned with McGovern and then put squarely on Carter's back is that when it's all said and done, it's not about Hope and Change and good feelings. It's about effectiveness. It's about getting the job done. And since I, truly and deeply, didn't see either McCain or Obama being able to do that, we might as well go with the biggest shock to the system. The biggest lesson.

If McCain wins and fails, what have we really learned? But if Barrack fails, oh my pretties, it won't matter that he had 240,000 people at his victory dance. It won't matter that we had record turn out amongst young and minority voters. He still fails. No amount of Hope will change that. And neither will the 52% (told ya we'd come back to it) of the voting public that believes with him.

So, to all of you that gave me shit for siding with Obama, you're right. I'm NOT a true supporter. I don't think he'll be a particularly good or effective president. But McCain wouldn't have been any better, and hopefully when Obama fails, we'll actually learn something.

Plus, it's just gonna be fun walking around for the next four years watching as reality slowly but surely seeps into people. Cheers!

Just in case you needed some clarity

2008-09-04T03:28:00Z

So I just watched the hottie VP nominee's speech. And, while part of me will always believe that Johnny Mac picked her because he really wants to bed her, I have to admit that I was impressed. She's money. She even made some truly sad talking points sound good. But that's not the reason I'm writing this.

The local news came on immediately afterwards, and in case you weren't watching, or just aren't from the DC metro area, an eight month old boy caught a bullet in the head because somebody felt the need to unload a few rounds into his father while he was putting him in the carseat. If there has ever been a more blatant example of why I am the man that I am, I can't think of it.

Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I've had a shit day and I'm just this side of drunk, but that doesn't invalidate this particular rant. I HATE people. There's a reason I'm a facist. And I'm not kidding. At all. In any way.

Who the fuck shoots a guy while he's holding his baby? I've got almost no true respect for life in general (although I am ridiculously protective of the few people I actually like). Hell I'm the guy that got drunk and dodged a train. Just to prove a point. But seriously, how fucked are you that you're that guy? An eight month old baby boy got a bullet in the head because somebody decided he had to buck up and be a BIG MAN? What the fuck?

The absolute worst case scenario is that the father did something worthy of getting shot 8 times and the shooter thought it'd be funny that his his baby was there too. The best case is that some retarded jackass got bored and didn't give a shit. And that's the world that we live in kids. Yet, people question me on my staunch belief in the death penalty (we don't use it nearly enough) and flat out Draconic law enforcement. And, again, I'm not kidding.

Wow. I just realized that I have ventured well past the other side of drunk at this point, so I'm going to leave it alone for now. But just in case there's somebody reading this that doesn't know me, again, I'm not kidding. At all. In any way.

The Road to Hell is a Metro Tunnel

2008-08-20T18:17:00Z

It's been roughly two years since I was a regular Metro commuter. My brief exile back to Da Bridge caused to me to finally get off my ass, get my license back and reaquaint myself with the automobile. Now that I've been something like 7 miles away from work for a year, I just can't justify paying 4ish bucks a gallon to save something like 15 minutes in travel time. Plus, the mile or so I have to walk back and forth to the station is the only thing resembling exercise I'm likely to get any time soon. So, hey, who cares if it's August in DC, it's a win/win.

Except....

I forgot the small issue of Other People. More to the point, I had managed to make myself forget how much Other People suck, especially when it comes to public transportation. Granted, if the all-seeing web is to be believed, we're better off than China,

Still, I hate the Metro. I hate it like Hippies hate bathing (pretty sure I stole that from somebody, but I'm gonna run with it anyway). In the course of a 28 minute ride from Downtown to Del Ray, I watched perfectly able-bodied men act like they didn't see the 60 something year old lady with the way too big bag who really would've liked to sit down. I saw a girl in her early 20's throw a hip check any defenseman would be proud of on an unfortunate guy who was obviously paying too much attention to his book as she made her mad break for the door. But, I have to say, by far my favorite of the ride was the the lady who blatantly tried to burrow into the the side of the car when the ghetto-fabulous chic sat down next to her. I haven't seen anybody that uncomfortable since the night I "relieved myself" on the lawn of the National Cathedral (when you can get worried, sideways glances from the participants of a bachelor party, you have have accomplished something my friends). While I generally enjoy people watching (as it lets me revel in my innate superiority), the Metro, truly, makes me want to choke people with their own Sudokus.

Someday, I'll be able to work from home.......

Irony

2008-08-06T04:45:00Z

Have you ever had the universe just flat out beat you over the head with something? It's an interesting feeling......

I'm Back Bitches!

2008-07-28T02:04:00Z

So I took a little time off. It happens. I am, after all, a lazy bastard. And though I never run out of shit to bitch about, typing requires effort. And let's be honest, those of you reading this have undoubtedly heard it all before.

But, anyway, to paraphrase Joey Knish (in other words, to blatantly rip off a throw-away line from "Rounders"), "In honor of Nate's, Ali-like return to the ring.." I offer you this marathon post of all the disjointed shit currently in my head. Enjoy.

First, I'm starting to believe that it's possible (just possible, mind you) that I may have been mistaken in my view of the state of politics in the good ole US of A these days. The more my former man crush turned unapologetic (and tragic) company man, The Senator Formerly Known as John McCain, busts his ass to court votes that are his by party virtue, the more I get the feeling that he's just lost his freakin' mind. Seriously, does his camp really think he needs to try and convince Republicans to vote for him? Nobody this side of the Buffalo Bills circles the wagons like the Republicans do (thank you Chris Berman). In my experience, the average Republican is exactly like my parents (who like to forget that they wanted no part of Dubya until he was the Nom. Now they have a signed, Contributor's Special pic of George and Laura hanging on the wall). It doesn't matter whether or not they really like their candidate, they're going to vote for him, regardless. Why does he think he needs to court the Busholytes?

My argument for pretty much my entire life has been that Republicans keep winning, based mostly on the fact that they know they're not necessarily the smartest one in the room (unlike your average Democrat, or self-righteous, narcissistic blogger), so they surround themselves with good people. McCain's campaign is seriously challenging that point of view. I would really like to talk to his team, just to figure out if it is really, physically possible to shove your head up your own ass. How can Republicans be so completely oblivious to their own kind?

Meanwhile, Obamaman is skipping across the continents, meeting with heads of state and shit like he's already in office. And, while we're on the subject, I don't care if you're running for president or not. A junior freaking senator has no fucking business making that trip. I don't care who it is. You're not on that level. That's like a kid from the JV touring A-list, D-1 colleges. How does this make sense?

And, while I like to believe that Johnny Mac's "Iraq/Pakistan border" quote is actually a deviously worded shot across the bow to Iran, the amount of quoted missteps the man has made so far is approaching Dubya status, and not in any way helping.

What it all really comes down to is this: Short of somebody I actually like (and that hasn't happened in my life as an adult) I will lean towards the better politician. And right now, Obama sure as hell seems to have that spot locked up. We might actually see the first black president next year. Ya gotta wonder what the high-ups in the Secret Service are thinking right now.

Second, it's finally over. The annual long, dark winter of the soul has officially come to an end. The Steelers reported to camp today, thus killing, yet again, NASCAR and the MLB's yearly stranglehold on the American sporting world. Thank you Baby Jesus.

Third, in case you haven't ventured into the world of The Anti DC, you should. While I'm pretty sure it would take me less than 5 minutes to piss off, and completely alienate the author (especially since I give not two shits about fashion), she does tend to be pretty fucking hilarious.

Fourth (yes, I am going to continue to number them all), what kind of a god kills River Phoenix and Heath Ledger, but lets Keanu Reeves go on making making movies? And who are the people in Hollywood who keep casting this jackass? Is he a Scientologist? Is it the same god that kills Stevie Ray Vaughn, Jim Morrison, Buddy Holly and Nick Drake, but let's the Crue, Poison and Ted Nugent tour forever? I'm very confused.

Fifth, since we're on the subject, why won't the Stones and Aerosmith fucking retire? Honestly, do Mick and Steven really think they're still in their 20's?

Okay, I guess I'm done for now, but I will be back. At some point. I promise.

Scenes From a Vacation

2008-04-24T23:22:55Z

I'm not really a vacation kinda guy. I tend to work myself to exhaustion, drink far too much and then collapse in a heap over a long weekend. I manage to pull this off fairly well, believe it or not. But since I have vacation time to burn off, I figure I might as well use it at some point. So, I took this week off. My original plans got nixed, and I as I tend to be exceedingly lazy in the off hours, I have spent my vacation doing pretty much nothing. It's actually kind of liberating.

I like having my daylight hours back. I spent my entire 20's in the restaurant business, and I got used to being off schedule from the rest of the world. I like waking up at 10 or so on a weekday, breaking out the bike for a ride, going to the driving range in the middle of the day, grabbing a table outside somewhere and killing the rest of the afternoon getting blissfully buzzed with a few friends. I like being able to take the dogs on a long walk, or let them run til they drop at the dog park. I like having extra time for my kids. Call me crazy.

The problem is, age and responsibility (all the Real Life horseshit) gets in the way of actually enjoying life. I don't hate my job or anything, but I've never really felt like I belong there. I wasn't made for an office. I'm ready to retire, but how do you retire in your early 30's? Groing up sucks.

Is it just me?

2008-04-10T03:56:44Z

Why are people so fucking ignorant? It's not that hard to educate yourself enough to form real, viable opinions about things. Really. Just a quick rundown of where I stand on a few things:

I'm pro-choice, but that should include the father also. Sorry, but it's his kid too.

Hands down, the two largest expenditures of any government (especially ours) should be education and military, in that order.

Most vice should be legal. Not only is it the biggest cash crop in the country, but you're a grownup. You can make your own decisions.

That being said, I also expect you to act like a grownup. To that effect, I also believe in draconic law enforcement. You want to sit in your room do meth/crack/whatever-the-fuck-else-they-come-up-with all day? Have a ball. But if you so much as roll a bum for 37 cents to fund your habit, I'm gonna put a bullet in your head.

Rape and molestation should be capital crimes. I don't care what kind of collar you wear.

Welfare is a scam. Get a job and I'll help you with child care. Hell I'll help you buy a car and make rent. Sit on your ass and you can rot.

It's not my job to help you, but I will bust my ass to if you're willing to bust yours.

What's the point of all this you ask yourself? Well you're by no means the first. But at this particular time, it's two-fold. Partly, it's a teaser to the Nate Dictatorship Manifesto (the new and improved version), but mostly it's because I'm fucking irritated right now.

See, I'm outside of my beloved beltway (which, by the way, I only ever realize is beloved when I leave it) and feeling completely out of place in a world that seems to move about 3 steps slower than I need it too. So, when Real Time came on the shitty motel TV, I was happy. I love Bill Maher. I don't agree with him most of the time, but at least he is one of the few that has the ability to judge a situation individually. Unfortunately, every now and then his panels are so obviously skewed that it's painful.

I like Esai Morales. I even like a lot of horribly bad movies he's been in. There are a few actors whose movies I'll watch just because I like them (for actresses, outside of Claire Danes and Jeanine Garofalo, it tends to fall along the "is she really hot enough to sit through this crap?" vein) and Morales is one of them. Has anyone else wasted their time on Rapa Nui? I didn't think so.

Anyway, if anyone this side of Bonophisto truly needs to shut up and just do their job, it's Esai Morales. Seriously, how can someone who obviously believes that the current administration is incompetent turn around and infer that they're also responsible for 9/11? Does logic just not matter to people at all anymore?

Anyway, I'm done ranting for now, but I have a challenge for the two of you that may be reading this (and by the way, you two could not be farther from each other on the political spectrum. It kinda makes me giggle). Comment with questions. Chances are, you know me well enough that you already know the answer, but if you happen to have stumbled in here by accident (most likely through Shannon's possibly ill-conceived link on Disaffected Scanner Jockey), I dare you to find a subject that I can't offer a sane, non-partisan opinion on. Just know that you're probably not going to agree with what I have to say.

Is it too early for a midlife crisis?

2008-04-04T02:07:05Z

Random Mutterings:

Dear God am I bored. Just a general, overall boredom(I'd use one of those fancy french terms for this particular state, but the only good the french ever gave us revolves around food and some oddly interesting porn)

I think I'm finally starting to understand Fight Club

Where's a better place to kill a few days drinking, Boston or Philly? I'm going to one of them, but I can't decide which. I love Philly, but I've never been to Boston. Philly's like 3 hours away. Boston is a journey

Eddie Izzard's fucking hilarious

I paid almost 100 grand more for my 500 and change square foot condo than my parents paid for the their 3 bedroom single family back in '89. This seems very wrong

looking around said condo, it occurs to me that I am a HORRIBLE impulse shopper

What ever happened to John Hughes movies?