El Juego.
Ya no juego.
.
El juego que juego
no es juego ni es divertido.
Sé que el que quiero jugar no se gana,
al menos no siendo quien he sido.
.
Yo ya no quiero jugar,
enséñenme la salida!
Jugar y jugar sin ganar
le consume a uno la vida.
There’s a Rag for that!
The new iRag!
You’ve seen the commercials for the Apple iPhone and iTouch, they present you with a very interesting, exciting, necessary or plain all cool thing to do and then they claim: “There’s an app for that!”.
“Say, you want to know the meaning of life…there’s an app for that!” You get the point. It always makes me chuckle and I don’t even know why.
I’ve always thought that the phrase was an Apple original but I’m thinking that I might have met the man behind the inspiration. I thought the encounter granted a story.
So, it’s no secret for a lot of you that I’ve hit a rough patch when it comes to work lately and, as it tends to be, it has impacted me financially as well. Since all I can afford is a “shared” place at this point, I started looking for “roommate-type” situations.
I found a place that is centric, new, clean and that has all the amenities a guy in my situation can want and I felt like my luck was turning. But if you know anything about my blogging style you already know that is not the case.
It turns out that I’m renting a room in a guest house in the back of a beautiful new home near Marina del Rey. I’m supposed to share the space with another “tenant” in the room next to mine. Upon moving day he emerged.
His name is Maury [pause for laughter] and yes, he is like you imagined a Maury to be. He’s a 75 years old Jewish guy from New York and not only that, he looks remarkably like the pedophile old geezer in “Family Guy”.
There's a RAG for that!
He took one look at me and said “Hummpf, let me give you the nickel tour young man”. I mean, NICKEL TOUR? Can you even imagine how old a reference that is? But I digress…”This is my room” he said, while swiftly closing the door and moving on to the “eating” area (as the place has no kitchen, just a microwave and a fridge) he continued: “If you make a mess, you are expected to clean it up” and I asked the logical question (given I didn’t see cleaning supplies anywhere): “What do I clean it up with?”
“THERE’S A RAG FOR THAT!” He replied. I chuckled.
The rest of the nickel tour was just as interesting and enlightening. “This is the laundry room area, if you make a mess….THERE’S A RAG FOR THAT!” The more he said it the more I got that church laugh (the type that feels inevitable but you know you shouldn’t let out) and he kept looking at me with baffled look on his wrinkled face.
Finally, we got to the bathroom (which we share) and he said: “You’ll notice that there’s nothing on the counter, if you spill any water on it…” “THERE’S A RAG FOR THAT!” I interrupted. He looked at me and frowned, shook his head for a second or two, came closer to me and in a very deep, more serious voice than he had been using he said:
“We’re going to get along. You’re the only one that gets it!” I chuckled again.
I better laugh at my situation, crying seems like the only other valid alternative.
Halloween’s got the church all pissed off
And Religion wants you too
I drive by a lot of churches when I’m out and about in my city. They always have these cute little signs to serve as “teasers” to incite people to come on over on Sunday and listen to “the word of God” coming out of the mouth of some guy.
The one time a year where these cute little messages of love, tolerance and hope (that they don’t practice), become nasty attacks almost in the form of political negative ads is during the “festivities of Halloween”.
Be afraid...be very afraid
Before I go on, let me set a couple of things straight. First, I couldn’t care less for Halloween and pretty much any other “holiday”. Second, I think ALL organized religion is a measure of control and no particular religion is exempt from my comments here.
So why does the church get all frazzled about the Halloween thing? Easy. THE CHURCH DOESN’T LIKE COMPETITION.
The saying: “It takes one to know one” applies perfectly here. You see, Halloween and the practices associated with it resemble (almost exactly) the practices of organized religion. As ridiculous as that sounds, I will do my best to explain.
I’m using the definition of Religion found on Wikipedia. Fragments of the definition will be in bold and italics.
[A religion is a system of human thought which usually includes a set of narratives, symbols, beliefs and practices that give meaning to the practitioner's experiences of life through reference to a higher power, deity or deities, or ultimate truth.]
Mommy, I'm scared.
Narratives: Scary stories, tales of witches, werewolves, vampires, living dead, etc.
Symbols: Witches, bats, carved pumpkins, the orange and black, etc.
Beliefs and Practices: Humans dress up as scary things to “repel” scary things. (Did you know that’s the significance of dressing up during this date?)
Higher Power, Deities: Ghosts, demons, witches, etc.
Experience of Life: Some people actually think that Halloween’s purpose is to get kids to not be scared.
[It may focus on specific supernatural, metaphysical, and moral claims about reality (the cosmos and human nature) which may yield a set of religious laws, ethics, and a particular lifestyle. Religion also encompasses ancestral or cultural traditions, writings, history, and mythology.]
When it comes to the subject matter, Halloween is right up to the church’s alley. Think about it, stories about vampires involve the drinking of blood, just like the Christian tradition of “drinking the blood” of Christ.
Stories about zombies involve beings that are being brought back from the dead just like Jesus and the people he performed ‘miracles’ for. Did you know that the church removed the word “undead” from the Bible when it referred to individuals that Jesus ‘Brought back from death’ such as Lazarus?
I can certainly go on for a long time pointing out the ‘supernatural and moral claims about reality’ present in the Halloween tradition (and in all churches) but the point here is to show the motive organized religion has to be so anti-Halloween. Just in case you were wondering.
The roof, the roof is on fire...
Most churches change their little sign to warn the parents as to the evils of letting kids participate in the pagan rituals of Halloween, others become more proactive and pass pamphlets around and devote their Saturday and Sunday sermons to scare the parents. I think all of that is fine, after all, they feel threatened and want to hold on to their base. Some others take it way too far.
The idiots from a Baptist Church in North Carolina will ‘celebrate’ Halloween by holding a “Bible Burning Party” where Bibles from other denominations (as well as any other EVIL book) will be tossed into the fire.
My conclusion is that Halloween is a stupid tradition, a waste of time and money, a collection of ridiculous mythology and stories that goes against any reasoning or science and that, once a year, probably does more harm than good…just like every other Religion does EVERY DAY!
Now excuse me while I take my kid around the neighborhood so he can get candy from strangers, be exposed to 138 types of Flu and then eat candy until he pukes. Who says religion is not dangerous?
Sexual deviations are a fun party topic
Write that 1000 times...
In psychology, Paraphilias refer to all sexual deviations. Lately, I have been liberally using the word VOYEUR (voyeurism is a paraphilia characterized by individuals getting aroused by watching other naked or performing sexual acts) to describe the way I have been living life for the past couple of months. I feel like someone that has been just observing life, although done attentively, it has been just observation, no real action.
Immersed in this insight, I started to think that it is possible to establish a parallelism between other Paraphilias and the way people face and live life. Here are some examples:
Sadist: [Obtains pleasure from inflicting pain on others.] Consider here your criminals, gangbangers, extortionists, con-artists and anyone else with no real regard for others’ suffering or pain.
Hurt me...please
Masochist: [The desire to suffer, be beaten, bound or otherwise humiliated.] You know the kind, the ones that always have a story of injustice that has been done unto them, the perennial victims and the drama queens.
Autagonistophilia: [Being on stage or on camera.] Your attention whores. The ones that need to be the object of people’s attention all the time, for example the stupid parents of “Balloon Boy”.
Autoerotic Asphyxiation: [Self-induced asphyxiation, sometimes to the point of near unconsciousness.] You know the type, your friend that’s always putting him/herself in dyer situations just so that he can miraculously pull him/herself out of them in the last possible minute.
Frotteurist: [Rubbing against a non-consenting person.] You know that guy in high school that wasn’t really your friend but he used to hang out around you all the time? Whatever you had would rub-off on him and he would use it to “survive”. Same thing with that person in the office that never really contributes to anything but is always taking credit for someone else’s labor…you know them well.
Mammaphiliac: [Aroused by breasts.] Basically, all men (and some women).
Fetishist: [Aroused by objects.] Materialists, people that are all about stuff and what they can have.
Zoophiliac: [Aroused by animals.] Oh, I hate these ones and you probably do too. Member of PETA but has absolutely no regard for the humans around them. The type that complains about President Obama killing a fly but hasn’t called their own mother in 15 years.
Ursusagalmatophiliac: [Aroused by Teddy Bears.] Actually, I couldn’t think of a parallel for this one but it was just too damned good to not mention!
I like to watch
Voyeur: [Enjoys watching other naked or performing sexual acts without participating.] Like I have been, just an observer of life, someone that watches everything but doesn’t really do much. It’s sad but true. As clever as I seem to be, I have been doing NOTHING for myself or my life lately.
Discovering oneself as a recovering voyeur is not fun but it is the first step on the way to recovery.
I think that since I’m creating parallels, I might as well go all the way (pun intended). When it comes to life, one can choose to be any of the Paraphilias but I think I chose wrong. I left one important paraphilia out of my list.
Sex Addict: [Can never satisfy his/her sexual desire. Always wants more.] Who knew that when it comes to life, this seems to be the most sensible choice? I want to be a sex addict for life! I should always want more of it, I should never be satisfied just with what I have gotten so far, I should always be out there looking for new experiences and more of what life has to offer.
I know it’s a bit of an extreme conclusion but I think it needs to be. I am a sex addict for life!
Little bag o'tricks
For a list of other interesting Paraphilias, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_paraphilias
La vida es loca y la muerte…apática
Christian Poveda y sus sujetos
Christian Poveda, periodista Ibero-francés que escribió y dirigió el documental “La Vida Loca” (2008) murió en El Salvador ayer por la tarde, muy probablemente a las manos de las mismas personas a quienes dedicaba toda su atención y su tiempo.
Durante las pasadas 24 horas he escuchado y leído las más variadas opiniones sobre la situación de violencia en el país, las maras o pandillas, periodismo y hasta una que otra opinión que en mucho sonaba como “el se lo buscó”, refiriéndose al periodista Poveda y su interés por exponer al mundo el siniestro ambiente de las maras en El Salvador.
Ya mucho se escribió ya sobre casi todos esos temas y trataré de no repetir ideas ya conocidas sobre esos tópicos. Lo que si voy a tratar, antes de pasar a el tema que ocupará mi blog el día de hoy, es esa noción ridícula de que Christian Poveda “se lo buscó” por andar “metido con las maras”.
Incomprendido o Incomprensible?
“Metido con las maras”….lo dicen como con desprecio, como que Poveda hubiese sido parte de la “organización” y no un periodista estudiándola para el beneficio de todos los que no se atreverían a hacerlo. Y que no se entienda mal, Poveda no era uno de esos que anda queriendo que la sociedad acepte y entienda a los mareros “incomprendidos”, de hecho, su opinión –misma que yo comparto- era que “El Salvador es el ejemplo para el mundo de todo lo que no hay que hacer en el tema de la violencia.” Y era por eso que había enfocado su trabajo en el hervidero de violencia más grande que hay en el país.
Brevemente diré que los periodistas son gente valiente, osada y a veces descuidada. Yo vengo del mundo de la Medicina donde los valiente-osado-descuidados también abundan y son por lo general, los que hacen la mayor diferencia cuando realmente cuenta. Tristemente, parece que los periodistas tienen el mismo karma. Si de algo se le puede “acusar” a Poveda es de ser uno de esos que hacen la diferencia.
Lo que me ocupa en este post es la violencia y la criminalidad en El Salvador. En la coyuntura actual, a muchos les sobran las justificaciones para explicar estos fenómenos, la gente habla de que la violencia es producto de años de conflicto armado, la mala economía, la injusticia social y un sinfín de explicaciones y justificaciones de porque somos una sociedad que parece ser cada día más peligrosa.
Somos testigos silentes?
El punto es que nos guste o no, los seres humanos enfrentamos una elección de carácter ontológico. Momento a momento elegimos como vamos a ser, en que nos vamos a involucrar, que intereses vamos a servir e incluso cuanto le vamos a permitir a nuestras “experiencias pasadas” influenciar nuestro diario vivir.
Es fácil estar de acuerdo en que esta regla de ontología (estudio del ser) aplica perfectamente a los delincuentes en cuestión, pero es una proposición un poco más escabrosa cuando debemos aplicarla a nosotros mismos, los auto-denominados observadores (y a veces víctimas) de la situación de criminalidad.
Es ahí donde yo creo que está el problema. El conformismo y la apatía (rehusar hacer una elección responsable) que demostramos en el día a día de la nación, es en mi opinión, campo fértil para todo lo que decimos aborrecer: corrupción, violencia, criminalidad, injusticia, etc. El universo detesta los vacíos y los espacios vacantes que se crean por nuestra desidia se llenan rápidamente con antagonistas naturales de la acción como son la ignorancia y la destrucción.
Yo creo que si dejamos de tener esa mentalidad de “pero al menos estamos vivos” o “que sea la voluntad de Dios” que algunos Salvadoreños tenemos, el siguiente paso será naturalmente tomar acciones para que la responsabilidad de nuestras vidas sea, quizás por primera vez, nuestra.
Lo que le pasó a Poveda no le paso porque andaba con mareros todo el tiempo, le pasó porque en El Salvador hay casi 6 millones de observadores inmóviles e irresponsables y porque los únicos que están tomando acción alguna son los que actúan con violencia y desprecio por la vida.
Delinquente por omisión
Yo creo que ya es tiempo que “encomendarse a Dios” no sea la única actividad de Los Salvadoreños y denunciar la violencia, no permitir la mediocridad y la dejadez, abandonar la doble moral, exigir calidad de vida, no tolerar la injusticia y sobre todo dejar de cubrirnos las espaldas mutuamente cuando alguien hace algo éticamente cuestionable, debe ser la nueva faena de los Guanacos que tanta fama de trabajadores tenemos. Parece que ya dormimos bastante sobre esos laureles y se nos empieza a ver ceñida la cara.
Si se piensa con objetividad y con un poquito de conciencia, todos los hechos que se denuncian a diario en los noticieros (y los centenares que no se denuncian) son tanto producto de las acciones de algunos como lo son de las omisiones de todos.
Todas las abuelitas lo decían siempre y por buenas razones: “A Dios rogando y con el mazo dando”. ¿Será que después de tantos años, podemos empezar a “hacer caso”?
Una obra maestra me enamora
Belleza natural
Hay una obra de Vincent Van Gogh llamada “Barcos de Pesca” que me hipnotiza, siempre lo hizo. En una ocasión fui a verla a una exhibición itinerante y no podía dejar de verla, la contemplé por horas. Además de causarme una emoción que si no me conociera tan bien, fácilmente pude haber confundido con alegría, también me causo un nerviosismo intenso, del tipo que tiene uno a los 13 años cuando ve a la niña que le gusta cuando viene en camino directo a hablarte.
Hay muchas obras de Van Gogh que los críticos consideran mejores, mas profesionales, mas pulidas e incluso se atreven a decir que mas bellas. Yo me declaro respetuosamente en desacuerdo.
Creo que el arte, como la vida, esta hecho a la medida de quien la observa (o la vive) y cualquier cosa que no funcione o que disguste, termina dependiendo nada mas de las “construcciones mentales” del que observa. La pieza de arte es perfecta tal y como es, cada trazo, cada pincelada esta donde debe estar y no debería estar en ningún otro lugar. La perfección no es un tema de comparación sino que uno de pureza (algo no contaminado, creado tal y como debe ser)
Como es algo tan presente, tan disponible, tan imposible de ignorar, a algunos les llamara la atención por un par de minutos, a otros les capturara hasta obligarles a decir: “Gorgeous!” pero a algunos de nosotros, los más sensibles a ese tipo de belleza tan clara, tan “natural” así como lo soy yo, a nosotros nos cautivara hasta regalarnos una locura de la que no queremos salir, un delirio que se disfruta mas que cualquier droga, una manía que vence cualquier depresión, es decir, un verdadero amor.
Yo ya conocía “Barcos de Pesca” desde que tenia como 17 o 18 años y aún entonces me gustaba mucho, pero reencontrarme con ella muchos años después en esa exhibición, donde menos lo esperaba, resulto en una emoción incontenible donde toda razón resultaba irrelevante y donde mis emociones eran inexorables.
Cuando tuve que despedirme de la obra, me sentí triste, como que perdía una parte de mí que se quedaba con Van Gogh y su espíritu que viven en el primer barco. Confieso que me conmoví hasta las lágrimas. Así lo hice, cada uno de los subsecuentes días en que repetí mi ritual de observación, contemplación, enamoramiento y triste despedida.
Aun con la tristeza por dentro, sonreía. Porque ya vivía en el futuro del día siguiente cuando podría sentarme frente a ella y contemplarla de nuevo.
Dicen que el arte esta en los ojos del observador. Porque me encanta esta obra en particular, concluyo: ¡Que buen gusto tengo!
Quentin Tarantino is a bad speller and even worse historian
Inglorious Filmmakers
But the guy can make one kick ass film.
I know what you’re thinking: “All Tarantino Movies are the same: lots of retro-references, tons of gratuitous violence, one or two catchy songs, a come-from-nowhere sex scene and one or two headliners as actors”.
Well, about Inglorious Basterds, you would be right. Now, obviously to have the aforementioned qualifiers would make Mr. Tarantino’s work BAD for some people and GOOD for some others.
Well I happen to like his films (some would say a little too much) but what I saw today surpassed my expectations in a very good way. The Tarantino trademarks (as I call them) were all there but there was a maturity to the film that I knew would arrive some day. I began pick up on this evolution upon seeing Jackie Brown, but then lost it watching the Kill Bill saga.
I think the maturity is back and if there’s any fairness in the movie-making world, QT will start being recognized as a serious director and artist after the Basterds. .
Nazi Basterds
Inglorious Basterds is a period piece set during the Nazi occupation of France and because of the way that Tarantino and his crew treated it and shot it, you will never lose track of the setting of the film. Most people know that the main difficulty with period pieces is to keep the viewer engaged and believing they’re watching something that took place may years ago but the film overcomes this obstacle with ease.
The intertwining of story lines and characters and the Chapter separation are also a Q-trademark but treated with a lot more seriousness and with (dare I say it?) a more grown-up perspective. It is not bestowed upon the viewer to keep track of the story this time (although I enjoy that) instead, the story is fluid and coherent, it is placed inside your brain with simplicity and straightforwardness. When it comes to the writing, I would say that Jackie Brown remains the queen but the Basterds are not too far behind.
The biggest basterd
There’s also the comedy. Quentin’s sense of humor is dark and exotic in all his films, (some may even call it a little ‘manic’) but the Basterds gave him an opportunity to write funnies more than showing them, this accounted for some cleverly written stuff. While I feel like my brain is going to melt for saying this, Brad Pitt is actually really good in the film and his character Aldo, is one of the funniest.
The Tarantino “rules” have been broken, well some of them at least. Remember the time when no music would be used in a QT film without an identifiable source (i.e car stereo or jukebox), well those days are gone but the catchy, unexpected (even apparently misplaced) tunes are very much still there.
The director’s use of subtitles (as well as non-conspicuous lines that EXPLAIN why the character is about to speak English instead of the language they should be speaking) is another trademark, but it is one of my favorites, think about it, when watching a film, you the viewer, are in charge of the sub-titles and captions, when an important character appears on screen, you automatically go: “Ah, that’s so and so and he is the butler”; Mr. Tarantino does that for you in a very dramatic sort of way. Some people find that annoying. I find people that think that annoying.
Crazy hair
In summary, Inglorious Basterds is a very well made film, absolutely worth the time and effort to watch and more importantly, in my opinion, an opportunity to re-discover Quentin Tarantino as an artist. For the ones that love his work, a pleasant experience of growth and for the ones that dislike him, an occasion for a second chance. The ones more benefited by the latest Tarantino iteration are the ones that don’t have an opinion of him as a Director, as they will become members of the “like him” group after watching this movie.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot, the gratuitous violence. Deal with it! The world is full of gratuitous violence (the real kind) and if you only want to see bunnies and rainbows you are in the wrong planet (or at least living among the wrong species).
Inglorious Basterds rocks! Go see it.
Political Correctness is Hypocrisy
I’ve been always fascinated by language. I don’t mean English, Spanish or German; I mean the ability human beings have to interpret sounds and communicate with them.
Ever since I was a child I’ve been troubling the people in my life with my questions and with the insistence on them being answered in a way that is satisfactory to me. The most recurrent of those questions has to do with language.
Whenever I think about the topic I cannot but reminisce about a specific event. I was around 5 or 6 and my best friend and neighbor suggested for us to jump from the second floor using umbrellas to “gently glide” onto the ground. So I called him an IDIOT and started to pick up my toys to leave. To my surprise, little Manolito started crying his eyes out, ran inside, told his mom what I had said, the lady told my mom and I ended up in deep trouble.
Now, even for my fast expanding brain that whole thing happened way too fast. Let’s recapitulate, my friend wants to do something that 99.9% of parents would agree is IDIOTIC (the ones that won’t, are IDIOTS indeed) and because I stated the “obviousness of the truth” (from the Matrix) I got in trouble. Wow, it is still unclear, isn’t it?
So here’s the kicker, it turns out that Manolito, my dear, dear friend suffered from mental retardation and I didn’t know. Things begin to clarify. Needless to say Manolito’s mom never let me play with him again.
My mom was angry at first but then she realized that I didn’t see Manolito as my “little retarded friend” I just saw him as my friend and when he did something idiotic I called him on it. So now my mom’s in a pickle, should she tell me that it’s not ok to call people that suffer from mental retardation Idiots or that the word Idiot is a “bad word” and shouldn’t be used at all? I can see her dilemma, can you?
Regrettably for my mom, she tried telling me about “good words” and “bad words”. She would have been way better off telling me about “understanding your audience”. You see where this is going, right? So, here’s the question that NOBODY has been able to answer satisfactorily to me: Should I say what I mean or what’s accepted by others?
Let me elaborate.
I think that people that seem obsessed with political correctness are at least one of the following: intolerant, racist, sexist, violent, homophobic and/or discriminatory.
Hey! You shouldn't say that!
It is my belief that if someone has to stop him/herself from saying something, they are being inauthentic when they substitute the word they really want to use with another more “socially acceptable”. Additionally, the word that they wanted to use originally is the one that truly represents their feelings, world view, culture and even their intentions.
I don’t use certain words because they simply don’t reflect my view not because I’m abstaining myself from saying something I want to say. But I like to think that people will grant me that I’m adult enough to choose my own damn words correctly. I have to use an example to illustrate this point.
You see, I DON’T call black people the “N-word” (I’m using this substitute not because the word is “bad” but because I don’t want a bunch of IDIOTS from the KKK reading my blog because of their Google searches, clear?) not because I prevent myself from using it. I don’t call them that, because the word reflects a world view that I don’t share. The exact same phenomenon happens with not calling Hispanics SPICS or any of the other qualifiers that all these people that are obsessed with political correctness trained themselves not to use, except of course, in the privacy of their own homes.
I don’t call people with mental disability RETARDED not because I don’t want to look bad in front of my rich friends but because I think the word is misapplied (retarded would refer to the person and not to their mental age in relationship to a statistical standard). I don’t call my Homosexual friends FAGS not because I’m nice, but because I don’t understand that that word fucking means, but I do call them GAY (adj. having or showing a merry, lively mood) because I find it very fitting.
I have been known to use the term RED-NECK from time to time (well, maybe a lot) and I’m not afraid to say it. How I interpret the phrase (is not a word) is as a cultural denominator. I think that Bill Engvall illustrates the point way better than I can in his “Blue Collar Comedy Tour” when he does his routine “You’re a Red-neck if you…” I happen to think that the term is not at all inspired by race but by the ignorant behavior it represents. I’m sure that if you look hard enough you can find a lot of Hispanic, black, Asian and Polish Red-Necks out there.
Hi! Look at this
I WANT the people that use racial epithets to use them, I WANT the people that use “gay-slurs” to continue using them, I WANT all the religious extremists to continue to “offend” their counterparts. How else would I know what people really think, and maybe more importantly, who they are?
By now you’re asking yourself: Well, if everybody starts saying what they think wouldn’t that incite violence and war?
Well, it shouldn’t. If someone calls me a SPIC and I punch him in the face, I belong in jail and he belongs back at home with the rest of the red-necks. Words are powerful not because they carry any power, words are powerful because we use them as vehicles for our power.
I assert that very similar claims can be made in reference to the “vulgar” or “obscene” words that have been banned from American television and radio (and apparently every day life).
You will pay a heavy fine, in the U.S. today, if you speak any of the Seven Forbidden Words on radio or television–shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits. [Are you offended yet?]
Who made them “obscene”? Why are they “offensive”? I really wish I could find someone who’s never used this words (not even inside his head) and ask them why are these words offensive, or IF they are.
As Mr. George Carlin pointed out in the comedy routine which led the Supreme Court to perform their even more remarkable comedy routine of banning WORDS, fucking seems one of the most common topics on television, even though nobody uses the word. To paraphrase Mr. Carlin, many guests on the Merv Griffin and Donahue shows have written books on how to fuck or who to fuck or how to fuck better, and nobody objects as long as they say “sexual intercourse” instead of “fucking.”
Almost identical things can be said about the other words in the list. But television is one thing and real life is another.
I’m an avid user of several, if not all, the words on that list and I think there’s a place and time for all of them.
While I’ve always been somewhat known for my unabridged use of ALL the words in language, lately I find myself being criticized by my use of some words from this list (and some others as well) and I really don’t understand it.
Same point, if I call someone a DIMWIT (n. Slang A stupid person) is because I wanted to use that specific word instead of using FUCKING IDIOT, one that is reserved for bigger and more “important” characters. Believe it or not, I put a conscious effort into using words that I understand and almost never use them by accident.
So if the conversation calls for FUCK SHIT PISS, why would I say Intercourse, excrement, urine? Do they communicate the same thing? Say you bump your head on a low-hanging branch and then you scream FECES! At the top of your lungs…did it communicate your intent?
Unnecesary censorship
I’m just saying…don’t get hung up on my words, If I say a word that catches your attention, have the courtesy of assuming I intended to use it, I know the meaning of it and I’m of legal age to be saying such things. After you have done all that, establish your judgment of me and my “values” that you were going to establish anyway.
Here are a couple of things to consider:
- If the word fuck is obscene or “dirty”, why isn’t the word duck 75% “dirty”? (Use the same logic with cunt and punt)
- What’s the difference between a playboy’s centerfold and a nude Renoir?
- In the 1950s, the film “The Moon Is Blue,” became a center of controversy and actually got banned in some cities because it contained the word “virgin.” How does this seem in retrospect?
My wish is that you fully understand that words are just vehicles. That we have way bigger fish to fry than to try to correct and regulate each other into being a “peaceful” society where nobody ever loses their temper or uses an “insulting” word. Bunnies and rainbows are nice but the real world contains a lot more objects than that and certainly some of them require “bad words” to describe them.
Try it. Call me an asshole. That’s a good start.
Surprise! I DON’T HAVE MY SHIT TOGETHER
This guy looks like I feel.
I’m going to be honest and authentic…for a change. (I apologize in advance about some of the language, it is intended for applying emphasis where I have failed otherwise)
The last few months have been some of the hardest of my life. I’ve been “semi-secretly” working at it making sure I don’t ask for help or anything “embarrassing” like that and have been just trying to get everything “handled” by myself.
The sad fact is: I DON’T HAVE MY SHIT TOGETHER.
I’m sad, uncertain, scared and definitely feeling pretty lonely.
To summarize, over the past few months, most of the things that compose someone’s life have been falling apart for me (or at least pretty fucking realistically looks like that). There is a big personal issue (that I will share privately with close friends) and there’s the fact that I’m being laid off (see…Friends and Business don’t mix) while not having anything planned out or lined up to replace my work or my income.
While I was dealing with these two major issues (on anyone’s book) I get hit with the latest. My mom, this very successful, strong, independent, business-owner and creator, self-reliant woman, has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.
Needless to say, my first thought was, “Oh god, she’s so not the type of person who should get a chronic, debilitating disease!” my immediate next thought was: “When is this shit storm going to end?”
Was I lacking excitement in my life? I thought not. I used to like my partially contained boredom; I used to like my moderately lame baseline.
Here’s my perception of life right now: IT SUCKS BALLS! Now, mind you, it is a perception and I have been trying (sometimes unsuccessfully) to continue to relate to it as such, but I tell you, from where I stand…I can hear the sucking noises.
It is my intention to break out of my selfishness and arrogance and I am now officially ASKING FOR HELP. This might not be a novel concept for you, but it is definitely new for me.
If you are reading this post, I’m talking to you. If you know of someone needing an upper/middle manager (specially in the medical arena) with a lot of experience in implementing company growth, please talk to them about me and if you know of a really good resource for Parkinson’s support, please let me know about it.
I have been interested to see as I share about this, how most of the responses I’ve gotten have been from people that I have met recently (and some I haven’t met) and almost none from the group I consider to be of my closest friends. I’m not blaming them, this phenomena has a logical explanation.
When things are bad, I always turn things off. I economize on my sharing myself, talking to friends, asking for favors or help…like if one could save those things for “later” when things get really bad. What ends up happening is that I end up so isolated and closed in, that when I finally try to reach out, often there’s not much to reach out to.
For an arrogant bastard like me, not knowing what to do is like dying a slow, painful death.
I will continue to look and see how I can turn this into the “learning” experience or the “opportunity” everyone tells me it is but in the meantime I would like to acknowledge once more…I DON’T HAVE MY SHIT TOGETHER, I just work really really hard at looking like I do. I’m done doing that…until next time.
Open letter to my son, from his novice dad.
Dear Christopher-O,
Today is father’s day. I know it’s a new thing for you, because this is the first year that this day comes around and you have your own new little social network at school. It is to be expected that they said to you: “This Sunday, you have to be extra good with daddy because it is his day” and, like you do with everything else, you questioned it; you thought it through and decided to participate full on.
Going: "Dad, I said no pictures!"
But I have to tell you, there’s nothing you need to do this father’s day, or any other day, for that matter, to be “extra good”. The one that needs to put some “extra” effort is me.
Everything you do comes from the purity that just a young, unabridged life can produce. Why would I want you to do anything differently? For me, in the other hand, there’s plenty of room for improvement.
I will use this, the only real public outlet I have to make you a promise, the kind of promise that drives a lifetime and the only kind of promise that you deserve.
I promise, from now on, to give always a little more than I think is possible to give, to listen more carefully, to attend to your needs and not what I think your needs are, to play with you because it’s fun and not because I think we need play time together, to teach you what I know without expecting you to care about it just because I say so, to earn your trust and not to expect it gratuitously, to embrace your energy and beautiful personality and not to repress it and to do my very best, to lead a life you can be proud of.
I promise to be EXTRA GOOD from now on.
Love accross generations...
I know you are too small to understand some of these words (are you?) but I certainly expect for you to understand that while I have done my best all these years, it is clear to me that you always deserved more.
In our life together there will be difficult times, I know that there are circumstances that you already question and don’t understand but it is during these complex times, when you are even more important to me and I would die before letting any harm come to you. I’m eternally sorry for the mistakes I have made so far. I will continue to make it up to you, even if it means letting your son ride on my back for days on end.
As I’m sure you have noticed, there are a lot of things I don’t know how to do. Being a father on father’s day is just another one of those new things for me. I don’t even have the experience of being a son during father’s day. My only memories of father’s day involve people around me trying not to speak of the subject and, towards the end of the day, my mom giving me a big hug (the kind you give someone when they’re sad) and saying something like: “It’s just the two of us, I’m your mom and your dad”.
To conclude, I promise you will never have that kind of hug during father’s day, nobody will ever say to you: “I’m your father” (not even Darth Vader) or “I have been your father” or any of the substitutes of you telling me: “Daddy, happy fathers day” just like you have been doing almost everyday of the past week and just like you did 5 minutes ago.
Always explaining something
I’ve cried like a baby writing this letter, not because I’m sad but because it is clear to me how much you deserve and how small I am in comparison to the task at hand. I promise to grow to the appropriate size before you have kids of your own.
I love you,
Your novice dad
P.S. None of this means you get ALL the toys you want ALL the time, ok?
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