I have concluded that I am most likely to die in one of three ways. Two of those are heart attack or stroke. And given my ire at the moment, it may happen before I finish typing.
I watched Glenn Beck's segment on the "Perfect Day" last night http://archives.subscribermail.com/msg/2720e942b8bb417dbb9587e96237120b.htm and am sickened by the horrors at Beslan. Intelligence sources are indicating now that a worse version of Beslan is to come in the USA. Teenage girls were raped with gun barrels. Mothers were forced to cool and hydrate their children with urine as they endured days of 100 degree plus temperatures and madmen strung bombs over their heads in the name of Allah. At the risk of angering the real God whom I have never associated with Allah or any other false-deity (hey, it's MY blog and I can say what I want), I'm sick to death of Allah and his crony Muhammad and the zealots who think they are acting on their behalf.
There are lots of "religious wars" in the old testament, but nowhere will you find rape and torture as being endorsed by God. Like those who riot by burning cars and houses and stores in their own neighborhood for perceived injustices, I fail to see how these Islamofacsists can think that their actions are helping their cause.
First, they attack our country on 9/11. Then they whine when they get profiled in society. And then they plan to attack again and use our retaliation as their justification for doing so. Huh??? That's like taunting a dog, getting your hand chewed off, then blaming the dog.
It's odd to me that we don't hear of Christians or Jews or Buddhists or atheists attacking the infidels of their respective faiths. How sad that even the godless know better than the Allah-freaks. From time to time, there may be the rogue who carries out an attack, but it's not a global scale jihad. It's a zealot who usually ends up getting himself killed or convicted or both.
The saddest aspect of this is how we've let political correctness frame our everyday life. This link is to a mock-up of stories that may have been written had we foiled the 9/11 attacks. They are alarmingly too true. http://www.theneweditor.com/index.php?/archives/816-What-If-The-September-11-Attack-Was-Thwarted.html
We've all but forgotten the pain and the patriotism that followed after 9/11. Need we incur another loss of even greater proportion for our memories to remain clear?
Pay attention. It's coming.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I Lub Dis Kuntree
Well, I can say that I don't care, but somehow I still have a glimmer of idealism within me that says "you cannot give up." I hate that about myself.
This all might seem a little disjointed as you read it, but trust me that there is a point.
First, all my ranting the other day about Disney and the images that they cast for us has yet again been personified this week. The High School Musical starlet who admitted to nude photos of her being real has likely lost her career as an HSM actress. As a role model for young girls, I tend to agree with Disney's stance. Even IF the photos were intended solely for her HSM2 boyfriend, it was a bad idea to take them. Furthermore, it certainly implies that he would be interested in seeing such photos, so should he not suffer the same fate as her? Or is there a double-standard at Disney? Gee, that'd be a first. Then, Britney surfaces again at the VMAs in what amounted to a train-wreck performance. What amazed me is all the people that ridiculed her for being "fat." She was not fat. Countless moms would kill to have her figure, albeit less svelte than before dropping two kids. The outfit was skanky and her performance would have bored nursing home residents, but she was not fat. To suggest that she was yet again tells young girls that you have to be scrawny like an Olsen twin to be attractive. http://omg.yahoo.com/is-it-fair-to-savage-britneys-figure/news/2324
This weekend, whilst grocery shopping amongst carnies and hordes of illegals, I noticed two older folks in VFW T-shirts. I thought aloud to myself, "isn't that redundant"? After all, the last domestic war we fought was in the 1860s. Every war since then has been "foreign." So Veterans of War would be aptly descriptive. However, that observation may prove itself to be short-lived as we re-mourn the loss of life that is marked by the 6th anniversary of 9/11/01. Not just those who died that day in planes and buildings, but those who died later from lung diseases and injuries from rescue accidents and the soldiers who have died fighting a war against a largely faceless enemy. Radical Islam wants us dead as much as ever and there's evidence to suggest that they are now willing to kill up to two million American children to bring that war to our streets and homes. Those who think 9/11 was bad will consider it a mere preamble to the mayhem that will ensue should terror strike at the heart of this nation. Hell hath no fury like parents torn from their young.
A whole new kind of witch hunt will follow; and those who practice the so-called peaceful sort of Islam and those who are its mouthpiece (e.g., CAIR) should take note. Unlike many other nations, the people of this one are armed. And in the heartland and the rural areas across this land, there are plenty who would not think twice about profiling. I've seen too many "terrorist hunting permits" on pick-up trucks to think that there will not be more than a few pissed off rednecks. If you think public lynchings are ancient history, think again. Let one hair of an American child be harmed in the name of Allah, and lynchings will likely be the better way to go.
Radical extremism brought this war to our soil; radical Islam will cement America's fury. Today, we worry again with the things of 9/10/01 like what Britney is wearing (or not wearing) and how a Disney star revealed that she is indeed human. And to any doubters, also female. A few of us are remembering 9/11/01 with services and flags at half mast.
But dare I say that the sleeping giant is groggy again. Yet when (not IF) we are attacked again, it will not be pretty. And all bets will be off. Six years of being told how we need to seek to understand these disenfranchised souls has taken it's toll.
This all might seem a little disjointed as you read it, but trust me that there is a point.
First, all my ranting the other day about Disney and the images that they cast for us has yet again been personified this week. The High School Musical starlet who admitted to nude photos of her being real has likely lost her career as an HSM actress. As a role model for young girls, I tend to agree with Disney's stance. Even IF the photos were intended solely for her HSM2 boyfriend, it was a bad idea to take them. Furthermore, it certainly implies that he would be interested in seeing such photos, so should he not suffer the same fate as her? Or is there a double-standard at Disney? Gee, that'd be a first. Then, Britney surfaces again at the VMAs in what amounted to a train-wreck performance. What amazed me is all the people that ridiculed her for being "fat." She was not fat. Countless moms would kill to have her figure, albeit less svelte than before dropping two kids. The outfit was skanky and her performance would have bored nursing home residents, but she was not fat. To suggest that she was yet again tells young girls that you have to be scrawny like an Olsen twin to be attractive. http://omg.yahoo.com/is-it-fair-to-savage-britneys-figure/news/2324
This weekend, whilst grocery shopping amongst carnies and hordes of illegals, I noticed two older folks in VFW T-shirts. I thought aloud to myself, "isn't that redundant"? After all, the last domestic war we fought was in the 1860s. Every war since then has been "foreign." So Veterans of War would be aptly descriptive. However, that observation may prove itself to be short-lived as we re-mourn the loss of life that is marked by the 6th anniversary of 9/11/01. Not just those who died that day in planes and buildings, but those who died later from lung diseases and injuries from rescue accidents and the soldiers who have died fighting a war against a largely faceless enemy. Radical Islam wants us dead as much as ever and there's evidence to suggest that they are now willing to kill up to two million American children to bring that war to our streets and homes. Those who think 9/11 was bad will consider it a mere preamble to the mayhem that will ensue should terror strike at the heart of this nation. Hell hath no fury like parents torn from their young.
A whole new kind of witch hunt will follow; and those who practice the so-called peaceful sort of Islam and those who are its mouthpiece (e.g., CAIR) should take note. Unlike many other nations, the people of this one are armed. And in the heartland and the rural areas across this land, there are plenty who would not think twice about profiling. I've seen too many "terrorist hunting permits" on pick-up trucks to think that there will not be more than a few pissed off rednecks. If you think public lynchings are ancient history, think again. Let one hair of an American child be harmed in the name of Allah, and lynchings will likely be the better way to go.
Radical extremism brought this war to our soil; radical Islam will cement America's fury. Today, we worry again with the things of 9/10/01 like what Britney is wearing (or not wearing) and how a Disney star revealed that she is indeed human. And to any doubters, also female. A few of us are remembering 9/11/01 with services and flags at half mast.
But dare I say that the sleeping giant is groggy again. Yet when (not IF) we are attacked again, it will not be pretty. And all bets will be off. Six years of being told how we need to seek to understand these disenfranchised souls has taken it's toll.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
I Think I Don't Care
As I was reading my past entries and lamenting to myself the way my day is going, I was startled by an alarming amount of negativity thinly veiled as realism.
Rotarians have a 4-way test that helps ensure that their dealings are ethical, moral, and mutually beneficial to all parties. Of late, my thinking is earning me a big ol' F.
Kindly humor me as I type this and think aloud with you as to that which troubles me.
First, my weekend was tainted by stopping to provide first aid to a motorcyclist who lost control of his bike on the interstate. It didn't go well for him. In an uncharacteristic move, I chose to visit him at his hospital bedside yesterday. His sisters were the only family there; the bleakness and lack of hope literally ate at me like an acid. Suffice it to say, this one is in God's hands because there's nothing anyone can do.
Then, like most histories, mine continues to come back to haunt me - as though there is anything I can do to change it. Ironically, the two books I've most recently read both dealt with quantum mechanics and quantum theory and the "time travel" that could take place if quantum physics were more fully understood. Believe me, knowing what I do now, if I could go back, there are a few things I would have done differently. But it doesn't matter. People will continue to judge me from their ivory towers for one event or another and use that to discredit anything I say about anything. There is no other way to "right" that which the ivory-tower-dwellers consider to be wrong; I can only hope that by the grace of God, they do not share similar circumstances while on this globe.
Beyond that, I arrive at work this morning to discover that some ne'er do goods tried to steal my air conditioning units. Fortunately, they didn't succeed but it wasn't for lack of trying. If they didn't want the units, they wanted the copper - something that would've netted them $30 down the street. I'd willingly give them $35 to leave the damn things alone. As though my day wouldn't already be bad enough, enduring 100% humidity and 90 degrees would really set me on edge.
But that's not all; a key employee resigned because of personal issues, another went home sick, and as I type, some knucklehead in a fluorescent yellow Monte Carlo on 22s with spinners, some 400 feet away, is playing the rap so loud it actually vibrates my desk. Whatever left these people with the impression that the rest of us want to hear that crap? And why is it that they can park where they live and no one ever steals their stereos and rims, but park in a decent neighborhood, and it'll be on blocks without a dashboard in five minutes?
Someone had the unmitigated gall to suggest that I was an angry person. Anger isn't the issue - I've really thought about this. It's frustration. It's seeing what's wrong and having a sense as to the solution but feeling muted by factors beyond my control: ignorance, ambivalence, apathy, etc.
And hence why I am starting to think I don't care. Why bother really? As Solomon once wrote, it's all vanity anyway. Tomorrow marks the 6th anniversary of 9/11, ironically on a Tuesday. And while we are at war with terrorism, only some of the battles can be won. The overall war will persist into perpetuity. Ignoring it doesn't solve it. And fighting it only mitigates it. Small victories can be translated into a singular term: frustration. It's frustration that drove a key employee to quit his job. It's frustration (and fear) that led me through the events that forever changed my past. And it's frustration that led to this post.
Perhaps it's time I join the ignorantly blissful masses and strive to no longer care . . .
Rotarians have a 4-way test that helps ensure that their dealings are ethical, moral, and mutually beneficial to all parties. Of late, my thinking is earning me a big ol' F.
Kindly humor me as I type this and think aloud with you as to that which troubles me.
First, my weekend was tainted by stopping to provide first aid to a motorcyclist who lost control of his bike on the interstate. It didn't go well for him. In an uncharacteristic move, I chose to visit him at his hospital bedside yesterday. His sisters were the only family there; the bleakness and lack of hope literally ate at me like an acid. Suffice it to say, this one is in God's hands because there's nothing anyone can do.
Then, like most histories, mine continues to come back to haunt me - as though there is anything I can do to change it. Ironically, the two books I've most recently read both dealt with quantum mechanics and quantum theory and the "time travel" that could take place if quantum physics were more fully understood. Believe me, knowing what I do now, if I could go back, there are a few things I would have done differently. But it doesn't matter. People will continue to judge me from their ivory towers for one event or another and use that to discredit anything I say about anything. There is no other way to "right" that which the ivory-tower-dwellers consider to be wrong; I can only hope that by the grace of God, they do not share similar circumstances while on this globe.
Beyond that, I arrive at work this morning to discover that some ne'er do goods tried to steal my air conditioning units. Fortunately, they didn't succeed but it wasn't for lack of trying. If they didn't want the units, they wanted the copper - something that would've netted them $30 down the street. I'd willingly give them $35 to leave the damn things alone. As though my day wouldn't already be bad enough, enduring 100% humidity and 90 degrees would really set me on edge.
But that's not all; a key employee resigned because of personal issues, another went home sick, and as I type, some knucklehead in a fluorescent yellow Monte Carlo on 22s with spinners, some 400 feet away, is playing the rap so loud it actually vibrates my desk. Whatever left these people with the impression that the rest of us want to hear that crap? And why is it that they can park where they live and no one ever steals their stereos and rims, but park in a decent neighborhood, and it'll be on blocks without a dashboard in five minutes?
Someone had the unmitigated gall to suggest that I was an angry person. Anger isn't the issue - I've really thought about this. It's frustration. It's seeing what's wrong and having a sense as to the solution but feeling muted by factors beyond my control: ignorance, ambivalence, apathy, etc.
And hence why I am starting to think I don't care. Why bother really? As Solomon once wrote, it's all vanity anyway. Tomorrow marks the 6th anniversary of 9/11, ironically on a Tuesday. And while we are at war with terrorism, only some of the battles can be won. The overall war will persist into perpetuity. Ignoring it doesn't solve it. And fighting it only mitigates it. Small victories can be translated into a singular term: frustration. It's frustration that drove a key employee to quit his job. It's frustration (and fear) that led me through the events that forever changed my past. And it's frustration that led to this post.
Perhaps it's time I join the ignorantly blissful masses and strive to no longer care . . .
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Derailing Derailers
I was just reading about Mike Rogers, an openly gay activist and blogger, who has made a career out of "outing" those whom he deems to be political hypocrites. Initially, I thought this was a pretty good idea - to derail politicians who behave differently in private than they vote. But then, I got to thinking . . . uh oh, here he goes ------
I attended public school not long after God was told by O'Hare to take a long walk on a short pier into the Dead Sea. That was before the Dead Sea ever got sick. I digress. This means that my education was still pretty decent for two reasons: 1) I made something of it, and 2) it had not yet been dumbed-down to accommodate the lowest common denominator. As such, I vaguely recall that politicians are elected and for some bizarre reason (e.g., Ted Kennedy, et al) re-elected to represent US. That's right: you, me, our neighbors. Which means that regardless of how they believe on a certain issue, they are there as our proxy. Presumably, they were elected by a majority and as such, if they are performing their jobs properly, they are voting according to how the majority desires.
But - GASP - that means that they might have to vote counter to what they personally believe or in some cases live. And frankly, I don't think I should care. I should not have reason to care where you put your monkey, what you do with your monkey, or how you discipline your naughty monkey. What you do in your private life, despite being a public official, is not my concern. If you want to tap Riverdance out in an airport bathroom stall in an effort to get something unusual, so be it. I don't have to like it. I don't have to agree with it. I don't have to condone it. But if you were elected to represent the majority on specific issues, then you damn well better vote and legislate according to your constituents' wishes. That's what you are paid to do. Beyond that, whatever. This may be extremely pragmatic for some, especially ultra-conservatives, but face it. This is not the end-game. We're not going to find perfect people here. So we make do with the imperfect ones.
What Mike Rogers and his ilk fail to realize is everything that I noted above. Neither the parties nor the constituencies should care what these people do in their "private" lives so long as their voting record reflects the desires of the voters. Period. However, if their "private" activity is indeed unlawful, then by all means they should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law without prejudicial treatment on the basis of who they are. If it's unlawful to somehow solicit "man-lovin" in a public restroom, then you should be prosecuted. If it's unlawful to instant message your male (or female) pages who are under 18 with lewd and lascivious commentary, you should be prosecuted. Ideally, we'd have elected officials who reflected our beliefs and ideals and morals to a tee. But we don't. So again, we make do.
I'm a conservative by most metrics. That doesn't mean that I agree with Bush on everything he has done. Of course, he is privy to more and better intelligence than I am, so I have to presume that his decisions are indeed in the best interest of the nation. Although, I am not convinced that Mexican truckers are a prudent measure. 4200+ cubic feet of trailer can fit a lot of illegals. But what do I know . . .
I think it's time that we view elected officials in their singular role as representing their constituents. Nothing more, nothing less. If you want to do the nasty in a public restroom, so be it, but don't expect me to follow suit. And as your constituent, I would recommend against it. But it's your life and how you behave privately is not for me to judge. Just know that it will one day be judged.
In the meantime, perform your duty as a public servant and we'll all get along just fine.
I attended public school not long after God was told by O'Hare to take a long walk on a short pier into the Dead Sea. That was before the Dead Sea ever got sick. I digress. This means that my education was still pretty decent for two reasons: 1) I made something of it, and 2) it had not yet been dumbed-down to accommodate the lowest common denominator. As such, I vaguely recall that politicians are elected and for some bizarre reason (e.g., Ted Kennedy, et al) re-elected to represent US. That's right: you, me, our neighbors. Which means that regardless of how they believe on a certain issue, they are there as our proxy. Presumably, they were elected by a majority and as such, if they are performing their jobs properly, they are voting according to how the majority desires.
But - GASP - that means that they might have to vote counter to what they personally believe or in some cases live. And frankly, I don't think I should care. I should not have reason to care where you put your monkey, what you do with your monkey, or how you discipline your naughty monkey. What you do in your private life, despite being a public official, is not my concern. If you want to tap Riverdance out in an airport bathroom stall in an effort to get something unusual, so be it. I don't have to like it. I don't have to agree with it. I don't have to condone it. But if you were elected to represent the majority on specific issues, then you damn well better vote and legislate according to your constituents' wishes. That's what you are paid to do. Beyond that, whatever. This may be extremely pragmatic for some, especially ultra-conservatives, but face it. This is not the end-game. We're not going to find perfect people here. So we make do with the imperfect ones.
What Mike Rogers and his ilk fail to realize is everything that I noted above. Neither the parties nor the constituencies should care what these people do in their "private" lives so long as their voting record reflects the desires of the voters. Period. However, if their "private" activity is indeed unlawful, then by all means they should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law without prejudicial treatment on the basis of who they are. If it's unlawful to somehow solicit "man-lovin" in a public restroom, then you should be prosecuted. If it's unlawful to instant message your male (or female) pages who are under 18 with lewd and lascivious commentary, you should be prosecuted. Ideally, we'd have elected officials who reflected our beliefs and ideals and morals to a tee. But we don't. So again, we make do.
I'm a conservative by most metrics. That doesn't mean that I agree with Bush on everything he has done. Of course, he is privy to more and better intelligence than I am, so I have to presume that his decisions are indeed in the best interest of the nation. Although, I am not convinced that Mexican truckers are a prudent measure. 4200+ cubic feet of trailer can fit a lot of illegals. But what do I know . . .
I think it's time that we view elected officials in their singular role as representing their constituents. Nothing more, nothing less. If you want to do the nasty in a public restroom, so be it, but don't expect me to follow suit. And as your constituent, I would recommend against it. But it's your life and how you behave privately is not for me to judge. Just know that it will one day be judged.
In the meantime, perform your duty as a public servant and we'll all get along just fine.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Band-Aid Anyone?
OK, so after that last post, my rear is a few sizes smaller as I have been set straight by some in this audience. While to my likely chagrin, I still think I had a point in there, it was perceived as being somewhat biased and critical of the little princesses out there. Oy.
So, in fairness, let me say that it's fine and dandy if the youngsters want to pretend that they are cops and robbers, cowboys and indians (not PC), princesses, dancing fairies, dancing cowboy fairies, or whatever. And if they want to wear superhero shirts or faux royalty tops and tieras, far be it from me to burst their blissfully naive bubble that they know as Utopia.
All I was saying is that "happily ever after" is a bit of a misnomer. I don't think Cinderella had popping zits on the prince's back in mind when she rode away on his white stallion, anymore than today's woman has pulling in-grown butt hairs in mind when she rides off on the white motorcycle. I bet that Sleeping Beauty had no clue that there would be mortgages to pay, cell phone bills, dirty diapers, and meals to prepare anymore than today's woman is ready to carry water in a pot on her head, take the clothes down to the river to wash, or cut wood to fire the ovens for the day's loaf. I'm just sayin . . .
Wearing a princess outfit does not make the little darling a princess. Wearing reptile gear doesn't make the little charmer a mutant ninja. And wearing Toby Keith shirts doesn't make me white trash with money . . . it makes Toby that. I'm just white trash in a Toby shirt. However, if these mindsets are allowed to gel without proper parental nurture, THEN the little darlings and charmers may be ill-suited for that which awaits them in the real world.
There's happy - that's for certain. But it will be peppered with not-so-much from time to time. Let them be little - they grow up too fast (a wise woman promptly pounded that into me). But be watchful that their fantasy doesn't not take root into your reality.
Peace.
So, in fairness, let me say that it's fine and dandy if the youngsters want to pretend that they are cops and robbers, cowboys and indians (not PC), princesses, dancing fairies, dancing cowboy fairies, or whatever. And if they want to wear superhero shirts or faux royalty tops and tieras, far be it from me to burst their blissfully naive bubble that they know as Utopia.
All I was saying is that "happily ever after" is a bit of a misnomer. I don't think Cinderella had popping zits on the prince's back in mind when she rode away on his white stallion, anymore than today's woman has pulling in-grown butt hairs in mind when she rides off on the white motorcycle. I bet that Sleeping Beauty had no clue that there would be mortgages to pay, cell phone bills, dirty diapers, and meals to prepare anymore than today's woman is ready to carry water in a pot on her head, take the clothes down to the river to wash, or cut wood to fire the ovens for the day's loaf. I'm just sayin . . .
Wearing a princess outfit does not make the little darling a princess. Wearing reptile gear doesn't make the little charmer a mutant ninja. And wearing Toby Keith shirts doesn't make me white trash with money . . . it makes Toby that. I'm just white trash in a Toby shirt. However, if these mindsets are allowed to gel without proper parental nurture, THEN the little darlings and charmers may be ill-suited for that which awaits them in the real world.
There's happy - that's for certain. But it will be peppered with not-so-much from time to time. Let them be little - they grow up too fast (a wise woman promptly pounded that into me). But be watchful that their fantasy doesn't not take root into your reality.
Peace.
Mommas Are Gonna Be Mad
OK, moms, don't shoot the messenger . . . I'm just a thinker.
So, of late, I've been inundated with Disney's High School Musical 2. Talk about a build-up - they plugged this thing so much, even I was almost excited about the premier. Of course, that excitement wained after the first 400 times I've had to watch or hear it since. I have sworn to myself that if I hear Ashley Chip-N-Dale or Cordon Bleu sing one more song, I will hammer rusty framing nails into my ears.
I understand that Disney exists to serve its shareholders and will whore-out everything possible to achieve that end. Somehow, I don't think that was Walt's vision, but hey, he's dead and who cares what the FOUNDER thinks anyway. At any rate, there are HSM2 action figures and lunch boxes and greeting cards and games and books and soundtracks and downloads and wallpapers and screen savers, and and and and . . . and, NOW, I hear that it'll be on ice too - coming soon to your local professional hockey forum or anywhere that they can keep water frozen for three hours. And as though the brainwashing isn't sufficient with all that, Radio Disney keeps it hammered into our little princess' heads every waking moment. And why? Because Prince Throckmorton and Princess Ashley of Tisdale won't let us turn it off.
Ah, but wait, discipline the child you say. Take charge. Be the parent. Riiiigggghhhhhttttt. Disney has apparently included subliminal hissy fit training into their media blitz. Right behind Sharpei's (who names a character after a dog??) face and just beneath the audible music layers are the instructions on how to drive your parents to drive spikes into their auditory canals.
Having set that colorful stage, let me pose some questions - peel another layer off the onion:
Have you actually watched the movie (or any of the Disney Channel propaganda)? Have you noticed, with the exception of Raven, how the girls all fit the very molds that we don't want our daughters to embrace? Pretty. Skinny. Perfect. Perky. Flirtatious. Materialistic. And what's with the prance? Those girls don't walk from point A to point B, they strut.
Now, go to the mall (or grocery store, church, school) or anywhere that there are little girls from ages 3 - 11. The vast majority will not be capable of walking without a runway strut. So here's my dilemma: we don't want our children to be weight-conscious or have their self-image cast by celebutards and "models" yet we will let them be entertained (a term I use loosely) by programming that cements these images into their psyche. Miss Teen USA personifies this stereotype all the more. Miss South Carolina's fifteen minutes of notoriety came and went, but was worth a blog or two. Radio and TV pundits had a field day with her mastery of Engrish. But the sad truth is that all the energy that went into helping her be "pretty" enough to compete in such a shallow event precluded her from being articulate and educated. I would think that we want more for our children, boys and girls, than for them to be objectified for how they look - for the visual mold into which they fit. Quite honestly, I've seen some ugly dorks and some beautiful morons - yet for my children, I'd like a balance of educated, attractive, spiritual, and emotional. The pendulum doesn't have to swing so hard one direction that it sticks in the clock casing.
If you're going to let them watch and listen to that stuff, remind them that it's "make believe." If stuff they see on TV or in the movies is capable of scaring them, then it's also capable of scarring them by creating an ideal self-image that is far from ideal. Let them dream, let them be happy and content, but don't perpetuate the illusion of happily ever after. Otherwise, they'll be sitting at a keyboard one day as I am, lamenting where things went awry - assuming they ever realize it.
So, of late, I've been inundated with Disney's High School Musical 2. Talk about a build-up - they plugged this thing so much, even I was almost excited about the premier. Of course, that excitement wained after the first 400 times I've had to watch or hear it since. I have sworn to myself that if I hear Ashley Chip-N-Dale or Cordon Bleu sing one more song, I will hammer rusty framing nails into my ears.
I understand that Disney exists to serve its shareholders and will whore-out everything possible to achieve that end. Somehow, I don't think that was Walt's vision, but hey, he's dead and who cares what the FOUNDER thinks anyway. At any rate, there are HSM2 action figures and lunch boxes and greeting cards and games and books and soundtracks and downloads and wallpapers and screen savers, and and and and . . . and, NOW, I hear that it'll be on ice too - coming soon to your local professional hockey forum or anywhere that they can keep water frozen for three hours. And as though the brainwashing isn't sufficient with all that, Radio Disney keeps it hammered into our little princess' heads every waking moment. And why? Because Prince Throckmorton and Princess Ashley of Tisdale won't let us turn it off.
Ah, but wait, discipline the child you say. Take charge. Be the parent. Riiiigggghhhhhttttt. Disney has apparently included subliminal hissy fit training into their media blitz. Right behind Sharpei's (who names a character after a dog??) face and just beneath the audible music layers are the instructions on how to drive your parents to drive spikes into their auditory canals.
Having set that colorful stage, let me pose some questions - peel another layer off the onion:
Have you actually watched the movie (or any of the Disney Channel propaganda)? Have you noticed, with the exception of Raven, how the girls all fit the very molds that we don't want our daughters to embrace? Pretty. Skinny. Perfect. Perky. Flirtatious. Materialistic. And what's with the prance? Those girls don't walk from point A to point B, they strut.
Now, go to the mall (or grocery store, church, school) or anywhere that there are little girls from ages 3 - 11. The vast majority will not be capable of walking without a runway strut. So here's my dilemma: we don't want our children to be weight-conscious or have their self-image cast by celebutards and "models" yet we will let them be entertained (a term I use loosely) by programming that cements these images into their psyche. Miss Teen USA personifies this stereotype all the more. Miss South Carolina's fifteen minutes of notoriety came and went, but was worth a blog or two. Radio and TV pundits had a field day with her mastery of Engrish. But the sad truth is that all the energy that went into helping her be "pretty" enough to compete in such a shallow event precluded her from being articulate and educated. I would think that we want more for our children, boys and girls, than for them to be objectified for how they look - for the visual mold into which they fit. Quite honestly, I've seen some ugly dorks and some beautiful morons - yet for my children, I'd like a balance of educated, attractive, spiritual, and emotional. The pendulum doesn't have to swing so hard one direction that it sticks in the clock casing.
If you're going to let them watch and listen to that stuff, remind them that it's "make believe." If stuff they see on TV or in the movies is capable of scaring them, then it's also capable of scarring them by creating an ideal self-image that is far from ideal. Let them dream, let them be happy and content, but don't perpetuate the illusion of happily ever after. Otherwise, they'll be sitting at a keyboard one day as I am, lamenting where things went awry - assuming they ever realize it.
Friday, August 31, 2007
HOAs and Their Evil Twin
I'm starting to think that HOA stands for Hall of Asses or perhaps Holes of Asses rather than the nearly ubiquitous Homeowners Association. In fact, given that I just wrote about them yesterday, there must be something to my thinking.
My own HOA has a message forum where, one would think, intelligent dialogue would take place amongst neighbors. Hang on. ROF LMAO LOL, still ROF . . . hang on . . . sorry . . . Did I just say intelligent and HOA in the same sentence? I've clearly had too much to drink already. At any rate, I've discovered that the Board members like to use the so-called forum as their bully pulpit and demonstrate their general lack of knowledge on that which they claim to administer. It's really sadly amusing that there is such collective stupidity and at the same time, they can hold jobs that allow them to afford a mortgage. Is it just me, or have you noticed how there's never been a statue of a committee in a park? It's always a leader - someone who stood above the rest and made a real difference with his (or her) heart in the right place. I suppose that explains why we haven't seen too many such statues of late. But I digress.
I think my earlier conclusions (see previous post) were accurate. Or they were abused children. Or, since this is Florida, perhaps their family tree lacked branches. Did you know that palm trees had pretty shallow root systems? That's why they topple in windstorms. As such, I am hopeful that the windstorm of law and logic that I have lobbied at my HOA will result in a collective toppling of dead and/or shallow-rooted wood.
Two counties away, this very day, in a deed restricted, gated community also governed by a self-proclaimed omnipotent HOA, my firm was asked to deliver some material at the behest of a realtor. Little did we know that the realtor's office was within the Town Centre (yes, they spell it that way to sound all uppity) and thus BEHIND the proverbial gates of Hades. "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." The GED-holder who manned the gate would not let my driver pass without the name of the realtor and obviously the realtor failed to alert the portcullis keeper that we'd be bringing his order. So, she would not let my driver pass. He had to radio the office for the particulars of the realtor to bring the material to his doorstep. If I didn't have a desire to keep my job another day, I would've suggested pouring it over the gate pawn's head and leaving the receipt, but alas, I played by their silly rules. In the words of Shakespeare, much ado about nothing.
But that must be one snazzy place that even their town centre is off limits to the riff raff peasants of the neighboring communities. Being somewhat familiar with customs of the Middle Ages, the only real difference I see is a lack of the plague. Beyond that, all these residents are merely subjects to their respective Feudal Lords and the moneylender who lets them live in their house.
With all that said, apart from a desire to not live next to a trailer with four junk cars in the lawn, what benefit do we find in this forced homogenization of our neighborhoods? While it may not be quite like the segregation my parents knew, it's still segregation of the haves and have-less and have-nots.
Don't misunderstand, I'm all about free markets and capitalism, but segregation for the sake of living under the protection of a Feudal Lord seems less than liberating. We have made our lives so complicated by trying to make them so comfortable. And we've accomplished little comfort.
But there again, if common sense were to prevail, I'd have little to discuss. And so I go on crying out, a voice in the wilderness.
My own HOA has a message forum where, one would think, intelligent dialogue would take place amongst neighbors. Hang on. ROF LMAO LOL, still ROF . . . hang on . . . sorry . . . Did I just say intelligent and HOA in the same sentence? I've clearly had too much to drink already. At any rate, I've discovered that the Board members like to use the so-called forum as their bully pulpit and demonstrate their general lack of knowledge on that which they claim to administer. It's really sadly amusing that there is such collective stupidity and at the same time, they can hold jobs that allow them to afford a mortgage. Is it just me, or have you noticed how there's never been a statue of a committee in a park? It's always a leader - someone who stood above the rest and made a real difference with his (or her) heart in the right place. I suppose that explains why we haven't seen too many such statues of late. But I digress.
I think my earlier conclusions (see previous post) were accurate. Or they were abused children. Or, since this is Florida, perhaps their family tree lacked branches. Did you know that palm trees had pretty shallow root systems? That's why they topple in windstorms. As such, I am hopeful that the windstorm of law and logic that I have lobbied at my HOA will result in a collective toppling of dead and/or shallow-rooted wood.
Two counties away, this very day, in a deed restricted, gated community also governed by a self-proclaimed omnipotent HOA, my firm was asked to deliver some material at the behest of a realtor. Little did we know that the realtor's office was within the Town Centre (yes, they spell it that way to sound all uppity) and thus BEHIND the proverbial gates of Hades. "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." The GED-holder who manned the gate would not let my driver pass without the name of the realtor and obviously the realtor failed to alert the portcullis keeper that we'd be bringing his order. So, she would not let my driver pass. He had to radio the office for the particulars of the realtor to bring the material to his doorstep. If I didn't have a desire to keep my job another day, I would've suggested pouring it over the gate pawn's head and leaving the receipt, but alas, I played by their silly rules. In the words of Shakespeare, much ado about nothing.
But that must be one snazzy place that even their town centre is off limits to the riff raff peasants of the neighboring communities. Being somewhat familiar with customs of the Middle Ages, the only real difference I see is a lack of the plague. Beyond that, all these residents are merely subjects to their respective Feudal Lords and the moneylender who lets them live in their house.
With all that said, apart from a desire to not live next to a trailer with four junk cars in the lawn, what benefit do we find in this forced homogenization of our neighborhoods? While it may not be quite like the segregation my parents knew, it's still segregation of the haves and have-less and have-nots.
Don't misunderstand, I'm all about free markets and capitalism, but segregation for the sake of living under the protection of a Feudal Lord seems less than liberating. We have made our lives so complicated by trying to make them so comfortable. And we've accomplished little comfort.
But there again, if common sense were to prevail, I'd have little to discuss. And so I go on crying out, a voice in the wilderness.
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