Zeitgeist of the Saboteur Academia

Awesomesauce Music Pt. 673

2012-02-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

Totally digging this track by Rumspringa. It's already been used as an instrumental for Human Rights Action Center's video for Universal Human Rights, as well as this music video shot by Shia LeBeouf:

O-Bomb-A: From Magical Negro to Unforgiveable Blackness

2012-02-06T18:56:00.000-08:00

Whether you're talking Bagger Vance or Jack Johnson, it's undeniable that Black people are held to weird standards that White peeps aren't.

When it comes to the POTUS I cannot help but see the recent criticism of Obama by my fellow so-called "liberals" and "progressives" as racially based motivated by disillusionment. They thought Barack Obama would be some kind of Magical Negro, fixing everything for us ~~not-so-racist~~ liberal White folks, but now he's failed by not meeting that impossibly high standard! So, of course, we hate him and are taking away the ball/cookies/video game controller.

This childish naivete is not only subversive, but actually dangerous -- if not properly mocked.

Let me preface the rest of this post by saying that I voted for Obama, I'll be voting for him again, and I believe he's done a decent job as president.

It seems that lately that Obama can't get no love, whether from The Left OR The Right. On the one hand, many Democrats believe that the POTUS is in the pocket of moneyed interests, the military-industrial complex (and some because he is simply not Ron Paul). And on the other hand -- besides different fingers -- many Republicans believe he's a socialist, a racist, not a citizen, and other intensely crazy batshit.

But as I've learned, if the people on both sides hate you, then you must be doing something right!

For me, it all started that fateful night the results came in and Barack Obama was dubbed, President of These United States. Our first African-American president. First Black President. A real Liberal. Hope, Change, and people dancing in the streets from East Oakland to Castro.

The moment, even now, stands out in my memory. Awestruck. I asked in a half whisper, almost to myself, if this was what it was like when John F. Kennedy was elected...

And since then, Obama's done pretty good by my standards. Especially considering the clusterfuck he inherited from his first day in office.

His list of accomplishments is quite impressive.

But apparently his bipartisan approach, his diplomacy, his ability to repair America's relations with the world, his fiscal policy that prevented an even worse (double-dip) depression, and a chockabox full of political awesomeness (repealing DADT, for one) seems to have ruffled the feathers of more than a few professional politicos, particularly progressive ones.

And why is this? I feel like a lot of it is based on racism, that Obama is being held to unreasonably high standards because he's Black. I feel like the constant refrain to his middle name, signs depicting him as a witch doctor, a monkey, an ape, the sheer idiocy revolving around the issue of his citizenship, the "You Lie!" and finger-wagging is testament to an undercurrent of racism in our country that few can deny.

(But the few can certainly try!)

Obviously there is valid criticism that can be made of President Obama, and I myself would say he could do a better job -- but so could anyone else! If our only gripe is that "he could do better", then frankly we're damn lucky!

Yet from the rallying cry of so many so-called progressives, many who support Ron Paul -- known derisively as "Ronulans" -- you'd think Obama was the worst thing since George W. Bush!

I'm confused as to how a racist, uber-conservative libertarian like R.P. is preferably to a center-left POTUS like Obama?

And that's where I have to play the race-card, because only some racist ass people would say that.

More importantly, compared to the Republican playing field, Obama is the only viable candidate who can do the job without causing massive, widespread poverty, a war with Iran, rape the environment, and increase societal oppression.

Let me hearken back to my original point, which is that Obama was originally perceived as a Magical Negro by progressive liberals across the country, evidence in everything from the Hope/Change posters -- to this LA Times story. But as the halo waned, Obama's (for lack of a better word) "blackness" become something unforgivable.

Because the more real of a president Obama has become, the more he has refused to cater to their ever demand, every whim, every politically suicidal desire, the more critical liberals have become of him. That's the backlash of unrealistic expectations from an uneducated electorate that pretends to be colorblind.

Anyhoo, so yeah. Let me just end this with a nice infographic!

Cheers

My Comments on the VSB Rape Mess

2012-02-01T22:16:00.000-08:00

Very Smart Brothas (VSB) semi-recently had a lil' kerfluffle when one of their posters, AKA "The Champ" wrote a piece about rape, specifically how women can prevent themselves from being raped...

I was one of many who had a problem with that idea, and I'd like to repost here my comments to that effect.

In the fashion of ABG’s non-apology to Trans-people for their useage of the words “tranny” in a negative-context, VSB joins the ranks of unapologetic social commentary — whether that commentary is (mis)informed, well intentioned, or got their feelings hurt.

I can respect standing by what you say. I don’t respect apologizing when you’re really not. Further clarification only exacerbates the disagreement.

Someone else above made the excellent point that there is a difference between Risk Reduction & Rape Prevention. The former is common sense, and the latter is an onus only to rapists. Only rapists, whether they be men OR women, can stop rape. No amount of conservative clothing, sobriety, or general paranoia will completely protect you from being raped. It doesn’t stop female teachers from raping their younger male students. It doesn’t stop 14 year-olds here in Oakland from serial-raping random women. It doesn’t stop all the men who suffer from prison rape, nor does it stop Jerry Sandusky, Tara Porter (or, apparently, Hugo Schwyzer) from committing these terrible crimes against other people.

More to the point, if you really truly believe rape victims need to be more careful/cautious/paranoid/whatever, then don’t punk out when people call you on it. Yes, you said. Yes, you still believe it.

And no, you’re not really sorry.

Which isn’t to say, “Bad on you VSB!” I’m just trying to remove the ish from bull****.

I remember one of my ex-girlfriends, and the time she told me when she was date-raped. A friend of hers. Someone she trusted, someone she knew personally. They got drunk, and when she said “no”, she was too intoxicated to physically stop him even after her voice gave out from crying for help. I remember that story chilled me to the bone when I heard it.

Conversely, I remember the day I was falsely accused of rape. I was 18. She was 16. I had dumped her after some petty fight and she started stalking me in an effort to get back together. When it failed, miserably, threats of violence and rape claims got thrown into the mix and my kosher butt got scared. Real quick. Thankfully I was saved by legal counsel, alibis, and immediate action.

I come to this conversation from both sides, with both genders in my mind. My current girlfriend and I often debate the issue’s finer points, the differences, the legalities, the realities, the innocent, the guilty.

But I never felt more upset than when someone blamed the victim. You leave your wallet on the washing machine in the dorms and it ain’t there when you run back to find it? That sucks, and you shouldn’t leave your wallet behind. You go for a jog late at night and some gang-banger shoots you near a taco-truck? That sucks, and you shouldn’t go running at night. You go out for a drink and some friend of yours takes that opportunity to rape you? That sucks, and you shouldn’t… what?

See how easy it is to take that slippery slope dude? See how easily we judge people, and fault them for the criminality of a few. That’s rape culture, as much as I personally dislike the term. That’s the stuff that allows Mike McQueary to ignore blatant rape of a child, or Richard Connelly to write a Top 10 Hottest Women on the Texas Sex Offenders List.

And it only gets worse from here on out. You can write humorously about tragedy, but you need to know what the tragedy is before you can find a way to laugh at it to keep from crying.

As for me, I think VSB should takedown this non-apology, and the other post, rewrite an entirely new piece consisting of one line:

“I will not write about what I do not know.”

Period. End of story. Fin. Aaaaaaaaaand scene!

The Problem with the F-Word

2012-01-31T23:14:00.000-08:00

The problem with Feminism, like the problem with most religions, is that it doesn't really mean what people say it does.

Definition of Feminism (via Feminists): Advocacy for gender equality. The real definition of Feminism (via the dictionary): The advocacy for women's rights.

See? Right there. They say it's about gender egalitarianism, but in reality it's about increasing the power of women as a group, not about strict gender equality.

Now, I've got no problem with women advocating for their rights and privileges as a group. Hallelujah, praise geebus, and all that jazz. Go get it, girls! Shatter that glass ceiling! Seriously, I support that fully.

Sadly this often comes at the expense of racial minorities, the LGBTQ communities and other groups, including men. It's identity politics at its worst. The problems begin with the dishonesty, misandry, and total asinine bullsh!t done in the name of Feminism, including the denigration & outright denial of male victims.

Which is why I will always consider myself a Masculist. The radical notion that men are people, and can be oppressed based on their gender.

See, Feminism fails for me in that it institutionalizes misandric paranoia -- such as the notion that all men are rapists -- demonizing men, the Lace Curtain, sexual violence against men, and other incredibly harmful things.

That's why when people say, "I'm a Feminist", I say, "Oh really? Because I don't think that means what you think it means."

So it goes.

This guy knows what I'm talking about.

Cheers

Random Musing #2

2012-01-25T23:02:00.000-08:00

If the butterfly knew

What its bright colors attracted

Would it stay inside the cocoon

And be a caterpillar forever?

Random Musing #1

2012-01-25T22:59:00.000-08:00

Small birdsong is more beautiful than a barking dog.

If I Were A...

2012-01-24T14:35:00.000-08:00

If I were a month, I'd be mid-July when the sea-breeze meetsa desert wind

If I were a day of the week, I'd Thursdays

If I were a time of day, I'd be the dead-man's hour betweentwo and four AM

If I were a planet, I'd be the sun or the moon

If I were an animal, I'd be a chinchilla

If I were a direction, I'd be left as all hell

If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be an old leatherreading chair

If I were a liquid, I'd be Mexican Coke

If I were a gemstone, I'd be a blood-red ruby

If I were a tree, I'd be the tallest sequoia along thecoastal mountain-range

If I were a tool, I'd be duct-tape

If I were a flower, I'd be the Bakawali flower that onlyblooms once in a year

If I were a kind of weather, I'd be a sunny-day with whiteclouds like pillows

If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a rust-stainedsaxophone

If I were a color, I'd be baby-blue

If I were an emotion, I'd be melancholic

If I were a fruit, I'd be pre-ripe plums, with asweet-and-sour taste

If I were a sound, I'd be a susurrus

If I were an element, I'd be water

If I were a car, I'd be a 1969 Camaro ZL1

If I were a food, I'd be sushi

If I were a place, I'd be Chuck-E-Cheese

If I were a material, I'd be poly-cotton fibers

If I were a taste, I'd be orange-juice after brushing yourteeth

If I were a scent, I'd be sex-panther manly musk

Cheers

Liberals Who Love Ron Paul (Are Racist)

2012-01-19T22:46:00.000-08:00

It's a little weird how so many of my fellow "liberals" love Ron Paul. Especially considering that Ron Paul is fine with us raping the environment, letting people die of sickness, and allowing corporate greed to run rampant. It's a little weird how so many of my fellow "liberals" love Ron Paul... Especially considering he's an unapologetic racist!

It's not often that people talk about the racism among so-called progressives and liberals and leftists, but in cases like Ron Paul you can see it all too clearly.

Sure, we liberals like to think we're all enlightened and shit compared to conservatives. We like to think Democrats wouldn't dare go visit a camp named after the N-word. But then why are we so comfortable with Ron Paul assuming that 95% of Black men in D.C. are semi-criminal or entirely criminal? Why are we so comfortable with Ron Paul after he said in a May 2011 interview that he opposes the Civil Rights Act of 1964?

I'll tell you why. Because so many liberals, like the clapping conservatives for Newt Gingrich, are fucking racist. Sorry, but it's true. I include myself. I used to think Ron Paul was the best thing since sliced bread. He was pro legalization of marijuana, anti-war, and was honest.

Now, I know he's just another crazy LIEbertarian, trying to dress himself up in Republican clothing. And the sad thing? It's actually working so well that his far-right positions have actually come all the way around to being far-left too! And my fellow "liberals" just eat it up. Ignorant racist fools...

Think Progress has a great article up where they summarize Ron Paul's sketchy record in regards to race. People like Bob Cesca, and Jeff Fecke also have great articles on why Ron Paul is BAD in general, but especially takes liberals to task for supporting someone who doesn't support or have any liberal/progressive values.

For some Democrats, all it takes is someone to say they'll end raids on raw milk farming and suddenly it doesn't matter if he wants to get rid of the EPA, healthcare, Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security, welfare, food stamps, public education, public utilities, roads, Coast Guard, police department, fire department, and god knows what else he can kill with a flamethrower. You thought Rand Paul's budgetary proposal was apocalyptic? Wait till you see 4 years of "President Paul".

Mike Adams has an article up that gives 10 reasons to supposedly support Ron Paul. Among them he lists liberal favs such as War on Drugs (but fails to acknowledge that Paul would legalize heroin along with pot), free speech, prisons, and the ludicrously false statement that Ron Paul's been consistent for 25 years.

No. He. Hasn't.

Ron Paul flip-flopped on his racism as quickly as Romney flip-flopped on, well... every issue he's ever taken.

But that's beside the point. The point is that it's terribly disappointing to see people who pretend enlightenment, intelligence, and who should know better indulging in the fantasy that Ron Paul is some kind of... super hero politician.

The reality is that he's just as bad, if not worse, than the current crop of Republican candidates. Certainly, he's far, far worse than Obama. And any liberal worth their salt knows this to be true.

As for the rest, of the dick-riding fanboys, I can only shake my head.

Yeah, that means you too pimps & prostitutes of the Bunny Ranch.

Cheers

Jews In the Alt-Right

2012-01-16T19:52:00.000-08:00

In my many bloggings, I have often gotten into strange arguments with e-creeps ranging from wannabe Pick-Up Artists to down-n-out ~~race realists~~ racists. But for me, the most fascinating aspect of this small community known as the Alt-Right has been the fact that some of my fellow Jews are actively involved in it.

Don't know what the Alt-Right is? Let me drop a knowledge bomb on ya'll. The Alt-Right is essentially a fringe, reactionary conservative element in the U.S. that believes in things like scientific racism, anarcho-libertarianism, legalization of hard drugs (heroin, cocaine, etc.), interpersonal misogyny, and other extremely anti-social ideas.

Some examples of the Alt-Right's madness can be found documented here, here, and here.

But anyhoo, back to my original point.

Jews, as a group, tend to be liberal and progressive. Yet there exist a few extreme exceptions to this, from Eric Cantor to Jewamongyou.

The confusing part of this strange relationship between some Jews and the reactionary right in this country is that almost the entirety of conservatives -- from neocons to Tea-Baggers -- are anti-Semitic.

No, this is not hyperbole. This isn't a sweeping generalization. This is merely a reflection of the kind of reality as documented time and again by lots and lots of people. I'd suggest starting with a documentary entitled, Constantine's Sword, and then move on to primary sources documented by the very reactionary conservative Jews I'm talking about.

Yet they still cling blindly to a segment of the U.S. population that honestly, sees Jewish people like me and them as a means to an end, as a pawn in their pseudo-religious apocalypse drama, or as intellectual vindication for scientific racism, misogyny, nativism, and other forms of ignorance.

How do I know this? I've lived it. I've been deep into the heart of darkness, behind the Orange Curtain of conservative country in California, and other states around the American Southwest where you'll find red-blooded anti-Semites who love Jesus... and say I'm going to hell.

(I rarely take the time to point out the contradiction between the redemptive message of Jesus Christ and the pagan concept of Hell.)

But as for my fellow Jews, these Jewish conservatives... What about them? Why are they still involved in this roiling mass of vitriolic hate? My guess: they have internalized anti-Semitism that causes them to see their own Jewish identity as having more in common with Stormfront, American Renaissance, and the White Nationalist movement than with any other form of Jewish identity in the world, or at least America.

Nonetheless, I'm baffled because these people are, for all appearances, intelligent, articulate, and knowledgeable individuals. Yet here they are espousing messages that have been long proven wrong, and joining themselves to a movement based on ignorance of the Jewish people, and contempt for Judaism.

Expect more to come as I attempt to deconstruct this subversive trend among Jews.

Cheers

Slander, Libel, and Defamation of Character, Oh My!

2012-01-12T21:31:00.000-08:00

As a long-time writer/blogger/whatever who's been engaged in more than one instance of intensely provocative writing, there's been the occasion when someone crazy thought that something I wrote was about them (even when it wasn't) or someone they know/care for (even when it wasn't) and that it constituted: slander, libel, defamation of character (again, even when it wasn't) and decided they'd try to engage in frivolous lawsuits to seek recompense -- AKA revengeance.

But, per usual, these accusations hardly merited the time it took to click "delete" on each & every message that graced my spam folder. And that was that. However, it did raise the issue in my mind that John Q. Public may not know what slander, libel, or defamation of character actually ARE.

So, in my typical fashion, let me edumacate ya'll huddled masses yearning for more of my tiresome rhetoric.

SLANDER. Noun. In law: defamation by oral utterance rather than by writing, pictures etc. Slander is something spoken which is could be construed as 1) untrue, 2) to cause people to disassociate from the slandered, and/or 3) is said with the intent to cause tangible harm.

So when people have accused me of slander in my writing, all they accomplish is making me laugh at their ignorance.

Seriously! I've gotten emails from peeps I hardly know anymore who nigh-on stalk me in order to let me know that I ~~never~~ wrote such-n-such malicious things about them or someone they care about and now I'm going to be getting sued for slander. (Not one of these fools made good on their threats though.)

Oh the hilarity!

Moving on...

LIBEL. Noun. In law: defamation by written or printed words, pictures, or in any other form other than by spoken words or gestures. Regarding writers, libel must be written. It does follow similar rules for slander though -- 1) untrue, 2) cause people to disassociate from the libeled, and/or 3) has the intent to cause tangible harm.

Now, as a professional writer I am well acquainted with libel laws. In fact, I write my blog-posts deliberately with them in mind. I create fake names, change certain identifying details, and publish my good-faith intentions that I make every attempt to protect the privacy of the people I write about.

But being the strikingly sarcaustic writer that I am, my colorful commentary will undoubtedly strike the nerve of some sad character with a sordid past possibly fictionalized anonymously in my posts. Usually though it's just someone with a guilty conscience who matches the generalized ish that I write about. They get upset, cry bloody murder, make with the saber-rattling, and then go out like a punk when they realize that I wasn't writing about them, and that even if I was, there's nothing they could do because nobody but they will ever, ever know.

(This is why you should not, as a rule, anger writers. We will eviscerate you in print. Look at what happened to Woody Allen's exes.

The only way I could imagine anyone proving anything written was about them when a writer has taken the proper precautions is by outright saying the writer wrote about them, thus incurring the consequences for their own deeds and then making it perfectly legal for the writer to admit it -- with no legal repercussions because what they wrote has been proved to be the truth!

Anyhoo...

DEFAMATION OF CHARACTER.

Full Disclosure. I have been accused of this, though never charged or taken to court. However, I have always endeavored to never deliberately cause harm with my writing, nor have I. In fact, quite the opposite, I consistently utilize my writing to accomplish positive things, whether in my personal life or the lives of those around me.

But, sadly, good intentions do not always bring good results. As such, malicious people have attempted to instigate shit against based on no evidence and a plethora of irrationality.

Defamation of character is notoriously difficult to prove in court, and even more difficult to prosecute. Opinions, insults, critiques, and other related statements, whether written or spoken do not constitute defamation of character, and cannot be prosecuted.

However, bloggers must be wary of what they write for there have been recent attempts to curtail their -- at times -- unrestrained activities, as well as those of cyber-bullies and other scumbags.

Take it from me, do not write about people you know, associate with, or see on a regular basis without taking measures to protect yourself. If you must write about them (and, let's face it, sometimes we need to write about the people in our lives, and it often becomes our best work!) always write as opinion, fictionalize certain details, change names, include disclaimers, and never get cocky because you'll make a mistake and end up owing big.

In my experience however, nothing I have ever written has ever fulfilled any of the requirements for slander (obviously), libel, or defamation of character.

Conversely, there was an instance where someone who claimed I had slandered, libeled, and defamed them + their significant other decided that since what I did was "illegal" he'd send a letter regarding the issue to my employers, ex-employers, and organizations I work(ed) with. The funny thing was -- this guy didn't realize that while the story I wrote which he believed to be about him and his SO wasn't illegal, while sending those letters is classic defamation of character!

And how did I know this? Because he CC'd me everything, like a dumbass, so I could sue him if I decided to. Luckily for him, I'm not a Dick like he is, and merely ignored what happened. Especially since no tangible harm occurred from his foolish actions.

As a rule, I tend to eschew drama in my personal life. But it does make for good stories, and as a writer/collector of stories, I'll always have a morbid fascination for the drama that mysteriously revolves around me on random occasions.

Anyhoo, I hope ya'll enjoyed this brief foray into the mindset of a professional writer.

Cheers

Darkie Skullcap

2012-01-08T21:11:00.000-08:00

This poem I'm about to post for ya'll was crafted during the middle of my undergrad at SFSU. It came about while watching this Black man, who wasn't Jewish, but dressed very strangely -- almost as if he intended to parody the Hasid Yids I'd known growing up -- and all at once I was suddenly inspired to write this piece.

Caution & Warning: it features explicit language, including racial and anti-Semitic slurs. I apologize if you are offended and would suggest you do not read on after the jump if such topics make you uncomfortable. Please be aware this is merely a poem about my experiences, thoughts, and artistic intentions; it is not meant to be a political statement.

Enjoy! Cheers

P.S. Watch This Link for a preface.

Darkie Skullcap

I see the Black Hebrew

asiatic, transatlantic

religious convert

continental immigrant

the ultimate stranger in a strange land

I see the Black Hebrew

fro topped by a top-hat

and Jew-lox hanging down his shoulders

like a platypus tail

bizarre combination of opposites

I see the Black Hebrew

speaking afro-Yiddish

Shylock in blackface

red lips and bright white teeth

I see the Black Hebrew

standing outside the window

during Pesach seder

the oldsters call him schvarzter

call him goy

call him nigger

and he calls back

idolater, imposter,

false-tribe, calf-worshipper

"am I not a son of Abraham?

is my skin too dark to be a Jew?

I am Ishmael, Ham and Sammy Davis Junior

I am Beta Israel, I am Hebrew!"

lifts shofar to his lips and blows

I see the Black Hebrew,

and he sees me too

silently asks, "so do you think

I am not a Jew?"

and I tell the black Hebrew,

"I think I do...

where were your ancestors

during the pogroms and the diaspora?

what side did you sit on

during the Crown Heights riot?"

he counters, "but I am the darker brother

who lives behind you

in the mirror we are reflected

separate, yet connected

a color contrast of our religion

both us and the other

both part and apart

from the tribes twelve lost"

I see the Black Hebrew

in his large black coat

with large black shoes

putting on tefellin

he looks like a hole

so dark I could fall into

so dark I could disappear

I see the Black Hebrew

in the soul-food diner he sits

back booth, asks the waitress

if they have anything kosher

she brings him pork-chops

with collared-greens

says that's all they have

I see the Black Hebrew

standing in synagogue alone

a frayed talis hanging down his neck

reading from second-hand prayer-books

singing Mourner's Kaddish

the cry my ancestors at Masada made

the cry from Polish shtetls

the cry in ghettos, boxcars, the camps

in the ditches and furnaces and skies of Eastern Europe

but he's wearing David's star upon the jacket breast

yellow patch offensive with his presence

among the oldster’s at Shul, they ask

what ancestors did he lose in the Holocaust?

I see the Black Hebrew

skullcap covering his bald-spot

an old dark yid

stooped on a park-bench feeding pigeons

I see the Black Hebrew

and he sees me too

My Student Debt

2012-01-05T12:06:00.000-08:00

Full Disclosure. I owe over 35K in student debt, and being a recent graduate I have begun the career-hunt in order to pay that down. (But I'm still being somewhat selective. I'd like to matter where I work.)

When I took my exit counseling there were a few options provided to me to repay my student loans: standard, graduated, extended, and income-based. Each one provided its own twists & turns through budgeting my meager monetary resources.

Standard offered a blistering $400 per month to my current ~$15k a year earnings as a part-time office administrator. Graduated gave me the option to pay a lot now, and then pay more later. Extended ensured I would be paying double the amount I borrowed well into my retirement.

Of my choices, an IBR (Income-Based Repayment) seemed the only viable option. I get to pay only what I can afford, and after a number of decades the Fed squares my debt. Sounds like we have a winner, folks!

How'd I reach this conclusion? I studied up.

I sat down and thought about what's important to me, what I can afford, what I can't, what I could cut, save scrap, and otherwise hustle in order to manage my debt. And my life.

While Obama recently offered some token gestures towards student debt (which now exceeds credit-card debt!) I still feel that the student loan "bubble" is bound to burst with a rash of defaults in the next 10-15 years unless serious steps are taken to ensure that students' education makes a good return on investment.

What does that mean? It means minimum-wage jobs cannot support someone, or their families, particularly when they're paying off student debt just to have that minimum-wage job. And then you factor in car-payments, mortgage, kids, rent, etc & so on, and eventually you have a big, spiraling, monstrous black-hole that sucks up more money than Wall-Street. ($29 Trillion, and counting!)

But let me stop before the ledge. Even with a minimum-wage job, survival -- hope is possible. You need to be smart; you need a plan; you need to take the initiative.

Start with what you've got on the table -- cash, savings, income, etc -- and then compare it to what's under the bed freaking you out -- loans, credit-cards, etc -- and then find out what's the most you could possibly afford. If it wouldn't satisfy the requirements of your debt, go through your expenses and see where you can trim the fat, cut costs, and then return to how much you can now afford to pay. If that still doesn't cut it, then see about consolidation, or deferments, or new repayment plans. Talk to your lenders. They can often seem like Evil Sharks Out For Blood, but they're also people. More importantly, they're people who'd hate for you to default. Maybe even more than you do...

For me, this means no more fast-food binges, no impulse-buying. It means saving when I can, and taking advantage of every opportunity, new program, or legislation that comes by to give me a break. It means being honest about my debt, because I literally can't afford to be embarrassed or ashamed of what I owe. Hiding my problems will not make them go away. Confrontation, action, problem-solution. Gotta hustle, gotta move quick, but if a rock skips across the lake with a good throw, then I'll skip across my debt with a good plan.

And, if nothing else, reading this website gives me a laugh.

What are your debt stories? Feel free to share!

Cheers

Artistic Pron

2012-01-02T20:30:00.000-08:00

This guy named SPRFKR is one of my favorite artists. I even have a signed original hanging in my house. See below for an example.

His stuff heavily features erotic depictions of women with obvious indebtedness to Japanese art.

Cheers

My Politics

2011-12-31T01:16:00.000-08:00

Given recent events occurring in Iowa (I mean the Iowa primaries) I thought it'd be pertinent to outline my own political beliefs. Please note, these are all in the context of the U.S. politics, and represent only my own informed and uninformed opinions. Your disagreement is not an invitation to attack me. However you're welcome to leave a comment, per usual.

Though I am a registered Democrat, I actually prefer Green party candidates more often than not. I define myself as a Social Democrat with heavy influence from Socialism.

I believe healthcare, education, as well as the free and safe expression of sex/sexuality are human rights. I believe corporations should not be considered people. I support the Consumer Protection Agency, as well as heavy regulation of industry, corporations, and other big businesses. I support a progressive tax code that asks wealthier citizens to pay a larger share based on their heavier use of common facilities, and the increased stress they put on the economy. I believe we should not punish people for being poor, homeless, or unlucky, and support a better welfare system that helps people become self-sufficient.

I am pro-life in my personal life. I don't believe a fetus or zygote is a person, but it is a form of life that I am responsible for and personally I refuse to renege on that consequence. However, I do not think my private opinions on abortion should be applied to others, because forcing others to follow my personal beliefs is wrong. I am pro-choice in the voting booth.

I believe the death penalty is wrong. 1) It is a flawed system that has executed innocent men based on racist, sexist, and classist bias in the justice system. 2) It doesn't redress the life lost or harm done by the criminal, and instead acts as state-sanctioned murder in a juvenile attempt to trade a life for a life, as opposed to rehabilitate those who commit wrongful acts. It is morally bankrupt, ineffective, and far too often wrong in its judgements; the death penalty simply does not work, and only makes murderers out of us all.

I support widespread environmental protection, starting with heavy investment in renewable energy. (It would be great in this economy -- creating good paying, high tech jobs.) This would be followed by strict standards to protect natural resources, parks, wildlife, and increase our harmony with nature. Something needs to be done about Global Warming.

Yes, it does exist.

I believe state and religion are meant to be separate. Science is not the opposite of religion, and thus its prominence is not somehow a "threat" to religion. Science has nothing to do with religion, and so Intelligent Design/Creationism has no place in our schools. More importantly, the state should NEVER fund any religious institution so as to avoid creating any semblance of a connection between any religion and the government.

Hate crimes should not be a separate category of crime. I believe assault, murder, theft, or rape, even those based on race, gender, or sexual orientation are not somehow "worse" because they are done based on prejudice. Matthew Shepard is not any more or less "dead" because of homophobia. His killers are not any more or less killers because they are homophobic. All crimes should be prosecuted equally to the fullest extent of the law.

I hate the military. I find the thought of a government funded apparatus engaged in terrorism, murder, theft, and the invasion of sovereign nations to be disgusting. Young men, many of whom have no prospects other than enlistment, sign up to kill people just to get paid for it. I find this disgusting too. I have little to no respect for most modern veterans because of this, because I cannot stand those who choose to willfully put themselves in a position to kill someone else who poses no threat to our country. And in this modern day, very few people pose a threat to America, and those that do have been killed already.

Consequently, I am against many of our (undeclared) wars, such as Iraq, and I believe we need to severely scale down our military, including removing our foreign bases in countries like Germany, Japan, and other random nations. Our military budget would be better used feeding our fellow Americans rather than killing strangers in the Middle East.

Finally, I have found that in my experience most people identify as "conservative" are typically ignorant, racist, sexist, classist, intolerant, closed-minded, and angry. I'm sure that's not the case for every single person who identifies as conservative in this country, but in my experience, and as seen often on the news it appears to be that way for a majority of conservatives.

These are but a few of my personal political beliefs. There are more I probably forgot, or neglected to mention. Feel free to comment with your own.

Cheers

Technical Faux Pas

2011-12-24T02:27:00.000-08:00

Due to an unfortunate accident, many of the photos on my blog have been deleted/mysteriously disappeared. Expect to see some irregularities while I slowly, laboriously replace them from my offline back-ups.

Also! I will be branching out my blog into various sub-blogs focusing on fictional pieces, socio-political commentary, and my personal life + things I like. Expect to see more changes as the blogolution continues!

Cheers

Conversations of a Genderous Nature

2011-12-23T19:52:00.000-08:00

Seems there was something of a kerfuffle over at The Good Men Project. Resident writers from many sides came out in support, condemnation, or some combination thereof on the subject of Male Guilt.

Now, as a self-avowed Masculist, I willfully acknowledge that my bias skews towards men in this discussion. As a man who has suffered, not just at the hands of woman, but from society in general for no better reason than my gender, I can attest to my own prejudice hard-learned from experience.

I don't deny my privilege, nor do I deny my power. But I refuse to deny my own suffering.

Which is why when a prominent, self-described and widely acknowledged Feminist -- AKA Hugo Schwyzer -- makes the argument that all men, by virtue of being men, are guilty of rape until proven innocent, I can only register one emotion.

Disgust.

Stop your inner-dialogue for a moment. Drop your preconceived notions of gender-relations, and think about the italicized statement. Think hard.

Would we accept such reasoning towards Black men? Gay men? Gay Black men? Transgender men? Men of religious minorities? Men in wheelchairs? Men with mental disabilities? What about just men in general? Our fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, nephews, friends, neighbors, coworkers?

Are we as a people, and a culture, really expected to believe that one's gender is the sole factor in determining guilt or innocence? Is this proposal to engage in gender profiling somehow "different" than the bigotry of previous attempts to institute profiling against racial minorities and Muslims? Is it really that likely that a homosexual man, or a man in a wheelchair, or a man with a mental disability is a rapist to the point that we must consider them guilty and require them to prove their innocence? Are the mental gymnastics required to perform this feat of cognitive dissonance possible in a nation based on principles of liberty, & justice for all?

Actually, considering events recent & past it makes perfect sense after all.

But I had guessed that those figures invested in social justice, like Feminists, like Hugo Schwyzer, like Amanda Marcotte, would be far more enlightened, understanding, and compassionate.

Guess I was wrong. Again. So it goes.

My favorite Masculist on the web, Toy Soldiers, has an excellent piece on the whole issue.

He makes the keen observation that in the conversation linked at the beginning of this post, nobody is listening. Especially those coming into it from the outside (Marcotte, Schwyzer, and others).

They are hearing the information. But they aren't actually listening.

If they were, men like Tom Matlack, Toy Soldiers, and others could talk about our negative experiences with women and with society based on our gender without feeling attacked, or pressured to constantly qualify our statements so as not to offend anyone. Because, y'know, the audacity of our having lived a life that doesn't conform to standard victim metanarratives is dangerous and offensive to "real" victims.

(Someday I would love to hear how my writing about being falsely accused of rape, and the flawed structural apparatus that allows false accusations to destroy people's lives is somehow dangerously offensive...)

My girlfriend & I have often discussed the problems of Feminism. She has said that I actually am a Feminist -- because I support equal rights for men and women -- but as I have had to so often correct her, I am not a Feminist. Feminism used to mean equal rights for men and women, but based on articles by people like Marcotte, Schwyzer, and a host of others who have attacked me, my gender, and refused to even listen to the experiences of men who have been victimized (particularly when their victimizers were women), I cannot in good conscience agree that Feminism means gender equality anymore.

Maybe when Jaclyn Friedman puts Hugo Schwyzer on blast, and Naomi Wolf isn't stripped of her Feminist-credentials for believing in Julian Assange's innocence, then I'll believe.

But in the meanwhile, I can only communicate one emotion...

Disgust.

Cheers

Happy Hanukkah

2011-12-22T22:49:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmukkah, happy holidaze, and all that Jazz.

Post-Apocalyptic B-Boyz

2011-12-18T18:32:00.000-08:00

I'm always fascinated by the sheer creativity of breaking, b-boying, and urban dance. Here's an awesome video that appeared in my YouTube queue.

Restless Breathe

2011-12-15T01:00:00.000-08:00

I'm currently unable to sleep due to projectile coughing. I never knew I had so much phlegm, or that it was so aerodynamic.

Anyways, as I sit on the couch drinking tea with lemon, ginger & honey listening to Wayne Brady's Change Is Gonna Come, I can't help but reflect on my past actions over the course of between this month and the last...

After finally freeing myself from the dramatic grip of People I Used To Know, my life has started to fall into a comfortable rhythm, replete with awesome girlfriend moments, and the never-ending job-hunt-hustle.

But I can't help the anxiety in my chest, as if the other shoe is about to drop.

I've gotten so used to flinching, to being ready for that slap that Life has dished out to me so often. Maybe, in some way, I've become institutionalized to being a "survivor", to being the type of person who just trudges through the muck because he's never experienced true freedom. Freedom from the fear that this is never going to last...

Don't get me wrong! I don't plan to self-sabotage. I just can't help shaking those old cobwebs draped across my closet rafters, tucked back with all the skeletons of past romances, and corpses of rotted friendships.

Y'know though, despite all this uncertainty, I still feel. I can still enjoy the journey that life has dragged me on -- often unwillingly! -- from SEVEN near-death experiences to infinite nights spent in philosophical contemplation.

And in this phlegmatic night, I wonder. Have I done well at being a person? Have I been honest? Have I been loyal? Have I been compassionate, understanding and true to myself? The scrapes of my past are scarring enough that I'll never stop questioning. I'll never be completely at ease with who I am, because too often I've been stuck in that dark place where there's nothing but the shadowed thoughts in my head whispering myself across a slippery-slope to No Man's Land.

Bah! That's fucking dramatic. And depressing. I should just Man-Up; shift my ballsack and get back to the hard work I know I'm good at.

But see? Can't even let my guard down for a paragraph before I shut that shit down like a shart in a crowded room. (Okay, that was maybe too graphic.)

I forgive myself of the sins I've committed. I forgive myself for the actions I've taken that I'm not proud of, and for sometimes choosing, deliberately, not to be the bigger, better, and more decent person. I forgive myself for those flaws that creep up towards the surface like so many of California's fault-lines.

And I don't ask forgiveness from others. I don't expect it. I already know that's a waste of time. I've already seen the delusional cruelty emanating from the hearts of those who've hurt me... exes, ex-friends, ex-teammates, ex-whatever. It's not worth the wasted breath to think that they'd forgive me for fighting back against their ignorant hurtfulness. And I'm too proud to ever give in to bullies. I'm not a damn kid anymore. Never again.

That's the conflict. I'm a scrapper with the heart of a romantic. I hate fighting, but I'd be the first one to throw a punch at someone who said something Unforgivable. I'd be the first person to throw down when shit's getting real. Why? Because I used to just take it. Because I've already taken so much. Because I've had to swallow so much bullshit that I just can't take it anymore.

I refuse to back down. I refuse to capitulate. I refuse to be silent and suffer, not when the most important things in my life are on the line

So where does that leave me?

I have no idea.

I guess it leaves me on my living room couch at nearly 1 in the morning drinking tea, listening to Wayne Brady. And goddamnit, my change is gonna come! I'll never stop fighting for that life I promised to myself and my lover.

Cheers

The Seven Near-Death Experiences of Zek J Evets: Pt. 7

2011-12-12T23:28:00.001-08:00

I have been procrastinating this final chapter on the 7 times I have almost died. And while it would be easy to blame a busy work schedule, hectic college education, romance, housemate drama, or the pursuit of other artistic endeavours, the reality is far more... shameful.

See, despite my seemingly cool exterior, despite the well-crafted response to life that is my personality, I am capable of being someone who I regretfully cannot look in the mirror sometimes.

This NDE occurred during my first year of SF living, back in early 2008.

I was walking along Van Ness, coming back from a late-night walk through the city (a strange habit, but I'm a night-owl, so sue me) and I'd just finished a scrumptious meal at a local Burger King when, crossing the cobble-paved sidewalk between Tenderloin and SoMa, I was accosted by acoustics of a homeless dude.

"HEY! HEEEEEEEEY! MRAAAAAAAH..."

Yes, he really did sound like that. Like a post-apocalyptic zombie.

Only he could run really fast. Seriously, I began with a brisk walk, then a brisker walk, then a job, then a full-tilt hustle but somehow this hobo caught me sans shoes, socks, and even a few toes.

His manner worried my 21 year-old self, still uncertain of this big-little city. I figured he was hoping for some charity; a donation to the beer/weed/hard-drug foundation of which this matty haired, scraggly fingered, red eyeballed, toothless beggar was surely a found member.

Normally I'd be quite moved to pity. As a newbie to SF, I was still unused to being begged for money on a regular basis, and my moral center wasn't quite as practical as it is now. But in the dead of night, surrounded by empty space and the sight of this crazy dude hobbling after me with the speed of a demon?? Hells no!

And that's what I told him. But he didn't seem to get it. So I just continued ~~running~~ walking down the street. Even though I didn't look back -- something of which I was kinda proud -- I felt that he was still following me with the intent to shank me in some dark corner, probably by the next BofA ATM.

However, instead of waiting for the dark embrace of a shadowy corner, this guy suddenly grabbed me from behind! His hands traced awkwardly sensual movements, aggressive, and prying, as if I were being raped. Or robbed.

Either way, I freaked out. Went completely still like a deer staring into two very bright headlights.

As the hobo's breath wafted into my nostrils, something inside me suddenly broke free and before I knew it...BAM MOTHAFUCKA!

I snapped like a dry twig. Took his hands and flipped him so that his back was to me with his arms pinned. Then I took a handful of his greasy knotted hair and used it to pull his head around towards my swift knee. Once! Twice! Three times! Then a punch to the solar-plexus and Mr. Hobo went down like Apollo Creed.

But the something that had broken free inside my raged too wildly to be restrained this suddenly. I started kicking him in the ribs, violently, and continuously. Eventually he stopped coughing blood, and stopped moving, or even making a sound...

And just like that I was Dr. Jekyll again. (Mr. Hyde still lurked somewhere in the back of my subconscious though, I'm sure, patiently waiting for another opportunity.)

I bent down to see if the guy was breathing. Luckily his crusty lips whistled with a faint passage of air. I rolled him onto his back and checked his pulse, tried to wake him up but the man was out cold.

At that point I got scared. Scarder. More scared.

Had I just almost killed this guy? What do I do know? He just tried to rape & rob me, but I can't just leave him here... Yet my pulse quickened, and my youth prevailed over my reason.

I ran like a fucking coward and left this guy, broken and bleeding on the sidewalk on a cold San Francisco night.

To this day I'm not sure if he lived or died. I like to believe he survived, somehow, and that the bodily punishment I inflicted on him didn't cripple the guy into any more of a pitiable existence. I fervently hope that he's doing better, and that he may find it in his heart to forgive the cruelty I exhibited that night. I was young, and fucking stupid.

Yet I remember crawling back to my apartment near the top of Twin Peaks and feeling nothing but gratitude to be alive.

So it goes.

Cheers

New Music in my Life

2011-12-12T15:58:00.000-08:00

Been listening to a lot of great tunes recently, from Cage the Elephant and Wax Tailor, to Brandtson and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

But what's really got me nodding my head is this "Golden Oldy" by The Coasters, Down in Mexico.

Cheers

My Life with the Housemates from Hell

2011-12-09T00:01:00.000-08:00

If only this story was about one of the above...

Well, I'm back! This post has been long in the thinking, planning, and writing, but now I can (at last) reveal it. As of today I have finally moved in with my girlfriend. [Pauses for applause.] Thank you, thank you. And since I am no longer interested in "keeping the peace" with my housemates for fear of any reprisal against my stuff, my deposit, or my person, I will now tell ya'll a story that will surely make you glad to be you -- and not me.

[Author's note: post contains strong language. Certain details have been altered to protect privacy, and prevent lawsuits.]

Let's begin with my housemate and friend, Jane. She is one of those yuppie-types who dances along the edge between New-Age, Hipster, and Hollywood wannabe. It is her belief that nose-jobs are a necessity for Armenian women, that new shoes and vintage clothing are the only acceptable forms of fashion, and that her personal astrologist can accurately predict everything that will happen in her life, from problems at the tea house she works at, to the men she meets. To call her shallow would be an understatement, but she was always nice to me, if a little ditzy and immature (despite being 4 years older than me). More importantly, she was also capable of having fun, speaking in bad Spanish, joking about a Jewish holocaust versus an Armenian genocide, and swapping relationship stories.

Then enters Dick. A self-described "alpha male", he thinks of himself as a "guy, a real guy, not a San Francisco guy", who goes "all out" on everything. In reality he is a Skeletor-looking fake-ass Buddhist who attempts to utilize PUA tactics to manipulate women in his Yoga classes. His skull is consistently shiny with a pulsing vein coursing from his forehead to his nose-bridge. Dick enjoys one-upping other people with experiences he's had as a result of a privileged life, including his time spent in a monastery for eight years! (I find this ironic, a la Arnie, from the movie Anger Management.) Yet Dick also likes to shoot guns, take recreational drugs -- speed, ecstasy, meth -- wear women's panties during sex, and act like a bad caricature of a mid-life crisis. Case in point: he recently turned forty, and then acquired two motorcycles that look like they were taken from the set of Easy Rider.

Now, after the fiasco of our last housemate Sam. (Alcoholic, broke, and being sued by his baby mama who he knocked up twice!) I was eager to find someone older, stable, and extremely chill to move in. Jane offered her boyfriend Dick as a possible replacement, at his suggestion. At first I was unsure. I'd heard a lot about Dick from Jane, and felt he was a shady person.

For instance, he had proved himself unable to properly use contraceptives because he and Jane somehow managed the extremely difficult task of getting her pregnant despite both of them being educated on condom use and birth-control. (Jane subsequently got an abortion.) They had also taken a "break" not too recently, where Dick fucked one of his Yoga students, prompting Jane to retaliate after they'd gotten back together by making-out with a friend of her bestie's husband's at a random party in The Mission. Dick had also been recently fired from his last teaching job following allegations by a Black student that he had used the N-word in class, calling the student by that slur. (According to Dick it never happened, but I'm not so sure, since the school felt it appropriate to fire him.)

Yet, despite these red-flags, I acquiesced to Jane's suggestion that Dick move in. On the surface he had a significant amount of savings, a jovial personality, and a chill vibe in regards to living situations that convinced me to agree to allow him to move in. At the least, I thought he'd be better than our last housemate.

Faster than you can say, "excuse me?" Dick had begun to display openly irrational, passive-aggressive, and douchey behaviors. It started with small things, like placing extremely expensive/fragile things in the common-areas while saying not to use/disturb them, and him playing extremely loud electro-house music early in the morning.

I remember one particularly annoying instance with an off-hand request that he return one of the lamps to the living-room at his earliest convenience so I could see in there at night. Dick stormed out of his room, gripping the lamp, and threw it down on the floor to plug it in; the whole time acting passive-aggressive, angry, resentful, and making snide comments.

At that, my girlfriend (who was staying over at the time) and I left the apartment to give Dick a little space while we grabbed some Taco Bell. En route I got a text-message from Jane asking why I was being "territorial" and hostile to Dick. I could only think, seriously? How the hell is asking for the living-room lamp to be put back when you're doing using it somehow territorial?

When we got back, Dick, Jane and I had a conversation regarding the incident whereupon it was revealed -- though conspicuously without any official apology or contrite recognition -- that Dick had overreacted, Jane had leapt to his defense without thinking, and they promised to act as housemates first, and ignore the fact that Dick and Jane were a couple when dealing with house-issues.

Almost immediately following this conversation there were two instances where they broke that promise. The first time during a fight between Jane & I about my not cleaning up after her messes where she invoked Dick's name as back-up without his knowledge or consent, and he got pissed. The second happened exactly the same, except it was Dick invoking Jane's name. Like a hypocrite. But of course she justified it somehow, and didn't even call him out on it. (Oh, but I did. To her discomfort.)

His behavior started to deteriorate as the days turned into weeks. Suddenly he was abusive to Jane's cat -- to the point that I wondered whether I should call the ASPCA. He started taking over the house, hanging rows of hats to rival the Mad Hatter in our hallway, placing terrible photos he'd taken of ruins in the living-room and dining-room, and even demanding that he be given non-negotiable use of the living-room on Monday nights to hold private Yoga sessions. All of this he did without asking me, or even informing me until it had already happened. Shoot, even Jane, who I thought was my friend, didn't seem to bother sending a text-message of advance notice!

Yet through it all I remained calm, chill. Didn't make a fuss. Didn't freak out. Didn't make a big deal out of his ignorance or behavior.

Why? Because these things in isolation were hardly cause to throw a hissy fit, even if Dick would, I'm simply not that kind of person. Oh, but how I regret that now. I should've seen everything taken as a whole and shut it down before it got out of hand, instead of simply reacting to each new problem, and being so damn chill about it!

For example, I should've said something when Dick randomly one day told me he had been growing -- illegally growing -- black mold in the house for a friend of his. Black mold? BLACK MOLD? This little fungi causes respiratory problems, and even death if left untreated. And this douche was growing it in our home!? Thanks for the heads-up, asshole!

I should've said something when his experiments left terrible smells in the kitchen to the point that I couldn't cook for days at a time.

Or when he bought those Easy-Rider lookalike motorcycles in some crazy midlife crisis moment and asked to use the garage for a weekend to fix them up. That weekend turned into 4 months. I never got to park my car in the garage again. In fact, I never got to use the garage again period. He literally sucked up every inch of space like some alien sponge.

I should've said something when he started throwing away my food in the fridge because he thought it was "going bad". It was "going bad" because I couldn't cook because of his nasty smelling science experiments growing black mold, which is what he was smelling -- not my food.

I should've said something when that damn Cleaning List was announced. Oh, that fucking Cleaning List! Why did I agree to it? Why did I even consider it?

See, I'm a very clean and minimal person. I rarely make a dent in the places I live. Up until this point I had been doing the majority of the cleaning, for Jane, her cat, and other housemates. Yet I didn't freak out or hold in a bunch of resentment . Nope, I just accepted that I had different standards of cleanliness than other people.

But Dick, he somehow managed to make even Howard Hughes seem like a slob. I swear this guy vacuumed at least once a day. Despite dating a girl with a very hairy cat who sheds a lot, he sure seemed to hold a deep-seated grudge against cat-hair. (Admittedly, the cat did shed quite a lot. It accounted for most of the cleaning done in the apartment.) Shoot, he even managed to bully Jane into cleaning, all of a sudden, quite contrary to her usual sloppy nature punctuated by frenzied moments of cleaning when she realizes what a mess she's made.

So suddenly I was doing less cleaning. It was nice, for a change, to no long have to pick up after anyone but myself.

However, this apparently greatly upset Dick. Infuriated him. Said I wasn't doing my part, wasn't helping out around the house. Because to Dick, helping out means cleaning up after other people instead of myself. Go figure. I guess at forty he hadn't quite learned a few adult lessons about cleanliness -- among other things.

And so the Cleaning List was born. We sat down and I agreed to give it a try. There were columns for chores, and rows for days of the week. It was rotational, and seemingly fair. However, it quickly became apparent to me that I inevitably ended up cleaning the messes of my housemates, because I was often too busy to be home much to make a mess anywhere except my bedroom. I cleaned as I went when I was at home, and as such rarely left a mess after I finished using any of the common areas.

So I stopped following the list and told them I'd like to go back to everyone cleaning up after themselves. They accused me of being selfish, lazy, blah blah blah. It was confusing. How is cleaning up after myself lazy? Aren't they being lazy by expecting me to clean up after them??

This was just the tip of the iceberg though. What happened next brought this whole shaky existence crashing down.

We had this neighbor. An elderly neighbor. Him and his wife owned a dog, a very loud dog. It liked to bark in the morning at the squirrels running along the power-lines. Now, after having lived there for a few years I was used to it and generally slept thru it. But Dick is something of a wishy-washy sleeper, I guess, because one morning at around 8 or 9 AM, he starts yelling at the dog. Obviously this doesn't work. More importantly, it's pretty damn hypocritical to get angry at a barking dog in the morning when you regularly play electro-house-trance-whatever music at the same hour yourself during the week.

And here I am, tucked into my sheets like a very sleepy burrito, when Dick yells, "Shut up your damn dog before I shoot it!" He yelled this a couple of times, getting really angry and fervent. I groan, and roll back to sleep.

Sometime around noon I'm chilling at the house on my day off before a weekly open-mic I host when the doorbell rings. I head down the steps to answer it, and turns out it's the elderly neighbor who's dog Dick threatened to shoot and/or kill. He's come on behalf of his equally elderly wife who is frightened out of her mind because she's worried someone is going to come barging through the door to shoot her dog, and possibly rape then kill her. (I know, she's a little sensitive.)

What made the situation all the more annoying was that this neighbor had called the cops in relation to this incident. It was at that point where my friendly behavior turned evasive, knowing who had actually done the deed but wary of getting my housemate in trouble with The Law.

Unfortunately he'd already written down my address and told me that a police officer would be coming by later to inquire about the incident since he believed that this was the house where the threat had come from.

Now, I'm a typically law-abiding person. Minus a few speeding tickets I tend to keep my nose clean. So when the cops come by asking questions, I answer them quickly and with as much ambiguity as I can. No need to tell on anyone who might be pissed about it.

Naturally after the neighbor leaves I call Dick to inform him of what's happening. Phone keeps ringing and I leave a voicemail. I also leave a message with Jane. Later on Dick calls back, completely freaking out on the phone, yelling at me, trying to tell me how to talk with the police by refusing to answer the door, asking if I want him to go to prison. Seriously, the dude yelled, "DO YOU WANT ME TO GO TO PRISON? DO YOU WANT ME TO GO TO PRISON, ZEK?"

I mean, damn. Talk about irrational overreactions. People do not, as a rule, go to prison for yelling at a person's dogs. Also, as my housemate, of course I don't want him to go to prison -- besides the problem of the rent, he's also my other housemate, and friend's boyfriend.

Now, I'm also typically a mellow person, but being yelled at with condescension and dramatics from a dude who I just a did favor for by NOT telling the neighbor (or the cops, as it turned out) that he threatened to kill their dog is a bit too much for me. I snapped, and told him, "I WAS JUST TRYING TO DO YOU A FAVOR BUT IF YOU DON'T WANT MY HELP THEN GO TO HELL ASSHOLE." Then I hung up.

Meanwhile the doorbell rings and there's the cop. We talk, and he takes my statement. I said, quite plainly that I was asleep when I heard a voice yell out about the dog barking. I don't know who made the threat. I went back to sleep almost immediately after waking up.

But this cop, being a cop, seemed to find me suspicious and implied that he thought I was the one who'd yelled out. Kept dropping subtle hints. Told me if the dog was really a problem that there were certain steps that could be taken and then told me to make sure not to yell about the dog again. I told him I hadn't and then he left.

Isn't that just great? Dick makes another mess, and I'm left to -- nay, expected -- to clean it up.

Also meanwhile, I text Dick to assure his irrational ass of what I said to the cop, how he isn't going to prison, and that maybe next time he should be a little nicer when someone's trying to help him out of trouble that he caused himself. He texted me back that I was free and "encouraged" to move out as soon as possible.

I laughed, and told him that I would when I was ready, but until then he should probably avoid getting into anymore trouble.

He then texted me back, seething passive-aggressiveness, writing that since I hadn't signed any lease (I was a sub-tenant) he could technically just toss my stuff on the street and there wouldn't be a thing I could do about it.

I texted him back that it's illegal to do that (not that he could anyways, since he's also just a sub-tenant) and then told him that if he plans to make threats, should I then take preemptive action to protect my property? Meanwhile I went ahead and spoke with many housing authorities, the landlord, and the police and all assured me that Dick could not toss out my stuff, even without having signed a proper lease since I had proof of residency and California laws protect sub-tenants, particularly if they've lived in a place more than two years.

Unfortunately, out of concern for my stuff I canceled an important open-mic night that I was set to host, finding someone to guest-host in my place, and basically locked myself in my room texting & calling Jane asking her to account for all this insanity. She brushed it off, saying Dick was joking, blah blah blah. Said we'd talk about it later -- but then didn't show up home till 2 AM because she went out to a comedy show with Dick.

Basically she acted like a fucking cunt, and left me hanging. Left me holed up in my room like a post-apocalyptic survivor-victim, worried some psycho was going to try throwing away my saxophone.

At that point she stopped being my friend.

Dick & I didn't speak for the next few days. It was shaky in the apartment. One time, I left the house and had said "goodbye" to the cat, Megan, as is my habit literally every day. And Dick just happened to be walking around nearby. Later I got a text from Jane telling me not to be so childish and antagonize Dick by saying goodbye to Megan and not to him...

Huh??? Are these people for real? Did he really just get his panties in a twist and complain to Jane because I said goodbye to a cat, but not to him after the shit that he said?

A "talk" was scheduled for Monday-ish. Since Dick was unemployed, and since I worked late, this ended-up being on Tuesday.

What started out was a seemingly rational discussion between adults about how Dick did in fact threaten to kill the neighbor's dog, and his irrational behaviors stemmed from fear of being caught growing black mold, and that he's "a guy, a guy's guy, not a San Francisco guy, and when I'm pushed against a wall I just fight back all the way".

My only question was, what fucking wall? And my second only question is, why does your version of a real man look suspiciously like an asshole?

But before we could even get to that part: first we had to have Dick turn off the recorder he was attempting to use to record the conversation as some kind of "assurance" that I'd be "honest"... What would I lie about? He was the one whose been acting crazy! But so it goes.

I threatened to leave the room and just let the shit sink unless he agreed not to illegally record my voice (which is true, in California you cannot knowingly and unknowingly record someone's voice without their permission).

Then we actually started talking, but somehow got side-tracked onto what was really bugging Dick. It was the damn Cleaning Chart from earlier. Apparently he felt I wasn't following it. And so he'd taken it UPON HIMSELF to do my chores for me -- and then decided he'd resent me for it, despite my never asking him to clean up after me, or do my work, or even telling me that he was doing my chores for me. (Although it did explain why I never had to clean much on my areas of the house.)

This would be a recurring pattern in the apartment up until I moved out. Dick likes to do huge cleaning binges very often. And resent people, apparently. I prefer to clean as I go, and generally do so on my schedule -- which is admittedly a vastly different schedule from Dick and Jane's. I also don't hold in resentment. I'm just not much of a Buddhist like Dick is, I guess.

And so inevitably, Dick would do my cleaning for me, thinking I wasn't going to do it -- not realizing that I would as soon as I could get home from work. Y'know, the place I go for many hours of the day to make money to pay the rent. Of which I paid the most. (I had the Master bedroom + a private bathroom.)

So the discussion derailed into minutiae about what's "clean" versus "not-clean" and ignored the very real threats Dick made, the very irrational behaviors he exhibited, and the extreme douchebaggery he regularly affected.

But whatever. Again, in a classic example of being a chill guy, I let the shit slide. I got over it, and went about my business. Even shook the dude's hand, looked him straight in the eyes and apologized for anything wrong I did. He shook my hand. Looked me in the eyes. And did not apologize for anything.

Anyhoo, life went on. Though we had agreed to give the cleaning list one more go, Dick apparently lost/forgot about it, and so his entire beef with me dissolved into a big pile of, what the fuck was the whole point of this shit then?

Dick was still unemployed, but luckily I was extremely busy working two jobs, volunteering as a open-mic host, going to school full-time, and trying to be a decent boyfriend. Such as it was, I rarely had to interact with the dude, and lucky it was for me too.

He began to get really mean to Jane. Started calling her a bitch, getting into fights with her friends, and generally making an ass out of himself with people. I can't tell you the times my girlfriend ended-up sharing her shoulder for Jane to cry on about Dick's bad behavior. Shoot, one time he just up and left the apartment -- didn't say where he was going. Didn't answer his phone. Just disappeared. Freaked Jane out real good.

But I tried to ignore it. For the love of peace under our roof, I ignored my better judgement and avoided giving Dick a Well and Necessary backhanded slap to his villainly bald noggin'. With that awkward vein constantly throbbing all the way down his forehead. *Shudder*

There were other memorable moments in our time together. Upon the occasion when Osama bin Laden, y'know, that mass murderer, was killed by US Navy SEALs, my girlfriend & I were watching everything on the news in the living-room. Jane had just got home and we were talking about it. People were celebrating in DC, and Dick comes out of his room, smiling with too much teeth, and he says in a fake-ass voice, "Yeah! So awesome! Y'know what I hope happens? I hope some of our troops get killed now."

And this person is supposedly a Buddhist who lived in a monastery for 8 years? Yeah, right. This wasn't a forty year-old man. This was a twelve year-old child in the body of a fake-tan Mohandas Gandhi.

Fast-forward to the nigh-present.

Dick & Jane had scheduled a MASSIVE party at the apartment. Some 50-60 people crammed into our lil' place.

Unfortunately they forgot to tell me about it.

Until the day of.

But since it was open-mic night, I thought, cool beans. No big deal. I'll be gone for most of the time. The girlfriend & I met up after for hot wings, trying to stay out for as long as possible to avoid crashing their party (we weren't invited -- already a slap in the face) and be respectful. But eventually it got too late and so we headed home, thinking we'd hang in my room and just watch movies on Netflix.

When we got to the apartment it was CRAZY. There was a rave room in the garage which looked more like a rape room, complete with a whipping post, neon-colors, and a fucking pool filled with plastic balls and only two dudes standing in there looking creepy. It looked like something the reincarnation of Buffalo Bill would've designed. Dick was hanging out in his typical attire, shirtless with too-tight leather pants, a fur-coat from the 70's hanging nearby, and big suspenders that randomly covered his nipples.

(Seriously, that was how he dressed when he partied. He favored really weird clothing -- Tommy Bahama shirts that were ten sizes too big, Chinchilla coats, Mad Hatter hats, extremely tight pants of all materials, and women's panties, as I mentioned.)

He greeted us awkwardly with a fake grin, and an obvious surprise/lack of enthusiasm. So we headed upstairs. The whole house was turned into party-central, complete with live DJ, big, big fucking speakers, lots of random lights, food, snacks, really tall dudes and very drunk girls. The girlfriend & I immediately went to my room. When I opened the door, instead of my room I saw our living room. All the furniture was stacked haphazardly all over, to the point that we could hardly sit down.

I'll admit, I got really pissed. Nobody had asked me if this was cool. Nobody said, "Hey Zek, can we put some stuff in your room"? No phone-call, no text-message, no nothing!

And I had a sneaking suspicion Dick & Jane had planned on getting away with using my room -- without my permission -- for all the coats and purses that were also strewn about the floor, expecting I'd go back to my girlfriend's place at the end of the night.

I headed back out into the party and found Jane. Told her I wanted to use my room, and that nobody told me about putting our furniture in here. She got impatient and just asked me what I wanted/needed. I told her I needed her to help me move the stuff out so I could use the room.

As we moved everything into her and Dick's rooms (yeah, that's right, they didn't sleep in the same room, which I forgot to mention earlier -- weird, huh?) I couldn't help but notice that they had space aplenty for all the crap they'd dumped into my room, which was just confusingly infuriating. Unfortunately, as we were moving the last few things, suddenly I hear Dick thumping down the hall, bare chest looking rather weak in the hall-light, yelling in a strangely high-pitched voice, "YOU'RE A DICK MAN. OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SUCH A DICK!"

"Excuse me?"

"YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AROUND HERE. [Author's note: still not sure what that had to do with... anything.] YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING DICK MAN."

"I just wanted to use my room--"

"YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK YOU'RE A DICK..." He trailed on like that for a while, and then went into his, This Is Your Father mode, where he tells me to stay in my room (thanks Dad) and don't come out (thanks again Dad!) and got really aggressive with my acoustic-guitar before slamming the door. Jane ineffectually berates him with the faux-protestation of "Diiiiiiiick", not even standing up for her (ex-)friend, her housemate, or the drama that he was inciting.

At that point my girlfriend voiced her discomfort with staying here a moment longer. I agreed. We packed a few essentials, and then dragged Jane back from the party to my room for a quiet conversation. I told her the happenstance, explained my dislike of Dick's irrational, aggressive behavior and told her I didn't appreciate the drama.

Upon the utterance of that last word, she recoiled as if slapped. Let me make an aside: see, Jane LOVES drama, but hates to be connected in any way with the source of said drama. That Dick, her boyfriend, was being a big fucking baby with a tantrum -- AKA drama -- and being called out on it was equivalent to a vag-punch for her.

The girlfriend meanwhile stood patiently, looking at Jane with barely concealed head-shaking as the conversation ended.

Then I locked the door to my room and we left.

At this point in the story I started spending far less time at my apartment. I was glad I'd given my month+ notice to move out a week or so ago. I didn't want to stay in that place any longer than absolutely necessary. I even made preparations to move ASAP so I wouldn't have to worry that Dick would snap like the irrational, insecure asshole that he is and try tossing any of my possessions again.

I took various steps to ensure my deposit would be reimbursed to me, and that my property would be okay when I wasn't at home, documenting everything, taking pictures of my stuff, preparing the cleaning of my room, etc.

It was a fucking hassle to rival going to the DMV everyday for a year during the rush period.

There was constant back-&-forth over stupid details, like the blinds which I didn't soil but was asked to get dry-cleaned, the outlet missing a cover that they had lost that I was asked to replace (but I didn't, because they eventually found it in the closet -- dumbasses), and other random shit that I hadn't done or dirtied but was nonetheless asked to clean.

Dick, of course, acted like... well, a dick.

They provided me with a "moving-out" sheet that I checked-off. However, I figured since I had until, y'know, the end of the month to move out, I didn't have to hurry with everything. Apparently Dick felt that on my first time checking things off the sheet, that everything I left unchecked I planned not to do. Didn't think to ask me. Instead he cleaned the rest for me (thanks dumbass!) and then got pissed holding all of his childish resentment towards me in until the next time I got back to the apartment to grab more stuff/clean.

He started a fight, and refused to leave me alone until I'd listened to his bullshit about things I never said, never planned to do, and cleaning issues I didn't have -- but that he did, I guess -- all the while I'm rolling my eyes. I eventually just walked off, leaving him to froth at the mouth in silence.

But during the conversation, he said something... strange, that brought some hackles out of me. He insinuated during the conversation that we should stop "playing this game". (I wasn't playing any game. I was just trying to clean things.) And that he had "control" over Jane. (Huh?) He said he had "power, control, influence, whatever you wanna call it" over her, and that whatever he told her, she'd do, and so I would too in order to get my deposit back.

Dude just admitted that he was manipulative.

Full stop.

I expressed my confusion, asking if she was his "minion", and what the fuck does it mean that he has power or whatever over her? Seeing him fluster and unable to construct a response, I left him to his own impotence.

But this was something I just couldn't not share with Jane. When she got home, Dick left for a quick minute. We had what my girlfriend would call a "Come to Jesus talk", that actually ended with Jane being led to the devil, so to speak.

I told her what he said, and she rationalized it, like she rationalized every instance of insane behavior he'd exhibited since moving in, from temper-tantrums to the time his older, married friend stayed over and was hitting on my girlfriend. I could almost see the hamsters on hamster-wheels turning. But so it goes.

Finally the blessed day arrived when I would be fully, and completely moved out. I naturally got my full deposit back (with a whole heap of legal actions in my back-pocket should I not) and then said my goodbyes to the Jane. Dick was thankfully not around. He'd recently got a new teaching job -- after months of, in my opinion, justifiable rejection -- filling in for someone on maternity leave.

God help his students.

And now I'm living blissfully with my girlfriend in a quiet, drama-free comfortable existence. This post, however, stands as a testament to all the shit I put up with, to all the times I let things slide, and to all insanity that I tolerated for the sake of a now-defunct friendship, and avoidance of conflict on the scale of lawsuits.

This post is a testament to the fact that I was a Nice Guy (TM) but now I refuse to apologize or keep silent about the neverending bullshit I put up with in that household, from threats to passive-aggressiveness, from the time they melted my favorite gnome to the time he tried to throw away my nice sponge and got caught.

This is for catharsis, for full disclosure, for story-telling, truth-telling, and all the times I bit my tongue. This is to say, fuck you, and also, I don't give a fuck.

This has been my life with The Housemates from Hell. And now I'd just like to say...

Cheers

Moving On Up...!

2011-11-16T19:38:00.001-08:00

To the East Bay. Will post again after the hub-bubaloo.

The Great Game Debate: An Outside Perspective

2011-11-09T16:38:00.000-08:00

MRA's versus PUA's. Yes, you read that correctly. Male Right's Activists, in all their virulent glory, are currently facing a confrontation with Pick-Up Artists, in all their manipulative misogyny. It's like Darth Vader versus Lord Voldemort! It's like Umbridge versus Snape, Galbatorix versus Sauron, and Freeza versus The Lich King. The ultimate showdown of reactionary ignorance pitted against itself, the two groups amongst the MRM that I dislike the most are going to throw it down until one, the other, or (hopefully!) both are lying on the floor amongst the remnants of broken dignity and relevance.

Well hot damn! Let's enjoy the show, shall we?

Okay, so on the one hand we have the MRA. Male Right's Activists. The fanatical and extremist faction of the Men's Right's Movement. They believe all rapes are false, all women are bitches, and there is no group more persecuted than men -- especially White men. They think PUA's are supplicating pussy-chasers, devoid of manly honor, maturity, wholly chained to the validation of their self-worth through the possession of female attraction.

Then on the other hand we PUA. Pick-Up Artists are those who follow the teachings of "Game", and practice "Game Theory" in a battle of the sexes they see as winnable through manipulating, dominating, and ultimately using women for sex. Like classic teenagers, they dismiss all haters as pussies & losers unable to even get laid -- let alone understand the importance of sex. PUA's place the having of intercourse above all other goals, and direct all their time & resources to learning tactics in order to get it.

The reality is that both camps are full of shit. The MRA's are angry and upset, frothing at the mouth over their loss of privilege and taking that out on women by virtue of proximity, even though by & large they are zero-amount responsible for the structural oppression of men, and the consequent microaggressions. (Case in point: The Mancession. Created by men! Created by Wall Street and the top 1%, which consists almost overwhelming of men! White, heterosexual men. Not women. Not minorities. Not Islamic fundamentalists or Hispanic immigrants sneaking into the country. Most oppression of men is caused by other men, or women ultimately responsible to men who allow it. Note: this is not to say that men are not oppressed by women, or to diminish the fight against misandry. See my posts for more information.)

The PUA's are shallow, manipulative nymphos who never seemed to mature past age 16 to realize that 1) sex isn't the Be All End All of life, and 2) those of us who disagree with your obsession for trying to fuck random chicks aren't losers or incapable of getting laid. Most of us really just don't care as much as you do about getting a lot of ass, probably because we don't have to try as hard. (Contrary to the taunts, some of us even have actual girlfriends!) More importantly, Game -- despite seemingly positive elements of male-empowerment -- is tainted with very valid observations that it espouses domestic violence, sexual harassment, and rape along with lesser offenses such as insulting women, manipulating them, coercing them into uncomfortable situations, and other douchebaggery.

It is my opinion that both camps are crap. MRA's and PUA's both need to sit the fuck down and shut up. For my part, and that of most people, I'm tired of self-entitled pricks demanding endless pussy, or grown men crying over lost privilege like someone knocked a stolen ice-cream cone out of their hand.

PUT YOUR PRIVILEGE & ENTITLEMENT ON THE GROUND MOTHAFUCKA!

There are serious issues to be dealt with, and this shit just bogs it down! We've got young boys in America -- especially Black & Hispanic boys -- failing school, from elementary to college. We've got no protection for male victims of domestic violence. Young boys who have been raped by women are still victim-blamed or ignored, and no services exist to support them or male victims of domestic abuse. Violent crime, which predominantly affects men, is still a huge problem for metropolitan police forces, as well as the fact that we imprison men at nearly 9 times the rate we imprison women, despite similar rates of criminality, and crimes committed. And finally this economic crisis -- dubbed the Mancession -- which has left men, more than any other group, jobless, in ways not seen since The Great Depression continues unabated, leaving many men with no hope of supporting their families, or even themselves.

So to the dicks & assholes in this conversation I say, fuck you and the piece of shit horse you rode in on! I refuse to acknowledge anything positive in what you do because you seem incapable of doing anything positive. All you do is argue over who is more of a loser...

NEWSFLASH: you're both losers. NEWSFLASH: no one knows or cares about anything you say. NEWSFLASH: men are still suffering while you compare notches and ideological minutiae. NEWSFLASH: grow up.

And with those knowledge bombs dropped, ya'll can go back to watching the petty dramatics.

Cheers

Lamestar: The Alpha Male

2011-11-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

Tyler Durden... Domestic Terrorist. Neo-Luddite. Figment of Jack's Imagination. Alpha Male.

Much has been written about the supposed greatness of Alpha Males, and while modern psychobabble in pop-culture seems to indicate that stereotypically "hot" women only go for "alpha men" -- AKA douchebags -- and that Alpha Males are the ones who make all the money, get all the success, and generally rule over the Betas, Omegas, and other peons of humanity, but the reality is far less glorious. Alpha Males are really just insecure assholes.

Don't believe me? Keep reading.

Let's start with some qualities of an Alpha Male.

1. Dominant.

Basically the guy who acts like he's in charge of everyone, and tells them what to do. This is the dude who gets pissed when you decide you'd rather go to the beach than the frat-house for another keg-stand. This is the dude who has high-blood pressure from freaking out that nobody gives a shit about his authority or that he couldn't find a tighter T-shirt to grace his 'roid rage pex.

2. Intolerant.

Unless you willingly submit to this guy's worldview on politics, religion, and other miscellany, then he'll bully you until you do. This guy is not okay with people who are different from what he expects them to be. This often manifests into racism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of prejudice. Also, he is completely ignorant of this.

3. Insecure.

Constantly seeks to prove himself in relation to others via acts of dominance and intolerance. The point is to disguise serious character flaws through hubris. He'll typically do this by projecting onto others, and ridiculing them, mocking them, and demonizing them for traits he himself possesses, or for issues he cannot himself deal with. This insecurity is usually due to lack of actual confidence, but possession of immense quantities of fakeness known often as douchebaggery.

Other traits: Asshole, Victim-Blamer, Bigot, Creep, Pervert, Cat-Caller, and Ignorance.

Alpha Males are also every superhero you ever hated.

Alpha Males promulgate the myth of their greatness by oppressing others through structural systems and microaggressions. It is ironic that so much effort is spent to "sell" the general public on Alpha Male's value when typical Alpha Males are supposed to be indifferent. (Charlie Sheen is a prime example. Not only is he ridiculous to the point of collective embarrassment and mockery, but his rants reveal a person desperately in need to justify himself without appearing to do so.)

In my experience, Alpha Males are also incapable of being respectful of the needs or space of others. They tend towards controlling, taking over in various situations that don't call for it -- whether that be at home with their roommates, at work with fellow employees, or even in basic social interactions at bars, clubs, etc. Alpha Males must prove their awesomeness before, after, and during any time that any other person may be sharing parts of their life. This is because Alpha Males need validation in the form of worship to justify their many efforts at pretending to be cool.

The Alpha Male does not understand the meaning of words like, "compassion", "thoughtful", or "assertive". They prefer indifference, aggression, or disgust. Alpha Males are typically incapable of forming meaningful connections with others because they constantly seek to compete, especially against their peers -- even when their peers are apathetic to such childish hierarchy!

Finally, Alpha Males represent regressive instincts in humans. They are the throwbacks to ancestral points in our history, particularly in pre-history (anytime before the invention of writing, when humans were essentially on the same food-chain level as most animals). It is important to note that despite sociobiological attempts to portray Alpha Males positively in human evolution, the reality is that Alpha Males, by their very nature are incapable of working with groups, and thus their survival rate -- and reproduction rates -- are astonishingly low. Which is why so few people are, or want to be, Alpha Males once properly educated on the matter. Alpha Males are assholes.

A classic example of an Alpha Male would be Roissy, from Citizen Renegade (now Chateau Heartiste). Roissy is a self-proclaimed Pick-Up Artist (despite being shunned by the greater PUA community for his stances on various issues) who advocates tactics for seducing women, notably through domestic violence, sexual harassment, stalking, abuse, "negging" (a form of insult), and manipulation. Curiously though, Roissy utilizes his PUA commentary to promote an Alt-Right agenda based on scientific racism, cultural Darwinism, neo-liberal economics, and hegemonic oppression. His targets include minorities, women, LGBTQ, non-Christian religions, unions, and anyone else he might've forgotten. Obviously this means he hates over 75% of the country, leaving him a very small group of White straight men who may or may not be religious in the Christian faith.

At this point it begins to seem like his blog is less of a place to learn seduction tactics, and more of a place to promote a White Supremacist agenda that includes sexism, homophobia, and fascism.

But I digress... Alpha Males come in all shapes & sizes, not merely the AWM variety. See texts like Hot Chicks with Douchebags, and Chad Klutgen's amazing novel The Average American Male (which isn't really all that average of a representation, but is definitely hilarious).

I would also recommend reading Tucker Max.

While he as a person is morally repugnant, and probably mostly fictionalized, he as a writer is pretty damn hilarious. In that watching a car-wreck in slow motion kind of a way. His stories provide numerous educational opportunities with examples to Alpha Males, douchebags, and other socio-cultural zeitgeist.

As for me, currently I am living with an Alpha Male, my housemate, who, among other things, considers himself a "real guy, a guy's guy" despite secretly enjoying wearing women's panties while having sex, has experimented with anal sex with men, enjoys dressing in extremely gratuitous Buddhist robes to give yoga sermons on the floor, and shaving off most of the hair on his body. Hardly the stereotypical picture of masculinity insecure dudes like to indulge in.

He is nearly 40 years old, whose midlife crisis has extended to buying two Easy-Rider motorcycle lookalikes, talking about how much he loves shooting guns (despite having only gone shooting once), growing Black Mold in the house, threatening to murder the neighbor's dogs, and saying really creepy shit like when Osama bin Laden was killed when he remarked that after the celebrations he hopes our country gets attacked/our troops get attacked. He's also been fired from his previous teaching position for allegedly calling one of his students a racial slur.

This guy also manipulated his girlfriend into having an abortion after he'd cheated on her. Currently they both live here together, but keep separate rooms for seemingly unfathomable reasons... I guess paying double-the-rent is worth the cost of being an uber-manipulative boyfriend? He often tends towards calling her a bitch, a slut, a cunt, and other names, yet protesting they are in jest -- even when they're arguing!

But the creepiest thing about him? His head is completely bald, shiny, and reminds me of a cross between Jean Luc Picard and This Guy:

It's like the Triforce is hidden right in the middle of his forehead!

Thank the baby Geebus I'll be moving soon.

Anyhoo, hope ya'll enjoyed this foray into the breach of social commentary!

Cheers

I'm a Work of Heart

2011-10-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

In this segment entitled, "Getting to know your friendly, neighborhood Blog-host" I'll be dishing out plates full of backstory on Saboteur Academia's Fearless Leader AKA... me.

Born July 24th 1986 in Glendale, California. Youngest of 4 brothers. Grew up in the suburban sprawl they call Orange County. I called it living behind the Orange Curtain. My childhood neighborhoods were predominantly White, Christian, and Fucking Suburban Wastelands. Mother & Father divorced when I was 6, and in that classic 90's psychobabble trend I was diagnosed with ADHD soon after. Prescribed Ritalin and visited more counselors than contained within a psychiatric textbook. (UCI even studied me as part of "breakthrough" research into childhood development.) Other highlights include anti-Semitic bullying, reading Animorphs, gymnastics classes, belated Bar'Mitzvah, sporadic paternal presence, first sexual experiences with ironically Catholic Latina girlfriends, debate team, chess club, marching band, membership with 3 semi-professional gaming teams, various relapses of Mother's cancer (contracted when I was 2) until her death circa March 2003. I was 15. The last years of her life I recall functioning as combination cook, bedside nurse, and rehab counselor to an older brother addicted to Mom's prescription medication.

If you were to ask someone how they'd characterize me between age 6 and age 17, they'd probably say I was a smart-ass annoying nerd. Skinny and pale like Macaulay Culkin with glasses, a crooked tooth (even to this day) and a habit of saying whatever the fuck I felt like. It'd be an understatement to say I didn't have many friends. Whatever. So it goes.

But my greatest accomplishment during this period to date remains missing the initial 4 months of my Senior high school year, getting all the work I didn't do waived, receiving a 3.0 grade point average, and yet still managed to get accepted into Brown University on the merits of a heartbreaking admissions essay that I mailed to every university official on that campus. (I was unable to attend because they didn't give me any financial aid, so I couldn't afford it.)

Also, I'm quite proud of being the only person in my graduating class to successfully kick the shit out of... anyone, despite the fact that I was a skinny little bitch. Call me immature -- it was high school. The dude was a gang-banger wannabe named Chimp with a penchant for throwing water-balloons and jumping dudes with his five other friends. However, we threw down in the locker-room post-PE-class where it was mano a mano. His right punch gave me a black-eye, but it was worth it to headlock him, two knees to the gut, one to the face, locker-slam, and then choke him out.

What?? Of course I'm relishing the memory! Don't judge me.

Other factoids: I was born an uncle. My oldest older-brother from Mother's first marriage to a La Habra police-officer. He had two daughters -- one the same age as my youngest older-brother, the other my age -- as well as a son five years younger than I.

I attended a total of 4 different Elementary schools (every one in my district) until I was banned from the district for misbehavior such as fighting, biting, resisting teachers, falling behind in class, asking too many questions, and yelling. None of my principals could refute my statements that anti-Semitic bullying by teachers and fellow students was the cause for much of my behavior, nor did they ever investigate these claims. (Eventually I was repatriated into the district during middle school after going through rehabilitative education at a pseudo-reform school.)

I was the youngest member of my old professional gaming team, The SoCal Sockas at age 16. We won numerous regional championships in Starcraft 2: Broodwars expansion, as well as Warcraft III (RoC and FT). However, I quit when the team decided to compete in South Korea, and instead I went to college. Currently all of my former teammates are millionaires (by South Korean standards) living in Seoul. They all took Korean wives, and make a living by working as coaches, trainers, players, and commentators in the South Korean professional gaming scene.

As for me, I still think I picked the right decision. Why? Because I don't fancy living in South Korea.

Anyhoo. Hope ya'll found some infotainment in these bittles about myself.

Cheers

A Prose Poem

2011-10-28T01:11:00.000-07:00

***Author's Note: separate the art from the artist.***

S.B.

Heartbreak is a curious thing. Wounds healed over. Scar tissue grown and then faded. Still, I get melancholic at 4 AM with a flat soda reading old poetry. Past flames seem to burn as bright as the sun during my hangover, and I wonder where she or her is. I wonder and shake my head with the bitter aftertaste of another swig from the glass. What roads would've led to other avenues? And is there any hope in remembering a past I can't change, not even for all the beautiful sentiments of a literary novel? But then failure slips out of eyesight for a moment, eclipsed by the good times eating fast food and talking about Japanese anime...

Her hair, her eyelashes, the subtle twitch of lips poised to kiss or dismiss glare underneath the fluorescence. It doesn't last, never lasts. Like a roundhouse kick to the face a la Chuck Norris, head spins with the grace of a dreidel, falls on its side and reveals the contents of a wasteland called My Fucked-Up Emotional State. See, she loves This, this kind of provocative show-n-tell where my insides are on display for the mangling. See, I love This too, this kind of masochistic catharsis by flagellating my heart with emotional barbed-wire called Captain Save-a-Ho. Don cape and mask and tights and fly for the chance to die another hopeless romantic death! Even Superman never graced such an epic series as this grandiose work of heart-breakingly, staggering genius. Hero saves heroine from falling down drunk on a cock 22 years older than her Uncle. Panels portray the desolation of brown, yellow, purple, and red against the skin, like some goddamn godawful desert that not even T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound envisioned with their Modernist caps on. (Ivory Towers are such a wonderful place to live without ever having actually been alive.) But I see specks of silver-lining amongst the thunderclouds on the horizon, painted askew to mimic my life's lack of symmetry. I want, just once, to yell at the top of my lungs in a crowded room just to see if anyone else feels the primal need to release a pent up existence. Lions and tigers and bears -- oh my! -- at the zoo stalk carefully demarcated lines but still they can indulge in that last gasp of wild freedom not even my eyes could recognize but for the twilight covering my bedroom in crescent moonlight. Well, that and this bottle of Johnny Walker. Ready to become another dead solider on the far wall before the firing squad's whispers: "you're a nice guy, you're such a nice guy, you're a really nice guy, you're gonna make some girl real lucky someday, you're awesome, but not me, but it's just not me, but I don't think of you that way, but I'm not ready for a relationship, but you're too good for me, but I just want to have fun, but I, but I, but I..." just want to lie & disappear simultaneously. The Cheshire Cat treats Alice better than what I got, but not as good as I deserved -- until The Dark Side swallowed me up with the promise of free pussy and wicked vengeance delivered vicariously through a poor little proxy barfly. (And people wonder why Nice Guys [TM] are bitter, ready to open-fire randomly with a semi-automatic, George Sodini style. They've lost whatever instilled morality people get by the time they're 25 because some girl twisted his ventricles and then some asshole replaced them with whatever keeps Dick Cheney alive.) So I stopped asking myself questions like "why" and "how come" and started instead asking myself how best to unlock the next ending of Chrono Trigger while polishing the pistol I will use to blow my brains out if no girls notice my OKCupid profile, or if that little red-haired girl laughs in my face again when I ask her out for burritos -- it's hard for a face to be laughed in -- or if one more asshole bangs the only broad at the party who glanced at me and smiled. Couldn't take the thought of a beautiful woman's teeth dripping cum from the same frat-boy who listens to Kevin Federline and pops both his collars at the same time... The sarcasm and caustic intertwine so well, as if they were made for loving more than I. Gonna channel them like a lightening rod and deliver the 1.21 jogwatts needed to permanently fry my depression better than Colonel Sanders' chicken. Is that what this is? Depression? All I see are hands too small for a man. Unclenched, impotent, calloused at the palms. Maybe it's time to take a shower and drown beneath the rising steam. Maybe my body will start to float until, like a lost balloon, it ascends beyond the sky and disappears from little children's eyes.

Just like heartbreak.

Cheers

Reactionary Conservative Ignorance Strikes Again

2011-10-27T00:32:00.000-07:00

Apparently our friends on the crazy-end of the political aisle have begun a new Tumblr dedicated to a concept called, We Are The 53%. Basically, it's an amalgamation of photos of statements made by random blaming poor people for being poor, for being lazy, for being in debt, and that everyone just needs to stop making bad choices.

Because yeah... the 99% TOTALLY caused the economic recession by providing unsound financial advice, giving out bad loans, defrauding employee pensions, lobbying for corporate loopholes, corrupting our political system, deregulating industries so they could engage in unrestrained greed, shipping jobs overseas while getting tax-breaks AND tax-incentives for being a supposedly "American company", and have generally avoided paying their fair share.

No, wait, that was actually the 1% people who did all that. Whoops! I'm sorry, but I guess you're wrong.

And as proverbial icing in this idiotic cake, these victim-blaming SOBs say that the 99% doesn't represent them... I'm sorry, but if you're the 53%, then you're covered by that 99%. In other words, 99% is more than 53%, so you're actually a part of that statistic, whether you like it or not. Seriously, are there any neoliberal neocon's who can understand basic math anymore? (This is what you get with No Child Left Behind.)

Among the many errors and logical fallacies, the photos on the offending Tumblr depict people who were on welfare saying people should stop asking for handouts. *Ironic, no?) Others say they couldn't afford to go to college, but they worked two jobs to take care of their kids and are happy making minimum wage. (Really? You like being poor for no reason at all?) And then another says his parents make 100k a year, combined income, but he'll pay for everything himself because he's not lazy. (Except for the fact that his parents paid for him for 18 years so he could even have the option of going to college -- so much for not being lazy!)

Luckily there's a great blog mocking the above idiocy with a carefully measured dose of ridicule, scorn, and captions. It's called, Actually You're The 47% and it makes me feel all warm & fuzzy inside. Please go check it out.

Thank Geebus P Cryst for smart people who call bullshit on ignorance.

Cheers

Trollock

2011-10-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

Recently on my blog a commenter by the name of Asher has been making the rounds -- and not just here, but over at Abagond's place too. While initially it seemed he was interested in genuine conversation, his comments eventually devolved into ranting hyperbole.

This led to my moderating his comments and kicking him off my blog.

However Asher, apparently is unable to simply slunk off into the vastness of cyberspace without attempting some pithy comeback. This came in the form of an email sent to me, which I will now post for you (with commentary).

" Yo man,

This is the Asher that you declined to post my latest comment. The commenters at abagond just compared you to me, after I spent two days there ridiculing and intellectually sodomizing so-called antiracism. [Apparently you have a fetish for anal-sex, judging from your use of the word "sodomize". Hey, whatever floats your boat dude. However, the commenters at Abagond tend to lump all people they think are "racist" into the same box, as a lazy form of groupthink. Obviously we are not comparable.]

Also, you're a total pussy for declining to post that comment. [Why am I "pussy" for declining to let you troll & flame my blog? If anything, the opposite would be more accurate. Instead I kicked your ass to the curb, as you deserved.] Don't like that the term "racism" has been devalued to the point that it is meaningless? [In your opinion. For most people -- read the majority of Americans -- the term "racism" is potent and meaningful. That you don't see this is evidence of your ignorance.] Well, take the term back. Or, better yet, stop using the term "racism" and come up with something else. [I'm not sure why you're telling me what to do...] Yeah, you actually did use the term "ANazi" when you used the term "racist". [Nope, I didn't. Thanks for making that up though.] They're interchangeable. [No, racist and Hitler are not interchangeable words. One is a person, the other is an adjective. Please learn to use a fucking dictionary.] Sorry, but you don't get to choose what words mean, since usage IS meaning and "racist" means "Hitler". [I'm sorry, but if we don't get to choose what words mean then why do you get to choose what words mean then? Apparently you trapped yourself with your own logic. And the only one who said that racist means Hitler has been you, and you haven't provided any proof other than your say so.]

Oh, and I just posted a comment at abagond mocking them for equating a self-identified anti-racist, you, with a self-identified anti-anti-racist, me. [Did you really just write anti-anti-racist?? Just get rid of the double-negative and say it like it is: you're a self-identified racist. Feel free to mock away though, if it makes you feel better. It sure makes you look immature and stupid however.]

Opposites are now the same!!! "A" equals "non A"!!!! Aristotle is turning in his grave. [I'm sorry but what does this actually mean? (Other than that you're crazy.) And why would Aristotle turn in his grave over your own self-induced delusional drama?

Cheers, b*tch. [You sent me an email dumbass! It doesn't get sent to spam if you curse!]

P.S. I love the hating. Keep it coming bro' [Hahaha, oy vey. I'm not your bro, frat-boy wannabe. Apparently you love the attention. Did you not get enough as a child then? Or are you just sad that nobody thinks you're a special snowflake? Either way, thanks for the laugh and enjoy being irrelevant.]"

Cheers

My Awkwardly Fumbling Steps

2011-10-21T00:31:00.000-07:00

Not to trouble you with love, I mean
those adolescent dreams of great, of greater,
or of greatest loving, let alone
the crumbly personal kind—compared with, say,
the public good or harder thoughts of death
obliterating thoughts of love, or after-
thoughts of love outgrown or love undone;
and not to be ironic either, not
to forget we come into the world alone
and leave it so; and not to be claiming more
than you can give, uncertain as I am
what I require: something like love, I guess,
whatever it is we've done without so long,
so faithfully and with such tenderness.

By Leonard Nathan

Cheers

The Hazards of Occupation

2011-10-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

Let me state upfront that I support the Occupy Wall Street movement. As a self-professed culture-jammer a la Adbusters, as a social-Democrat cum moderate Independent, and as a goddamn revolutionary activist wannabe, I believe that only through direct action can change be achieved.

I believe that the 99% need to take back their country via a new economic policy in which the rich are taxed consummate to their use of our collective resources, in which the Middle-class can exist comfortable, and in which the poor are given the same opportunities as the rest of us by relieving them of the crushing economic burden they are now carrying on behalf of the top 1%.

However I, like John Oliver, am often at odds with many of the protestors -- simply because they embody such a counter-cultural zeitgeist (that is downright anachronistic) which is incompatible with most of the country, AKA the 99%. But I understand. Normal people simply do not always have the time or resources or privilege to protest for weeks on end. We're just trying to get by on the daily, like a Rick Ross song.

Now, this isn't to say that I'm going to let a little thing like subcultural differences interfere with the overall message that moneyed interests have been controlling our political system for too long, and that it's time we The People take it back for ourselves, for our children, and our children's children.

And apparently that message has gone global.

(We are Anonymous, and we are Legion.)

This all despite hypocritical suspicion by reactionary conservatives (like Eric Cantor), lame attempts to subvert the message (like Mittens), outright hostility to the movement (like Mr. I-Don't-Have-The-Facts-To-Back-This-Up-Because-I'm-Full-Of-Shit Black Walnut), and despite police brutality (like Mr. Pepper Spray and his friend excessive use of force),

But the reality is that OWS is about more than the financial collapse, our FUBAR economic policy, our terrible tax code, big business loop-holes, corporate personhood, corruption of our political system by unlimited campaign donations from corporations, or even the reactionary conservative backlash attempting take away everything most Americans hold dear, from bodily autonomy to PBS.

Occupy Wall Street is about Americans deciding, in the most simple, democratic, and revolutionary way possible that this is our country, and we won't let the 1% decide how the other 99% of us should live. This is about taking back our freedom to live the American dream we all grew up believing in.

It's time we make that dream a reality.

Cheers

Positive White Identity

2011-10-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

This is a new idea I'm developing in the wake of recent events discussing anti-racist issues which, for me, is as much a personal conflict as a form of activism.

See, I am White, and yet I cannot fully embrace myself as a White person because Whiteness stands for so many oppressive things: hegemony, racism, and particularly undeserved privilege at the expense of other races of people.

So how do I reconcile this? How do I affirm my Whiteness in a way that doesn't support White supremacy or White nationalism? (Because both disgust me.) How do I love my race, which is such a fundamental part of my identity in this country, when the reality is that there are so many reasons to hate it, and by extension hate myself for being White?

Now, I do not want to engage in self-hatred, nor do I want to make myself colorblind to the reality of my skin-color by refusing to acknowledge or identity myself as White.

So what do I do? What do any of us White people do?

Well, as it turns out, I'm not the only person to have had this crisis of identity -- nor the only one to turn it into a moment of personal growth.

I recently found a lovely little document by the Unitarian Universalist Association. It outlines the six steps of White, racial identity development by Janet Helms, and asks many of the same questions I asked myself recently. While obviously it is a document written by people of a completely different faith than my own, it nonetheless manages to talk me off the ledge I found myself with regards to my racial identity.

Many would call this process "navel-gazing", or "wishy-washy", but I honestly feel that -- not just for White people, but all people -- self-reflection and self-improvement are the only ways we can become useful allies against structural racism. More importantly, it is this process of growth into a better person who is no longer conflicted or guilty about their race or defensive about their racism that is important to live a happy life, particularly in a diverse society like America.

Yeah yeah, call me cheesy. So it goes.

One thing that the UUA's document prescribes is that White people form accountable relationships with People of Color. This means we need to make ourselves, essentially, employees of the PoC-run campaign of anti-racism. We need to un-segregate ourselves, and work together in serious and significant ways. While the UUA only speaks to work done in anti-racism, I believe this can be taken to a more expansive level. We need to be accountable to PoC who are our bosses, our seniors, our teachers, our leaders in whatever venue we find ourselves in. We also need to reach out (with both hands, and feet perhaps?) to People of Color that are our peers and create common ground for regular social interaction, which I believe will breed understanding, compassion, and peace.

Many people feel that racism will never be over. Some even think that White people will always be racist.

I do not. I think racism will end, someday. Maybe not in my lifetime, and maybe not in the next century, but someday I know it will end. Through the passage of time many impossible things come to pass. Many Jews never imagined we would ever have a country of our own in Israel. Many Americans believed slavery would never end, many believed man would never land on the moon, and some of us never imagined people would watch shows like American Idol! But yet these things have come to pass over time, because people took action to make them happen.

I believe that many White people are beginning to reject their racism and may yet find redemption as I am beginning to, as any of us (Black, White, Brown, Yellow, Red, and whatever other pigment you fancy) may find redemption for our racism, even those we commit unknowingly, and without malice.

Perhaps this is the privilege of my Whiteness. Perhaps it is the naivete of my soul. Or perhaps it is merely the heritage I was born with, to struggle, to overcome, and through the passage of time find myself in a better world. It worked for the Jews, and I do not see why it cannot work for everyone else if we but try.

Meanwhile, developing my positive White identity means a lot of humbling moments mixed with frightening periods of uncertainty. Ultimately I find myself in the 5th stage of Helm's model. The Immersion/Emersion stage, where I attempt to connect to my racial identity, and other White people who are going through the same process.

However, this does not mean talking with White supremacists and White nationalists, whose version of a White identity is based on Jared Taylor or the American Renaissance (a terrible, and hypocritical subversion of the phrase). Positive White identity does not mean White nationalism, White supremacy, or any form of racism. Rather it means connecting with individuals, peers, who believe what I/you/we do and want to help make a better world where they can also be a better person.

This is the start of my idea, which in reality isn't so much MY idea as it is a discovery a la Christopher Colombus. I discovered a new land already populated by indigenous people who've been living here for centuries, and only now do I realize that a wider world exists.

(But unlike Mr. Colombus, I think I'll avoid starting a genocidal period of conquest, thank you very much!)

Cheers

***BONUS***

Here is a bonus starting resource for ya'll to peruse.

Link

Bird Lives

2011-10-13T00:34:00.000-07:00

In my heart, in my soul, in the very tips of my fingers graced to press mother-of-pearl key to gold-plated brass along my Yamaha 62 Mark II. Every artist ever born pales in comparison to the artistry of him, who I view as the quintessential -- beautifully flawed, tormented but singularly talented.

Charlie "Yardbird" Parker... you are why I still pick up a saxophone, dare to press my lips to the mouthpiece and blow.

Cheers

Undergoing Maintanence

2011-10-12T16:09:00.000-07:00

ZSA will be experiencing slight fluctuations to our par-sec ratio as we tinker with the flux-capacitor and polish our Dylithium crystals.

In addition to a new look, ZSA has updated our comments section with new stipulations, and a link in the form-box to our guidelines. Please be aware that I am always trying to be a better blogger, in addition to being a better person. I appreciate your patience in both respects, and hope ya'll enjoy the new changes!

Cheers

On Being (An Anti-Racist)

2011-10-12T04:23:00.000-07:00

My latest foray into the depth of cyberspace has left me with a long, drawn out sense of uncertainty regarding my own identity. White. Jewish. Male. Straight. Able-bodied. Whatever. Check boxes as you like...

And suddenly I feel a whole lot lot more confident in human stupidity. My own, and that of others.

After reading through the comments and links to my one of my recent posts, I began a slow process of lurking, reading the reactions to my disagreement with Abagond -- who wrote no less than 2 posts based on it (possibly 3) each one as precarious as Jenga blocks -- attempting to digest the multifaceted shit-storm I created which has reverberated throughout my corner of the blogosphere.

Shoot, even the out & out racists are coming from the woodwork to defend me, ridicule me, and otherwise distort reality until it resembles something like a pretzel doing gymnastics.

Well let me definitively set the record straight as concisely as I can.

My argument with Abagond consisted of two main points.

1. That he would stoop essentialist pseudo-science by diagnosing White people with a psychological disorder -- as a guess and explanation for White racism -- while simultaneously ignoring all the reasons that have shown us why White people are racist.

His defensiveness at being hounded by me for this led to further awkwardly offensive comments, such as comparing White people to wife-beaters, rapists, and finally Hitler, in an attempt to explain himself.

Now being a Jew with a history of dealing with anti-Semitism -- specifically in regards to the Holocaust, as well as having lost a family member to it -- I lost my shit at this point. I'll admit, I'm not rational or forgiving when someone says something so monumentally stupid as to violate Godwin's law and start comparing White people (which includes White Jews, by the way!) to Hitler, or invoke the Holocaust thoughtlessly.

2. Abagond's inability to recognize, admit, or apologize for the above.

As much as he has accused me of twisting his words, acting obtuse, or fabricating "false memories", the reality is that I have held Abagond to his own standards, and held him accountable for his own words. Yet all I seemed to find was more hypocrisy, more contradiction, more deflection, dismissal, and denial.

Which is why comments made by others like White people should view being born White as "something bad that's happened to you", or that White people are like the "Borg" & suffering from a "pathological" disorder began to seem like they were, in fact, supported by Abagond through his own inconsistent, and ambiguous comments.

He was unable to see the connection between his essentialism and the racism he fights against daily at his blog. His constant pass-giving to sexism, homophobia, and legitimate criticism of The Church (Abagond is Catholic) as well as a very strange obsession with IR couples (due perhaps to the events surrounding the dissolution of his marriage?) have come back to haunt him all at once. The disappearance of several wonderful commenters, some through banning, and some through disgust have also contributed to a decline at Abagond's place.

And now through my own comments this drama has coalesced into straight-up bullshit. Which is why I will no longer be going back to Abagond's. It's time to move on and see what else the blogosphere has to offer for a budding anti-racist.

But let me correct any misrepresentations. I do not believe Abagond thinks White people are demonic, or any of the above. I actually think Abagond is quite sensible, and knows the reality of racism in America better than most anyone I know -- but due to the embarrassment, and his own stubbornness (which is something I admire in a person) he is loath to make a five-second apology for what he said, and did, or clarify the situation honestly.

So it goes. Anyone who knows me would agree I'm not one to back down either. (Just ask my girlfriend.)

However, the veritable deluge of emails and comments, particularly by RVCBard has got me thinking that while I may have "won" the battle, ultimately I'm gonna lose the war.

With this latest drama, I have give racists, trolls, and other Undesireables yet another reason to diminish, distort, and otherwise dismiss the reality of racism in America. I have unwittingly participated in a classic White foible, which is being more concerned with being right than in doing what's right.

I admit now, freely, that I should've walked away after my first comment. I should've said my peace, and let the record speak for itself. Instead I got my hackles up, and decided that all by myself I was going to "challenge" what I saw as hypocrisy, ignorance, and the corruption of anti-racism.

Sometimes, my arrogance astounds me. But then again, I never said I was perfect.

Indeed, this entire conflict has gotten me quite comfortable with the fact that I am a flawed human-being, White, Jewish, Male, Straight, and Able-bodied.

But this fight isn't about me. It isn't about purging anti-racism of every contradiction I find, because that's just silly. Naive. Impossible. This fight isn't about whether I'm right or wrong or somewhere in-between.

Reading through the many contributions by my readers, commenters, friends, and total strangers has helped me come to grips with a moment of learning.

I need to stop caring so damn much about what stupid shit others say and start focusing on what I'm saying and how I use those words to help others. (And no, I don't want, need, or expect a thank you!)

In anti-racism it isn't my job to lead, or to police, or to tell other anti-racists why they're wrong. It isn't my job to worry what some blog tucked far away in cyberspace may or may not believe about White people. That shit just ain't worth it. It's small potatoes without any goddamn gravy.

Something else I have come to realize throughout this is that I need to start developing my own positive White identity. I have spent so much time thinking of myself as Jewish, that I've forgotten my race and what I think about it. Expect to see more posts as I develop this concept further, because I think having a positive White identity can help White people to overcome their own racism.

Let me conclude this post with a thank you to the various people who've sent me emails, comments, shared links, shared stories, thoughts, conflicts, and otherwise participated in a helpful way throughout this latest batch of hilariously unnecessary dramatics. You all are made of Win, and I appreciate your patience with my dumbass!

Cheers

Love is Like a Box of Chocolates & Bruises

2011-10-10T17:06:00.000-07:00

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Do you believe that?

I do. I'm one of those hopeful/hopeless romantic types. I actually believe in unconditional love; the kind that means when your girl (or guy) calls you at 4 AM because they had a bad dream about spiders, and even though you have to get up in two hours for an important test, or meeting, you'll drive over to check under the bed for any eight-legged freaks just because... they asked. And you love them.

I call it... limerence.

But what do you think? Do you think love, by it's very nature, entails a transcendence of your typical person-to-person interactions?

Like, if you step on my toe, and we're married, do I really need to get upset and explain to you why you need to watch where you're walking, damnit?

Or, does it mean that when we hurt each other through common human misunderstandings, are you/I/we required to "get over it"? To give you a pass knowing that your intentions were good, that your actions were purely accidental, and that ultimately I/you feel as bad as you/I feel?

Maybe we need to define it, before we can describe it. What is Love? In the great, nebulous world of ambiguous concepts, what is the concrete meaning of love for us practical living peeps?

Is love just a feeling? An ability? A state of being? Some combination of attachment, lust, and a guaranteed date on Friday night? Is it the process of reciprocity?

I believe Love is not. Love is not conditional or unconditional. Love is not just a process or feeling or combination. Love is not just a date for Friday night. Love is that which can only be described or defined by stating what it is not.

In this way, Love, for me, is a lot like the Hebrew mystic's concept of God. I call it Ahava Chesed.

But I digress. What do you believe? Do you think love means never having to say you're sorry? Is love when you meet someone who tells you something new about yourself? Is it a cold and broken Hallelujah? Is what's done out of love always taking place beyond Good & Evil? Is love like the moon, rotating around the Earth and following it till the end of time? Is love everything it's really cracked-up to be?

Sometimes I think, "Love is like a snowmobile racing across the icy tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come."

Cheers

Am I / Are You / Are We Racist?

2011-10-05T17:26:00.000-07:00

As an anti-racist, I'm often active in the blogging community to discuss those issues. Recently, I found myself embroiled in a long debate occurring at a blog I used to frequent, Abagond's. The topic is, "The Hearts of White People". Naturally, as a White person, I thought I'd comment.

But as I read the post, two things stuck out to me. 1) the author, Abagond states that White people have hearts of stone, and 2) guesses that we suffer from a psychological disorder. And that this explains why White people are racist.

At that point I decided to do more than comment.

***Author's note: the thread, and subsequently this post have been updated as events have continued. Please take that into consideration.***

But little did I know how quickly my comments would inflame the situation! Faster than you can say, "tit for tat," I was assailed on all sides for putting people on blast for comments like: White people are "demonic", "suffering from psychosis", "suffering from a spiritual malady", or that solely based on the fact that they're White, have something "wrong with them", and that White people need to accept that being born White is "something bad that's happened to them".

Because I had the temerity to question these arguments, Abagond along with some of his commenters began projecting all of the unfortunate racist garbage they've dealt with onto me.

Seriously! These are people who constantly fight against racism -- as I've done on my blog -- and yet there they, making racist arguments, defending them, and blaming me for not accepting them wholesale! They attempted to obfuscate with links to derailment topics, Racism 101 essays, and all manner of opportunities to point out that I just "don't get it". Not because I don't already know this stuff. (I do.) But because I'm White.

More to the point, when their arguments were revealed as being prejudiced, ignorant, bigoted -- and when even the author, Abagond admitted to this still they defend them and asked why I was making such a big deal about a little thing like this!

Why? Because it's Wrong. Isn't that the whole point of anti-racism? Because shit like this is Wrong.

So why defend the indefensible? Why defend your own internalized racism? Why not admit to it and deal with it like you've asked others to do?

However I don't believe that they really believe the things they wrote, at least not Abagond, based on my personal experience with racism, racists, his blog, etc. Honestly though, this whole situation could've been avoided if they'd just admitted, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Let me clarify my position." Then we could've moved on with our lives.

But noooooooooope!

Eventually it got to the point where they actively began lying, not just about what they'd said, but also about what I'd said. Abagond, and a vocal minority of the commenters attempted to put words in my mouth, beat down Straw man arguments, ad hominem, ignore my questions, refuse to answer them, or pretend to answer them by talking about something else entirely.

White people were compared to rapists, wife-beaters, and even Hitler! (Godwin's Law anybody?) Scientific studies were twisted and warped to justify the dehumanization of White people as deformed, Born Racists. Yet the hilariously dramatic, and horribly prejudiced truth of those comments were beaten down, time and again, because how dare I, or any other White person in the conversation question their hypocrisy and ignorance. Why, then I'm acting just like all those other White racists!

(Huh?)

Yet a Black commenter, Kwamla, and eventually another named King, who both made extremely similar arguments to my own, were treated completely different to the point that there was nary a peep! (However, now they've started calling them "house negroes" and other offensive terms as their comments have continued to question their ignorance.)

And the really bizarre thing is, when legitimate arguments were made to explain White racism -- y'know, like being raised in a racist society -- those arguments were ignored and dismissed in favor of prejudiced guesses and ignorant assumptions! Yep. They'd rather that White people were psychotic demons, than admit that we're flawed humans just like they are.

I suggest you check out the entire thread for yourself. Though it's quite long, there are a few choice comments by me that I'd recommend looking at first: here, here, here, and here. I also highly recommend reading the arguments posted by commenters: King, Kwamla, Jas0n, and The Cynic, as they support (and at different times disagree with) my own position, while often building off my observations in different directions. Their thoughts are invaluable and I have appreciated their opinions throughout the conversation.

(Kinda makes you think of video games differently, right?)

The whole exchange has reminded me about Paul Kivel's guidelines for being a strong White ally in anti-racism. It's often difficult because so often my comments are ignored, dismissed, held with suspicion, constantly vetted, and often attacked. But I've accepted that as part of the struggle. I understand why that is, and I'm fine with it.

It'll never be as bad as the anti-Semitism I've faced. It'll never be as hard as the racism within me that I've had to confront.

However, I can't help but worry that these people hurt the movement. They bog it down. They scare away my fellow pale faces because its become so prejudiced and offensive that they write off everything. And ultimately, we need to get White people to listen if you're going to change racism in America.

I remember a scene from a movie, entitled Spinning Into Butter. In the film, the character Simon (a young Black college student) is seemingly the victim of hate-crimes, but eventually it is revealed that he is the one leaving slurs and epithets around campus. This happens in a very interesting way: as he's outside a Black frat/sorority house, tagging the walls with racial slurs he gets caught by one of the Black male residents. But when they see who he really is, they call in a Black reporter who's been around covering the story. After a long discussion they decide they have to turn him in, even though it turns their stomachs.

Why? Because now White people will have an easier time dismissing racism, saying, "oh, it's something they just do to themselves, something they've made up in their heads -- see we're not racist!"

Ultimately, it hurts the cause.

Maybe that's my privilege as a White person to see it that way, but that's how I feel. Sick to my stomach. Not just because Abagond and his groupies are saying offensive things about me, my family, and my friends who happen to be White and just because we're White, but because their comments are only fueling the flame of racism in America -- just like all the White racist trolls that spam this blog on a regular basis -- even as they claim to be fighting against it! Their lies convince none but themselves.

Just check the following links to all the posts Abagond's been making lately, here, here, and here. Each one is filled with vitriol, spin, twisting of words, false memories, Straw man arguments, ad hominem, and a veritable host of non sequiturs.

Their lies attempt to drown out the truth.

But that's life. I take this whole thing in stride, with perspective. This'll be one of the few times in my life where someone will give me crap for being White (as opposed to giving me crap for being Jewish, or whatever). And when I look at the real world, I know the sad truth is that White racism is still very much a problem in America. So instead of focusing on a microcosm of a universe that doesn't exist, instead of wasting time with trolls and demagogues, I'll just have faith that my comments will be testament enough, and keep it moving. I've already managed to make myself heard, and to me that's the most important thing. What do you think?

***Author's note: the thread, and subsequently this post have been updated as events have continued. Please take that into consideration.***

Cheers

My Fellow Jewish-Americans...

2011-09-27T21:17:00.000-07:00

Jon Stewart, our Messiah has come!

Telling the Conservative party the straight-talk they so desperately need -- and will unfortunately find incomprehensible. Because they are idiots.

But so it goes.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

I've gotta say, Jon Stewart really does get better over time. His commentary, while insightful, hilarious, and dare I say... capable of making a difference in the world, has begun to take on that quality of seriously avant-garde political science. He's gone from a "funny guy" to a cultural zeitgeist all his own, and the lone political voice in our collective partisan conscience.

Yes, I am dick-riding like a mothafucka.

Cheers

A Short Lesson in Economics

2011-09-26T17:08:00.000-07:00

Present widespread media coverage of the financial crisis notwithstanding, people seem to be more than ever ignorant of the downward spiral -- the causes, effects, proposed solutions, and palatable climate of stupidity.

But never fear my good Saboteurs! I am here to elucidate the matter. As your Fearless Leader, it is my solemn duty to uphold the education of your minds, guerrilla activist style.

And since I take this self-proclaimed calling so seriously, enough with the grandiose verbosity and get right down to brass tacks.

Rich people need to start paying their taxes. Straight up, no excuses. Just pay your fair fucking share.

I know, I know, "They're the job creators! We can't tax them. Why, they might just pick up and leave us!"

But I'm sorry to say, they left a long time ago. Most corporations do not employ a majority of American workers at their companies. Their workers, and suppliers are all sweatshop labor in Third World nations. They claim to be American corporations, but then pay little to no taxes on revenue, whether through real income or through capital gains. They don't reinvest in the economy, or infrastructure, or create ANY jobs.

This is the reality. Despite cries from many Conservatives, corporations ARE NOT creating jobs, nor are they stimulating the economy. Despite receiving handouts, bailouts, tax incentives, grants, and all manners of governmental assistance, the top 1%, and the corporations they run have not, and are not paying their fair share, or paying back what they were given.

And it's also funny since corporations are supposedly people, shouldn't they be getting indited for fraud? I guess not. But honestly, I won't believe that corporations are people until either Texas executes one, or Stephen Colbert's daughter starts dating one.

But that isn't my main point. My main point is that the rich and corporations are taxed a bare 15% through Capital Gains. Which is why Warren Buffett can say that his secretary pays more in taxes than he does!

And yet we have John Fleming on The Daily Show talking about how he can't feed his family on 200,000 dollars a year. We have "job creators" telling us that they might NOT open another Subway franchise if Obama decides that people far richer than John Fleming should pay their fair share of taxes.

Their idiocy is so painful, my head is staggering.

Because what John Fleming, and all of the rich seem to forget is that they actually need to pay higher taxes than we do because they reap a disproportionately larger benefit from the system that they're complaining about! They complain about paying taxes on their income, on their capital gains, on their investments, but they benefit from the taxes that we all have paid for that went to the roads, hospitals, police, fire, utilities, etc., that allow them to run their business in the first place!

Not to mention the taxes which fund schools to educate their labor force... Yet these selfsame fucks (and their brainwashed Proletariat neocon-nutjobs) want to slash & burn education like it was another glorious rainforest.

But Elizabeth Warren explains it much better than I do.

And when these rich, corporate, conservative d-bags complain that they cannot support a family on 200k a year (net profit), I can only shake my head at the bourgeoisie existence to which they've become accustomed. Maybe they should look at all the people who support their families on less than 20k a year? People live on 10 times less than just a middling-rich person (AKA John Fleming) and yet he has the balls to complain!

Again, the idiocy makes my head hurt.

It's past time for the citizens of this country to take back the American Dream, and make the top 1% accountable for all the damage they've done to our economy. To our way of life.

Cheers

Troy Davis

2011-09-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

Born October 9th 1968. Executed September 12st 2011.

I can't believe that I live in a country that would execute a man believed by hundreds of thousands of people, from The Pope to Jimmy Carter, to be innocent. His guilt was in doubt from the moment his case was first undertaken. Witnesses against him recanted their testimony. Experts from diverse fields proclaimed there to be a more-than-reasonable doubt that he commited the murder of off-duty officer Mark MacPhail.

We, the United States of America, land of the free, home of the brave, murdered this man at 11:08 Eastern Standard Time. After dangling out hope for an appeal of his sentence...

I am ashamed to be an American today. I am ashamed to be a citizen of this nation; from the core of my being to the very fabric of my soul I am ashamed.

For the State of Georgia, the judicial system, and for justice in this country I have nothing but contempt. For the families of Mark MacPhail, and Troy Davis, I have nothing but my deepest, most sincere condolences and compassion.

That Black men are still being lynched -- whether it be by the noose, or by injection -- for crimes they did not commit in America is a tragedy all too common to ever forgive, or forget.

That racism, classism, bigotry, fear &a hatred are still allowed to dictate the measure, the worth of a man's life is Unacceptable. It is Evil. I believe this more than I believe in God or Gravity. I believe that if there is even the merest flicker of a shadow of a doubt across the face of even one person on the jury or in the courtroom that this man did not commit this crime, then he should not be executed.

More importantly, the death penalty is wrong, and we know it. The world knows it! We are the only "civilized" country still carrying out this practice. Shoot, we were still executing children up until 2005! Yet hundreds of people have been exonerated through DNA evidence, or investigations of their cases, and they have been released from prison.

Yet there have been horrible mistakes where we realized after executing someone that they did not commit the crime they were accused and wrongly convicted of.

But it has to stop. We cannot continue to allow innocent men to die to appease our nation's bloodlust.

Don't believe that what I'm saying is true? Let me show you the depth of what I have said, and the breadth to which it has spread.

Amnesty International
Huffington Post
Forbes
Colorlines
The Nation
Abagond
Associated Content @ Yahoo
Christian Post
BrotherPeacemaker
A Collection of Odd
Freak Out Nation
The Daily Beast
The NAACP
Former FBI Director
The Pope
Former President Jimmy Carter
Warden of the Prison holding Troy Davis

Each of these links contains an overwhelming amount of information casting doubt on the guilt of Troy Davis, and revealing that he may, in fact, be innocent. More importantly, the true killer remains at large -- possibly one of the 9 witnesses who originally testified. Many believe he is one of the 2 who haven't recanted...

But in the end none of this mattered. Rather we killed this man. What if had been you? Someone you loved? What if it had been me?

Today, I am Troy Davis.

Today, I recognize the fact that I could be at the wrong place, with the wrong people, at the wrong time and end up on death row for a crime I did not commit based on little to no evidence.

Today I ask that we change our system of justice, because it is no longer being served.

Cheers

Only in America...

2011-09-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

Can a fair and effective attempt to fix the economy be described as "Class Warfare".

Seriously, Obama has the most unenviable job in the Free World, because only he has to convince people that if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks LIKE A DUCK, well, then it must be a goddamn duck. Not a pigeon, not a hawk. And definitely not a goose.

Only, in this case, he has to convince people that making the rich pay the same taxes that everyone else does -- particularly Middle-class Americans -- is not some kind of "class warfare path", but an attempt to balance our budget using standard economics.

But you know what IS class warfare? Taxing the poor and Middle-class, giving huge tax breaks to billionaires and corporations, and attempting to completely dismantle our economic system into anarchy. Especially since the poor and Middle-class are who our representatives represent, and they need help. Especially since the rich and corporations -- despite booming profits, huge tax-breaks, loopholes, and incentives -- are mostly apathetic to hiring American workers, or helping the economy in any ways. Especially since the Tea Party is actively campaigning for an end to America as we know it.

Don't believe me? Watch these people cheer letting a man die, merely because he cannot afford health insurance.

Welcome to the Monkey House! Kurt Vonnegut is rolling around his grave, laughing his ass off and crying at the same time.

Cheers

I Just Don't Sleep / Because Sleep is the Cousin of Death

2011-09-16T01:32:00.000-07:00

Amidst the pageantry of this week, I've found myself up late into the twilight staring at a fading laptop screen filled with cyber-text and empty profiles.

This song always seems to bring it into perspective.

Cheers

How to Fix the Economy

2011-09-15T00:15:00.000-07:00

This is a great idea.

'Nuff said.

But it'll never happen. Even someone as intelligent as President Obama is now beholden to the reactionary conservative elements taking over the country. Likely it'll be many years -- if ever -- before we see a truly democratic, compassionate, and rational economic policy in America.

So it goes.

A Privilege Checklist

2011-09-13T21:09:00.001-07:00

I found this post during the course of reading a blog I follow and it talked about "privilege checklists". They're a fascinating thing -- designed to unpackage the various privileges we may enjoy based solely around facets of our identity, whether we're White, Black, male, female, gay, straight, whether we're a 40 year-old heterosexual Evangelical descended from Europeans, or a 25 year-old Hispanic immigrant woman in a lesbian relationship.

What interested me about this particular privilege checklist is that it really serves to help us realize that not only do men have privilege, and not only do White people have privilege, and not only do Gay Black Jewish Klansmen have privilege (the privilege to be in an awesome club!), but that we all possess some privilege, in various contexts, to varying degrees at different times in our lives. And while I acknowledge there are some problems with using "privilege" in conversations with others, I cannot completely divorce it from my anthropological lexicon.

That said, please enjoy this list of Female Privileges and I hope it makes us all think about the ways in which we are privileged.

1. I have a much lower chance of being murdered than a man.
2. I have a much lower chance of being driven to successfully commit suicide than a man.
3. I have a lower chance of being a victim of a violent assault than a man.
4. I have probably been taught that it is acceptable to cry.
5. I will probably live longer than the average man.
6. Most people in society probably will not see my overall worthiness as a person being exclusively tied to how high up in the hierarchy I rise.
7. I have a much better chance of being considered to be a worthy mate for someone, even if I’m unemployed with little money, than a man.
8. I am given much greater latitude to form close, intimate friendships than a man is.
9. My chance of suffering a work-related injury or illness is significantly lower than a man’s.
10. My chance of being killed on the job is a tiny fraction of a man’s.
11. If I shy away from fights, it is unlikely that this will damage my standing in my peer group or call into question my worthiness as a sex partner.
12. I am not generally expected to be capable of violence. If I lack this capacity, this will generally not be seen as a damning personal deficiency.
13. If I attempt to hug a friend in joy, it’s much less likely that my friend will wonder about my sexuality or pull away in unease.
14. If I seek a hug in solace from a close friend, I’ll have much less concern about how my friend will interpret the gesture or whether my worthiness as a member of my gender will be called into question.
15. I generally am not compelled by the rules of my sex to wear emotional armor in interactions with most people.
16. I am frequently the emotional center of my family.
17. I am allowed to wear clothes that signify ‘vulnerability’, ‘playful openness’, and ’softness’.
18. I am allowed to BE vulnerable, playful, and soft without calling my worthiness as a human being into question.
19. If I interact with other people’s children — particularly people I don’t know very well — I do not have to worry much about the interaction being misinterpreted.
20. If I have trouble accommodating to some aspects of gender demands, I have a much greater chance than a man does of having a sympathetic audience to discuss the unreasonableness of the demand, and a much lower chance that this failure to accommodate will be seen as signifying my fundamental inadequacy as a member of my gender.
21. I am less likely to be shamed for being sexually inactive than a man.
22. From my late teens through menopause, for most levels of sexual attractiveness, it is easier for me to find a sex partner at my attractiveness level than it is for a man.
23. My role in my child’s life is generally seen as more important than the child’s father’s role.
24. If I commit a crime, I get less jail time than others would get for the exact same crime.
25. I have the right to give my child up for adoption, and thus totally repudiate any personal and financial responsibilities I might otherwise have.
26. I can choose whether I want to be a parent or not, knowing that society will compel the other parent to meet their financial responsibilities - whether they want to or not.
27. In any dispute involving custody, I’m granted the presumption that I am the better, safer parent.
28. If I choose to become a parent, people understand if I want to focus entirely on the personal, day-to-day care and nurturing of my children. Society expects my spouse to make enough money to make this choice possible.
29. I am allowed to use physical force against the opposite sex and not expect retaliation. In the event that I am retaliated against, both legal and social forces are in my favor.
30. If I commit rape or engage in sexual harassment, I am less likely to be censured or convicted for it than the opposite sex; and even if I am my sentence or punishment will be many times less severe than that of the opposite sex -- even if we commit similar offenses, and even if I commit offenses many times worse!

Cheers

Open-Mic Profiles: The Brooklyn Poet

2011-09-13T00:43:00.000-07:00

This first character profile will be based on a regular of my open-mic, and one whom I consider a good friend, The Brooklyn Poet.

Brooklyn Poet first came to the International many months ago. He had signed up late, and mentioned that he was going to do poetry. When it was finally his turn up at the mic, the first thing he did was shout to the crowded and loud cafe, "Respect the mic!"

He repeated this over and over until he'd gotten the entire joint to be quiet and listen to his poetry. It reminded me of a combination of Hip-Hop and Langston Hughes. Not necessarily as good, but as imaginative. He used a simple cadence, rhyming, and invoked a multitude of Black cultural icons, from Malcom X to the Notorious B.I.G. He talked about b-boying, recovering from addiction, the beauty of a woman, and how people went about getting respect. He spoke with his arms a lot, even though he read some of his work from pieces of paper. This often involved gesturing out the actions that his poems described, whether they be mimicking a gun being drawn, or his disappointment that Rap has seemed to trump Hip-Hop.

Since his first time at the open-mic, I have featured him only once. The opportunity rarely seemed to present itself as TBP works two jobs nearly full-time, and always has to come late to the open-mic due to being held up.

But over time I've learned a few things about him. Born in Bed-Stuy, TBP lived a hard-life as a young Black man in a neighborhood dealing with gang riots at the time. His lived experience is a testament to the problems of dealing with racism, classism, and civil unrest.

Yet nowadays he stands tall, loud, and dominants his space on the mic, talking openly about all of these issues, and his own checkered history with addiction, abuse, and other problems of this world.

He speaks to a very assertive, a very activist kind of Hope, based on wordsmithing and intent.

But despite the imposing, and often scary (especially when he starts yelling for people to shut up while he's reading!) attitude he crafts while spitting poetry, his personality off the stage is much more relaxed. Dare I say, jovial?

And he has been there for me as a friend, back when I was dealing with a complicated situation from my housemates. It got ugly, and it was during a Friday when I would normally have had to be at the open-mic. He had called to see about sign-ups, and when I told him the happenstance he offered to guest-host for me until I'd worked things out. Even more, he said if things didn't work out, he'd stop by with some of his friends and settle it so I didn't have to stress anymore.

Truly, he is a very caring individual, despite all the differences of age, race, class, and lived experience. I am glad to know him.

Cheers

Open-mic Profiles: Cast of Characters & Introduction

2011-09-08T21:43:00.000-07:00

(Mural painted on the patio wall)

I've been meaning to blog seriously about the open-mic I run, host, and promote as a weekly volunteer activity and place of peace for creative juicing.

However, to protect the anonymity of the participants, as well as to avoid unnecessary stalking (trust that it's happened to me before) I'll be changing the names of people, places, and other identifying features of the narrative. But unless noted, everything else is 100% grade A++ SuperTruth.

Let me start with the open-mic itself. Called The International, it sits in a neighborhood of SF characterized by a modest bar scene, generous selection of food joints, lots of foot-traffic, and the joint sits along a major thoroughfare to downtown or into The City 'burbs.

That said, there are a few projects close by. Yet my readers from other major cities might be surprised at how, well... nice the projects in The City are. My girlfriend showed me the Chicago projects, and I saw some New York projects a long time ago in the 90's as a small child. But trust me, San Franciscan projects are worlds away from those. They look almost nicer than the surrounding houses, and this is done to blend low-income residents into the neighborhood -- partially out of concern for keeping housing prices high, partially to make them invisible so nobody notices, and partially because San Francisco has a badass Housing Authority.

The residents treat me with respect, and are generally quite friendly when they see me. I get nods, wassups, dap, and other forms of acknowledgment, and more importantly I return them too. They know I'm a musician, schooled in Jazz, and cool with many of the locals -- particularly one of the main managers at the International who is a mainstay of the neighborhood community.

But there's a motley collection of hippies, hipsters, hyphy, bar-crawlers, beer-aficionados, French/German/Italian/Spanish-speaking tourists, low-income welfare & food-stamp recipients, as well as general working peeps. And I know many/most of them, giving me a level of access to all levels of the area, but particularly with the lower-class members.

(I suspect my having a Black girlfriend has something to do with this, but I like to think it's more complicated than it sounds. Likely they feel comfortable knowing I'm less likely to be, do, or act in some fucked-up, possibly racist way, and less likely to dismiss or ignore them. My girlfriend tells it like this, "you know how to speak," meaning I talk to people, make conversation, and generally act at ease in social situations despite how awkward I might feel. But I digress...)

The International itself is a long, rectangular cafe with a back patio. Solid oak wood floors, and walls covered in local art while a sound system blares Reggae, Indian, and Arabic music. They serve beer, snacks, sandwiches, and specialty items from Turkish coffee to a Nicoise salad. The staff consists of an Eritrean-American girl named Dee-dee, a Canadian-Californian dude named Mickey -- both of whom deal with the register, coffee-making, beer-pouring -- and a Mexican named Javier who works as the primary cook and food preparer.

The crowd at the International is as varied as the neighborhood with a mix of musicians, singer-songwriters, instrumentalists, guitaristos, comedians, poets, slam poets, performance artists, writers, and many other amalgamations of these besides.

I myself play saxophone, primarily, backed by self-mixed tracks (ripped then blended from many of my favorite DJs and Hip-Hop artists) however I generally stick with the hosting, as well as sound duties.

Overall my open-mic receives an average of 15 performers and nearly 50 in the audience. Not bad for a small corner spot like the International. However, my open-mic is a weekend open-mic, meaning I also receive a substantial amount of foot-traffic, looky-loos, people coming & going. On a good night I'll have over 20 performers with slots of two songs/8 minutes and nearly 100 people in the audience.

On rare nights, I've had Interscope recording artists drop-by for a "secret show" and suddenly see my numbers jump to hundreds of peeps trying to get in the doors -- only to have them immediately exit after the band finishes their set and reconnoiter at the many bars.

It is essentially a space created by and for artists of all stripes, but frequently becomes something else entirely -- a stage, a prop to propel others to greater heights with their pursuits, whether they be music, laughs, or wordsmithing.

I am proud to be the host, and have been doing so for nearly two years now, and before that three years of steady attendance at the open-mic as a regular & featured performer.

This series is to be a profile on the characters I've met, both as host and as audience-member through the course of my time at the International since Fall 2007.

I hope ya'll enjoy it!

Cheers

Between Two Forms of Radicalism

2011-09-07T17:05:00.000-07:00

Today on campus was a fair for non-profit organizations, sponsored by the Institute for Civic & Community Engagement. There were myriad charity organizations, environmental groups, LGBTQ civil rights clubs, our campus law club, La Raza, the Black Student Union, the Palestinian Student Union -- right next to the Jewish Student Union! -- and randomly a Pro-Life group near the end of the path, right alongside a Pro-Choice group.

I'll spare you the details of the debate of Pro-Life versus Pro-Choice, but I will say this...

It is fucking traumatic to see large glossy images of aborted fetuses covered in blood, and other bodily fluids just planted on the campus green. It was disgusting, shaming, and most of all extremely disturbing to people who were just trying to have a fair and go to class to be remonstrated and interrogated at random by a bunch of old guys (there were only two women, which is interesting..) about whether they've: 1) found Jesus 2) had an abortion 3) knew someone who had an abortion 4) whether we knew that we were condoning baby-killing.

However, on the other side, the Pro-Choice group, a motley crew of unattractive women, greasy dudes, and one androgynous oldster danced in sexually suggestive ways (including the guys!) towards the Pro-Lifers, while holding up signs saying, Jesus Loves Abortion -- We Want Free Abortions to Instigate the Socialist Revolution -- and, Fuck You I'll Have An Abortion!

Seriously!?!? This is why I can't get behind either side, because both of them are -- at their extreme -- a radical position that I can't sympathize with at all, let alone understand. Neither can understand that, for most people, an abortion is a last resort, something to do if necessary but still something to regret that doesn't need to dragged out and shamed. There is no choice or life from either of them.

I had to physically stop myself from telling both of them off for being fucking ridiculous stereotypes and assholes to boot!

But so it goes. We must master ourselves before we can master life itself. And I digress...

Between two forms of radicalism I choose not to participate. I choose to find, make, create a third path that may or may not yet exist, but for me is the only way I can go because unlike rocks at the bottom of a river, stubborn and unyielding, unwilling to follow the path of life and simultaneously create their own path, I will be a leaf atop the current, stubborn in that it refuses to be drowned by the river, but smart enough, light enough, and quick enough to run across the flow of the river and choose which tributary to take next...

Until then, I'll try and be more like Master Yoda.

Cheers

Unintentionally Offensive

2011-09-06T00:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people miscommunicate. It's a common problem, and while most of us are used to dealing with it and moving on, sometimes that miscommunication isn't the problem. It was what was communicated accidentally, or unintentionally. Sometimes, it's about what you said, rather than what you meant to say.

This kind of situation happened to me recently over Facebook. And I'm curious to see what ya'll make of it. (Names and other incriminating information has been deleted or altered to protect both myself and the other party. Otherwise, these quotes are completely accurate.)

Zek: [as a Facebook update] Antagonistic coworkers make being professional a lost art.

[Scroll down a 3 to 4 comments.]

Em: they are profagonissionals.

Zek: Yeah... but no need to insert a mean word about Gay people in there.

Em: Not my intention, sir. way to be on hater patrol though. We have obviously never met. Haha.

Zek: I am on patrol for all slurs, both homophobic and sexist, both racist and anti-Semitic, both... anti-nerdcore rap and anti-legend of zelda! ; )

Em: I think this is where I crack open a James Herriot book... theres no need for hater patrol, really. Haters are pretty good at destroying themselves.

J-Storm: huh? was that like, an allegory about how cigarettes are ok to smoke because they're cool and surgeon general's warnings are antiquated? if a Hater collapses under their own ego in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it detract from Smokey the Bear's crusade against forest fires? j/c

Em: nope, it was't. nice attempt to condescend to someone you have never met, though. jumping to your own conclusions should get you far! thanks for totally understanding how much of a hater I truly am. now, won't you make like Smokey and go fight some real fires?

Zek: Okay, and now we're fighting on my wall.

Em, good to hear from you again, but seriously I just don't like slurs -- even in jest. Especially after having talked with actual gay people who told me what it feels like to be called that. On the flip side, you wouldn't use the word "kike" around me as a joke, would you? Same principle.

I'm not here on hater patrol. I'm just here to keep it respectful.

Zek: And thanks for deleting your previous comment. [The comment regarding James Herriot, etc., had been deleted by Em.]

Okay, so after this I decided to question my friend further. I wanted to see if she really thought she hadn't done anything wrong and was being misunderstood, or if she was just being stubborn and defensive. Conversation continues...

Zek: Hey Em, it was good to hear from you again. Seems that lately we've been going through that -- waddya call it? -- drifting apart phase. It makes me sad because we used to be pretty regular friends, but I guess it's one of those inevitable things that happens as time goes by and people change, grow up, etc.

It seems like something that's changed is you (and perhaps me too). I remember you used to be much more soft-spoken -- quieter, but nicer. Yet the last times I remember talking you were very loud, and very drunk. And now I see that in the midst of being supportive to my plight at work, you use homophobic slurs...

Now, I don't think you're homophobic. But I do think using words like "fag" that are linked almost exclusively with homophobia, bullying gay kids in school, and other bigoted things is just as bad as if you were homophobic. It's hurtful, even if you try to cache it in a joke, because ultimately you're comparing the "lameness" (for lack of a better word) of whatever you're talking about, and the word you've used to describe it. Now, we know what "fag" means -- nowadays -- and while my coworkers were being particularly lame, I don't need to make that point by comparing them to negative perceptions of gay people.

Why? Because I can be funny, be upset, or be whatever without being ignorant and using bigoted speech. And I know you don't either, because I think you're not that kind of person.

Anyhoo, think about what I've said, and then write me back if you want.

Cheers

Em: I will say it once more.. I did not use the word fag on purpose. would have appreciated even just one question from you regarding my stand point...seek first to understand.

Zek: So, then you used it accidentally? How do you accidentally use that word? I hope you appreciate that instead of writing you off like I would a stranger that uses that kind of language, I am actually taking the time to understand.

Maybe instead of being defensive about a mistake, you could just apologize for saying something offensive?

Em: Ive spent a good part of my life apologizing for things I didnt do. I genuinely thought only of how I could fuse the roots of those words together and that is how it came out. I slandered nobody, surely not my bisexual mother. Please stop ANTAGONIZING me; this is borderline bully behavior... and I think it's terrible if you are feeling that way at work, but instead of projecting your sensitive feelings about this issue through the internet, go to a supervisor. As for conflict resolution, I'm done with swallowing my feelings (especially when I've been deeply misunderstood) and saying a cowardly little word called sorry just to appease someone.

Zek: Well I'm asking you to apologize for something you did do. So maybe don't project your feelings of being misunderstood or swallowing your feelings onto me?

How do you unoffensively fuse the roots of "fag" and "professional"? Having a bisexual mother doesn't absolve you from using homophobic slurs, just like my having a Black girlfriend doesn't absolve me from using racist slurs. If anything, it gives me more of a reason not to use them.

As for antagonizing you, bullying you... that's not my intent here. I'm sorry you feel cornered but as a friend I feel obliged to call you out when you say something to me that was offensive. And that word is used to bully others far worse than anything my intention to understand your defensiveness over making a mistake will ever be.

I appreciate your support for my work troubles, which I already solved before posting on facebook. But if you see apologizing for saying something offensive to me as "appeasing" then I don't think we should talk anymore...

I already have to deal with enough prejudice in my life that I don't want friends who can't get past their own, no matter how accidental or minor. It just isn't worth fighting with someone who can't see what they did wrong, and it seems obvious you don't.

I am sorry that it ends this way though. I wish you the best of luck in the future. Take care.

Em: I fuse antagonist and professional. I am now asking you to leave me alone

[Em deleted me from her Facebook before I could.]

Now, am I crazy, or is she? Did she seriously believe that her first comment was the attempted fusion of "antagonist" and "professional"?

Honestly, even if she's telling the truth, there is seemingly no way to not first think that her comment was a combination of "fag" and "professional". Moreover, whether or not she saw it that way, the fact that others did indicates that she should have simply apologized for making a mistake and moved on.

That she was unable to -- combined with her demonstration of Classic, Textbook prejudice -- has left me shaking my head at what kind of friend she actually was to me. Apparently, one with more issues than a magazine. (Judging from her freak out, turning it around until she's the victim, her telling me not to bully her, and her saying to leave her alone after I just said I didn't want to be friends or talk to her anymore, well... it's even more hilariously disappointing.)

But I want some reactions. What do ya'll think? You have the conversation, sans identifying information. You tell me what the happenstance is.

Cheers

My Mornin' Jacket

2011-09-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

This song basically sums up my life at the present moment.

Cheers

Till Hate is Indistinguishable from Insanity

2011-08-31T16:56:00.000-07:00

(Insane hate is as American as apple-pie.)

Across the blogosphere there reverberates the echo of an entire ideology's death-throes, and their summary rebirth a la the phoenix of ignorant youth. I speak specifically of one blog post that sums up the author's anti-Semitic complex quite nicely in his title: "White Jew Problems."

And it all started because one customer of Chipotle managed to convince an entire company to be more transparent about what's on their menu... through a tweet.

Unfortunately, some people apparently cannot handle the thought that companies should be accountable to their customers. Well, if they want our money then it makes sense for them to "bend over and grab their ankles", because otherwise people will find somewhere else to go for a burrito.

More importantly, this topic illustrates the divergence of America between rational people who support the middle & lower classes -- and people whose hate has become a point of view, justified through their own insanity, even if it means voting against their interests, their socio-economic bracket, and even at times their own self.

Case in point: the blogger, Chuck, is a waiter with a lot of debt to pay off, and yet instead of supporting the class to which he belongs that would grant him a bigger paycheck, more reasonable loan-terms, and an overall more equitable piece of the proverbial pie, he opts to destroy the system entirely -- rather like a frustrated child destroys a toy they cannot figure out or comprehend.

It reminds me of being 10 years-old again, watching some kid kick over their Lego blocks because they couldn't build the spaceship from the instructions provided. Instead of asking for better instructions, or help, they'd rather just kick the fucking thing over and throw a tantrum.

And this directly compares to minimum-wage earners who vote for the interests of the top 1% at their own expense -- more expensive education, fewer social benefits, higher costs of living, no healthcare, no social security, no regulation, more pollution, more corruption, and a general reduction in the overall standard of living for ordinary Americans.

Welcome to self-destructive behavior. Apparently, it has gone from a pathology, to a point a view, and is now poised to become a political statement.

And this is aside from the various problems that the blogger (and, arguably, much of Middle America) has with Jewish people. We're seen as greedy, power-hungry, corrupt, lying, backstabbing, anti-Christian, anti-White, evil mothafuckas who goddamnit killed Jesus!

No, seriously, many Americans truly believe that Jews like me are responsible for some kind of gradual decline of Western Civilization, specifically in America.

To which I can only cock my head, and wonder, "if we had such power over the world, then why isn't it actually called Jewmerica?"

Kidding! But, again, more seriously, some people are incapable of accepting that other religions exist and, just like with Christianity, we exist on various spectrum. Some of us are uber-religious and wouldn't be caught dead at Chipotle because they mix meat & dairy, while others of us just don't eat the swine.

I notice nobody ever questions a Christian's religiousness just because they're Protestant, versus Catholic. Yet as many of the comments in the post suggest, apparently some people don't understand that Jews have multiple denominations, from liberal Reform & Reconstructionist, to much more religious Conservative & Orthodox, as well as various sects besides.

Welcome to the world where people are unable to grasp complexity! Because, seriously, different denominations for non-Chritian religions do exist, and if you can't even understand that concept, then you're in a lot more trouble than from a conspiratorial possibility that Jews are going to takeover the world.

Yet, I've forgotten another aspect of this entire discussion. Not only was there a problem with religious minorities using social media to instigate change in a companies policies, allowing consumers to make informed decisions -- heaven forbid! -- but there was hardly a mention of the fact that pinto beans cooked in pork as an issue not just for Jews & Muslims, but also for vegetarians and vegans.

Gotta wonder how many of these non-meat-eaters realized upon this occasion that they'd violated their personal diet. Sure, to some it was probably no big deal, but others may have felt very strongly about it.

Again, there seems to be an inability to understand that there are people in this world who are different than you are, and who may actually feel differently about things than you and the small clustfuck of people you talk to.

But I digress, in the end it all comes back to this basic problem. One segment of society is hell-bent on hate-filled, self-destructive insanity, and the rest of us can only shake our heads and either try to stop them, or get out of the way by going somewhere that they can find us.

I hear Iceland is pretty chill.

Cheers

***Bonus***

Images that I couldn't find a place for, but are worth posting:

Okay, now for reals... Cheers

Jack of All Trades / Master of None

2011-08-29T14:41:00.000-07:00

This phrase encapsulates the myriad ways people have described me. From old friends to total strangers, exes to groupies, family to peers, classmates, The Girlfriend, and yes even crazy homeless people.

And it's fortunate because this is how I would most describe myself. I like to think of myself as a "renaissance man" of some sort, kinda all over the place. But in reality I'm more breadth than depth.

Since I'm involved in quite a variety of activities, let me just list them for you:

The Arts & Sciences

Martial -- practitioner of Aikido, Judo, Hung-Gar Kung-Fu, Aikijutsu, and some MMA.

Musical instruments -- player of the saxophone, piano, left-handed guitar, clarinet, bass-clarinet, harmonica, djembe, and cajon.

Reading -- sci-fi, biographies, trashy fantasy, literature, graphic novels, comics, fact books, post-Modernism, historical treatises, post-apocalyptic fiction, Dying Earth fantasy, second-person literature, High Fantasy, fratire, the New Sincerity, poetic collections, and noir.

Tunes -- Jazz like Charlie Parker, Dexter Gordon, Vince Guaraldi, Thelonious Monk, Karen Souza, Art Tatum, Stan Getz, The Duke, Gaucho, Django, Art Blakey, and Charles Mingus; Blues like Elmore James, Junior Kimbrough, Ry Rooder, and R.L. Burnside; rock like The Whigs, Gomez, Cat Power, Arctic Monkeys, and The Strokes; Hip-Hop like Aesop Rock, Busta, Digable Planets, Lupe Fiasco, Ice Cube, Nas, RZA, GZA, and the Ghostface Killah!

Books -- shelves filled with Jim Butcher, Douglas Coupland, Shakespeare, Orson Scott Card, Koushun Takami, Chiua Achebe, Jomo Kenyatta, J.R.R. Tolkien, Salman Rushdie, Chaim Potok, Jonathan Safran Foer, Herodotus, Anthro textbooks, writing anthologies, fact books, trivia books, graffiti art books, and a collection of famous photographs.

Visual -- Jamie Hewlett, Frank Miller, Golden Age comic-style, graffiti, gothic, Eastern Orthodox Religious, doodles, severe sculpture, SPRFKR, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Gustave Dore, Norman Rockwell, Francisco de Goya, Hokusai, El Greco, Picasso, Salvador Dali, Melanie Matranga, Banksy, Shepard Fairey, Miss Van, and others.

Technology -- savvy with computers, printers, faxes, Windows, MS-DOS, cracking software, phone-jacking, scanners, scramblers, PAs, logitech, pro-tools, recording equipment, wireless microphones, household appliances, Segways, electric bikes, handyman work, faucets, basic wiring, toilets, shower-heads, breakers, smart-phones, most software for PCs, and of course the occasional genuine video-game system.

Writing -- fiction, non-fiction, poetry, essays, creative non-fiction, genre fiction, flash-fiction, haiku, sonnets, blogs, journals, news articles, one-act plays, political plays, comedy scripts, stand-up material, educational posts, creative content for websites, freelance etc.

Culinary -- sushi, Mexican, Italian, Chinese, pizza, fast-food connoisseur, Peruvian, Korean BBQ, Jewish, French, Bangers & Mash, instant-artery-cloggers, diner food, seafood, Chicken City, garlic eggs, Thai, craft steak, and even pickles with sour-cream.

In summation

I'm a writer, a musician, an inventor, a fighter, a scrapper, a gamer, a builder, a fixer, a lover, a sucker, a scientist, an anthropologist, a story-teller, a hopeful romantic, an academic, a saboteur, a doodler, a conversationalist, a collector of keychains, quotes, stories, and sometimes I am flaneur on the weekends.

I've tried my hand in the careers of session-musician, independent recording studio head, clothing retail, law clerk, entrepreneur, explorer, anthropologist, freelancer, ghostwriter, office administrator, and even a model! I am engaged in at least three intensely time-consuming activities at a time: university education for two Bachelor's Degrees (whilst being the the Dean's List), work at a prominent tour-company, and volunteering as the open-mic host for the second-most popular open-mic in The City.

My life is rather busy, to say the least. Hectic, insane even, would be better descriptions. Yet still I maintain a fledgling social life, and a rather wonderful relationship with The Girlfriend. And indeed, I somehow manage to juggle all these identities: jammer, student, boyfriend, revolutionary, employee, and nerd.

It's difficult, but being a Jack of All Trades & Master of None is my shtick, and has been for some time.

Which is why I'll never be as good as a True Master. I'm too filled with the periphery of knowledge that creeps in that distracting way from complete focus upon the Single Most Important Discipline that by virtue of being only that Thing which you/I achieve greatness.

Miyamoto Musashi did not become the greatest swordsmen in history by dividing his attention among ten hundred different activities. No, he focused himself utterly on the way of the blade, and in doing so became a Kensei, revered throughout the world for his great skill & knowledge.

But sure, Mozart was a polymath, and so was da Vinci. However, I am no da Vinci. I am not even Benjamin Franklin. Maybe I could be Robert Anton Wilson, but only if I manage to start a new religion.

Nonetheless, a Jack is what I am, not a Master. And that's fine. I'll never be as great as those other guys, but I'll be pretty good at a lot of things and maybe that's how I'll become great someday... By being pretty good at so many things it'll just seem like I'm great.

Or something like that.

Cheers

Sad Bastards are for Publishing

2011-08-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

So, without further adieu, the long anticipated, long awaited, long in the making and very long in the getting, I present to you the art which will appear in my upcoming collection, Sad Bastard Poetry!

Big thanks to Goose for doing such an amazing job for the petty compensation I was barely able to justify on my budget. Nonetheless, the results speak for themselves, and I'm sure ya'll will enjoy them too...

All that remains to be done is to edit, revise, and get this baby published!

Cheers

Return of the Zek

2011-08-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

The sudden infusion of well-earned slush funds into my veins, your friendly neighborhood blogger now has the peace of mind to focus on writing to ya'll -- as opposed to working hard for the daily dime. Yet again, in my absenteeism there appears to have been a virtual cornucopia of topics abounding throughout the blogosphere, some of which just demand my attention.

Before we get to that however, please allow me to summarize recent events...

I work as an office administrator at a popular, and prominent tour company here in San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf. My job was one of necessity as the summer months are not supported by my college's financial aid, and so I consequently have been working 10+ hour shifts (for decent pay though) dealing with all manner of tourists, sightseers, and random passersby. This hectic work schedule in combination with a 3-hour round-trip commute made my workdays one HELL of a long day.

In tandem I have been doing heavy revisions on my book, as well as working with a collaborator to finish the artwork I have commissioned for the collection. (Expect a post with previews in the near future!) Also, I've still been promoting and hosting the weekly open-mic I've been running -- now #2 in The City!

And on top of all that, I moved The Girlfriend to our new apartment, building: a bed, a coffee table, a TV stand, a chest of drawers, fixing faucets, shower-heads, cleaning air ducts, sliding doors, communicating with landlords, leasing agencies, cable-companies, power-companies, handy-men, and all while trying to enjoy a little TLC time with my lady... if you know what I mean!

So... yeah, it's been a crazy-busy summer, and I can't believe I'm actually relieved to get back to the daily grind of the college semester (my last one, lawd please!) where at least my schedule is as predictable as it is filled.

Nonetheless, expect my posting to resume its semi-usual frequency. Here's what I've been reading and what I'll be talking about in the near-future:

1. The open-mic I've been running for a year+ now

2. semi-anti-Semitic reactionary conservative ish

3. Shout-outs & Rationalization Hamsters

4. Masculism et cetera

5. Underrated and undernoticed music

Until then, I hope ya'll enjoy the links, and keep checking back for more betterness a la Saboteur Academics the world over.

Cheers

Coalescent

2011-08-22T01:54:00.000-07:00

Deep thoughts pull currents of knowledge from oceans unexpected.

Posts are coming. Just wait for the tide.

Cheers

From Going Broke to Breakin' The Bank

2011-08-09T15:32:00.000-07:00

It seems my own series of financial difficulties these days are mirrored in the current economic crisis of our country. While I work 10+ hours days to cover my debts until being reimbursed by my college's financial aid awards, the rest of the country seems poised for another recession. As I bust my completely literal ass to get and keep out of the red, it seems the point of doing so is becoming more and more irrelevant when the DOW closes below 630 and jobs are about to disappear -- again and still -- in this Great Recession.

And to that, John Boehner can only say, "I'm happy; I got 98% of what I wanted."

I'm so tired I can't even be mad anymore. Just disappointed. Disappointed that the Republicans really wanted to wreck the economy to gain some political capital. Disappointed that the Tea Party really is just bunch of insane fanatics hell-bent on restructuring our country to become a Dark Ages version of itself. But I'm the most disappointed in our President, my President, who when push came to shove on fixing this economy... well, he was pushed, and shoved, and caved in to Republican demands to cut spending without any revenue increases AT ALL.

Yes, that's right, we're going to cut spending on medicare, medicaid, social security, education, roads, government jobs, and other social programs, but we're not going to make rich people pay their fucking taxes.

While I and millions of others like me around the country work ourselves to the bone to pay for our education, for our bills, our food, our clothes, and even our Goddamn taxes, the wealthiest members of this country are going to again get-out of paying their fair share. Big business corporations and Wall Street are going to again be bailed out, appeased, and otherwise allowed to continue ripping off the American public's money while paying next-to-none of it back. Tax breaks, loop holes, and other tricks of their trade will continue while average Americans struggle to even find a job. Incentives and low-interest rates will continue to be awarded to companies who's sole purpose is a profit for themselves, as they ship jobs overseas to the sound of some random executive's Golden Parachute being filled with another bonus for helping to wrecking our economy.

I'm disappointed because I know that at the beginning of next year things are going to get really bad. They're going to be tough for the middle-class, and for all the rest of us below that it's going to be worse than cutting through fat. We're going to be cutting to the bone. The next year will see financial hardship and economic ruin on par with the Great Depression at this rate. It won't be nearly 10% unemployment, but 25%, 30%, even peaking near 50% unemployment.

And meanwhile, all the money that should be paid to the government by big businesses and wealthy Americans will be floating around in some private bank account, or trading imaginary securities as millions of people struggle to get by on food-stamps.

It's a shame to say, but our country has gone from bad to worse in my lifetime. From marginally racist, classist, sexist, and generally incompetent, to extremely racist, classist, sexist, and dangerously stupid. (Take the Tea Party as a prime example.) I've watched the Clinton era surplus fund two wars (one we didn't even need to fight), fund privatization of healthcare, fund big business bail-outs, fund tax breaks, loopholes, and a whole host of other symptoms that identify the sickness with which we are afflicted.

Shoot, we're so broke we had to retire the Space Shuttle!

But I digress. Going to space won't stop us from going broke.

But when a combination of global warming, economic collapse, water shortage, war, famine, disease, and everything else turns the Earth into a steaming hunk of uninhabitable wasteland a la Mad Max, my only hope is there are some seats to Mars left for me and my girlfriend.

Cheers

Politics as Usual

2011-08-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Y'know, it only takes a drive through the Inland Empire listening to local AM radio to remind me how very different life is on the coast compared to the rest of the country. I'm so used to taking for granted the diversity of ideas, thoughts, people, and experiences that I often forget how others rarely, if ever, engage in such things. In fact, I doubt many are even encouraged to do so.

In this way I am brought face to face with the sad reality that this is a country which has begun to disconnect from itself, one bigoted mind at a time.

While listening to a radio broadcast as I drove through Fresno county, I found myself agreeing with a lot of the sentiments of this particular host. He talked about Veteran's Issues, talked about the budget, talked about politicians living up to their promises, talked about what's wrong with America these days, and all the while I'm nodding my head in honest agreement.

At least, I was until he started talking, well... like a Birther nutjob. He replayed a recent speech given by Rep. Sheila Jackson regarding the treatment of Barack Obama as our president, and I'm sad to say even Jon Stewart believes Rep. Jackson was playing "The Race Card". The funny thing to me is, the only people I ever see playing any kind of "race card" are people who want to use it to pass Go, collect 200 hundred dollars.. and say some racist shit.

In this case, the radio host seemingly endorsed Birther conspiracies by saying that Obama did not adequately answer the problems people have with his proof of citizenship -- I'm sorry, but since when is a valid birth certificate not legitimate proof of citizenship? -- AND then he proceeded to brush off the racist signs, racist protest images, and racist tone of his detractors playing off the president being a Black man (which is funny, since he could just as easily be called a White man, technically). How does he brush this off? By saying that every president goes through something like this...

Oh ye of such ignorance! Bush was compared to a monkey, but President Bush isn't Black, and so doesn't need to worry about the historical context of comparing Black people to primates in this country. The only other president in the history of the United States, Chester A Arthur, was ever questioned about his citizenship (or should I say, slandered over it via liar's gossip) yet he was never required to "show his papers" in such a manner that is reminiscent of the way free Black men were treated in this country prior to the Civil Rights Movement -- and in South Africa.

And this is where so many people fail. They just don't understand context. Or racism. Or most Isms. It's a sad, but true reality.

And it's never more salient than driving down the 5 freeway listening to the local radio station.

Cheers

Heppi Burfdai

2011-07-24T09:27:00.000-07:00

25 and still alive!

Posting will resume as usual after the week-long celebrations.

Cheers

Elevator Guy Versus Glasses Girl

2011-07-13T01:58:00.000-07:00

I'm a bit late to the party, but I could not help jumping on the proverbial bandwagon of commentary to the blogosphere's latest gossip.

The characters are: Richard Dawkins, celebrated evolutionary biologist and atheist activist; Rebecca Watson, Feminist atheist blogger; Elevator guy, to whom nobody knows but is conveniently used by all, and lastly the miscellaneous chorus of bloggers, oppressed Muslim women, rape-survivors, PUAs, and other randos.

Here's the happenstance: Feminist Atheist blogger Rebecca Watson was hit on by a guy in an elevator. It was 4 AM, after a long night of conference speeches and partying in Dublin, Ireland, when a man stepped into the hotel elevator with Rebecca and said these words: "Don't take this the wrong way, but I find you very interesting, and I would like to talk more. Would you like to come to my hotel room for coffee?"

FULL STOP. SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE.THIS WOMAN IS IN DANGER! HOLY SHIT SHE'S ABOUT TO BE...

Wait, wait wait! Nothing happened.

Seriously???

Seriously. She said no. The elevator stopped at her floor. She exited. Presumably Elevator Guy did not go with her. There was no coffee, no exchange of interesting ideas -- no whoopie. There was only the slightly awkward end to an otherwise decent evening.

(Whew)

Until Rebecca made this video. Which I would compare in level of attention whoring drama-queen bleh to this video. Now, the blogosphere's blown up over the issue, with reigning websites delivering their blow-for-blow takes on the encounter. Notably Gawker, Stef McGraw, and PZ Meyers.

All of them raise very valid points regarding the encounter. However, the most important thing I want to know is: where is Elevator Guy!? I want to hear from the man himself, who is probably scratching his head wondering how his innocuous actions could be so elevated to the level of ideological conflict; that his simple desire for caffeinated beverages and possible sexual gratification would ever become something so incredibly misunderstood, misinterpreted, and, dare I say, misused by others to elevate themselves upon the activist pulpit.

But let it not be said that I'm not understanding of a woman's plight! I get that in an enclosed space, in a foreign city, with a strange dude, that any expression of attraction -- even the most sincere and least aggressive -- is going to be taken at Worst Case Scenario, seen as suspect instantly and without question. I get that for a woman alone, life can be pretty scary because Bad Shit does happen. (My girlfriend regularly tells me about it, all the time.)

But this is not that situation. This isn't some dark alleyway, or automobile back-seat. This is a hotel elevator, a hotel elevator that has buttons! And those buttons can take you to a place where there are people, people who can be asked for help, who can call the police. And this guy is not a rapist-in-waiting (evidence by the fact that nothing happened) indeed most men are not rapists just waiting to rape. And this point needs to be stressed, because too often women and men will give in to rational fear until it becomes irrational paranoia to the point of paralysis.

Contrary to Rebecca Watson's assertion, "be attracted to people! Flirt, have fun, make friends, have sex, meet the love of your life, whatever floats your boat" it seems that yes, Feminists often want to outlaw sexuality. Because sexual attraction cannot exist weighed down by such gravitas as Privilege, Power, Feminism, Misogyny, and other ideological labels. Simply put: people do not go about hooking up while thinking about if they're being oppressed in the situation or not.

(But if you don't try to bone me, I'll hate you for that too)

(And if you're wondering why it seems that Feminists often want to outlaw sexuality, well besides the probable cause that many of them simply do not get laid enough -- due to an overwhelming trend that the really vocal Feminists look extremely unattractive -- there is always the observation that perhaps they simply do not like normal male-to-female interactions. They don't fit the Feminist dogma. They're often guys pursuing girls, and those girls submitting to the guy that manages to get through the vetting process and convince them that said guy is worth a makeout, maybe more.)

That Rebecca, Richard, and others took this situation to the Oppression Olympics is both depressing, and hilariously ironic. Depressing because the poor Muslim women Dawkins' is talking about are still being oppressed, and the women Watson is referring to who are afraid of possibly being raped are still living in fear. But it's also ironic because Watson, Dawkins, and many others are supposed to be "rational", quote-unquote skeptics, atheists. They're supposed to be free from this sort of dramatic bullshit. At least, that's certainly how they've always attempted to present themselves.

And now we see them showing their ass, shit-stains and all.

Well, for my part I am comfortably confused by it. However I would like to take a moment to illustrate that while Dawkins did no good in making a comparative analysis of the situation, vis a vi Watson to Muslim women -- since comparative suffering does not negate suffering -- Watson is also, frankly speaking, ~~a whiny little brat~~ an over-privileged upper-class White women living in a world where even her most trivial hurts are the subject of worldwide debate, entitled to hordes of supporters crying out for some sort of effigy-burning, male-bashing, Haagen-Dazs eating marathon.

Let's face it, she is. There can be no other reason for the level of attention this is receiving.

Watson's encounter on the elevator was, to quote Dawkins "zero bad". As in, NOTHING HAPPENED TO HER. So while I can understand her initial reaction of discomfort and possible fear of potential... things, the fact remains that at the end of the night she was fine! She wasn't raped, wasn't assaulted, wasn't even so much as threatened by insinuation from the guy's pinkie finger!

So why is it that she's so upset after-the-fact at Elevator Guy for the potential actions he could've done and the implications she imagined that made her uncomfortable? Haven't we seen that since nothing happened, her fear and discomfit turned out to be irrational after all? Couldn't she just admit to herself that perhaps she reacted on impulse, and maybe needs to act more rationally in the future?

Questions like these are important, and highlight that her going home and putting this Elevator Guy on blast via YouTube is really lame. It is childish theatrics. In retrospect shouldn't someone as rational as she is be able to see that she overreacted? I guess I hope for too much... Paranoid atheist Feminists with a large blogging base seem to be frighteningly similar to demagogues.

But more importantly, the larger discussion has been lost in the echoes and din of the crowd. Nobody, in all their excellent wisdom and bloggings seem fit to say anything at all about the fact that we're debating a social interaction through a subjective lens. This isn't something "logical"; this is something completely and totally personal. We don't have Elevator Guy's side of the story, and we also weren't there to judge how creepy versus how not-creepy he was, which is in itself a loaded and subjective judgement.

Maybe Watson is just bad with men? Maybe Elevator Guy was drunk? Maybe both of them were drunk, and tired at 4 AM, and consequently unable to judge the situation correctly? It's heavily implied that Watson had been drinking, and so her judgment is certainly open to suspicion.

But it all comes back to the fact that this is a subjective situation, and social norms in different parts of the world are frankly different than our own. That Rebecca Watson goes to another country and misjudges one guy's attempt at seduction -- apparently in a monumental way, given the assumptions she made about rape and the like -- is a testament to that straight-up, oh-so American ignorance. Moreover, the people debating this topic seem to forget that as well. What's creepy versus not-creepy, or what's polite, what's rude, what's whatever is up for debate because different people have different standards. Especially over time and space. Especially over time and space at four in the fucking morning after you've had a couple of drinks.

Yet, I doubt anyone will notice or care about that. I doubt anyone will notice or care at all in a few more days. But as for me, I couldn't help noticing that despite all the drama, all the flame wars and trolls and angry radicals there still yet lives the smallest echo of reality, speaking in the voice of Jiminy Cricket to say...

Chill the fuck out!

And don't be a dick.

Cheers

The Next Great Depression

2011-07-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

Every day the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and the rest of us in the middle get stretched even further until that paycheck to paycheck is as thin and worn as an old dollar bill. Watching the debate over our fiscal and economic policy between Republican'ts and Democraps has been more depressing than watching The Notebook.

On one side, the GOP refuses to acknowledge that the wealthiest Americans must pay their fair share of taxes, meaning a progressive tax code that actually taxes people on real income, not just percentage points held in isolation. The Dems need to acknowledge that we cannot keep spending our money like a goddamn suburban housewife -- that means no more inflated military budget, and no more prison-industrial complex. BOTH parties need to acknowledge that major companies will not be allowed to lose billions of dollars and then receive tax-payer money to salvage their unsustainable and harmful financial decisions. BOTH parties need to stop letting corporations get away with tax fraud, take government subsidies at will, all the while disenfranchising their workers and evade shouldering their burden of the economy, especially by pretending that a corporation somehow counts as a "person"!

We cannot wait any longer for this situation to sort itself out. Our elected leaders are failing us by taking no action to fix this broken system. Some are unwilling, some unable, and some outrightly refuse to accept that they have a duty to this country, to their constituents, and as such they should be ashamed of themselves for pointing the blame at anyone other than themselves. I most especially include the Republicans, for their continuing devolvement into pure fringe radicalism in the face of this crisis, but blame falls also upon the president, the Dems, all of congress, and our state governments. Everyone will be held into account for the crisis that is slowly evolving into a monstrous downfall of our precious, privileged, American economy.

I, for one, would be extremely disappointed if I have to move to Canada when that happens.

Cheers

Living With The Dursleys of San Francisco

2011-07-11T00:20:00.000-07:00

Dealing with irrational people is rather like dealing with a child on crack while attempting to communicate to them in a foreign language. The problem with irrational people is that because they're irrational, they frequently cannot understand the logic or reason which you would normally employ to enlighten them, nor do they care to because anything you say is an attack on them and how dare you call them dramatic! The worst part is when you dissect every irrational assumption they've made, when you've rebutted or refuted their points, when you've basically broken down what they've said into why it was wrong and how it was irrational as well as what actually happened... and then after all this they say, "okay well whatever just forget it, but do you understand my point?"

To which I can only reply, "you mean the point I just left lying there dead on the floor?"

Cheers