Story of My Life

One day of my life, literally one day, I could dunk a basketball.

My senior year of HS, during baseball season, me and some of the other baseball players went over to a middle school gym to play basketball.  I used to play a lot of basketball and while not great nor necessarily even "good", I could hold my own.  For a baseball player, I was good.  

Anyway, back then, I had the "ups" to dunk, but I could never get the ball down.  What? I'm a pudgy bum now, but back then I was about 165lbs.  The extra 35lbs I've added in the 15 years since keep me a bit more firmly planted to the ground, if not reality.  Back then though, I could get up.  Unfortunately, I'd always get the ball over the front, but I'd bang it off the back of the rim, and usually I ended up crumpled in a pile underneath the basket. 

For whatever reason, I gave it a try that day and bam!!, I dunked.  I dunked multiple times in the games we played.  I was pumped.  As we were leaving a janitor asked us how we liked the new floor.  

New floor? 

"Yeah, they just put it in."  

I had a sinking feeling.  

"Did they take up the old floor before they put in the new one?"  

"Nah."  

Son of a bitch.  

I immediately drove over and broke into the HS gym (it was a weekend).  Up I went, off the ball went towards the rafters, and down I fell into a pile.  So yeah, I could dunk...on a 9'11" rim.  

Story of my life.

Little did I know then that "the bench" would be a metaphor for my life.

Hatred is Useful

One has to be very careful how one praises hatred, particularly when that "one" is a Southern white male of slaveholding stock. Which I am. So, to be clear from the start, the hatred I espouse isn't racial or sexist in the least little bit. I'm egalitarian in my hatred. I'm not a misogynist or a bigot. I hate pretty much everone. I'm a misanthropist.

Actually, that's not quite right. I'm really more of an Ignorist. If you're willfully stupid, I'm going to mock you and antagonistically dislike you regardless of your genitals or the color or religious affiliation they happen to possess. Fair warning.

Without further ado, here goes.

Southerners have long been said to hate groups and like individuals; northerners are said to like groups and hate individuals. I'm definitely Southern. Southerners are famously eccentric or quirky. We have to be. The weather down South is too damn hot to do much of anything so we, historically, have to sit still, usually on a porch. While we're sittin' we tend to get bored. We learn pretty quickly to amuse ourselves. Alcohol helps (plus, when you sweat booze and it evaporates in the breeze it's like biological A/C). At any rate, sauced up, uncomfortable, and bored, Southerners have long pondered that question that's been the goldmine of comedians since time immemorial: "What annoys me?"

Now, unfortunately, those without a properly attenuated sense of humor, when they've pondered that question, have gone on to cause all sorts of trouble (eg Ku Klux Klan, al Qaeda, the Inquisition, Nazis, etc.). As I'm firmly entrenched that there isn't much of anything worth getting truly worked up about (even as I get faux worked up about nearly everything), I make sure not to take anything so seriously as to upset myself. Thus, I take my drive to be annoyed and direct it to something meaningless that will, hopefully, stir up loads of indignation and give me something truly amusing to witness.

We all have the "us versus them" mentality in us. It's locked in our DNA. We are animals, after all. I'm aware of it though, so I play with it. The key to satire and the satiric mindset is to function on multiple levels. On one level you must see the big picture for the comedy of it, but for the other, you absolutely MUST embrace the idiocy of what you're mocking and take it to obscenely fervent levels. There's no indignation, there's no amusement, if anyone feels "eh."

Hatred is a building pressure. You need a safety valve. Hate builds in us (save for the Enlightened Few), much like lust. Just like lust, redirecting it is more intelligent than ignoring it or repressing it, but it's critical to express it appropriately. Thus, here's my hate masturbation.

Enter sports.

In the big picture, I could absolutely care less about a bunch of people playing games (On an even bigger picture level, who cares about games? On the biggest picture level, who cares about anything?). That's sensible. It's also very boring to feel that way. It's also slightly arrogant because it would seem to say that I am above the "us versus them." I'm not though; none of us really are, so I choose to care. Not only do I choose to care, but ultimately %#$! them.

%#$! them, fervently.

Thus it is that I happen to root for eighteen to twenty-two year old men from the University of South Carolina Football team running into others. Why do I identify with them? Sheer, dumb luck, honestly. Yeah, yeah, I can justify it by saying I went to that school, but then if I happened to go elsewhere, I'd care about that team instead. I'm from South Carolina and I'm a Philadelphia Eagles fan. Why? Because the first magazine I ever got had Randall Cunningham on the cover. Judge all you want. That's as good a reason as any. (I'm a New York Knicks fan because Patrick Ewing was on the cover the next month.)

The point being, it's fun to have a point. To have something to care about.

Caring and Love define us, so

Go Cocks!

But then so too does hate, so

@#$! UGA!

Georgia is a buffer colony of poor people who couldn't pay their bills. Carolina was the richest colony, but it was also disturbingly close to the heretical, marauding Spaniards in Florida. This would not do. The king had a rather brilliant solution. Empty the debtors prisons in England and make them think they were being given a privilege! Let them settle in the buffer (kill) zone between Carolina and Florida. The whole reason Georgia exists is to serve South Carolina. Let them plant peanuts and peaches and stay dirt poor and pathetic and they'd feel proud. Because pride typically is attached to a stigmatized group (Black, gay, Southern, etc).

Therefore, Georgians and the University of Georgia are all dumbasses who can't pay their bills and are preferred candidates for episodes of Cops and Teen Mom.

Go Cocks!

@#$! Clemson!

I don't have any historical explanation for it other than good old fashioned @#$! them.

Go Cocks!

Hate is not just a way to separate yourself from others; it's also a way to identify and bond. Yin. Yang. If I didn't hate, I wouldn't love. If I didn't love, I wouldn't care. If I didn't care, what's the point? If there's no point, there's no point.

Thus, in order to truly love,

Hate.

Hate.

Hate!



(Just remember somewhere deep down that none of it matters so you don't go acting like a true butthead)

I'm better than you

No post.  Just thought I should put it out there.

I've Always Been This Way

When I got to my first unit in the Army, the First Battalion of the Sixth Field Artillery Regiment (1/6 FA), I was, by far, the junior officer.  All the other Second Lieutenants were off at another base, save me.  I was amongst big, scary First Lieutenants who were a whole year older than me...sometimes two!  The majority of them went to West Point.

As I was but a lowly 2LT and a disgusting ROTC graduate at that, many of the 1LTs thought it was my particular place to grovel.  A good many of the higher ranking officers did as well.  I placated the Captains, Majors, and Lieutenant Colonel because, well, it's the Army.  As for the 1LTs, they could shove it sideways.  Yes, they had more experience than me.  One year.  Whoopie.  However, they were still used to the "Fourth Class System" that they'd had at West Point, so they thought it was their duty and right to give me crap and for me to lap it up.

My grandfather was a Brigadier General.  His best friend was a Four Star General.  My father is a Green Beret and Ranger.  Two of my uncles are Rangers.  My first cousin is a Ranger.  I grew up on The Citadel campus.  I was not wowed by the 1LTs.  In fact, I thought they were mostly unrealistically arrogant dumbasses.  I was not good at masking my disdain.

Leaving Germany, the officers of 1/6FA went on a "staff ride", where we toured WWI battlefields where our division, the First Infantry Division ("The Big Red One", named for the patch on our shoulder), fought.  The 1LTs mocked and I mostly ignored.  Two in particular, Mack and Doug, couldn't abide a mere 2LT not fawning over them in wonder nor cringing in fear.  They routinely said stupid things that they thought were very clever.  Alas, they were not.

I knew very, very little about WWI, so, unlike most of the other officers, who mainly were focused on drinking beer in the tour bus, I actively asked questions of the tour guide.  I believe that my behavior was labled "gay" by Doug and Mack.  Also, the fact that I read a book on the tour bus was most likely "gay" to them as well.  I can't recall, fortunately.

At any rate, at the end of the battlefield tour, the tour guide announced that he had a movie for us to watch on the bus on the way back to Germany, Paths of Glory.  Being a raging cineaste at the time and a rabid devotee of Kubrick, I made mention of the fact that the movie was, in fact, "the tits."

As the movie ended, Mack and Doug turned to me.

"I thought you said that movie was good." said Mack.

"I did," I responded.

"I thought that movie @#$!ing sucked!" said Doug.

"That's because you're a moron," I offhandedly replied as I drank a swig of beer and opened my book again.

"Did you just call me a moron?" asked Doug, perplexed.

"Yes," I said, without taking my eyes off the page.

They were stumped.

Judging Intelligence Part 2: NO!

Far be it from me to rant and rave.  No...wait.  That's what I do.  Okay, so here goes.  I was pleasantly poked for having the audacity to be judgmental.  "Life's too short to be that way.  Who are any of us to judge anyone else?" 

No.

No.

No.

Life is long and has entirely too many silly-minded people doing pointless things for no benefit to anyone (though, at the same time I've no problem with Ars gratia artis).  And that's fine.  But if *I* want to get some form of purpose or enjoyment or sense of gimme-a-damn-break, I damn sure am going to make decisions.  Making decisions comes down to judgment.  If you don't make any judgments, it's my view you tend to let life grab you and make you its punk.  Nope. That's not my deal.

At any rate, I tend to find that the people who are most anti-judgmental are usually the ones who have made repeated poor decisions.  Now, when I say "judgment" or "judging" I don't mean in a legal sense insofar as punishments.  When it comes to that, "Let he who is without sin..." and whatnot.  When I make my judgments, other than how I interact with you, there are no direct repercussions.  That's sensible.  You make your choices.  I make mine.  However, at the end of the day, it's about taking responsibility for one's words and actions, and what I tend to find is that the "free spirits" who follow "do what thou wilt" (the corrupted mantra of proto-Satanist Aleister Crowley) usually follow a path of mindless (silliness) and/or mindful (sociopathy) selfishness.
 
The justification of those people seems to me to be something along the lines of "If I feel it, it must be true!"  Cheated on your spouse?  Well, it's not really your fault if you developed those feelings.  No, it's just unfortunate.  Acted like an absolute shit and your kids hate you?  Well you just are who you are. 

Nope.  Bullshit.  We're not animals.  We're rational human beings and the very ability to make DECISIONS, to overrule our "feelings", is what separates us from beasts.  I have lots of "feelings," many of them contradictory (mainly between being social and yet a misanthrope), but the important thing is being who I choose to be, who I wish to be, not what chemicals in my body at any particular moment are pushing me to be.  That way lies utter foolishness and childishness. And the folks that don't understand that have their lives lead them every which way from one disaster to the next and all the while wonder why since they take no responsibility.  People like that tend to think they are who they "feel" they are (uniformly they think they're "good" people), but what they refuse to accept is reality, that they are their choices and actions (which tend to show that they're decidedly not good people).  For those who don't get that, I judge those people to be foolish and less than intelligent. 


Take charge of your life.  Make some damn decisions.  Be judgmental.

Or be a vapid, selfish shell of a person.  Either way. 

Judging Intelligence

People don't like it when they feel like they're being judged.  It seems to upset them when I'm being judgmental.  I find this to be hysterical.  We ALL judge.  At least I'm honest with them (and myself) about it.  Since so many others don't seem to understand this, I will give a very handy set of guidelines to help:

1.  You are being judged.
2.  You are judged on your decisions.
3.  Your worst decision overrules virtually all of your good decisions.

Not fair?  Welcome to planet Earth.  Get over it.

To be clear, when I say I'm judging, that's not to say that I'm going to *do* anything.  I'm not passing along a sentence.  I have no right to do that.  So, my judgment won't impact directly.  But who the hell do people think they are that they can dictate my thoughts?  If someone acts poorly enough, I SHOULD judge them and react accordingly.  We're responsible for our actions; own them.  Don't want to be judged poorly?  Don't be an idiot/jerk.

First and foremost, decision-making determines intelligence.  Learn how to make good decisions, THEN invent something mind-boggling.  Otherwise, I'm going to think you're a dumbass, ultimately, no matter what earth shattering idea you come up with. 

You're judged by your worst.  It's sensible to do so.  If you donate a hundred billion dollars to charities but purposely shake a baby to death, you're a murderer. If you're forthright and honest 90% of the time, you're a liar.  Try to spin it any way you want, but that's how it is. Lawyers love pointing out that they're lawyers as being indicative of their intelligence.  Nope. They make some of the most idiotic personal decisions anyone makes. I can't tell you how many complain of only realizing they shouldn't have focused so much on work instead of on their families AFTER they've had numerous divorces. "Really? Figured that all out by yourself, did you?"


This has come about because I recently read an article in the New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/01/science/01angier.html?src=me&ref=general) touting Oscar-winning actress Natalie Portman as a serious intellect.  Now, to be fair, Ms. Portman has apparently done well in her education; in fact, decidedly better than I have done.  She's always had all "A"s.  She attended Harvard (not sure if she graduated).  She was shortlisted for a prestigious high school scientific research award.

However...

She also is now pregnant by and engaged to a choreographer named Benjamin Millipied.  I take issue with that.  Specifically, that his name is a take-off of millipede, "thousand feet."  I honestly hope his name and profession are a fortuitous coincidence, like an electrician named "Sparks."  Because, if he intentionally made his name Millipied, that's just insufferable.  Was Centipied too little?  Was "Man with Many Feet" too Native American?  Yes, if that name choice was intentional, I judge him.  Poorly (meaning I have a poor view of him, not that my ability to judge is poor...though I leave that to others to judge).

Additionally, if that name was intentional, I judge her also.  People get lost in the weeds/details and don't see the big picture.  He might have dreamy eyes.  He might have a way with a turn of phrase.  He might have simply been there (don't laugh; from what I've seen in life, sometimes that's all it takes).  However, he is ultimately the kind of guy who is a choreographer and names himself Millipied.

If you can't understand why that reflects on him and thus her in a bad way, stop reading. You're just not going to get what I'm trying to say...

Here.  I'll try to make it clearer.

I come from a family of highly, highly educated people.  My father, two uncles, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, and a first cousin are/were professors.  My other uncle is an aeronautical engineer.  (Side note: the women in the family are highly intelligent as well.  The first cousin is female and a professor of mathematics.  As my family is predominantly Southern, that limited opportunities for the prior generations to stamp their intelligence with degrees).  While I put little stock in such things (as paper does not confer intelligence), I have multiple degrees.  I'm fairly obviously "intelligent" or "intellectual."  If I marry a plumber named "Terdz", it's a recipe for disaster, no matter how beautiful and charming she might be.

My father has been married thrice.  Wife 1, my brother's mother, is beautiful and intelligent.  Wife 2, my mother, is beautiful and intelligent.  Wife 3, while also good-looking and intelligent, is also a college professor.  Hmmm.  Wonder why that one stuck? (Though this simplifies to the point of ignoring some fairly substantial personality "quirks" of all persons involved.  Also, he might have 2 PhDs, but I do judge him for his personal decisions as well.)

All I mean to say is, look at the big picture, people.  People put very little big picture into the most important decision they'll ever make: whom they marry.  You can't get caught up in the details alone.  The details are important, of course, but make sure the big picture fits first.  If you need a vehicle, you don't start getting overjoyed at the fact it has power-steering and automatic locks before you check to see what make and model it is first. If you're a hippie but you buy a Hummer because it has a great stereo, I'm going to think you're an idiot.  How many people do you know that you said "This is going to be a disaster" when they went to get married and, lo and behold, it was a disaster?  It's fairly obvious. That's all I'm saying.

So. Natalie Portman is a stunningly beautiful and accomplished actress who is also, possibly, a scientific dynamo.  And she's going to marry a dancer.  Excuse me, choreographer.  Right, because if she's that intelligent and intellectually curious, that's going to work.  Because when she's no longer stunningly beautiful and he can't dance any more, they'll have...something in common.  Right.  As my friend once brilliantly surmised, "Opposites may attract, but they don't stay together."

At the end of the day, you're judged by your bad personal decisions and those have more weight than the good ones.  As the father from "@#$!mydadsays" put it, "A parent's only as good as their dumbest kid. If one wins a Nobel Prize but the other gets robbed by a hooker, you failed."

As for my personal life, what with being the acme of evolution, I have no equal and thus that is why I remain unmarried.

Until Blake Lively and/or Melanie Iglesias see the light.

Dictator's Guide to Holding Power: Part 6 (Finale)

As the events in the Muslim world of late have shown, despite thousands of years of evidence on what works to acquire and maintain a stranglehold on a populace, modern (im)potentates have clearly been out of the loop. Thus, for their benefit and that of their subjugated masses, I present

The Dictator's Guide to Holding Power (Part 6: Finale/America!)

There really isn't a whole lot to add.  I've shown you how to handle the masses AND the elite.  You should have a pretty solid grasp on it.  Lastly, I'm going to show you the best example of a dictatorship the world has ever seen:


The United States of America


1.  Entertainment


Exhibit 1

Gun? Check. Flames? Check. Bond? Check. T-n-A? Check. Check. Check.

Exhibit 2

2.  Food

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

3.  Puppetry

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

4.  Crackin' Skulls

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

5.  Keep Them Running in Circles

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

Conclusion:  Someone's pulling the strings, but the bastard is good.  REALLY good.  Like, I-have-no-idea-who-s/he-is good.

Or we're tearing ourselves apart and hurtling towards mass chaos until everything gets so broken that we'll beg a dictator to step up and fix everything.

We are so screwed.