The Pope is Dead. Yeah, well he was old. It happens. Nice guy that Pope. I keep hearing that he helped defeat communism, danced, and according to Bono, was "the first funky pope." That sure makes up for his refusal to ordain female priests and recognize gay rights.
He did stand up to George, though. He was crumbling over in pain, barely able to move, but he stood up to George and his march to war. Got to admire that. That must have made George feel like shit. The Holiest man in the universe (by some standards) criticizing your actions as immoral and against humanity. George's self righteousness probably took the A-train out his nutsack that day.
That's it. That's my ultimate moment in Pope history. Thank you Pope. Thank you for bitch slapping George with God and morality.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Saturday, April 02, 2005
ENCRUSTED POLITICIAN?
I'm back in politics again. But this time, instead of gnawing on the carcass of American democracy, I'll be a new plastic joint--one that will hopefully last awhile before caving in on the decrepit skeleton of our democratic system.
Where will this ride take me? Who knows? At least I get to live in my own head for awhile. I'll be writing for a living-writing memos, legislative briefs, etc.. Not exactly how I'd like to write, but its something new. I don't have to force myself into being outgoing anymore.
State politics are ugly. Especially in New York. We've got corruption and political machinery down. We've been doing it about as long as and better than anyone else in the United States. What other legislature can fail to pass a budget on times for 20 years in a row and be hailed as a success because it finally didn't fuck up? The lesson here is to keep the standards as low as possible so that any accomplishment feels like we climbed to the moon.
"As leader of the New York State Assembly, I'd like to congratulate everyone in the legislature. We really pulled together in a bi-partisan effort to get through another of Pataki's excruciatingly dull State of the State addresses. I'd also like to congratulate my fellow distinguished members of the Assembly for pulling up their britches and toughing it out--our members attended, on average, 32.5% of this years total session. That's a new record."
I'm literally about to enter the heart of politics. I hope it doesn't poison and strangle me. I've been burnt by playing on the outside. Hopefully I'll still be intact after this little excursion. My worst fear is to end up one of those little poli-puppets like Hillary Clinton; so coached as to what is the appropriate way to act, I will be unable to recognize my true feelings or develop original thought.
Where will this ride take me? Who knows? At least I get to live in my own head for awhile. I'll be writing for a living-writing memos, legislative briefs, etc.. Not exactly how I'd like to write, but its something new. I don't have to force myself into being outgoing anymore.
State politics are ugly. Especially in New York. We've got corruption and political machinery down. We've been doing it about as long as and better than anyone else in the United States. What other legislature can fail to pass a budget on times for 20 years in a row and be hailed as a success because it finally didn't fuck up? The lesson here is to keep the standards as low as possible so that any accomplishment feels like we climbed to the moon.
"As leader of the New York State Assembly, I'd like to congratulate everyone in the legislature. We really pulled together in a bi-partisan effort to get through another of Pataki's excruciatingly dull State of the State addresses. I'd also like to congratulate my fellow distinguished members of the Assembly for pulling up their britches and toughing it out--our members attended, on average, 32.5% of this years total session. That's a new record."
I'm literally about to enter the heart of politics. I hope it doesn't poison and strangle me. I've been burnt by playing on the outside. Hopefully I'll still be intact after this little excursion. My worst fear is to end up one of those little poli-puppets like Hillary Clinton; so coached as to what is the appropriate way to act, I will be unable to recognize my true feelings or develop original thought.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
HUNTER DEAD: GARDEN STATE GOOD
I'm on the verge of thirty. I'm the snail sliding across the razor. I'm falling apart slowly from here on in.
No upgrades.
No new parts.
I watched Garden State tonight for the second time. What is Zach Braff--12? Fuck. Talented cock. What a beautiful piece of shit he made. Damn it. I love him. He made The Graduate of my generation. Nasty piece of shit!
You can never go home again...He took an emotion...an experience most of us go through 5-10 years after moving out of our parents' nest and created a peace of art that envelopes the observer in that moment. The music...the acting...everything feels right and together creates this symphony of bitter-sweet existential "Who-the-fuck-am-I?" angst/exitement.
It's inspiring and makes me wonder why I can't just look at my life and write it down. I need more motivation and self control. I have to stop letting the internet trash and media waste my time.
Even the great late Doctor had self discipline when it came to writing. The Gonzo of Journalism did enough acid to warp the nervous system of a rhino, but he kept his fingers glued to the typewriter every night. God Bless him.
I'm going to miss him. I've never met him--I'm just a fan boy who dressed up as the Duke three Halloweens in a row, but fuck...there's nobody better to be for a day then Hunter S. Thompson. Call whoever you feel deserves it a "Pig Fucker." Start screaming and shouting in a crowded elevator that tiny Tricky Dicks are gnawing your nut sacks off. It's fun. It's free. It's what everyone wants to do but doesn't dare. That's the key to our love of Hunter. He had the balls to do what ever the fuck he wanted. He was us unbound by societal constraints and he projected these actions through the amplification of his eloquent prose. He felt like a father to many of us...or at least me...because he pushed his readers to live. Hunter, where ever you are, thank you. Thank you, you Pig Fucker.
No upgrades.
No new parts.
I watched Garden State tonight for the second time. What is Zach Braff--12? Fuck. Talented cock. What a beautiful piece of shit he made. Damn it. I love him. He made The Graduate of my generation. Nasty piece of shit!
You can never go home again...He took an emotion...an experience most of us go through 5-10 years after moving out of our parents' nest and created a peace of art that envelopes the observer in that moment. The music...the acting...everything feels right and together creates this symphony of bitter-sweet existential "Who-the-fuck-am-I?" angst/exitement.
It's inspiring and makes me wonder why I can't just look at my life and write it down. I need more motivation and self control. I have to stop letting the internet trash and media waste my time.
Even the great late Doctor had self discipline when it came to writing. The Gonzo of Journalism did enough acid to warp the nervous system of a rhino, but he kept his fingers glued to the typewriter every night. God Bless him.
I'm going to miss him. I've never met him--I'm just a fan boy who dressed up as the Duke three Halloweens in a row, but fuck...there's nobody better to be for a day then Hunter S. Thompson. Call whoever you feel deserves it a "Pig Fucker." Start screaming and shouting in a crowded elevator that tiny Tricky Dicks are gnawing your nut sacks off. It's fun. It's free. It's what everyone wants to do but doesn't dare. That's the key to our love of Hunter. He had the balls to do what ever the fuck he wanted. He was us unbound by societal constraints and he projected these actions through the amplification of his eloquent prose. He felt like a father to many of us...or at least me...because he pushed his readers to live. Hunter, where ever you are, thank you. Thank you, you Pig Fucker.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
FUZZY LITTLE NEURONS
I can’t think right now. My mind is in a rut. I’m sure everyone knows how that feels—like some burnt Raggedy Andy shotgunned Nag Champa into my neurons.
I’ve been spending too many hours playing solitaire on the computer. Why do I do that? Why does it seem more meaningful and rewarding to play solitaire on a computer rather than a real deck of cards?
I’m 28 and I feel that my life is almost over. I don’t like my career path options and I feel too old to go back to college. I don’t want more debt. I feel that my mind had potential just out of college. I spoiled that potential with four years of politics and giving it up for the cause. Life needs more balance.
Better than giving it up for the boss, I guess. I talked to my parents last night and they each hate their jobs and are ready to retire. The boss keeps asking them to do more and cutting their help, meanwhile they keep getting older.
It seems the same no matter where I look. A lot of us are out of work, and the few still employed are asked to pick up the work left by the laid off and fired. We are a nation of unemployed and overworked. Unemployed and overworked nation = cripples who are all dependent on drugs. Caffeine, Crack, Cocaine, Cigarettes, Rolaids, DayQuil, Aleve, Prozac…What does normal feel like? I’ve forgotten. Normal has been sold by our government—the intellectual property rights of Paxil.
Dam solitaire. Took me away from my thoughts once again. Where was I? Was I saying anything important?
No. Didn’t think so. Just some more plastic thoughts for a plastic world. On to a new foggy thought…
Substitute teaching is like volunteering to be the punching bag for our nation’s irresponsible, repressive way we raise our children. Let the frustration fly, kids, the cheap suit with no personality can absorb anything! He doesn’t know the PTA, the principal, and likely has no skills. Who the fuck else would take a job like that?
I’ve been spending too many hours playing solitaire on the computer. Why do I do that? Why does it seem more meaningful and rewarding to play solitaire on a computer rather than a real deck of cards?
I’m 28 and I feel that my life is almost over. I don’t like my career path options and I feel too old to go back to college. I don’t want more debt. I feel that my mind had potential just out of college. I spoiled that potential with four years of politics and giving it up for the cause. Life needs more balance.
Better than giving it up for the boss, I guess. I talked to my parents last night and they each hate their jobs and are ready to retire. The boss keeps asking them to do more and cutting their help, meanwhile they keep getting older.
It seems the same no matter where I look. A lot of us are out of work, and the few still employed are asked to pick up the work left by the laid off and fired. We are a nation of unemployed and overworked. Unemployed and overworked nation = cripples who are all dependent on drugs. Caffeine, Crack, Cocaine, Cigarettes, Rolaids, DayQuil, Aleve, Prozac…What does normal feel like? I’ve forgotten. Normal has been sold by our government—the intellectual property rights of Paxil.
Dam solitaire. Took me away from my thoughts once again. Where was I? Was I saying anything important?
No. Didn’t think so. Just some more plastic thoughts for a plastic world. On to a new foggy thought…
Substitute teaching is like volunteering to be the punching bag for our nation’s irresponsible, repressive way we raise our children. Let the frustration fly, kids, the cheap suit with no personality can absorb anything! He doesn’t know the PTA, the principal, and likely has no skills. Who the fuck else would take a job like that?
Monday, January 10, 2005
American=Unemployed
I haven't been keeping up with this blog. It's just as well--likely no one reads it.
I started this, excitedly, as do most new bloggers, thinking I could document an interesting account of what it is to be American. I would write everyday and I would be able to etch my immortality into the electronic age.
Unfortunately, I have been uninspired. Unfortunately, lately, American to me means unemployment and cynicism. I have but an hour a day to write. I depend on the public library and can not afford to pay for internet access at home.
I read a New York Times Article yesterday (For Unemployed, Wait for New Work Grows Longer) that did not help matters, but did highlight that I am not alone by any means. According to the article, " As of November, about 1.8 million, or one in five, unemployed workers were jobless for more than six months, compared with 1.1 million when the recession officially ended in November 2001." In a month I will join the 3.6 million workers who ran out of unemployment insurance during the last year. My roommate and girlfriend just began her unemployment insurance last week.
We are college graduates. I have worked in politics for four years and she 1 and 1/2. We continue to look for employment, but every time we are turned down during an interview our hope erodes a bit more. It seems the only hope I have right now is to go back to college, gather more debt, and begin new and poorer than the first time.
Things do not look good in America from my vantage point. My American Dreams are not of Horatio Alger, but of my Grandfather, who as a small farmer raised a family of 9 children. Is this life even possible anymore?
I started this, excitedly, as do most new bloggers, thinking I could document an interesting account of what it is to be American. I would write everyday and I would be able to etch my immortality into the electronic age.
Unfortunately, I have been uninspired. Unfortunately, lately, American to me means unemployment and cynicism. I have but an hour a day to write. I depend on the public library and can not afford to pay for internet access at home.
I read a New York Times Article yesterday (For Unemployed, Wait for New Work Grows Longer) that did not help matters, but did highlight that I am not alone by any means. According to the article, " As of November, about 1.8 million, or one in five, unemployed workers were jobless for more than six months, compared with 1.1 million when the recession officially ended in November 2001." In a month I will join the 3.6 million workers who ran out of unemployment insurance during the last year. My roommate and girlfriend just began her unemployment insurance last week.
We are college graduates. I have worked in politics for four years and she 1 and 1/2. We continue to look for employment, but every time we are turned down during an interview our hope erodes a bit more. It seems the only hope I have right now is to go back to college, gather more debt, and begin new and poorer than the first time.
Things do not look good in America from my vantage point. My American Dreams are not of Horatio Alger, but of my Grandfather, who as a small farmer raised a family of 9 children. Is this life even possible anymore?
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