A Bit of a Disclaimer, a Bit of a Cause

Why don’t people care that the world is going down the proverbial rat hole?
(No disrespect to any of you who, in fact, may be rats)

I sort of get fed up about this on a regular basis, and my instinct is always to laugh at the obvious follies of man. And I’m not just talking about idiots who adorn Nikes and try to get a free ride on interstellar debris.

I find myself laughing at things that should turn my stomach and make me pissed. I used to get mad, really mad, but one day when I found myself yelling at a loaf of bread I realized, Hey butt munch (I’d like to take a moment to thank my nephew for bringing that word back into my vocabulary, 13 is such a cool age) it’s a loaf of bread, sure it’s highly processed but not highly evolved, it’s not like it’s whole wheat. So I stopped shaking my head and feeling shame for being part of a race that truly believes individually wrapped mozzarella cheese is a good thing and started to see comedy in the destruction of the human race.

As once so elegantly put by a friend of mine and practiced and endorsed by both of us Life is all about the punch line.
So with that mantra I face the world and smile.

Now it’s only fair to warn you what that actually implies. It means everything is fair game, and I mean everything. Nothing is off limits for a joke.
Now here’s where you think to yourself surely he doesn’t mean everything.

YES Virginia there is a Santa Clause, and Yes I mean EVERYTHING.

There is comedy in everything, there really is. I realize some things are in bad taste and not for all forums. I also realize that if the subject matter hits too close to home it may not be funny to some. Is short comedy can be a real tricky bastard.

Yup, it’s a fine line.

I wrote a piece about the Black Death, hopefully it was funny. Mostly it’s safe to laugh at the Black Death because no one knows anyone who had it. Comedy about Cancer isn’t so funny. Why? Simple, it hits to close to home it’s a real threat in our lives. But does it make it less funny? Should it make it less funny? There is nothing funny about Cancer, but we may laugh at Leprosy.

Healthy guy: “Can you lend me your ear?”
Leper: “Here you go.”

I’m pretty sure no one is going to be offended by that one.
Basically what I’m saying here is that, I never mean to offend, I probably will cross the line a few times, but everyone’s lines are different and so it’s inevitable to cross some at some point.

The other point is that I never mean to be malicious, it’s about entertaining, it’s not about hurting someone, it’s not about knocking people down a few pegs, it’s not about prejudice, it’s about laughing at ourselves. I learned a long time ago, better to laugh then cry.

So I thought it would be fun to do a bit of narrating and observing as we circle about on the big blue marble we call home.

Capturing Light

I’ve never captured light, nor have you.
We can’t, it’s not ours to covet.
We’re not supposed to capture many things that we somehow manage to do. It’s not right, but then the concept of right is ambiguous at best.

People will argue that point, but it’s true, there is no right, it’s a moving concept based on time, location and the interpreter. Sometimes in history you can get a majority to believe in what’s right, but there is not one thing you can get everyone on Earth to believe to be right. Not even something as basic at life. Turn the other cheek, or an eye for an eye, the bible can’t even remain consistent. So what we have is conditional ‘rights’ that suit the need of the person and maybe even a mob (and we all know that mentality).

We create laws: laws that are enforced, laws that are broken everyday, laws that have absolutely no consistency or provide stability to maintain what is the perception of order. And yet we as a society keep a relative balance but then wonder how mayhem ensues. But this is a conversation for another time.

Many things we desire are intangible, these are the fun things we like to qualify and quantify but we can’t. More importantly we shouldn’t. Things like happiness and love. You had to know that was coming, it was inevitable.

You can’t hold love & happiness. There is no scale or measuring device, no matter how many millions of dollars scientists spend trying to do so. Every now and then you get some well funded meatstick making some ridiculous claim that he can not only measure but has defined classifications of love and happiness. They start off with mice and work their way up to humans. They isolate the gene and look for a chemical releases in the hippocampus and cross match that with socio-economic well being of the test subject and then interview everyone who has had contact with said subject, then they divide by the square root of the number of times spent in the waiting room of the doctors office and plot it against 73 other test subjects and a control group. This of course will tell you within a 49.8273% margin of error how happy you are. (Please make note that a coin flip will give you about the same amount of accuracy)

No, there is no meter, no matrix, no swami, not even a crystal ball that can tell you this. But this isn’t the best part, the best part is not only can nothing tell you what you are feeling, but you yourself may not know. Things like love and happiness have a way of sneaking up on you without any notice what so ever.

There are many (and by many I mean millions) of theories, viewpoints, and musings over the subject, some are insightful, some humorous, some an idiots delight that makes you wish you had chosen to bang your head into a cinderblock wall for 38 minutes straight. Whichever the case, believe what you will at your own peril. But my advice is to never let any outside influence color your decision in the slightest way. I should repeat that, never let any outside force influence your decision in even the slightest way. Yup that about sums it up.

You won’t listen to that advice.
And I don’t blame you. It’s your life, you will do what you want, and why would you listen to me, who am I, and who are they. Surely you can ask peoples advice and not be so feeble minded as to not be influenced by it. What harm could asking do? Maybe those people have experiences you could benefit from. Well I’m here to tell you, no one, absolutely no one has more experience being you, then you. Yes, that means you are on your own with this one. Sounds daunting doesn’t it? Well don’t be scared yet, it’s not as bad as it sounds. Turns out you are an expert on you, whether you know it or not.

Oh maybe a quick caveat about that, just because you are an expert on yourself, doesn’t mean you figured out what’s best for you. Of course you may be brilliant at it. Then again maybe you should go seek help, but that’s not the point.

The point is you shouldn’t try to hold light, you’ll burn your hand.
Or was it that you can’t covet love, but you can rent it for 250 a night?
Hmmmm, maybe it was that over educated meatsticks shouldn’t be given so much grant money.

I forget, maybe it wasn’t all that important after all, maybe I never had a point, maybe some things should be left to just be…

Anyone got a light?

What about the Black Death

What about the Black Death, you never really hear about that one anymore, sounds like such a cool disease, as far as names go.

Lets face it, if you have to go, wouldn't you rather be taken down by something called the black death, as opposed to something called the whooping cough.

Vladimir : “How did Jim die?”
Philo : ”Oh he had the whooping cough.”
Vladimir : ”So he coughed and whooped a lot and then what? He died?”
Philo : ”Pretty much”
Vladimir : ” Died whooping did he?”
Philo : ”uhuh”
Vladimir : ”Wuss!”

OR

Vladimir : ”How did Jim die?”
Philo : ”The Black Death got him.”
Vladimir: ”Wow, the Black Death you say?”
Philo : ”Yes the Black Death.”
Vladimir: ”Well, no one can really beat something called the Black Death, he must have fought brave.”
Philo : ”Yes he did, we should honor him. He fought the Black Death.”
Vladimir: ”Brave Soul.”


It’s all about image, how we define things. Everyone knows this, it’s why people root for teams like the Bears and not the Chickens. Well not everyone knows this, somehow it escaped Ben Franklin who preferred Turkeys over Eagles, sad really… one too many volts down that kite string I suppose.
But not everyone can blame such things on a few thousand volts of raw energy.

Image is a funny thing, no one wants to be shallow enough to admit that it makes a difference but if we stop bullshitting ourselves for a few minutes we realize it does. Honestly, no one would have accepted Woody Allen as the Terminator, it just isn’t going to work. Simply stated, wrong image. Everyone knows you have to be a 6foot, 245pound body builder who can bench press a Volkswagen to shoot a gun. That must be why grandfathers leave guns lying about the place when the grandkids stop by, it’s just common knowledge.

You see we expect people to follow a pre-conceived image that we have of them. And the really great part of this is that we will go so far as to project that image upon them and treat them accordingly. It doesn’t really matter if they posses those qualities, we will assume them anyway. We expect preachers to be honorable, we expect doctors to be knowledgeable, we expect lawyers to be underhanded, we just do, as unfair as it is we do, we suck.

You ever notice how some people seem to get away with murder and others don’t? We stereotype, and project, we’re Stereo-Projectors, some of us are Trinitrons others widescreens but we all are. Raised on television, by television, to become television like. It’s human nature, like it or not, to some degree we are all guilty of it. I know, I know, you’re not. It’s just the rest of us.

Still sometimes I would just like to turn off the television and let the screen go black… death

Let’s Wipe Out Suckiness

I was talking to my sister the other day and found out an interesting little habit my nephew has. Turns out when he goes to the bathroom, he gets undressed. I don’t mean in the normal pants dropping way, no we’re talking about queuing the corny stripper music, get out the giant feathers, complete nudity. Some might say naked as a jaybird, others, o’ natural. Whatever term you prefer he’s buck naked.

That’s right, every time nature calls, even collect, he goes into the bathroom and takes off every last bit of clothes he may be wearing and hops up on the throne.

Seems like a weird thing for a kid to do all on his own. I mean sure becoming one with nature is supposed to be a very liberating form of consciousness, a spirituality that can only be achieved through a life stripped of man made bonds and artificial restraints. But we’re talking about a naked kid sitting on some cold porcelain, this isn’t an ashram and trust me when I tell you, this kid has never tried to imagine the sound of one hand clapping while ooooooommmmming.

Nope, there was something more to this story and I think I knew what it was. And so I asked the question, the right question.
"Did something happen once that made him do this, like a bad experience?"
Sure enough it did, and it turns out it wasn’t a one time offence. The kid has been living a life of torment of unspeakable proportions, okay maybe I’m going a tad to far, but it’s all relative and he hasn’t had that long of a life yet. So in short, he’s just a messy wiper.

Yea I know gross.
But hang in there, a point is on its way.

You see, with messy wiping comes soiled clothes, (do not make a visual, let’s just keep going) and with soiled clothes comes embarrassment, not to mention unpleasant odors. (Still urging you to not visualize, or odorize) We can also assume if he wasn’t at home, the embarrassment factor gets amplified by at least 100 times. The poor kid had problems and those problems needed solutions.

You have to admire independent thinking; I know I do. In this day and age, not many can do this, and whether it was out of disgrace or stubbornness, this kid found answers. He didn’t go to his mom, dad, preacher man, or president; he just found a way to remove the problem, as well as his clothes. This is a child who is showing the very attributes that helped forge this great nation, an attribute we assign to the greatest people the world has ever known.
And yet

Yet.
Yet.
Something went wrong.
It wasn’t exactly the execution, more in the planning stage. Much like many before him, he fell victim to curing the symptom and not the problem.

Do you see a point coming?
I told you it would get here.

I could go on about big business and pharmaceuticals always finding ways to cure symptoms and not problems, but I just don’t have the time right now to point out what should be insanely obvious, they’re crooks.
But my nephew isn’t a crook, not yet anyway, unless you count stealing brownies before dinner a criminal act. So his motives aren’t dictated by greed, his judgment isn’t clouded by stock options; no he just doesn’t see that a little time invested now, will save him time in the future.

Unfortunately adults are just as guilty, the future has become an abstract thought in which we just don’t care about. If something hurts take an aspirin, why take the time to find out why you hurt to begin with? In essence, we are a society that makes beds in burning buildings, which sucks.

So, in the hopes of living in a suck free world I propose a movement in which we will not suck, a no suck movement, if you will. One where we will try to fix the problems of the world and not just the symptoms.

Please join me in my crusade to wipe out suckiness, as well as backsides.

A Noir Story for the 21 Century part 2

Continued from Part 1

Correspondences were made, the usual back and forth to get to know one another. I told her my sordid story she told me hers. I explained I was just a pessimistic optimist living gray, in a black and white world, she said she understood. Just a couple of odd numbers in a world that doesn’t add up, who knows maybe together we could come out even… we’ll see.

We set the time and place, it was of course a gin joint near her sister’s house, the name on the sign said Jakes, but 50 to 1 says there is no Jake, there never is.

She was already there when I showed up, it’s best to let the girl get there earlier, that way you can make an entrance. There is nothing appealing about a guy sitting on a stool throwing back a few trying to look like he isn’t passing time. No instead I walked in, gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a nice to see you. She returned the notion. I caught a smile.

She had an empty glass, I ordered us a round, I was already one behind. She was drinking a Martini, she likes them dirty, I told Jake to shake it, he asked me who Jake was… I told you.
I ordered a vodka drink, they’re clean and to the point. She said the barkeep put the empty up there but never filled it. Dames, who could figure?

Don’t ever ask a question you can’t figure out, and there are few I can’t but when it comes to women, there is plenty you shouldn’t ask. The truth is a funny thing, reality has a way of holding many sides. More to the point, if you don’t want the answer don’t ask the question.
But who says I follow any rules, especially my own, so I asked her about her gun.
“I keep it in a safe place” she says.
I’m betting it’s under her pillow. Sounds like I will be sleeping alone again.

Wondering if she ever used that heater before. But if she did would she admit it to me? Now? I’m gonna have to say no. There will be time for that later, and hopefully I won’t be on the receiving end of a lead donation, I don’t like hospitals, and I like extra holes in me even less, so maybe I shouldn’t ask.

Me: “Hey cutie, did you ever shoot someone”
Her: “No, never had to”
Yea I know what I just told you, but I had to know, and so did you. Just another white elephant about the room, you can either ignore it or get it out of the way, sometimes it’s best to remove it before it makes a mess.

She was sipping her martini, (dirty not clean) as I was putting back my vodka, then another, they go down easier these days. We had the usual back and forth, maybe there was something here, maybe I was being set up, I still didn’t know if she was packing heat in that purse. I wanted to know, it’s best to know where you stand even if it’s at the foot of your own grave. But even I know she wasn’t going to answer that.

Me: “So is your gun in your purse”
Her: “Oh come on, this tiny little purse, don’t be silly”
What did I say? … dames.

I told her about her eyes, she wasn’t buying, they always think it’s a line. Life can become one big line if you let it, you just have to beat them to the punch or you become the joke. They sparkled, they had life in them, these days not many do. Most people have lost that, who knows maybe they never had it to begin with. Maybe hers was a gleam, and not a sparkle at all. Could be an evil gleam, she could have that gun in her purse, what would I know.

Me: “So how big is it?”
Her: “Excuse me?”
Me: “You’re rod, how big is it?”
Her: “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
She had spirit, I’ll give her that. Maybe it would be best to change the subject.

Me: “You wanna blow this joint?”
Her: ”Excuse me?”
Yea, I liked her already.

It was time to go, I was going to hand her, her purse but she beat me to it. I dropped some cash for the bartender who’s name isn’t Jake grabbed my keys and followed her out the door. We headed towards the car with no direction in mind.

No sign of a trench coat yet but you never know.

Readership is Down - Google Blog Search

I think my readership is down.

Suffering if you will from lack of attention, much like those monkeys who were put into captivity and given a piece of rug to love. It’s not good. I know what you’re thinking how could it be down if it was never up? Truth be told, a friend once read my first entry and I’m pretty sure has never been back since.

I write for a few reasons:

1. I like it.
2. Because I think it will make me a better writer.
3. Because I like to rant, and maybe, just maybe, someone out there will relate to the misfiring synopsis synapses in my noggin.

The third is of course why I decide to take some of my ramblings public. Although in reality publishing a blog these days isn’t any more public then walking through time square doing your best impression of Susanna Hoffs singing Walk like an Egyptian, no one is going to listen unless you’re in your underwear wearing a cowboy hat. Even then it’s questionable. So as a blogger you are destined to end up a sniper with your grandfather’s semi-automatic high powered rifle with laser scope and carved wood stock handle if you are counting on readership to help prop up your writing ego.

Unless of course you find a way to promote your log. As of right this minute, I have one avid reader, and if you don’t count the author then I have none. Yup that’s right I’m the only one to have read all of my writings and most likely the only one who cares, but like I said I do it for me. I have visions of being a great writer who came up through the ranks, a blogger of no importance, who believed in the American Dream and became an influential part of the global fabric that helps form the stitches of society. Yes that’s right I will help change the world for the better, or get carpal tunnel trying.

I went to Google and did a search for my site, it didn’t know me. Now I know what your thinking, it’s a new site maybe the fabled internet spiders are still eating flies and haven’t gotten around to searching out my site. There’s a lot of territory out there in the vast space known as the INTERNET.
Did you hear a load boom?

Probably not, you see I’m using blogger, which means it’s free, and with that freeness comes a low budget, and therefore no booming INTERNET sound effects. Shame really because it’s so much more fun when you have sound effects on queue. Okay lets try this, go back and read that again, but this time do it out loud using your best James Earl Jones voice. Go on, don’t be shy, no one is here to make fun of you, trust me, it’s just you, go ahead.

Back?
Pretty cool huh?
You see it’s so much better with the James Earl Mufasa Vader Jones voice isn’t it? So as I was saying, this is Blogger, owned by Google and still no listing. If Google can’t find one of their own hosted sites what chance have you got?

None!
That’s what chance you have of finding the literary equivalent to … ummmm… aaaaa… well… Beef Jerky.
I’ll try and figure out why that is in a bit. We have bigger fish to fry, you and I.
You see unless you know the exact link name, not even Google will help you out. And who‘s day would be complete without reading this Beef Jerky?
The answer of course is no one’s, nobody’s day would or will be complete without my jerky, sorry that’s just the way it is. And here we have Google, the premier search engine who can’t seem to even find the missing jerkey to their day.

I need a viewer for my spotlight, an ear for my soap box, an audience of dedicated people who will stop at nothing to muse over the pearls of wisdom that will ooze from this site. In short I need you to be proactive and tell the world you have seen the future of Blogs and it’s name is Gray Matter Garbage.

I think I had you, right up until the name right? I lost you with the name didn’t I?
Yup, it’s the name isn’t it. You don’t think Garbage and good things go hand in hand do you?
They do you know, Ebay’s the number one buyer-seller site ever known to man, simply because one man’s garbage is another man’s gold. You see I’ve put some thought into this, much like the Beef Jerky analogy, okay maybe not at all like the Beef Jerky analogy, but just as much thought, which isn’t very much, but it is free. That’s right this is free reading damn it! And in this bill by the month world in which we live, this my friend is a bargain of the highest order. High order bargain, that’s what they’ll say.
And they will too, you’ll see.

Okay back to the beef Jerky analogy

My writing is like beef jerky:

...because it takes a lot of effort to swallow it
No, that can’t be good.

...because it repeats within 5 minutes
Nope, still not exactly what I’m striving for

...because it rhymes with Freak Turkey.
I have no idea what that means either.

...because it’s dried out and gives you bad breath
...because high profile models dig it, maybe
...because like Tang it’s been in space
...because how else could you put cow remains in a 5 ounce bag?
...because it’s leather free
...because neither have preservatives.

Okay maybe it’s not like beef jerky, maybe it’s more like Pizza.
Everyone loves pizza, it just depends on how you make it.
Yes that’s it!
My writing is the equivalent of, not like beef jerky, but pizza, made by Luigi.
So order some tonight, and you can throw out the paper plates.


And just as I put the finishing touches on this insightful read I find out that Google goes and creates a new service called Google Blog Search, type in Gray Matter Garbage and I’ll be in the number one place… Life is good... like beef jerky

Venice on The Gulf

I haven't worked out all the details yet,
but I'm thinking after they drain New Orleans, they should fix it up to be submerged again, let loose the levees and voila New Orleans Venice style.

I still say it's The Big Easy's best bet for a profitable future

Cha Ching

END

A Noir Story for the 21 Century part I

note: Thought it might be fun to write a Noir style piece. I haven't planned anything out, I have no idea what the point is, how long it will last or the direction it is going, sort of like life, it's a crap shoot at best.

Enjoy the ride ...

I really don’t know anything about her, but she may have a trench coat.

Yea, OK that may sound weird, but she’s not an angst ridden teen who’s grandpa owns a .38, and I don’t think she’s accustom to hanging out in malls with nothing on but a pair of sneakers and the coat. And like I said she may have a trench coat, as with so many things in life, nothing is certain.

I may have been overstating when I said I really don’t know anything, but what I know isn’t much. I only say she may have a trench coat because she has the credentials of a private dick. Yea I know, another transparently lame attempt to use that phrase. What can I say, I’m not above it. I will refrain from the obvious follow up joke however.

I almost can’t help myself, but compare her to a cool jazz number, the way her long curly hair wraps around her face and her pale skin glows like the moon on a summer night. Just the sound of that makes me want to pour a drink and wash away the pain of the day. But this isn’t 1943, and I’m not writing a hard boiled Bogart inspired Film Noir masterpiece, so I’ll just say yea she’s a babe.

Not stylish enough for you? Be thankful I haven’t used the word dame yet, okay too late.

But she has that look, even though in this new millennium many don’t. Who knows’ maybe she doesn’t either, could just be my interpretation, all I have is a head shot to go on, that and a short bio. It read like a stat card nothing poetic but inspired me just the same.

Who says life isn’t filled with a certain sort of charm?

I have this feeling she may have that x factor but what do I know, I’ve never heard her voice, and I’m not projecting, I’m just saying the possibility is there, it’s in her look, didn’t I already tell you that, you have to start paying attention or this is going to take all day. We’ve exchanged a few words, sort of like passing notes in class. The benefits of living in a digital world, we get to regress. If you haven’t guessed yet, this was a fix up from the start, a friend with good intentions.

We'll see, this just might be murder...

Continued in Part 2

The Mathematics of Her

I used to have a she, a her, I thought she was the her. Turns out she wasn’t the her, just a her, and it wasn’t going to be she. So now I’m looking for her, a new she that could be her. Although to be honest I’m not being overly proactive about finding she to be the her, but I really would like to be with she that is to be her.

I find it best not to be looking for her and just enjoy she and if she turns out to be her, then your searching for she is over her.

This isn't a new theory but it's true because of your mind set, it's just the way it is, to find her you need to be out of she. I've done the math. She divided by her over she is equal to she squared to the power of her.
It's complicated but numbers don't lie.

Trust me