Party of God, Your Table Is Ready

The Republican party is being called "the party of God" by millions of Americans.

Guess what Hezbollah means. What a fucking showdown.


Read this. At least there's one evangelical willing to stand up for the separation of church and state. Only one, but one none the less.

WWIII

So the showdown between evangelical capitalism and extremist islam has begun. It's Iran vs. the US, via Lebanon (to start). Syria along with the vast majority of the Middle East has got Iran/Lebanon's back. Fighting a holy war is a great reason not to pay attention to sky rocketing unemployment and mass discontent. Europe, India, Japan, etc. are playing for Team West. East vs. West is pretty straight-forward, what will muck things up are the unknowns. China (and it's bitch North Korea) plans on doing anything it wants. Russia has the power to royally fuck with Eastern Europe and can dominate, despite it's weaknesses, with it's strategic positioning and sheer mass. South America is one big group of in-fighting siblings, controlled by drug lords who are employed by our very own cocaine addicts, with Venezuela coming up on top hating America almost as much as the Shiites. Africa is not a big player right now. Fear of America there has played out by having parents not use Western vaccines for polio, for fear of conspiracy. Disease, starvation and war are keeping Africa worried about itself, but the Muslims in the north can easily be recruited for the Middle East effort, should fighting between Muslims subside for the greater good of the destruction of Westernism.

Just one question:

Where does Iceland fit into the international political puzzle?

Do they even have an army?


Just curious.

Update

My brother gets home Sunday, but he didn't end the trip without one kid setting his face on fire. You know those stupid jackass videos on youtube where they get very hurt and you wonder what kind of morons would do that?

My brothers' friends are those morons. Do not do what you see performers at the beach do. The first three times you'll be fine. But that last one is not worth it. Nevermind your face on fire, the panic makes you swallow the rest of the gas.

Did you know poison control calls you back an hour later to see if you're okay? What a country.

Age

Age. I've been meaning to write about it for a long time now. I'm still not sure quite how to approach it; there are so many levels.

Culturally, Americans are more obsessed with age than most/all other cultures that I've ever heard of. I once asked a Malaysian co-worker what was strange about the United States and she replied "green blinking traffic lights and how important birthdays are". I couldn't really explain either to her.

I think that part of the reason age is so important to Americans, besides the cliche that youth is part of the American dream, is that we don't have any other major anchors to mark our progression through life. In more "traditional" cultures the phases are clearly marked: babyhood, childhood, bachelorhood, marriage/children, grown children/grandkids, old age. In our culture people get married at all different ages, some people stop going to school and become "adults" at sixteen, some don't finish school until they're thirty. With bigger and more uneven gaps between generations, age is really the only way to measure differences.

Independence is also highly valued in our culture. Old people are not independent. We are afraid of being old as if it means being a child again. And we often treat our grandparents like children, putting them in "daycare" and talking to them like they're stupid. A shame.

Wisdom does not come with age for us, as change happens so quickly that no child looks to their parents for advice. We might be the only culture to expect children to live very different lives than their parents. If you do exactly what your parents did (which is weird), you're still doing it with far more advanced technology and "modern" problems. Old people do not contain information on how to use the latest technology. They are obsolete. Our culture fears being obsolete.

But on a more individual level, age is our indicator of how to behave toward each other. You would never speak in the same manner toward an eighty year old as you would toward a twenty year old. People get very freaked out if someone much younger than them (or older, for that matter) is supposed to be considered a peer. We think of people of different ages as being different from us, when they are just living different lives with different concerns. This is where my own personal experience has given me a little perspective.

My other half is fourteen years and five days older than me. That's a lot by almost any standard. I only know two couples with a larger age difference. Most couples in our culture are within three to five years of each other. I also went to state college at sixteen. Teachers were always shocked to find out my age. At nineteen I went to night school, almost always the youngest in my class by at least eight or ten years. My first semester I got to be friends with a woman who almost fell off the bar stool when she realized I was only three years older than her son.

People have never known what to do with me. The relationship between adults and children is lopsided. Children talk about what they're doing in their life, but adults are not expected to reply similarly. Just nod and smile. But what happens when you are expected to respond in kind, be a peer? And when do you act like a peer versus an adult toward a younger person?

My other half is only five or so years younger than some of my parents' young friends. They are totally freaked out by us. They used to change my diapers and now I, this little kid in their minds, am with someone that they should see as a peer. But they more just see her as a freak, because she falls into no category. We are very uncomfortable with people who have no category, for whom there is no script on how to act.

I've been asked by a number of my older friends and aquaintances, "why are you different? why are we able to be friends?"

I honestly don't know. But I don't think it is me, per se. I think it is my life. I live the same life as them. I'm a married old lady. I go home to my other half every night and make dinner and go to bed. I pay my bills, work my ass off, and enjoy gatherings with friends on the weekends. Most of my age-mates wander around looking for things to do, trouble to cause, out of boredom. They have no space to call their own, are out looking for alcohol and sex, and just generally live very different lives than I do. I have more in common with settled down people, which is always necessary for friendship.

So now the qustion of maturity arises. Am I more mature because I aimed at a settled down life so young? Or am I just boring? People always say that with age comes insight. In general, that might be true, but I know older people with no insight and younger people with tons. And there's the reverse thingy, where as I get older I realize more and more how young I am. But I also see myself aging and knowing myself and my motivations better. So, try as I might, I am still unsure of the nature and meaning of age on an individual level.

Culturally, aging for Americans is a painfully negative thing. But I take great delight in the few people I know who honestly do not care. I know a woman who is forty-three and her husband is in his early sixties, and she is completely ageless. She doesn't care about the number on her driver's license one bit. When I met her I wasn't sure if she was twenty-five or fifty. She talks to me like a peer and forgets my age all the time. She tells me that she doesn't understand people who are uncomfortable around people of a different age. I feel the same way, but the reasons for that lack of comfort have become more and more apparent to me over the years. If/when I become a teacher I am going to have to draw a very strict line between myself and people who are much closer in age to me than my own wife. I will have my age- and position-defined role. But it won't be so hard because high school kids live very different lives than I do. What is hard is remembering that my parents' friends still think that that line is there between us. I forget about it because I live a very similar life to them. I always get a rude awakening when I hang out with them. They make me feel more like a kid than my grandparents, who force martinis and beer into my hand as soon as they see me and tell me about their lives, too.

I am sure that my perspective on age will continue evolving, especially as I become a teacher. Watching my brother grow up is teaching me a lot too, because he is very mature but also very inexperienced with the world. I still haven't nailed down the relationship between maturity, age and experience. I am interested to see what a few more years will teach me.

Get Me The Hell Out Of Florida

Both sides of my family live in Florida. My mother went to high school there and many of my relatives who don't even live there anymore went to college there. I have three aunts, three uncles, six cousins and a grandmother there, counting both sides. And those are just the full-timers.

I fucking hate Florida.

I hadn't been back since I was twelve, but I spent a lot of time there when I was a kid. My hatred of Florida, I felt, needed a refresher. I wanted to, as an adult, stand in the sun and confirm my beliefs.

My uncle got married, thus the weekend-long trip to Clearwater and our stay in Clearwater Beach. The entire "mom's side of the family" got together for a happy-non-funeral-occasion for the first time in years. Nice wedding (despite the lack of A/C), and I loved meeting the bride's autistic twelve-year-old son who was brilliant if you could get to him right. He told us he has his own culture that doesn't involve manners, and that he "flaps" (wildly throws his hands in the air) to calm himself down because he is aware that he is autistic, and he aparently had the most involved and long conversation with us, strangers, that my uncle has ever seen. He even remembered our names the next day, which is also very, very rare.

But back to Florida: the first five things I saw were a Jesus-mobile, a beautiful crane, a choose-life license plate, the international Scientology headquarters and the national Shriners headquarters.

The crane did not make up for the rest. I love the wildlife (the lizards are fun to chase), hate the weather (just like today, 95-100 degrees, but even MORE humid), can't stand the people (either fat and angry or anorexic and drunk, it seemed), hate most of the food (can I please get a grilled chicken sandwich, not a blackened chicken sandwich), feel weird in the brand-new architecture (the streets are all at perfect right angles and everything is painted PINK or AQUA), and am not a huge fan of the sun - water - sun - water - sun - drinks - water - drinks - water - drinks - passout routine.

I believe that the God-fearing Christians down there are honestly good people. They try their best to do what they believe (and are told) is right and want to raise their kids well and be happy. This does not mean I want to live with them. Christians here are what I consider "real" Christians, who are more concerned about their own relationship with God. Down there they seem to be far too concerned with all the sinners out there. On the plane home (JetBlue rocks, by the way), I watched something on the discovery channel about evangelicals and some survey somewhere says over half of all Americans believes we are living in the End Times.

Only YOU can make your dreams come TRUE!!

Anyway, Florida is an interesting experience. Yes, there was some southern hospitality. People seem happier to chat with a stranger in line or ask the time. But I also saw extreme road rage and a cop almost get into a fist fight with some lady who was criticizing her. Having my mother and cousin point out where they went to high school was creepy. People actually LIVE here? All the time? This is their experience of "home"? I would feel more at home in Arizona, where it feels like walking on the moon. I would live anywhere I've been before Florida. Colorado. Arizona. Even one of the Carolinas would be better, because the people might be similar but at least the landscape is somewhat normal. When my brother mentioned to my cousin that he could never imagine living there, she replied that she felt the same way about where we grew up. I guess it's all perspective. But still...

I kept meaning to go into the motel room, and kept staying just a little bit longer, until I ended up with a sunburn that is uber-embarrassing. I look like I am wearing pink stalkings up to my thighs and a white tanktop with a red shirt underneath. I'm off to put on more "green stuff".

Quote of the Day

"I will never pay for water and I will never pay for sex."

--A coworker good looking enough to never have to pay for either

Why Is Everyone So Cranky?

Last night I saw a movie at the cinema, my first one there. I was excited to see what it looked like in there.

I went, sat, waited. The AC was broken in two of the three theatres. But it was not a hot evening. I am always ten degrees hotter than everyone around me, sweat like a pig. But I was fine.

For TWENTY MINUTES I had to hear everyone around me complain. Complain about the heat (they were mostly over sixty, with a few fifty-somethings complaining of hot flashes), complain about the seats being uncomfortable, complaining about the shape of the god damned theatre. When the girl came in to announce where the fire exits were, first someone screamed "LOUDER!! We can't HEAR you!" then, after she repeated herself and tried to exit, they all screamed "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE AC?!". She made a meek apology and they humphed in her general direction. Two nice old ladies who felt bad for her clapped awkwardly.

The folks working at that movie theatre are paid to be yelled at. People scream when they're told that credit cards are not accepted yet. It's a new cinema! People scream when they have to pay for the cups, which are on inventory and counted every night. They don't want the free cups, they're too small. They want the massive ones that cost a lot for the cinema to buy. People scream when the movie's too loud. When the movie's too quiet. When there are kids in the movie giggling. When they realize that their favorite flavor of minute maid juice is not offered. Never mind the fact that the cinema openly encourages people to bring whatever food they want.

What the hell is wrong with people? I'm sorry if you don't like the product, but no one is making you buy it. Unless a clerk makes an actual error there is no reason to get upset, let alone yell. Don't like company policy? Don't support the company. Do you really think the eighteen year old telling you how to exit in an emergency knows how to fix the fucking AC?

I do my best to be really, really nice to service people. Unless they are openly rude to me, I do not give them shit. I had a place at the mall fuck up my sandwich order four times in a row a few weeks ago. I waited half an hour for what ended up being not-even-quite-what-I-ordered. By the end it was clear I was agitated, I said "Don't worry about it. I don't care anymore" when the last one came out wrong, with vaguely hostile resignation in my voice. But I did not yell. I did not call them stupid. I did not scream about what a travesty their sorry excuse for a sandwich counter was. I did not call their attention to how undertrained and understaffed their business was. Because that is not their fault. I chose to give them my business when I had had a few little problems in the past, and I had the option to ask for my money back. I chose not to, but I have not gone back. Why scream?

Is it me or does it seem like people are looking for something to complain about? Especially old people. We have a delivery service at work for old people and the folks who run that department get yelled at at least ten times a day each. Over everything and nothing. Is this the highlight of these people's day? Is someone to complain to the only person they talk to all day? Is it really that bad if they got mashed potatoes on the side instead of potato slices? Seniors at the cinema pay FIVE DOLLARS to see first run feature films on a Saturday night and they go on and on about the seats being uncomfortable.

The only thing that makes me want to scream and complain is when people scream and complain. Civility and manners are not that much to ask for.

My Brother's (Mis)Adventures

The Boys of Sally Boy

My brother and his friend are touring with Sally Boy*, a band they know, and Falling in December, a band they just met, all over the East Coast. My brother and his friend are making a video of the adventure. A guy from the band has been updating Sally Boy's blog throughout. Today's entry made me laugh hard enough to copy and paste a section of it here:

...we spent the night at Wal-Mart last night which was surprisingly comfortable given the circumstances. We tried to fire up Falling in December's grill, but Mr. Wal-Mart got mad at us so we wheeled it out to the sidewalk and tried to make burgers but we were impatient and now we all have salmonella or however you spell it. You get the idea...

So after eating some shitty burgers we curled up to sleep for a few hours, all the while keeping a watchful eye on all of the drug dealers, when we were woken up by EMT's who were trying to revive John, FID's drummer, who was having a diabetic attack and convulsing. He pulled through, which was good, because that would have really put a damper on things.

...after that we showered in [Niagra] Falls. I dropped the soap over the edge, though, so now the whole river is full of suds. All the fish are dead. I am wanted in the state of New York...

I can't wait to hear the rest of their story. Ahh, to be eighteen with a partially functioning car and nothing to do but roam the country causing trouble...

*Their myspace is really funny...all old pics and the only people who comment are girls.

Creepy

Cats are creepy enough as it is. This afternoon I watched The Bean sleep with her eyes cracked open just a little bit. She was in total REM, her eyes were darting all over the place and she kept twitching. Creepy.

What do cats dream about? The one time she saw a mouse she stared at it until it had a heart attack and died of fright.

Kim Jong Il Has Sand In His Vagina

This is a man who loves two things: himself, and movies. His love of himself is self evident if you've ever seen pictures of his palace. His love of movies he expresses by kidnapping foreign film makers and forcing them to direct his scripts. I highly recommend checking out the all-puppet satire of Kim in "Team America", because Trey and Matt did their research and represented the Dear Leader better than he could have.

He is a lonely aging wacko who has been neglected in the international media until very recently. Everyone was so worried about Iran that they forgot all about poor old Kim. So he began his "comeback" with some meetings and reunions of North and South Koreans. A feel-good, human-interest touch. Then he pulls out his Bombiewombies (which didn't work, by the way) and we're supposed to be shaking in our boots.

Now, I'm not saying that North Korea is not a nuclear threat. I think North Korea is mighty frightening. Ten years from now. Kim needs to be dealt with so he is not a threat in the future. But what pisses me off is the way the Republicans are spinning this sad little son-of-a-bitch.

We're not afraid of terrorists like we used to be. The estate tax reform fell through. Gays are not illegal. Hippies can still burn flags. What's left? The Asians.

I never heard of Kim test firing bombs before. But that's because American media never reported it before. I cannot assume that it means it has never happened. My guess is that he's been doing it for a long time. He loves his military (third to himself and movies) - they're the only ones in the country that get fed. I'm sure that if he invests enough to feed the bastards he's gonna want them to have big boom-boom capabilities. How could this be the "first" test of weapons we've been warned he's had for more than a decade?

But this is the first time we've decided to "intercept if necessary". The funniest thing is that we're ready to kick the ass of a guy whose bombs don't even work. It's like a body-builder beating up a six year old who won't stop saying "neener neener neener".

There are two major options about the bombs not working. My thought is that they simply don't work. Scientists with guns to their heads don't generally produce the finest work. The other is that they purposely had them crash into the ocean to "test the waters" (pun totally intended). But either way, Kim is not ready to blow up the West Coast, as we've been promised he'll do.

However, Americans have run into a shortage of things to be afraid of. Whenever we are short on supply and high on demand we seem to be saved by either the Middle-East or Asia. This time it's Asia. So, although Kim Jong Il has been a "major threat" for years, now it is newsworthy which means buy-extra-water-honey-we're-all-gonna-die.

Kim Jong Il and all the tons and tons of sand in his vagina need to be dealt with. I am fascinated to see how the international bitchfest will go. Obviously Russia and China are against us, because they are the defiant bullies on the block, and we will puss out to them, because they own Europe via oil and America via cheapplasticcrap, respectively, but we're not scared of North Korea because they don't give us anything. So who knows? We could invade North Korea before we even invade Iran. Or both at once!! Then we can dust off the ol' draft!!! Everyone under FORTY-TWO can wear a spiffy new uniform MADE IN CHINA. It's fucking perfect!

I am getting a bit ahead of myself. I am mostly being sarcastic. I think. We'll see. But I refuse to be afraid of Kim Jong Il, for now, and am much more afraid of the international reaction to him.

I should make a movie about my thoughts on him. He'd surely watch it. He has a room full of just about every movie ever made. I'm sure he owns a copy of "Team America". I wonder if he liked the scene where he sings "I'm so Wonewy".

Ginormous People

First of all, let me clarify here. I am not talking about just "fat" people. I don't care. Health and size are not as related as everyone thinks. You can be big and still very athletic and healthy. According to height/weight charts I'm thirty pounds overweight and I can run for at least an hour straight (with my inhaler, of course) and work out regularly. I'm talking about GINORMOUS people. I'm talking over 400 lbs, driving those little carts at the supermarket people. I'm talking out of work on disability people. These are folks who cannot function. They cannot walk from the sofa to the bathroom without getting winded. The government gives them money because they cannot work. There may be a small handful of those people who have genuine genetic disorders and government help for them is fine by me. But the vast majority of ginormous people do not need to be that way.

The other day one of these ginormous people came within two inches of running me over in her little cart that goes far too fast, thus the rant. Would we allow an alcoholic to drink until they cannot walk, let alone work? No. We would help them, have compassion for them and their situation, but view their behavior as unacceptable. So why are ginormous people different? Why are we only ever allowed to talk statistics, epidemics, never real people? Is their behavior really acceptable?

Is it rude to tell someone they're dying?

My father was approaching ginormous status. He was at around 350 and gaining. My brother had to have a little fridge with a lock on it to keep enough food in the house for him to eat. My father chose to eat his problems away. He couldn't get drunk he was so fat. I worried about him. It pained me to see him eat. We tried everything to get him to stop, to exercise, to do ANYTHING. But he didn't. And I had no sympathy for him when his knees hurt. When he couldn't fit into a booth at a restaurant. When he got winded on a walk with the family. When he needed an extension for his seatbelt on airplanes. When he was exhausted all the time. Because he chose to use food as a tool to cope. Even if his choice was because of depression or stress, we all have problems and an array of options of how to deal with them. For most of his life, he chose food.

Then he got the surgery. Not the way I would have gone. Almost killed him. More pain pills than I have fingers, every day, for months, due to doctor error. But he made a decision. And changed. He's under 250 now. And still losing. I'm proud of him for taking responsibility, even if our insurance paid for it. That surgery cost a lot less than the government paying him disability for eating a pound of cheddar cheese every day. Even if he gains a lot back, I don't see him ever being as big as he was again. And he will certainly never be on disability because of his weight, which was a real possibility before the surgery.

The surgery (stomach staples to make your stomach frickin tiny) does not make you skinny. It makes your body so sensitive to food that you are aware of every bite you take. This is something that ginormous people find shocking when they first get the surgery. The realization that there is a connection between food in your mouth and the state of your body is made sometime after the surgery. It's like a light bulb turning on. And when you lose enough weight, you have a lot of energy to play with. My father has used his to discover exercise. He loves it.

He tells me all the time now, "just write down what you eat every day, you'd be amazed". I guess he didn't hear me say it a half dozen times before the surgery. But no matter. He made his decision and is able to function now. He chose to stop killing himself with food. The rest of America can do the same, whether with surgery or old fashioned eating reasonably and exercising. I know that being poor means eating crappier. Being poor can equal being fat (and that's a big problem; a rant for another day I suppose), but to be ginormous, unable to work, you really have to try.

I see a lot of similarities between ginormous people and alcoholics. And I think that a lot of the same techniques, therapy, strategies for changing their lives can work. But AA and their disease model are wrong. You do not have to turn yourself over to a higher power. God will not make you skinny or sober. You DO have control over your behavior, your body, your life. Getting back under control and staying that way is very, very difficult - even for people who have surgery. But it is a matter of life and death. And you have to choose to live.

I know I can't tell anyone else how to live their life. But the un-PCness of talking about extremely, morbidly obese people has got to go. How can they change their life if we can't even talk about the fact that there's a problem? My father was very defensive and embarassed about his weight. But part of the catalyst for his decision to change came from our, as a family, making it very clear to him that he was going to die if he continued. Call it an intervention, call it sticking your nose in someone else's business, but either way it saved my father. Actually, it convinced him to save himself.



***Also: see this for thoughts on parental responsibility and childhood obesity

Independence Day

The day we celebrate our country. And what potential it has!

Recently I've been hearing a lot of people talking about how they wish we had "the old government" back, the one from before the President decided he could break laws and shit on the Constitution.

But for those people I have a few words of hope. Or despair, depending on how you look at it.

The Constitution has been shit on since the ink dried. Now we're abusing it in the name of hating gays. Before we used it to make blacks objects to be owned. This may seem mighty depressing, but what I want to stress is the American Patriots who have always been there, since the very beginning, fighting the injustices of the abuse of the Constitution. Fighting the abuse of other human beings. America has a long tradition of people who give a shit. And fight. From our founding fathers to Harriet Tubman to Dorothea Dix to Eleanor Roosevelt to Martin Luther King, Jr. to the Goodridge family.

So today I am going to remember those who fought. We have a rich heritage of good thinkers, and good do-ers, and those are the people whom I am proud to stand next to as an American.