Culture

How To Stay Married: Secrets of a Married Man

I’ve been married for almost 25 years.  That’s almost half my life.  Arguably, marriage has consumed the best half of my life.  That said, I’ve had a long, happy marriage.

People often ask me:  What is the key to a successful marriage?  Okay, that’s a lie.  No one asks me that.  Ever.  Not once.  I wonder why.  People ask me about other things.  What’s it like to be a lawyer?  How are your kids?  What’s wrong with you?  I’ve answered these and many other questions, usually truthfully.

I’ve always believed that the most annoying advice is the kind you don’t want.  Maybe marriage is like that.  Folks just don’t want to hear about it.  It’s probably because they are either happy themselves and need no advice or they are miserable and hate people who aren’t.  Surely, young, single people want advice.  I doubt it.  When I was young and single, I knew most everything, especially when it came to the opposite sex.  What could some old guy tell me? He doesn’t know that I’m in love and that’s all that matters.  Fools.

People write books about marriage.  I’ve seen them, but I’ve never read one.  There are marriage counselors. Marriage therapists. If you belong to church, you can talk to your minister about your marriage.  Even Catholic priests–who have vowed to God never to marry–counsel couples before and after they marry.  Yes, there is much advice.  Add me to the list of experts.  The difference is that I have a quarter century of inexplicable success backing me up.

Much advice is useless.   A chimp could tell you–if he could talk–that things such as infidelity, violence and disappearing for days at a time can break any marriage.  Those things set the bar far too low.  Marriage requires many more subtle precautions to flourish.

MARRY UP

This is also known as “out-kicking your coverage.”  Marry a woman who is more attractive than you.  Of course, what I mean is that she is more appealing to the opposite sex than you are.  Why?  Isn’t the conventional wisdom that an ugly woman is likely to be more faithful?  I call B.S. on that one.

At some point in your marriage (probably a day or two into it), patience will be important.  Very important.  If you are about to say or do something untoward, one look at your ridiculously beautiful wife will make you pause and think: “Whoa!  I need to be careful.  There’s no way I can duplicate this deal.”  Those pauses are one of the key components of staying married.

Let’s say you look like Brad Pitt.  It’s almost certain you are prettier than every woman you’ve ever met. Not only are you irresistible to women, most men find you attractive, too.  The first time your wife does something stupid–like lose the remote–you are likely to explode, thinking:  “Why did I marry this hag?  She can’t even keep track of the remote!”  I’m certain that’s why Brad and Jennifer Aniston split.  As beautiful as she is–and she IS, by God–can anyone, male or female, honestly say that he or she is prettier than Brad?  I guarantee you Brad doesn’t think so.  Nor should he.

Personally, I married WAY up.  My wife has even become prettier over the years, while I’ve simply aged.  I’m a troll compared to her.  When I introduce her to people for the first time, the typical response is:  “This is your wife?”  I once overheard someone talking about me, and she said:  “Have seen his wife?  She is really pretty.  Really.”  Shocking.

Conversely, when she introduces me to people, they get a look of pity on their faces, as though they just met that kid from the movie, Mask.  They all assume I am incredibly wealthy, but I’m not.

This works well in our marriage.  Sometimes, I’ll be about to say something about the remote or her cooking and then I’ll catch a glimpse of her.  I’ll still say something, but I try to take the edge off it.  I’m simply not going to be able to duplicate my success.

I’m not suggesting that marrying up is easy.  Few worthwhile things are.  It takes work, and–in my case–alcohol.  Attractive women are no different from ALL men.  They often exercise poor judgment under the influence of strong drink.  Use this to your advantage.  Of course, you may be incredibly wealthy.  If so, this is no problem.

You may think that an attractive woman married to a physically repellant man is more likely to stray.  I guess that’s possible, but it beats the hell out of looking at an ugly woman all the time.  Also, remember that it is all relative.  If you are an extremely ugly man, you can marry up by marrying a plain or even homely woman.  The point is–aim high.  It works.

THINK FIRST

As noted above, a brief pause before speaking can make the difference between a long marriage and an annulment on your honeymoon.  Here are examples:

WIFE:  Let’s go see my parents tomorrow.

HUSBAND: For God’s sake, we just saw them two days ago!  My parents are dead, but yours are some kind of immortals!  I don’t get it.  Maybe it’s because they are Hell beasts….

By responding immediately, this man has made a critical mistake.  He has spoken his mind on a subject of great sensitivity.  The better, more reasoned response goes like this:

HUSBAND:  It seems like forever since we’ve seen Mom and Dad.  Let’s go today.  We should cherish our time with them.

By pausing just for a moment, this husband’s ludicrous response has prevented marital discord. This type of answer has the added benefit of possibly preventing the visit.  How, you ask?  Simple.  When the wife sees the husband enthusiastically embrace this suggestion, she is likely to cancel the visit altogether and focus on a request the husband may dislike, such as yard work.  Even if you can’t muster such an impressive response, you can always choke out a simple:  “Yes, dear” or “Whatever you say.”  These responses, while not preferable, are always good in pinch.

BRING ON THE NOISE

I have a White Noise app for my phone.  It’s great.  I go to bed before everyone in my house, but this doesn’t stop the other residents from being quite loud.  This app allows me to turn on “white noise” to drown out the mad cacophony.

You can do the same thing with your wife.  Once you’ve been married for a while, you may hear the same things over and over.  For instance, you may leave towels in the floor or be incapable of properly folding them.  If so, you are likely to hear about these shortcomings many, many times.  One approach is to say something like:  “For the love of God, would you just shut the hell up about those [expletive deleted] towels?!?!  Honest to God, I can’t take it anymore!”  Honesty, despite its value in general, is definitely not the best policy.

With practice, you can turn up the white noise in your own brain to filter out such offending exchanges.  Personally, I am unable to properly use a sink.  I splatter water on the fixtures or even the mirror.  No matter how I try or how much I wipe it up, it’s still no good.  I have trained my brain to deal with it.  If am asked this question:  “Did you use the sink in hall?”  all I hear after that is the soothing buzz of white noise.

Men have a well-deserved reputation of being poor listeners.  You will be reminded of this.  DO NOT FALL INTO THIS TRAP.  If you become a better listener, it is a recipe for disaster, for you will then listen to the very things which threaten marital harmony.  It is better to properly condemned for one flaw than to pay heed to many things best left unsaid.

YOUR OLD LIFE WAS A WASTE

Sure, your enjoyed your single days.  You lived as you wished.  You had friends.  It was a good time.

Think again.  Your old life was useless.  When you get married, get rid of every piece of furniture you owned as a single man.  If you don’t, your wife will begin a systematic purging.  Just get it over with.  Same goes for your clothes.

You will be asked about girls you dated.  You hated them.  All of them.  They were horrible people.  Unattractive, too.  They may have been sluts.  I don’t care if you dated Kate Upton, never even hint to your wife that she was the least bit appealing.  It is best to humbly express regret for your poor judgment.

Your friends were idiots.  Your wife may actually like some of them, so you can still like those few.  The rest of them are fools.  Plain and simple.  Stay away from them. Your wife is now your best friend.  If not, she’s likely to be your only friend after a while.

What does it say about you that you dated worthless women and your friends were all idiots?  Nothing good, my friend.  Your wife saved you.  You should appreciate that.

When you took your marital vows, you abandoned your old life.  Keep it that way.

KEEP ON KEEPIN’ ON

This one is simple.  Stay married, unless you just can’t do it anymore.  That’s what we’ve done.  I can assure that I annoy my wife.  I know that I enrage her on occasion.  I’m sure she does all the same things I suggested above.  If not, she should (Expect the marry up part.  She’s screwed on that one).  My best advice would be to marry my wife, but you can’t.

I hope this has been helpful.  If not, hey, I’m no expert on any marriage but mine.

When I told my wife that I was starting a blog, she responded by saying “One of those things full of trivial [expletive deleted] that no one wants to read?”  Thus, I think it is unlikely that she’ll read this.  On the off chance she does, please read the following important disclaimer:

The foregoing is meant only as general advice and any reliance upon it is at your own peril, as I do not know your wife nor do I know if you are a jackass or anything.  More importantly, any resemblance between the above scenarios and my own wife’s behavior are mere coincidences.  She would never do anything of the sort described.  Plus, I listen to everything she says, because she is always right.  And she really is very pretty.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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“Great” Britain: Satan of the North Sea

Some months ago, I posted my simple plan for swift and decisive military action against our “neighbors” to the North, that deplorable hell hole known as Canada.  As I expected, neither of our feckless presidential candidates dared to cross the amoral overlords of that frozen wasteland.  Sure, I might have had a visit from the Department of Homeland Security, but they were no more interested in my carefully crafted strategy than your average mush-dog driving Canuck.  After they tasered me a couple of times, I dropped the subject.

Why does no one take me seriously?  How can right-thinking Americans simply sit back and await the inevitable decay and destruction of our great country?  I’ve thought a lot about this, and I have the answer.  Canada is merely a pawn, a Trojan Horse if you will.  The REAL danger lies far to the East in Jolly Old England.  Our old oppressors and so-called allies pull the strings.

That’s right–England (if that’s what it really is).  Is it England?  Or Britain?  Or GREAT Britain?  What the hell is the United Kingdom?  The Commonwealth of Nations?  They have a staggering number of names for the place.  What’s in the United Kingdom?   England and Northern Ireland, I guess.  What about Scotland?  I think so, although I’ve seen Braveheart a bunch of times, and I’d cut those violent, skirt-wearing, bagpipe-playing loonies a wide path.  Wales?  I guess so.  My ancestors came from Wales, and I’ve never heard anything about it being a country.  Then again, I don’t pay much attention to current events.  Maybe it is a country. How the hell should I know?  I know Northern Ireland is part of it because they used to blow up a lot of stuff.  What about Canada?  I have no idea, but it seems like they are part of the same Axis of Evil.  I’m pretty sure Australia isn’t part it, because that’s where England dumped all their convicts, at least the ones that didn’t end up in America.

Their government is sketchy, to say the least.  Have you ever watch Parliament on CSPAN?  It consists of people standing up and flipping through notebooks while exchanging insults.  I’m torn between thinking it is the ultimate democracy or a Monty Python skit.

So, I suppose England is part of the UK which is a collection of countries.  Sounds like Communism to me.  That alone should make them our enemy.  But there are other equally compelling reasons to take Draconian measures against this “nation.”

THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR

I know, the war is over.  Really?  What makes you so sure?  The Treaty of Paris was supposed to take care of that, but allow me to point out something that the mainstream media conveniently ignores.  King George III was well-known to be totally insane.  As such, I question his competency to agree to anything (there’s a little lawyering for you, free of charge).  Any day, those Brits can back up on that deal and start trying to tax us to death again.  (One small upside is that The Tea Party’s name will then make a little sense).  I say strike first and put an end to the war once and for all.

THE ROYAL FAMILY

Americans love the Royals, you say.  So what?  We have a perverted fascination with celebrities, especially those famous for only being famous.  Each generation has its vacuous icons from Zsa Zsa Gabor to Paris Hilton to Honey Boo Boo.  This fundamental flaw in our national character does not justify royalty.

There is a QUEEN of England.  Think about that.  A Queen and bunch of princes and princesses, Dukes, Earls and whatnot.  Why?  No one knows.  The Queen isn’t really in charge of anything.  She’s just the Queen.  Check out her official title:

Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith

Wow.  Is it really much different than Idi Amin’s title?

His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular and the Last King of Scotland.

Actually, Elizabeth is the Queen of Scotland, I think.  Do you know her name?  Elizabeth Windsor.  That’s a damn nice name–but not as nice as being a QUEEN, I guess–but it sounds like a name a pretty girl would have.

royals

HA! HA! We laugh at you commoners!

I’m not suggesting anything bad happen to the Royal Family.  I’m not French, for God’s sake.  It’s just a bit of silliness that we can do without.  There are many “royal” families, but you don’t see us falling all over ourselves over King Michael of Romania or Ahmad Shah Khan, Crown Prince of Afghanistan.

Once we take over, the Royals can be American celebrities.  Instead of being exalted as better than the rest of us, they can have reality TV shows like our other celebs

  • Will, Kate and Kate Plus 8:  Hilarity ensues when Will and Kate inexplicably move in with Kate Gosselin.
  • The Amish Royal:  Prince Harry lives the life of an Amish man on a farm in Central Ohio.
  • Toddlers and Tiaras–The Royal Addition:  Elizabeth is hired to coach Honey Boo Boo for her many pageant appearances.  Plus, she moves in with the family, forcing her to fight off the unwanted advances of Sugar Bear.
  • Princess Anne–Bigfoot Hunter:  The title is self-explanatory.

These are just a few of the ideas that immediately come to mind.  The Royals will provide us an endless supply of entertainment.

THE WARS

What do the American Revolutionary War, The War of 1812, World War I and World War II have in common?  The British forced us into all of them.  Okay, I’m not sure about the War of 1812, but I think that’s right.  On the other three, I’m dead certain.

In both World Wars, we were forced to save their asses from the Germans.  If it weren’t for us, they’d be goose-stepping in front of Buckingham Palace right now.  Arguably, the Japanese forced us into WWII, but why do you think we were in Europe?  To save France?  Don’t make me laugh.  England.  Plain and simple.

Now, check out this little bit of history:

  1. Germany tries to take over the world.
  2. England starts getting its ass kicked.
  3. USA jumps into WWI.
  4. German ass is kicked.
  5. Germany is torn apart
  6. Germany becomes a democracy.
  7. Germany becomes a bunch of Nazis.
  8. Germany tries to take over the world.
  9. England starts getting its ass kicked
  10. USA jumps into WWII
  11. Germany gets its ass kicked.
  12. Germany gets torn apart again.
  13. Germany becomes a democracy again.
  14. ???????

Do you see a pattern here? Hopefully, they’ll skip the Nazi thing this time, but it’s clear that the Germans will try to take over the world again.  Then, we’re right back in another war.  How is this England’s fault, you ask? It is obvious that they are particularly offensive to Germans and an inviting target as well.  But, imagine if they were part of the old US of A?  We are the most powerful warriors the planet has ever seen!  The Germans will stay right where they are, except maybe for overrunning France.  Again, who cares?

NUCLEAR THREAT 

England has to have nuclear weapons, doesn’t it?  Indian and Pakistan do, so England has to.  I’ll just assume that’s correct.  Imagine if those weapons fell into the hands of the Scots with their fiery temperaments and willingness do battle.  How about Northern Ireland?  Violent drunks–good lord.  Is there any other country full of such unstable sorts that we would allow to have WMD (other than us, of course)?  We take over and seize all the weapons.  The world will be safer for it.  I expect at least one Nobel Peace Prize for this idea alone.

GENERAL GOOFINESS

The pure silliness of the Brits is enough to justify military action.  Their penchant for monocles, top hats and tailcoats.  Their odd money–pounds, pence, quids and guineas.  But, it’s their language which reduces them to little more than a sideshow.  Consider that they say–and understand–the following:

  • I attend University.
  • I am going on holiday.
  • I am queued up.
  • I say, old man, where is the wash closet?
  • I’ve stored that in my boot.
  • My lorry needs petrol.
  • I’m cheesed off at your cockup!
  • He’s a beastly bugger–a bit of an arse.
  • I enjoy a fag with my tea.
  • She’s such a jammy bird, why is she with that josser?
  • Don’t give me any of your cheek, you git!

To their credit, their accents make them sound smart, at least until some of that nonsense starts pouring out.  If you’re Scottish or Irish, you have the added disadvantage of also being incomprehensible.

THE PLAN

You may think conquering England, Britain, Great Britain, The United Kingdom and The Commonwealth of Nations is a daunting task.  I think not.  I’m sure our military leaders have already planned out a takeover “just in case.”  If not, I have devised a simple strategy to crush them.  Here is my plan:

  1. We establish a beach head in Southern Ireland with the cooperation of our Irish friends whom we will ply with strong drink.
  2. We will proceed on land across Ireland.  Those who are not dead drunk after that march will stage an attack on Northern Ireland.
  3. We will roll through Northern Ireland chanting anti-British slogans lulling them into inaction.  Northern Ireland will then serve as our base of operations.
  4. Simultaneously, we will invade Wales.  I can’t imagine they have a military.
  5. Once the Scots get wind of our invasion, they will rise up again, paint their faces blue and attack England from the north.  Just to be safe, once the war is over, we’ll build a huge peat wall to keep them at bay.
  6. Once hemmed in, the Brits will surrender realizing that no Americans are available to save them.
  7. Scotland and England will be combined into one land–Fabulous America.
  8. Northern Ireland will become a penal colony for political dissidents.
  9. As my ancestral homeland, I will grant Wales its independence but only as a puppet state.  One condition–Tom Jones has to be named President.
  10. Crest White Strips will be distributed throughout the country by air drop, thus winning the hearts of the people.
tomjones

Wales President-for-Life Tom Jones

Bye, bye “Great” Britain.  Hello, Fabulous America!  With their overlords crushed, those hockey-playing Canadian goons will be vanquished to the scrap heap of history.  What then?

uklarge
This map shows the proposed invasion route and how the UK will look after it is liberated.

I suppose every group of savages has its redeeming qualities.  The same is true of the British.  Their humor is excellent.  Monty Python, Marty Feldman, Harry Enfield and Benny Hill are just a few of their entertaining sorts.  Certainly, their music has been fine with The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bon Scott and Led Zeppelin.  We’ll preserve some of that.

bon scott

This statue of Bon Scott isn’t even in Scotland. It’s in Australia. I’ll fix that.

Beyond those few attributes, the rest of their culture will be wiped out.  No more bangers and mash.  Beer will be served cold–not luke warm.  French fries are French fries–not chips.  They’ll eat cookies, not biscuits.  Iced tea will be iced.  Football is football, not soccer.  Quit boiling all your food.  Drive on the correct side of the road.  Our cops aren’t called bobbies, and they carry guns.  Everyone else does, too, so get armed, and Bob’s your uncle!

In this new world, the USA is supreme, if it isn’t already.  France will reflexively surrender (old habits die hard, you know).  Canada will fall without even a whimper.  And that, old chap, will be jolly good. Now, bugger off.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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5 Ridiculous Things: A Random List

The older I get, the more I hear the same stuff over and over and over.  I guess that’s true of everyone.  What may not be true of everyone is that I don’t repeat this tripe, except to the extent that I make up my own stuff and spread it.

This is largely a phenomenon of the Internet meme.  A meme is an idea or thought which spreads from person to person.  It’s kind of like “word of mouth.”  The Internet has taken this to new level by giving us each access to many more people than would otherwise be available to hear our raving.  For example, this silly blog has been read by thousands of people in dozens of countries.  Why?  Because it’s on the Internet.

The Internet, via social media in particular, allows us to spread rumors and half-truths at the speed of light or at least very fast.  There is so much of this that we have websites such as snopes.com devoted to debunking these myths.  It’s only natural that Snopes must even debunk rumors about Snopes.

I’m now prepared to debunk a handful or particularly irksome thoughts, ideas, etc.  Why?  Because I’m on the Internet, by God.

As always, I offer my view only.  It may be incorrect. You may disagree.  If you do, I respect your right to disagree.  You have the right to be wrong.  I won’t infringe on that.

Below are a few things I’ve heard too much about which simply aren’t true.  Believe them if you wish, but I don’t.  For our purposes here, that’s all that matters.

Here are just five that I don’t buy into.  Sorry, but that’s how it is.  They were chosen at random for no particular reason.

1. PRISON IS GREAT

Ever heard something like this:  Why don’t we treat the elderly like we do prisoners–free room and board; watch TV all day; exercise; and free medical/dental?  This outrage is based upon the notion that prison is great.  It’s great treatment and a wonderful life.  Prison, the thought goes, is too soft.

If you believe this, it’s safe to assume that you’ve never been in prison or talked to anyone who has been.  I’ve known a bunch of people who’ve been in prison.  They are universal on one opinion:  IT SUCKS!  I know a guy who spent three years in a minimum security prison on an Air Force base, one of the so-called “country club” prisons.  He said it was like “waking up in a nightmare every day.”

Here are few things that folks have told me about prison:

  • It’s filthy. No matter what you do, that doesn’t change.
  • You might be allowed to shower once or twice a week.
  • You use the bathroom out in the open.  That includes “major transactions,” too.
  • You are surrounded by violent, dangerous and often mentally ill people.  You live with them, eat with them and spend all the rest of your time with them.
  • Prisoners aren’t known for their fabulous teeth.  No citation of authority is necessary.
  • The free health care consists of seeing a doctor if you are clearly deathly ill (or dead) or if you have been grievously injured by one of your fellow prisoners.
  • The great exercise program consists of hanging out with the same dangerous people, except now they have access to a variety of implements which can be used to kill you.
  • It smells.  Bad.  That’s a common theme from everyone I’ve heard.  It just smells bad.
  • The food is generally horrific.  If you really step out of line, some prisons serve you something called Nutriloaf.
Nutriloaf--One of the many joys of prison life

Nutriloaf–One of the many joys of prison life

Here’s the bottom line:  Prison is horrible.  It’s a nightmare.  I’ve never met any ex-con who speaks fondly of his days in stir nor I have met anyone who wanted to go back.  If it’s such a great life, I suggest you go. The good thing about prison is that it’s really easy to join.

Maybe you know an old person in a nursing home worse than prison.  If so, it’s hard to imagine, unless you put them there because you hate them (see my comments below about old people).  In that case, it’s good enough for them.

By the way, you know what would really suck?  Being old AND in prison.

2. POOR PEOPLE WANT TO BE POOR

Here’s one you’re bound to have heard:  Don’t buy beer or cigarettes or get tattoos or cars or TVs if you’re on welfare.  It’s similar to Michelle Bachmann’s suggestion that the best way to get health insurance is to get a job.  Literally, these statements may be true.  Literally, but not practically.

Perhaps it would be better for poor people not to drink beer or smoke.  That’s probably true for the rich, too,  Tattoos seem to be a generally bad idea to me.  Why not take it a step further and just say that poor people shouldn’t buy magazines or soda or toys for their kids or clothes, for that matter?

I have never been poor.  I wasn’t born poor.  I wasn’t raised poor.  I didn’t pull myself up by the bootstraps.  I don’t even know what bootstraps are.  I’m not a self-made man.  Yes, I am successful, at least by most definitions.  But, I had a lot of advantages–college-educated parents and a comfortable upbringing for two BIG examples.  So, I don’t know what it’s like to be poor.  Most of the people who bitch and moan about poor people also don’t know what it’s like to be poor.

I grew up with poor people.  Some of my friends were poor.  They had one thing in common–they didn’t like it, and were at least slightly embarrassed by it. In Eastern Kentucky, poverty wasn’t uncommon.  We were in a melting pot.  The rich, poor and middle class were all together.  We went to school and church together.  You could be like my family and live well but have neighbors who were poor by any definition.  We got to see it up close, and it’s ugly.

Ever wonder why a lot of poor people turn to drug-dealing?  Was it a life-long ambition?  Is it because they want to accomplish something in life?  Nope.  It’s for the money.  Being poor isn’t good, and most poor people agree.  Yes, there are exceptions, just as there are to every rule.  I’ve known people born into poverty who didn’t aspire to anything better.  What I have NEVER known is someone who wasn’t poor but aspired to be poor, because it is such a great life.

3. PARENTS ARE GREAT

It seems that I’m always hearing about how great everyone’s parents are (were).  Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents Day, etc.  On Facebook, there are innumerable posts requesting you to “like” them if your parents were saints or your best friends or fabulous.  Let’s be honest, some parents are awful.

Now, I had excellent parents.  They worked hard, cared about their kids and sacrificed a great deal for us.  I was LUCKY.  That’s it.  I didn’t choose them anymore than they chose me.  Someone recently told me that I’m wrong about that–that I was blessed to have good parents.  Perhaps.  But that begs the question:  If I did nothing to be so blessed, what did others do to be cursed with their parents? Nothing, you say?  Then, that sounds like luck–good and bad–to me.

I’ve known people whose parents beat them, ignored them or were just generally crappy to them their whole lives.  These are just horrible people who happened to achieve the none-too-impressive feat of procreation.  You know what these folks deserve for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day?  NOTHING.   As I’ve quoted before, my father once said:  “When I was young, we had plenty of elder abuse, except we called it ‘revenge.'”

So, if you had good parents, good for you, just don’t blow too much about it.  You didn’t have anything to do with it.  If you had rotten parents, it’s okay, too.  You didn’t make them that way.

4. RICH PEOPLE ARE BAD

I’ve written before about hating rich people, so I won’t belabor that.  At the heart of that hate is the belief that the rich are bad.  They aren’t, at least no more so than the rest of us.

Warren Buffett is rich.  Super-rich.  Billionaire-rich.  He once said: “Of the billionaires I’ve known, money just brings out the basic traits in them.  If they were jerks before they had money, they are simply jerks with a billion dollars.”  That makes sense.  Buffett doesn’t seem like to jerk to me.  Maybe he is, but it probably doesn’t have anything to do with having a silo full of money.

Let’s all accept one irrefutable fact:  We all want to be rich.  All of us.  If the rich are awful, then we all aspire to be awful.

5. OLD PEOPLE ARE WONDERFUL

It is a common refrain old people are a “treasure” or a “joy” or sources of “wisdom.”  If you were a miserable ass when you were young, there’s a pretty good chance that’s what you’ll be when you’re old.  Being a fool is likely to get worse with age, not better.  In fact, the older you are, the more people probably realize your true colors.  You just lived a long time.  Big whoop.  Charles Manson is 78.  Mozart died at 35.

Charles Manson, a wise and wonderful old fellow

Charles Manson, a wise and wonderful old fellow

Think about this:  Have you ever known an old person you couldn’t stand to be around?  Of course, you have.  He or she was probably a family member, too.  Some old people become mean with age.  Some were mean to start with and became old and mean.  Not all old people are cute or charming or wise.  Some are ugly, hateful and dumb asses.  It’s hard to outgrow those things.

Well, that’s five things that I have now stripped of their veneer of credibility.  Perhaps, you are an old, rich prisoner who aspires to a life of poverty.  As such, you might disagree with me.  Well, you’re wrong.  So much for your “wisdom,” Pops.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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Gunning For Answers

The gun control debate rages again, this time in the harsh light of the Newtown, Connecticut school on December 14, 2012. This shooting is the latest in a troubling series of such acts dating back to the 1997 Heath High School shooting in Paducah, Kentucky.

We have the predictable responses from those who want strict gun control to those who want none. After a week of silence, the venerable National Rifle Association weighed in with its views. As might be expected, the NRA does not view this as a gun control issue. It is, rather, a question of defending the public against homicidal gun owners whose minds have been warped by violent video games and the desire for media attention. To those at the other end of the spectrum it’s all about the guns.

As a lawyer, I prided myself on my ability to digest large volumes of information and distill it into easily understood concepts. In this instance, I’ve opted for a shallow understanding of the issues and flippant set of suggestions. Each, however, is based upon very real suggestions offered by each camp. Understand that I am not making light of the violence which brings these issues to the front now. Rather, it is my analysis of taking these suggestions to their logical (sort of) conclusion.

BAN GUNS

Few people actually advocate banning all guns or even handguns, but a few people do. Others do so by implication pointing to countries such as Japan as a model for gun control. Let’s just dispense with this one. The Second Amendment to the United States Constitution prevents it. End of story.

BAN ASSAULT WEAPONS

If by “assault” we mean “shooting humans,” we have a problem: THEY’RE ALL ASSAULT WEAPONS! Okay, not all of them, but most of them. Handguns, in particular, are made for human game. I know that some folks hunt with handguns. Not many. Gaston Glock designed the popular line of Glock handguns for shooting people. They are an engineering marvel. Lightweight, easily assembled, simple to use and low maintenance. Law enforcement loves them–and for good reason–they are great guns, but they are intended for human targets. That’s the purpose of handguns. Try hunting with a snub nosed .38. Unless you are planning execution-style kills, it won’t be much use in the wild. Stick it in a human’s ribs, though, and it’s damn effective.

If you only own a gun for self-defense, it’s an assault weapon. You only intend to use it to kill another human. If you like target practice, maybe it’s not–unless you use the popular targets that look like–you guessed it!–humans. In that case, you’re practicing for human-shooting should you ever have the opportunity. “Assault” weapon makes as much sense as “stabbing” sword.

PRAY MORE

There is a small (I hope), but vocal, contingent who see murderous attacks at our schools as a result of the lack of prayer in school. They ignore the fact that the Heath High School shooting in Kentucky, which has the dubious distinction of starting all this slaughter, took place in a prayer group. What was God’s point with that one?

I’ve heard that we prayed in school when I was a kid. I don’t remember any organized prayer, but I prayed. I prayed for each day to end, to never go back, etc. As far as invoking God’s hand as part of our curriculum, maybe we did. I just don’t remember it. Clearly, it made a strong impression on me.

Let’s just leave God out of this one. He gets blamed for too much stuff anyway.

BAN SOME STUFF

This stuff includes items which technically aren’t guns. They are gun accessories. Large capacity magazines, types of ammo, body armor and other items are all on the table. This has some merit, but coming up with a comprehensive list is daunting. At the end of the day, there will be still be guns. Lots of them. By some counts, there are 270 million guns in American. That’s 9 for every 10 people. They can all be used for killing people and most are designed to do exactly that. Banning their accessories is like telling people they can’t eat with forks anymore. It may be inconvenient, but they’ll still eat.

VIOLENCE VS. VIOLENCE

This is the NRA’s position or, as NRA President Wayne LaPierre said: “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.” This isn’t exactly true. A grenade, flamethrower, pack of pit bulls, truck and knife in the back are a number of other ways to stop a bad guy, too. Even another bad guy with a gun can stop a bad guy with a gun. Of course, this only creates the problem of how to stop a really bad guy who can stop other bad guys.

Don’t count me among the folks who think the NRA is a cabal of evil thugs. In fact, I am a former NRA member. Former? I enjoyed reading Guns & Ammo Magazine, but I finally tired of the NRA’s lobbying efforts. Understand that this isn’t because I’m against gun ownership. I just thought they went too far on many occasions. That said, I know lots of fine folks who belong to the NRA.

Even the NRA’s staunchest allies know that the NRA’s position will always be more guns, not less. In other words, confront violence with violence. Some may consider this the same philosophy that seeks world peace through killing all one’s enemies. Nevertheless, it is a mistake to attempt to marginalize the NRA. It has a place at the table. In fact, its political power means that it may well own the table.

The NRA sees four causes of school shootings: 1. Lack of security at schools. 2. Violent video games 3. The media; and 4. Crazy people. The crazies are inspired by video games to seek fame through the media by attacking schools because the schools lack security. There is probably some validity to each of these points. The NRA hasn’t specified exactly what should be done but promises to enlist a vast cadre of law enforcement, military and concerned people to come up with something. We’ll see.

So, with all these ideas swirling about, what is the answer? I’m certainly not qualified to come up with a plan, but then again no one else is, either. With that in mind, here is my modest proposal:

REDISTRIBUTION

Nothing sends Americans scurrying to the local gun store like the word “redistribution.” They imagine hunkering down with their personal arsenals to fight off jackbooted government thugs. These thugs will be roaming house to house to take away our hard-earned stuff and giving it all to people on welfare. I’m a free market guy and would never suggest such socialism.

No, I’m talking about redistribution of our weapons. With 270 million guns floating around, there’s no excuse for people not being armed. The problem–as with wealth–isn’t that there isn’t enough of it. It’s a matter of disproportionate distribution. For example, my father owned 12 guns. That means that there were 10 or 11 people without guns. He was in the gun 1%.

Here’s what we do. Gather up all the guns and distribute them among the public. Make sure everyone has his or her own. Even better, just by my typing this, gun sales will increase, and there will be even more guns to hand out. What if we’re still short? We’ll invoke Obamacare and create a Gun Mandate. If you don’t go buy one, we’ll tax your ass to death.

Once we’re all armed, the playing field will be level. Someone pulls a gun, and it’s the OK Corral. Let’s throw lead. Every man, woman and child will pack iron. Child? If these kids can learn how to use an iPad, a pistol is snap. Plus, real guns will pull them away from the dangers of video games. This is a win-win-win.

TRACKING THE CRAZIES

The NRA suggest that a national database of the mentally ill is needed. No, it’s not because they want a more comprehensive mailing list. They want to keep track of dangerous people. Predictably, this has been met with hoots of derision. Some believe that violating numerous federal laws and constitutionally protected privacy rights is too high a price to pay to protect the Second Amendment. Of course, the NRA disagrees. Hell, they’d trample the Third Amendment and quarter soldiers in our homes if meant we could keep our guns. But, the database (of “Loony Log,” as I call it) could work:

  • According to the National Institutes of Health, there is a dizzying array of mental illnesses and an almost uncountable number of related medications. Here’s the deal: If you take one of these, you’re on the list.
  • We can use Obamacare to help us tag other dangerous mental defectives. If you have seen a psychiatrist, psychologist, clinical social worker, clergyman or school guidance counselor, you’re on the list.
  • ADD, ADHD, schizophrenia, depression, bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, autism, moodiness, PMS, anxiety, angst and prickliness all qualify. You’re on the list.
  • If you’re over 65 years old, there’s a good chance you’re not firing on all cylinders. You’re on the list.
  • If you dress funny, look weird or are just odd, you’re on the list.
  • If you’re not on the list, this means you are in a tiny minority. Clearly, there is something bad wrong with you. You’re on the list.

Once we’ve compiled the list, a crack team of retired police officers, soldiers, militia men and security guards will constantly monitor the list to track your every move. You may ask: Will this affect my ability to acquire a gun? Are you insane in addition to your mental illness? There’s nothing in the Second Amendment stripping the rights of crazy people. Strap down, my nutty friend.

MORE IS BETTER

This is my own idea, and I’ll confess that it’s a bit radical. It is a long-held belief that an armed citizenry keeps the government in check. If they come after us, we’ll fight them off with our guns. The problem–and it’s a really big one–is that they control the military. Now, I know many folks are quite skilled with guns, but this is a question of firepower. No army on Earth can even seriously oppose our military. I’m confident that a disorganized band of the mentally ill randomly firing handguns will fare poorly.

Better weaponry will allow us to even the odds in a civil war. An added bonus will be curbing crime through superior firepower. Imagine the second thoughts which will be caused by the prospect of facing down not only a general public armed to the teeth with guns but also of a grenade or flamethrower being whipped out. If your neighbor builds an unsightly fence on your property line, a little napalm will take care of it. We’ll bring all this foolishness to an end through the threat of mutual destruction.

If a good guy with a gun will stop a bad guy with one, a good guy with a LAW rocket will stop 20 of them. Of course, bad guys might have the same weapons. But, remember–most of these freaks are loners. They won’t be as organized as we are. Think scorched Earth.

CONCLUSION

My little diatribe above is all tongue in cheek, of course, but it were printed as an op-ed piece, I am sure that many folks would agree with parts of it. Honestly, is it any crazier than some of the ideas being floated now? If there is a point to any of this it is that these simple answers can create as many problems as they solve.

What is the real answer? Complex problems often require complex answers. Americans like simple answers. Ban guns. Arm school teachers. Pray. These public gun attacks (or “sprees,” as the press says) continue to occur even as crime rates, including violent crime, decline. It is a political, social and even moral issue. Unfortunately, we live in a time when compromise in any of those areas seems impossible.

I own guns and grew up around them. They don’t scare me nor do they give me any particular comfort. I know people who have been shot, including two family members. I also know people who have shot people. Sadly, I know far too many people who have taken their own lives with guns. I know they can easily and legally get into the hands of people who will wreak havoc with them. THAT is serious issue which should be addressed with all the urgency of the response to 9/11. We’re a bright people. We can explore answers that don’t require stripping rights or just admitting defeat.

The NRA, the anti-gun lobby, politicians and the public have common ground here. No one wants to read about mass killings at schools, malls, churches or anywhere else. Addressing that concern would seem to be in everyone’s interest.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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An Updated Review of Rain Man

In light of recent events, the media has focused on autism, particularly Asperger’s Syndrome. In the haste to break the latest “news,” accuracy has been sacrificed for speed. Asperger’s is being portrayed as an excuse for the inexcusable. In truth, the unspeakable crimes of recent days have nothing to do with this condition. This misinformation has made me wonder how one of my favorite films, Rain Man, would be viewed through today’s prism. If Rain Man were released today, I think the review would read like this:

RAIN MAN: A STUDY IN MADNESS

Rain Man is the latest film from Barry Levinson, known for such diverse output as Diner, Good Morning Vietnam and The Natural. This time, he takes on the difficult subject of mental illness with decidedly mixed results. Dustin Hoffman is excellent in the role of Raymond Babbitt, a psychotic middle-aged man. Tom Cruise, best known for Risky Business and Top Gun, is Hoffman’s equal as Charlie, Raymond’s brother. Unfortunately, these stellar performances are weighted down by Levinson’s unrealistic take on a serious subject and a script best described as a work of pure fantasy.

Charlie is the Narcissistic son of the recently deceased Sanford Babbitt who leaves his $3,000,000 estate to a Cincinnati mental institution while Charlie receives only a vintage Buick Roadmaster and some prize rose bushes. Charlie immediately travels to the hospital to get to the bottom of his father’s inexplicable largesse. At the hospital, which is clearly a hospital for the criminally insane, Charlie discovers his long-lost brother Raymond. Raymond, he learns, has been in the hospital for many years. The horrific crime committed by Raymond is never fully explained.

Outraged that his father has left millions to care for his homicidal brother, Charlie kidnaps Raymond and sets out for Los Angeles. In a particularly disturbing scene where Raymond has a dangerous psychotic episode, Charlie decides not to fly to LA, no doubt realizing that Raymond poses a grave threat to the safety of the passengers. Thus, Charlie, his girl friend (the lovely Valeria Golino from Big Top Pee Wee) and the unhinged Raymond set out cross-country in Charlie’s Buick.

After a series of misadventures, Charlie learns that Raymond is an autistic savant with amazing abilities to recall dates and make complex mathematical calculations. During a chilling scene where Raymond flies into a rage of violent insanity, Charlie learns that Raymond was actually hospitalized for attempting to murder him when Charlie was an infant.

Early in the film, Levinson builds a tense story reminiscent of Psycho. Then, he loses his nerve and Rain Man becomes little more than a modern-day Road Movie where the audience must suspend disbelief for such diversions as a trip to Las Vegas. The thought that a shallow character like Charlie could keep a raging maniac like Raymond at bay is at best laughable. In one particularly inane scene, Raymond actually visits the home of complete strangers. Does he strangle the family or perhaps hack them to pieces, as the story to that point would dictate? No. He watches TV with them. Imagine Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre attending a church fish fry and you get the idea of the grotesque and inappropriate imagery.

By the end of the film, Levinson abandons any effort to bring realism to the film The penultimate scene involves a show down over the inheritance, pitting Charlie against the hospital. I won’t give away the ending other than to note that it was a crushing disappointment. Raymond, having been led across the country like a mad dog on a VERY short leash, sits passively while the action takes place around him. Just at the moment when logic and the story itself dictate a hail of gun fire, the directors cops out for saccharine sweet ending. I have no respect for film makers who won’t stay true to their own story. The only reason I don’t give away the ending is that it is so ridiculous no one would believe it. Just as Levinson did with The Natural–by tacking on a Hollywood ending and rendering his source material unrecognizable–he does the same here turning homicidal psychopathy into little more than a series of parlor tricks.

Every so often, a director has a chance to explore the inner workings of the mind of a psychotic without exploiting the story (Richard Brooks’ In Cold Blood). Rather than take that bold leap, Levinson settles for a cheap story of a lovable misanthrope played for laughs and manipulated for false sentimentality. It’s a shame that Hoffman’s and Cruise’s fine performances end up obliterated by the nonsense of the story.

Not since Hogan’s Heroes treated Nazism as sitcom material has the public been subjected to such baffling artistic judgment. Levinson has made fine films and may well do so again. If Rain Man interests you, I suggest you search for a copy of the Jerry Lewis’s lost classic, The Day The Clown Cried, about a clown in a Nazi concentration camp. I guarantee it is more believable.

Unfortunately, today’s news is just as inane and inaccurate as this review.
©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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The Sporting Life of Me

I like sports. Maybe I love sports. Loving something like that (or is it those?) seems odd to say out loud, but it’s possible that I do. Why? I’m not sure, but I know this much: It isn’t because I was ever good at any of them.

If you’ve read any of my sundry blog posts, you know that I will opine on almost any topic–politics, religion, TV, movies, fighting girls, self-help and, yes, sports. These things interest me, and I like to write–and talk–about such things. One might call me self-centered. One might be correct about that, too. I assume that others will be interested in these subjects since they interest me. Mostly, I believe that others are, or at the very least should be, interested in what interests me. If not, they must be interested in me, generally. With that in mind, let’s talk sports.

I’m not an athlete. I never was. Oh, I tried my hand at various sports. Never, though, did I find my game.

BASEBALL

I played a lot of baseball growing up. I wasn’t particularly good, but I played. I had one God-given skill and that was speed. I was pretty fast. That was helpful, to some extent. I also have decent hand-eye coordination–decent, not excellent. I couldn’t hit very well nor did I have a good arm. In my 20’s, a doctor told me that it was likely that I had torn muscles in my shoulder when I was young, which would explain chronic pain and weakness. I use this now as an excuse to explain my overall mediocrity. I am now convinced that I tore my shoulder when I was 4 years old.

My baseball career, as it were, can be summed up in one game when I was 14 years old. My team faced a pitcher who threw side arm. I couldn’t hit him neither could my team-mate batting in front of me in the order. In the last inning of an extra inning game, we both had struck out four times. There were two outs, and I was on deck. Since we both had the dreaded Golden Sombrero (four Ks), I silently prayed that my team-mate would get out so that I would not end the game for us. He did. On strikes. I was happy. There may be no “I” in team, but there damn sure is one in “strike out.”

I was also volatile and difficult to coach. I would argue with my coaches. I would argue with opposing players. I would argue with my team-mates. These may seem to be attributes of the modern athlete; however, they are best reserved for the modern, outstanding athlete. The borderline, average teenager in the 1970’s did not benefit from such behavior. One time, I even got into an argument with my coach’s father during a game. Not a good move.

I combined lack of skill and bad attitude with laziness. If I needed to work on something, I preferred to just sit around and hope I improved. Oddly enough, it didn’t work.

BASKETBALL

I also played basketball or, more correctly, tried to play. To say that I was not a good basketball player is to say that William Shatner is not a good singer. The speed which I flashed playing baseball disappeared with a basketball in my hands. I couldn’t go to my left at all. I could barely go to my right. But, could I shoot? No. Try as I might, my jumper was always an awkward “push” shot. It would have looked good in the days of the two hand set shot.

My lack of skill limited my play to pick up games, except for a brief period in elementary school when I played what we called “Little League” basketball in my home town. I played for Loyall Christian Church. Although I did not attend church there, they sponsored our team. I played three years and might have scored 10 points total. Honestly, that’s probably a stretch. I do know that my high game was four points. Wow.

The highlight of my organized basketball career was a fight–not involving me, of course. My Dad had an older kid walk me to my games at night (Dad was often on the road for work during the week). One night, we encountered a hoodlum of some renown. My guardian slapped the cigarette out of the hood’s mouth, picked it up and took a long drag off it. He then flicked the butt off the hood’s chest. I can still see those ashes exploding against his chest in the dark. Why did he do this? I think it was just to make a point. Okay, that’s not really a fight, but I was just 7 or 8 years old, and I thought it was cool.

I would occasionally play pick up games, usually quite poorly. The only time I ever recall playing well was in a one on one game with a friend in high school. For reasons now obscure, I had mouthed off about how I could beat him. I don’t why I did that since he was taller than I was and, by all appearances, more athletic. He challenged me to a game to 20 by ones. Something possessed me and, for that one game, I could really play. I couldn’t miss a shot. My awkward, two-handed J hit nothing but net. The game winner was made after a quite accidental cross-over dribble off my knee. My opponent slipped and I nailed a jumper from about 15 feet. My friend was wowed. I used up all my basketball luck in one game.

I also played in the occasional pick up game in college. Again, poorly. My friends tolerated me, because…well…they were my friends. I’m sure it pained them to watch me. Sometimes, I would play against girls. They were also better than I was. Perhaps the highlight of my college career was a violent body check/pick laid on me by a University of Kentucky football player. He was about 6′ 4″, 350 maybe. No front teeth and he wore a down vest to play basketball. After his bone-pulverizing pick, I predictably collapsed in a pathetic heap. He then screamed obscenities at me, rightfully questioning my manhood.

I used to play basketball with my kids. Then, they got better than me, too.

GOLF

I also tried golf. There weren’t a lot of golfers when I was growing up in Harlan County, Kentucky. Some people belonged to the Harlan Country Club. I heard that they played golf up there on a 9 hole golf course. Other than the occasional miniature golf game (they had miniature golf in Evarts), I didn’t touch a golf club until I was in my 20’s.

I thought golf would be a good game for me. It didn’t require much (or any) athleticism. I imagined myself strolling the links with fellow hot shots, playing and making lucrative business deals. Sadly, my golf play resembled nothing so much as Spaudling Smails in Caddyshack. Here are some of the reasons golf didn’t work:

  • I discovered that most people didn’t enjoy playing with someone in a blind rage the whole time.
  • People would give me pointers which I desperately needed; however, I HATE pointers, advice, helpful hints or whatever the hell you want to call them.
  • I broke my pitching wedge beating it against a tree after sailing an approach shot over the green.
  • I broke my 9 iron. By running over it with my car. On purpose.
  • I bent my putter. Throwing it.
  • I would curse loudly and often.

Ultimately, I abandoned the game because I was just terrible at it. Terrible. The only thing I liked about it was that one could drink alcohol while playing. In my case, it didn’t affect my game at all. Now, I often think about what my father said of golf: “If a man has enough time to play golf, he should do something productive instead. Like work.” That gives me some comfort. Some. I don’t do much productive, either.

BOWLING

I tried other sports. Bowling, for instance. Sucked. Like golf, I can tell you all the fundamentals one must embrace to excel, but I can’t execute any of them. Once I stopped drinking, I found out that the only reason I ever bowled was for the alcohol, anyway.

BILLIARDS

How about pool? I love shooting pool. I can visualize every shot on the table. I can’t execute any of them. I’ve broken a couple of pool cues over my leg. I used to have a nice pool table, but I gave it away. It taunted me every time I walked by it. Again, though, one could drink beer and play. It had that going for it.

YO-YO

In the 1970’s, there was a yo-yo craze. That’s right–yo-yo. Everyone had a yo-yo, me included. The craze even reached Harlan County. Every hay-shaker and hill jack in the county was walking the dog, rocking the baby and going around the world. Me? I cracked myself in the mouth once trying to go around the world. Split my lip. Sometimes, I would walk the dog, and the yo-yo would pop up and hit me in the forehead. It was just sad.

EVERYTHING ELSE

My mediocrity knew almost no limits. Ping pong, darts, dodge ball, volley ball and softball all mastered me. PE in high school was a struggle, because there were no games at which I excelled. Our PE teacher was an affable enough fellow who went on to a successful career as a college football assistant coach. He was affable, that is, until he had a psychotic episode of yelling and screaming about something. He once hit a kid with a desk. He was better, though, than the head football coach who someone once aptly described as a “shaved ape.” They brought to mind the old Woody Allen joke: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. Those who can’t teach, teach gym.”

Of course, it was a right of passage that one take PE. At the time, I suspected that it was because of a homoerotic desire to force us all to shower. I guess that was wrong, but–hey–I was 14. It made sense at the time.

One sport I never tried was football. I was WAY too small and have an aversion to being hit. I also don’t like injuries of any kind. When I grew no one played soccer. I never ran track or swam competitively or played Frisbee. I like to think that I could have excelled at any of those if I’d only tried.

Later in life, I met many people who didn’t grow up with me. Someone would ask if I played basketball, and I could say, “Oh, yeah. I was pretty damn good, too.” Or I could say I was baseball star. Fortunately, when you reaches a certain age, people don’t challenge you or invite you to join their teams. If they do, you can alway claim some injury like a torn rotator cuff or unresolved sports hernia prevents it.

Now that I’ve written this, I think I know why I love sports. It’s precisely because of my incompetence. Perhaps, I live vicariously through these athletes. Perhaps, I admire their expertise. It could be that they represent all that I wanted to be. Or maybe it’s because I REALLY love watching TV. I am very good at that.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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World War X-MAS

None of us will ever forget where we were and what we were doing when we heard that war had broken out against Christmas. Once the War on Christmas began, our lives were never the same.  Sorry to be a smart ass.  I can’t help it.

Are you a soldier in the War on Christmas?  If so, which army?  How’s it going?  Looks like Christmas is winning, but it depends on whom you ask.

As a matter of full disclosure, I must tell you that I like Christmas.  Check that.  I love Christmas.  I always have.  I’m tempted to lie and say that it’s because of some religious fervor that possesses me.  That’s not it.  I just love it.  The presents, music, decorations–all of it.  My house is a garish display of lights.  We buy our kids too much stuff and don’t care.

xmashouse

My home is a prime target for a drone strike in the War on Christmas

Once when I was about 6 years old, I got so fired up one Christmas morning that I sat down and drank like 6 glasses of milk.  Why?  I don’t know.  I just went mental.  I puked, too. I was totally unhinged with excitement. But, that was before the War.

Unlike most wars, this one creates debate about whether it even exists. The War even has its own website.  Not surprisingly, Fox News has its own web page devoted to the War.  If it’s on the Internet, it has to be real.  Even the Pope was accused of attacking Christmas by quite correctly pointing out that December 25 isn’t really Jesus’s birthday.  Others are just as adamant that there is no war. So, whether you are a far left atheist still mourning the untimely murder of Madeline Murray O’Hare or a hard right evangelical longing to feel the lash of religious persecution, there is a camp for you.

It is said that Christmas is a time for giving.  For many, it is a holy time to celebrate the savior of their religion. These folks, of course, are Christians.  Generally speaking, they’re good folks.  Like any religion, the loudest and most profane are typically front and center, giving a black eye to the larger flock.  Many Christians believe that there is a war being waged against Christmas.  I suppose it would be inappropriate to call it a Holy War, but they are convinced nonetheless that they are in the midst of a struggle to preserve Christmas.  I don’t doubt that they believe there is a war and that it must be fought tooth and nail.

Of all religious holidays, Christmas certainly has spawned its own secular division, with Santa Claus and the elves leading the way.  Evidently, we are so unlikely to freely give gifts to children that someone conceived that a fat man and a bunch of elf/slaves was more believable.  Flying reindeer, too.  For the most part, though, Santa and Jesus have peacefully coexisted.  Despite appearing to be the logical choice to lead this war, Santa seems to be sitting it out.  As a result, I’m not sure who leads this gang of misfit toys assailing Christmas.  I’ll just attribute it to the Liberal Elite.

If the War on Christmas has Commander in Chief for the defense, it may be Bill O’Reilly.  You know Bill.  He’s Fox News’s agent provocateur.  He developed the modern TV interview format where you ask a guest a question and then shout until he or she gives up trying to answer.  Bill sums up his view of the War as follows:

See, I think it’s all part of the secular progressive agenda — to get Christianity and spirituality and Judaism out of the public square. Because if you look at what happened in Western Europe and Canada, if you can get religion out, then you can pass secular progressive programs like legalization of narcotics, euthanasia, abortion at will, gay marriage, because the objection to those things is religious- based, usually.

Wow.  Judaism?  Uh, Bill, Jews don’t think Jesus was the messiah.  Not sure what the point is on that one.  Of course, Bill’s larger point is that it’s part of a conspiracy to destroy society.  I’ll admit that Bill sees a lot of things in the world that I don’t, but he’s bound to be right sometimes.  Let’s take a closer look at the bloody front lines of the War.

Christmas greetings are controversial.  I don’t know anyone who is grossly offended by a greeting of “Merry Christmas!”  Now, I’ll admit that I’m a bit of home body and live an insular lifestyle.  Maybe there are people who curse and stomp and throw things when they hear this common holiday greeting.  If you’re one of those people, lighten up.  It’s no big deal.

What I DO hear a lot of is people offended by “Happy Holidays!”  It’s Christmas, damn you!  I know people SO offended by this they vow not to patronize businesses that dare to offend with this greeting.  Why?  I guess it’s because they’re afraid they’ll be euthanized after having a narcotics-induced abortion.  I don’t really know.

As always, children are also casualties of war.  On Facebook, this meme is making the rounds:

This is the world that many people inhabit. Anti-Christian thugs coming after our children

This hasn’t happened to my children–yet.  I realize that this cartoon is a bit a hyperbole used to illustrate some point.  My kids have always had parties at school around Christmas time.  Okay, they don’t officially call them Christmas parties, but that’s what the kids call them.  I’ll admit that they don’t re-enact the Nativity.  They also don’t participate in pagan rituals, unless eating a bunch of sweets is pagan.

When I was kid, we had Christmas parties at school.  We even had a Christmas play.  I was a shepherd.  Is this horrible?  I doubt it.  Is it a questionable use of school time?  Maybe.  It probably didn’t harm anyone, with the possible exception of my one classmate who had to sit in the hall in a chair.  She was a Jehovah’s Witness.  Actually, it may have harmed me.  No six year old kid wants to be paraded out in front of the entire school in a bathrobe.  Oh well.

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1968. Your author (L) gives his mother an unforgiving stare. At least she didn’t make me wear a towel on my head like the poor lad next to me.

Much of the War is a matter of semantics.  Of course, people may be too politically correct these days.  With Christmas everywhere, it’s a little odd to say “Happy Holidays.”  A “Merry Christmas” here and there shouldn’t offend.  Generally speaking, it doesn’t seem to have that effect.  The same should be true of “Happy Holidays.”  After all, it is the holiday season.  Christmas, Hanukkah, New Years Day are all holidays to some extent.  Even pagans can celebrate the Winter Solstice which must be some kind of holiday, too.

I may be part of the problem, if there is one.  I tend to say Merry Christmas to people, without giving a thought to their religious views.  I’ve never gotten a response of “THERE IS NO GOD!” or “I AM JEWISH, YOU BASTARD!”  Maybe I’ve been lucky.  I’m much more concerned about saying “Happy Holidays” to the wrong person.

Some people don’t like “Xmas.”  Put Christ back in Christmas, they say.  They take it as a secular attempt to remove Jesus from his own holiday.  This isn’t true, of course.  The “X” is the Greek letter Chi which is used as a shorthand for “Christ.”  Oh well, never let the facts get in the way of righteous outrage.

Retailers seem to be the prime combatants in this war.  Rage is directed toward them for the use of “holidays” instead of “Christmas.”  In some cases, it was the result of such silliness as Lowe’s calling its Christmas trees “Family Trees.”  I don’t know if this justifies religious outrage, as much as it does treating them like marketing dolts.  Who ever bought a Family Tree?  Not me, that’s for sure.  We already have Family Trees, otherwise we wouldn’t know any of our relatives.

Even Santa Claus isn’t spared.  Some folks don’t like the emphasis on Santa.  After all, he isn’t Jesus, now, is he?  Of course, he isn’t.  In the 1960’s, a particularly vile anti-Semitic preacher named George L.K. Smith claimed that Santa was the product of “World Jewry” (whatever the hell that is) designed to supplant Christ.  After all, “Santa” almost spells “Satan.”  That can’t be a coincidence.  See how easy it is to join in?

You want to know who the real anti-Christmas warriors were?  The Puritans.  Those tight-asses hated Christmas.  Hated it. They hated it so much that they outlawed all the traditional celebrations.  Now, that’s a war.

As with most wars, the government plays a big role.  People like Christmas trees, and the government wastes a lot of resources trying to decide what to call them. At the end of the day, few people care that they are, in fact, Christmas trees. Naturally, there is litigation over Nativity displays and the like. Even though they don’t offend me, I can understand that one might think the government shouldn’t be in the practice of endorsing any particular religion. I’m not sure I could get fired up enough about it to spend any time in court.

Of course, some folks believe that the U.S. was founded as a Christian Nation™, despite strong historical proof to the contrary.  It’s not my job to disabuse them of that notion, although I would note that our government didn’t even bother making Christmas (or anything else, for that matter) a holiday until 1870.  (Surprisingly, our founding fathers weren’t all eaten up with the Christmas spirit.  In fact, the first session of Congress was held on Christmas Day.  Talk about a bunch of Scrooges.)

Truth be told, in our country, no religious holiday is given the same deference as Christmas, with the closing of businesses and government services and a non-stop marketing onslaught which starts just after Labor Day.  Employers are not only expected to give their employees time off work but also to give them extra money–a Christmas Bonus, no less.  We don’t do that for Easter,  the holiest of times for Christians.  We don’t do anything at all for Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur.  Try starting a holiday for Laylat al-Qadr.  You might end up in Gitmo for your next evening of prayer.  Even our entertainment is Christmas themed.  Turn on the radio and scan the stations.  Bet you’ll hear a Christmas song or two.  What about TV and movies?  Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.

John Lennon wrote a song called Merry Christmas (War is Over).  I don’t care for it, just as I don’t particularly care for many of his post-Beatles songs.  But I do think that this war, whenever it started, is over.  Christmas won.  So, when you hear “Happy Holidays” or get a card saying that, take heart.  Merry Christmas is implied.  We know that’s what they really mean don’t we?

As lawyer, I’m quite fond of quotations.  The Kentucky Court of Appeals penned my favorite legal quote, which is particularly applicable here:

In the celebrated case of Prewitt v. Clayton, 21 Ky. (5 T.B. Mon.) 4, this court, through Chief Justice Bibb, observed:

            ‘“A bear well painted and drawn to the life is yet the picture of a bear, although the painter may omit to write over it, ‘this is the bear.’”

             By parity of reasoning, the bear does not lose its basic characteristics if the artist dubs it a horse. 

The First National Bank of Mayfield v. Gardner, Ky., 376 S.W. 2d 311, 314-315 (1964).  The same applies to Christmas.  A bear is a bear, and Christmas is Christmas.  Neither one is a horse.

Ultimately, this is a battle among the secular (Santa and the elves); the religious (Baby Jesus and the Wise Men); the anti-religious (Atheists); and the religious non-Christians (everyone else).  In other words, the Americans.  Nothing is more American than disagreeing with each other.  We’ll fight amongst ourselves about anything.  It’s the American Way.  So, choose a side and weigh in.  It’s fun.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!  Now, what are you going to do?

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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The Sad Case of Charlie Brown

What can I say about Charlie Brown?  Plenty, as it turns out.  Poor Charlie Brown.  Blockhead.  Lovable loser.  Hard luck follows him.  This passes for entertainment for kids.  I’ve had enough.

Everyone of a certain age knows Charlie Brown, the prematurely bald, eight year old protagonist of the late Charles Schulz’s Peanuts comic strip.  Charlie Brown also starred in numerous television specials.  Many of these specials center around a holiday–A Charlie Brown Christmas, A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown, etc.  Others follow a similar theme of the dour circumstances of young Charlie, such as You’re in Love, Charlie Brown, You’re Not Elected Charlie Brown, What a Nightmare, Charlie Brown, ad nauseum. Each of these hour-long specials involve some sort of maudlin circumstances  where our put-upon hero is bullied, terrorized and berated until the inevitable “upbeat” ending where some kind of lesson is delivered.

He is always called “Charlie Brown,” not Charlie.  The only exceptions to this are the androgynous pair of Peppermint Patty and Marcie who call him “Chuck” and “Charles.”  He even called his grandmother once and said “Hello, this is Charlie Brown.”

Charlie Brown is tormented by insecurity and self-doubt, hardly a healthy role model.  He constantly battles the vacuous children of his school.  They, of course, reinforce his insecurities by consistently reminding him of his various inadequacies.  He’s bald, too.  Charles Schulz said that he isn’t bald, that he has close-cropped, light-colored hair.  Sure.

He’s bald. There’s not even stubble. Note, too, how the little hair he does have almost spells the word “Sex.” What’s that about?

Let’s be clear.  I’ve got no beef with Charlie Brown. In fact, I identify with him to a certain extent.  Insecurity, self-doubt and downright neurosis hover about me.   This is how I looked when I was eight years old:

I wasn’t bald, but I was certainly disturbed.

I may sympathize with Charlie Brown, but the same can’t be said for the maladjusted gang of misanthropes with whom he surrounds himself.  I loathe his so-called friends.  He’d be better off among the Children of the Corn.

As a kid, no Christmas show may have disturbed me more than A Charlie Brown Christmas.  Poor Charlie Brown tries to teach that pack of troglodytes the true meaning of Christmas while they turn it into a Bacchanal of consumerism.  Even his own dog, Snoopy, fails to understand.  Okay, in the end, everyone “gets it” and all is well–except of course for the severe psychological wounds inflicted upon Charlie Brown.

The perfect ending to A Charlie Brown Christmas

(Actually, a piece of TV tripe called The House Without a Christmas Tree is worse.  Jason Robards plays an emotionally abusive father of a 10-year-old girl.  The bitter old bastard hates Christmas and won’t allow a Christmas tree in his house.  By the time he sees the light, you’ll already have wished him dead for so long, you won’t care.)

As far as I know, my children have never seen even one Charlie Brown special.  There’s a simple reason for that.  I love my children, and I don’t encourage them to warp their minds with cartoon child abuse.  If they are to be bullies themselves, I would prefer it just develop naturally rather than be learned on TV.

But, what of Charlie Brown’s “friends?”  That alternate between contemptible and pathetic.

Lucy Van Pelt

Lucy was likely the prototype for Rhoda in The Bad Seed–a hateful, conniving little witch whose singular purpose in life is to make Charlie Brown miserable.  Her running gag is to hold a football for Charlie Brown to kick and then pull it away at the last second, thus humiliating him once again.  Perhaps one can rightfully question Charlie Brown’s intelligence or self-esteem to fall prey to this prank dozens–if not hundreds–of times.  Nevertheless, it is Lucy ultimately who bears the responsibility for this abusive behavior.

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Once again, Charlie Brown falls prey to Lucy’s dangerous pranks.

Once–just once–I’d like to see Charlie Brown trot toward that ball, stop abruptly and kick Lucy square in the teeth.  Hard.  Blood spurting freely from her mangled mouth, she’d roll on her back.  Just when you think she’s dead, she coughs, spewing blood and a mouthful of broken teeth.  Charlie Brown, grinning slightly, mutters “I guess that one split the uprights, bitch.”

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Pig-Pen

Pig-Pen doesn’t pick on Charlie Brown like the rest of those miniature Blutos in whatever the hell town they live in.  No, his “humor” derives from his horrific hygiene.  He is always surrounded by a cloud of dust or dirt and is perpetually filthy.  He is largely shunned by the other third graders.  Only Charlie Brown, of course, unconditionally accepts him, leading to Charlie Brown’s further ostracization.  Pig-Pen last appeared in Peanuts in 1999, shortly before Charles Schulz’s death.  Evidently, the humor to be found in a filthy child died with him.

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Pig-Pen, the hilariously filthy child of Charlie Brown’s world.

Growing up in Eastern Kentucky, I knew filthy-looking kids.  They weren’t funny.  My parents always said that one sign of trashy people was a baby with a dirty face.  Pig-Pen, alas, may have been trash or just drawn that way.

LINUS VAN PELT

Lucy’s younger brother, Linus is as close as Charlie Brown gets to a real friend.  Of course, Linus is an odd, possibly mentally ill child who fantasizes about The Great Pumpkin, a holiday myth in which he is the only child who believes.  He is also emotionally attached to his blanket, no doubt as a result of the absence of his parents, a disturbing living condition of all these children.

Linus appears to have well-above average intelligence.  Of course, this may just be damning him with faint praising by comparing him to the sadistic children who degrade Charlie Brown.  Lucy, of course, also attacks Linus trying innumerable times to hide or destroy his blanket, hoping no doubt to force a final break from reality for her younger sibling.

PEPPERMINT PATTY

Peppermint Patty is a lesbian.  There, I said it.  Oh, I know others have made the same observation.  It doesn’t take a person perceptive about human relations to make this deduction.  She is.  No big deal, mind you.  The irony is that she also has a crush on Charlie Brown.  That’s how things go for Charlie Brown.  That’s right. One girl likes Charlie Brown, and she’s gay.

Patty regularly dominates Charlie Brown in sports, baseball especially.  This further adds to his degradation.  If Linus is a genius, Patty appears to be a nitwit, believing that Charlie Brown’s dog, Snoopy, is a kid with the “long nose.”  Her long time companion, Marcie, consistently refers to Patty as “sir.”  This gender-bending can only warp young minds.

THE LITTLE RED HAIRED GIRL

She is Charlie Brown’s unattainable true love. One time she wrote Charlie Brown a note and said she liked him.  Did we ever see her again?  Of course, not.  That’s how Charlie Brown’s world works.

I theorize that the Little Red Haired Girl doesn’t really exist.  She’s merely a figment of Charlie Brown’s imagination created to maintain some semblance of sanity.  No doubt his fragile young mind created her as an unapproachable ideal, yet something to make his life tolerable.

What I don’t like about the Little Red Haired Girl is that Charlie Brown still can’t catch a break.  He swoons and he carries on about her.  He obsesses like a bald, eight year old stalker.  But, does he ever really get to work his game with her?  Of course, not.  Even an imaginary child disses Charlie Brown.

I read that the Little Red Haired Girl was based on Charles Schulz’s unrequited love for a woman who left him to marry another man.  I don’t know if that’s true.  If it is, it’s unfortunate.  Perhaps some psychological counseling would have been appropriate, rather than tormenting Charlie Brown.

VIOLET

She doesn’t readily come to mind when one thinks of Peanuts, but she is the most despicable of them all.  It is she, I believe, who coined the term “block head” for Charlie Brown.  She both verbally and physically abuses him.  She’s also a haughty little harridan, constantly bragging about her father or other self-perceived superiority.  If these characters aged like real people, I’m confidant that Charlie Brown, after years being institutionalized, would return and decapitate her and bury her head in Snoopy’s doghouse.

SCHROEDER

Along with Linus, Schroeder may well be a real friend of Charlie Brown’s.  A piano prodigy modeled perhaps after Van Cliburn, Schroeder supports Charlie Brown in most of his endeavors.  Unfortunately, his obsession with the piano limits his availability.  He also thumbs his nose at Lucy, rejecting her at every turn.  For that alone, I like him.

SNOOPY

What?!?! I have a problem with Snoopy?  Man’s best friend?  Yep, I do.  He’s arrogant and self-absorbed.  Unlike a faithful, loyal, real life dog, Snoopy smugly lolls about his doghouse expecting Charlie Brown to bring him food or address any other whim.  He doesn’t even know Charlie Brown’s name–referring to him as that “round-headed kid.”  This is a dog who can communicate with a bird.  The least one could expect would be that he knew his master’s name.  If Snoopy were any kind of dog, he would maul Lucy, tearing out her throat.  The day he does that, I’ll change my opinion.

THE ADULTS

The adults are never seen.  When they are heard, it is only as the mute drone of a trombone.  Having children myself, I realize that is the sound they hear when I talk.  Regardless, one would think an adult–any adult–would step in on occasion and protect Charlie Brown from the slings and arrows of his childhood.  Instead, they sit idly by while his torment continues.  To Hell with them, too, I say.

Many other characters have traveled in and out of the Peanuts world.  Franklin the black kid.  Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally.  Snoopy’s sidekick, Woodstock.  All of them have piled on Charlie Brown on occasion.  Is this entertainment?  Perhaps.  So is bear-baiting for some folks.

While everyone gathers around to watch the latest abuse heaped on Charlie Brown, remember this:  He might grow up one day.  If he does, there will be Hell to pay.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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Tell Me What You Think…or Don’t: One Man’s Lament

Maybe it’s just a natural function of age, but I’m growing tired and rather impatient about a few things. Well, actually a LOT of things.

Another part of it is my contrarian nature. My Dad called it my “mountain” attitude, meaning that I have a tendency to rail against things just to do it. In fact, I rail against that description. I am NOT contrarian, dammit!

Conversely, I’m one of those strange people who are happy most of the time, regardless of the circumstances.  That doesn’t mean I’m perfect.  Things can and do annoy me.

I’m also possessed of an odd belief that people are concerned about my opinion. Intellectually, I know that’s not true. But, I’m no intellectual, so I insist on making my views known, not to persuade, mind you, but just to go on record. Everyone wants to know what makes my tick. Well, here is a list of things sure to annoy me:

FOOD

Don’t misunderstand. I like food. Love it, in fact. Good food is one of life’s pleasures. I don’t often eat really good food, but when I do it’s quite the treat. So, why do I list food? Because people try to tell me what to eat.

I love bacon, as do most people. Evidently, bacon is unhealthy. I don’t care. It’s good on everything or just by itself. Generally speaking, I don’t care for salads. But, throw some bacon on it, and I’m all over it. I assume it’s unhealthy, because it’s good. If it tasted like a baseball glove, I’m sure it would be fabulous for my health.

Fat is bad for you. No shit, Dick Tracy, as previous generations would say. Fat also is the key to anything tasting worth a damn. You want to fix the taste of something, deep fry it. Don’t like bananas? Deep fried bananas would get your attention. Fried chicken, fried pork chops, chicken fried steak, fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried potatoes–all excellent. Broil, boil, saute’ or bake them, and they may still be good, but not quite as good. If I want to fry my food it’s none of your damn business. Period. I’ve heard of people eating deep fried sticks of butter. So what?

Deep-fried butter. Why not?

Chocolate, of course, is bad. Too fatty. My Papaw once said he’d eat a turd if you covered it with chocolate sprinkles. I believed him. He lived to be 91, despite having–as my father once noted–“the eating habits of a billy-goat.” Deep-fried, chocolate-covered bacon for everyone!

I’m also sick of gluten. Sick of it, not allergic to it, as about 75% of Americans seem to be now. I’m a fairly bright fellow and reasonably well-educated, too. Until about 3 years ago, I had never heard of gluten. NEVER. What the hell is it, anyway? I ate some gluten-free cookies once. I determined that “gluten” is Latin for “taste.” They were like eating discs made of Play Dough and cinders, except less appetizing. Yes, I’ve eaten Play Dough, and I’ll eat it again if I damn well choose. Wanna know how to make gluten-free bread? Get a bag of sand, mix with water and bake until inedible.

The First Lady is concerned about what I eat and what my kids eat. Thank you very much, Mrs. Busybody. One of the best things we had for school lunches was peanut butter sandwiches. Not just any peanut butter, either. It was peanut butter mixed with corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup. Outstanding. Nowadays, you’d have a better chance of feeding kids ground glass and rat poison. I’ll eat what I want to eat, thank you. So will my kids. If they end up weighing 400 pounds, so be it. Maybe that makes me a bad parent. If so, there are few laws against that.

The Mayor of New York is so concerned about what people eat that he wants to outlaw almost everything that tastes good. He doesn’t even want homeless people to eat without checking the nutritional content of their food first! Being a billionaire doesn’t mean you’re smart (see also Trump, Donald).

Here’s how it shakes out. I’m eating bacon, eggs, fried stuff, chocolate, candy, cake, lard, butter, oils, snack cakes, fats, trans fat, super-trans fats–you name it. Leave me alone.

CARBON

Everything is made of carbon, yet it is the most horrible substance on the planet. The more you produce, the more evil you are. We are dying of carbon, even while we live only because of it. God, it seems, does have a sense of humor.

We all must reduce our carbon footprint. What is a carbon footprint? In simple terms–on this topic, can there be any other?–it’s how much carbon you produce. Al Gore has flitted about the globe belching carbon from his private jets to preach this gospel to us. How does one reduce his or her carbon footprint? There are many ways, but the best way is to reduce your lifestyle to unlivable Hell.

Well, here’s another deal for you. As Samuel Goldwyn (or some other movie mogul) said, “Include me, out.” I’m producing as damn much carbon as I can.

Bigfoot will have nothing on my carbon footprint

I don’t recycle. I used to, but the rules are more complicated than the NFL Quarterback Rating System. Bottled water is the Sasquatch of carbon. I drink bottled water. Five or six bottles a day. If I didn’t drink it, I’d order a bunch of empty bottles just for the privilege of throwing them away.

I don’t care about the gas mileage of my car, except to the extent that I might want to save money. If I don’t want to save money, I’m helping the economy. Here’s what I DO care about–liking my car. If I’d like my car better with a lignite-burning oven strapped to the top, I’ll pimp my ride accordingly.

I’ll also use as much electricity as I want. Washers, dryers, dishwashers, water heaters, microwave ovens, electric arc ovens–anything. I’ll build a big damn Frankenstein lab in my basement, but instead of lightning, I’ll hook it right into the Eastern Power Grid. I even go outside and watch the meter spin on the side of my house like a bunch of freakin’ green-ass windmills.

I might also hook up a huge diesel-powered generator just for the hell of it. I’ll use it only to power the light in my garage, which I’ll burn 24 hours a day.

Oh, I also buy a bunch of cows if I want. Yeah, cows. They produce a huge amount of carbon, belching, farting and dumping all over the place. I might put a whole herd in my yard for no reason other than that. If I get tired of them, then I’ll eat them–red meat and all.

My future backyard. Get to work, girls!

Another reason I’m tired of carbon is that I’m even more tired of “global warming” which is now called “climate change.” I like warm weather. I also like the beach. If the beach moves closer to Kentucky, I consider that a positive development. You know what I don’t care for? Bears, polar or otherwise. I also don’t like Winter. Check that. I HATE Winter. Hate it. Oh, but you say, “You should move to a warmer climate.” YOU CAN’T MAKE ME MOVE! Besides, why move to warmer weather when I can bring the weather to me?

POLITICS

It’s always fashionable to say that one is sick of politics. I’m sicker now of politics than ever before. Of course, like any sane person, I get sick of politics during election season. The advent of social media has made this especially problematic. Some folks on social media are like drunks at a bar who can’t stop droning on about the state of the world while their contribution to it consists of vomiting on themselves. Election season, it seems, never ends.

If you’re like Chris Matthews, I don’t understand. By that, I don’t mean that you’re soaked in flop sweat and yell a lot. I mean you tingle or shiver when a politician speaks. If so, you and I exist on different planes.

What I’m tired of is being told what is politically good or bad or what I should think or what is important. Different people have different experiences. What’s important to you may not be important to me. Get the Hell over it. If you tell me something with which I disagree 1,000 times, all that means is that I’ve disagreed 1,000 times. Stop.

Frankly, I used to struggle with my political apathy. I decided to do a comprehensive overview of what politicians have done to make my life better. I thoroughly reviewed where I am in life and what matters most to me. After distilling this data, I made a list of the five things I could identify that any politician has done to help me:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

That’s the list. Yours may be much longer. Good for you.  Keep it to yourself.

IRAN

Boy, oh, boy, am I sick of Iran. I have been since I was a teenager in the 1970’s. I’m particularly sick of its President, the redoubtable Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. I will give him credit for rocking the business casual look. Other than that, go away.

The unrivaled King of Business Casual

Unlike the other things I’ve listed, with this one I’m not sick of other people talking about it.  I’m sick of Iran talking about Iran.

Iran is like a guy once knew. He had a big mouth. Always threatened people, especially when under the influence of an intoxicant. He was always going to kick someone’s ass. One night, someone took him up on it. He got kicked in the stomach until he puked.  By the way, that guy was me.

One problem is that I don’t think their language (don’t ask me what it is) translates well. No one talks like these people. Let’s say the U.S. moves an aircraft carrier near Iran. Old Mahmoud is liable to say something like: “We will fill their mothers’ boots with the blood of their oxen!” We will immediately consider this to be a threat, even though no one has any idea what it means. Just once, I’d like the State Department to issue this statement:

We condemn in the strongest term’s Iran’s most recent threat to emasculate our goats with the Sword of God. We have now decided to whip their asses. They can name the time and place. It’s on its way.

I’m also sick of them picking on Israel. Israel is like our little brother. They’re annoying, always want our stuff, borrowing money and expect us to back them up. That said, you like your little brother. Your brother may not always be right, but he’s your brother.

I wish Iran would follow North Korea’s lead. Isolate. North Korea always has nutty leaders, but they concentrate on terrorizing their own citizens. Otherwise, we don’t hear much from them. Here’s another pointer for all you revolutionaries. If you overthrow a government and want to start a new one, be careful about one thing. If one of your cohorts is known as “Ayatollah,” you might want to give him a lesser role in your new government. Maybe something in your postal service. Trust me on this one. You’ll thank me later.

Don’t construe this as advocating a war. I’m more tired of war than I am of Iran. I just want them to quiet down before someone decides to kick them in the stomach.

YOU

Of course, I don’t mean you literally. You might be in that exclusive group of people who I genuinely care about it. Even if you aren’t, I have no ill will toward you or at least not a significant amount of it.

The you that torques my jaws is the one who tells me what I need to do. Or should do. Or will do, by God.

You may not be very good at running your own life. What are the chances you can run mine?  I certainly can’t run yours nor do I have any interest in trying.

So, I’m weary of you telling me how to eat or live or vote. Don’t tell me how to raise my kids. Or what to worship. Don’t tell me what car to drive. Thank you.

I’ll make you a deal. I also won’t tell you what to do. I won’t even try to set an example for you–good or bad. Oh, stay out of my yard, too.

You, of course, are free to do as you see fit. Move to Iran, go gluten-free, drive an electric car and vote for anyone you want. Or don’t do any of that.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2012

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Are You Conservative or Liberal? Take the Test

I paid more attention to this election cycle than I usually do. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because everyone on social media spewed about the election. That’s probably a good thing. I was able to deduce to things: (1) Liberals hate Mitt Romney; and (2) Conservatives hate Barack Obama. Pretty simple.

What isn’t so simple these days is to figure out if you’re a liberal or a conservative. My archly conservative friends think I’m liberal. My liberal friends think I’m conservative. My staunchly political friends of both stripes can’t believe that any sane person wouldn’t vote a straight ticket in an election. Alas, I am an Independent. For me, a straight ticket is a list of perennial candidates, crackpots and unelectable do-gooders.

Honestly, I’ve tried to figure out where I fall on the political spectrum. Some folks tell me I’m a Libertarian. When I read about Libertarians, I tend to agree; however, when I listen to Libertarians, I vehemently disagree. I often refer to myself as a conservative, but then some real conservative says something insane, and I change my mind.

So, I decided to come up with a simple quiz to help answer this question. As a public service, I have reproduced it below:

I. FOREIGN POLICY:

1. Which statement best describes your views on the anger toward the West in the Middle East?

a) The West is a bunch of capitalist pigs. I am angry toward it, too.

b) They aren’t as angry as I am toward them.

c) Nuke ’em, except Israel.

2. Which group of countries do you consider the greatest threat to world peace?

a) The United States, Great Britain and Israel

b) Canada, Mexico and Greenland

c) North Korea, France and any country where the leaders wear robes.

3. Which statement best describes your views toward China?

a) We must stop all human rights violations in China, even if they don’t want our help

b) We should try not to make them mad since they make all our stuff

c) Nuke ’em

4. What do you think the US role in foreign affairs should be?

a) Become friends with everyone

b) Stay the hell away from foreigners

c) Try to build strong relationships with friendly governments. Nuke the rest of ’em.

5. The biggest risk to America’s security is:

a) American imperialism

b) The federal deficit

c) Everyone who answered “a” to this question.

II. SOCIAL ISSUES

1. Which statement best describes your views on a woman’s right to choose?

a) Women have the unfettered right to choose anything, up to and including the euthanasia of their children under 18 and husbands.

b) Frankly, I haven’t given it much thought. I’m a man.

c) When did this happen?

2. What best describes your reaction to the term “homo-queer?”

a) That’s just another pejorative term for our gay friends and indicative of the hate-mongering on the right.

b) That’s a word my mother once said when she was trying to say “homosexual.”

c) That’s just another example of “political correctness” run wild.

3. What best describes your position on “traditional” marriage?

a) Marriage is loving relationship which should be allowed between or among any two or more people, regardless of sex, age or species.

b) I’m divorced. Don’t get me started.

c) Marriage is a holy union between a man and woman until one gets caught cheating on the other.

4. What best describes your position on immigration?

a) Everyone who sets foot in the US should automatically become a citizen.

b) I don’t care. I’m a foreigner.

c) I’m okay with it, as long as you speak English and look like me.

5. What best describes your religious views?

a) There is no God. And if there is one, he’s a woman.

b) I am God

c) My God is the only god. And he’s a Christian.

III. FISCAL ISSUES

1. Taxes should be increased on:

a) The rich, which is anyone making more money than I do.

b) Anyone except me

c) No one, except the people who don’t make enough money to pay taxes

2. The best way to reform welfare would be to:

a) Make it available to everyone except rich

b) Make it available to me and no one else

c) Eliminate it, except if it is provided to job creators

3. The best way to balance the federal budget would be to:

a) Raise the tax rate on the rich to 120%

b) Suspend Congressional pay until the budget is balanced.

c) Start two wars and then lower taxes.

4. The biggest area of waste in the federal budget is:

a) Subsidies to the rich

b) Congressional pay

c) The food stamps used by those answering “a” to this question

IV. IMAGE ASSOCIATION

1. What is your reaction to this photo?

a) Tingling in various body parts

b) Who is that?

c) AAARRRGGHHH! The Devil!

2. What is your reaction to this photo?

a) AAARRRGGHHH! The Devil!

b) I never could figure out how his hair stayed so dark.

c) Drop to your knees, followed by uncontrollable crying

3. What is your reaction to this photo:

a) Vomit in mouth. Rinse. Repeat.

b) When did Gregg Allman shave?

c) Ooooh. Hootchie Mama!

4. What is your reaction to this photo?

a) More tingling

b) Matt LeBlanc has really let himself go.

c) Vomit in mouth. Swallow. Repeat.

5. What is your reaction to this photo?

a) Another pathetic example of the exploitation of women.

b) Damnation. Sweet.

c) Is that Ann Coulter?

V. TRUE/FALSE

The following are true/false questions

1. President Obama is Kenyan. T or F?

2. President Obama is a Muslim. T or F?

3. President Obama is a terrorist. T or F?

4. Karl Rove is a genius. T or F?

5. Sarah Palin is smokin’ hot. T or F?

For every question you answered “true,” add 10 points. If each you answered false, subtract 5 points.

VI. CONSTITUTIONAL LAW

1. Something is unconstitutional if:

a) I don’t like it

b) I don’t like it

c) I don’t like it

2. Which statement best describes your view of gun control:

a) Guns are evil and should be outlawed regardless of the Constitution

b) I can’t control my guns. That’s why I prefer sleeveless shirts.

c) I firmly believe that all citizens have the right to bear arms and shoot other citizens when necessary or convenient.

3. Which statement best describes your view of states rights:

a) The states have no rights

b) My state is run by idiots. Why would they do any better?

c) States have the right to screw up anything that the federal government hasn’t reserved to its own incompetence.

4. Who wrote the United States Constitution?

a) White bigots

b) Abraham Lincoln

c) God

5. Which statement best describes your view of freedom of religion?

a) Religion should be illegal, unless it’s worshiping something like a tree or the President.

b) Leave me alone

c) You are free to worship as you see fit as long as it is an acceptable form of Christianity

VI. ESSAY

In 1000 words or less, describe the effects of global warming on our climate and the changes you believe must be implemented to save the planet from imminent destruction. Attach your answer on separate sheets.

(If you knew enough to write anything, subtract 25 points. If you laughed out loud after reading this, add 25 points. Any other reaction gives you no points).

SCORING

For each multiple choice question you answered “a,” add 5 points. For each you answered “b,” add 10 points. For each you answered “c,” add 15 points. Then take your score from True/False and Essay questions and add to the total. If any question outraged you to the point that you couldn’t go on, adjust your medication and try again.

Once you’ve added up your total, here is how to interpret the result:

100-150 points: Flaming commie, pinko, socialist Leftist. Kim Jong il is your ideal president.

150-200 points: Dangerous, left-leaning weirdo. Gus Hall is your ideal president.

200-300 points: Disenfranchised everyman. Franklin Pierce is your ideal president.

300-375 points: Dangerous, bloodless, right-wing radical. Joseph McCarthy is your ideal president.

375+ points: Ultra right-wing reactionary. George Lincoln Rockwell is your ideal president.

If you somehow managed to score less than 100 or more than 425, please leave the country immediately.

Now you know what you are. Don’t you feel better? I know I do. Even better, you’ll know how to vote next time around. If you don’t, someone will tell you.

©thetrivaltroll.wordpress.com 2012

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