The truth is that diversity does not work at all times in all places. The fact is that some people grow up with the belief that shitting where they sleep is a natural extension of their existence. And so will their young feel the same way. That getting your spawn out of the house, no matter what they're doing (or not doing, more accurately), is preferable to actually helping them to become something other than one of fifteen kids on the block who stumble with every attempted skateboard trick. I agree with those who say today's kids have it tougher than ever. It's just that none of the above excuses anyone from becoming a fine person.

Do I stand in judgment? Fuck yeah!! If we don't make judgments, we're just ignoring basic realities. Judgments don't have to be negative, do they? A positive judgment, however, must be earned.

act happy
7.30.01
Is it just me or does it really bug anyone else when you smile and say something to someone who responds with a grunt, or a low guttural heave or worse, nothing at all? I happen to know I'm pretty old school when it comes to being polite and I also know I'm fairly out of step with most people Gen X or younger. But it does seem like communication "skills" are either very difficult to master, or some people don't see the need for them. I happen to know we're getting lazier and less inclined to force the lobes of our brains to actually function, but is it necessary to devolve as far as I've seen people go? Maybe.

I am as guilty as any man of this old trip: you pass another male in the street and thousands of years of connectivity kick in and you look at each other but stop short of actually saying hi, or anything for that matter. What we do is tighten our jaws somehow, forcing a sort of silly, closed mouth smile so that we look like we're trying to prepare ourselves for a fistfight rather than face to face human contact. It might be an age old phenomenon of smiling without actually baring any teeth so that you don't give away too much of yourself without getting something in return. To come out on top in the competition of greeting another. Or maybe it's a reluctance to bare our teeth in the belief that it might provoke a battle. Or maybe it's something even more ridiculous. All I know is that I've taken to just saying hello and smiling away, as if I'm the happiest guy they'll see all day, regardless of my desire to kill them. And it just resonates in a very profound way. Like it's been said, act happy and the happiness will follow. It's hard to imagine, but it works.

a very messy scrap
8.22.01
We've had a pretty lousy season overall considering we're talented, strong and feisty enough to have beaten every team we've played. Especially this evening's opponents, the Chiefs, or Chefs as we call them. The same team we brawl with every time we play. Well, tonight we proved our mettle. We established a nice forecheck and kept them on their heels for most of the night. We took a 3-0 lead in the third and held on to a 3-1 lead with about a minute left. At this point, I felt the need to exact some revenge from the Chief's goalie, who is always a very suspect man, let alone a hockey player. I ran him for hitting me in the face earlier in the game and we all got involved in a very messy scrap, during which I went to the ice with said goalie (who attempted to head butt me) and finished him with a punch to the face. The end result is that we may make the playoffs, but I will be suspended for the first game, along with my boy Gren. Not a very nice way to treat an honorable hockey player who went up against a spineless sissy!

Yes, the vile creature I speak of is something you might very well be doing right now. And I hope it tastes good. I hope it looks good on your fingers and smells like roses in your smoke filled abode. Because it does none of those things for me. I know you've heard it all before, I have too. But you don't really know what it's like to be anything but a smoker. You don't know how incredibly intrusive the lilting trails of malodorous filth affect anyone else because it's a constant companion for you. It's already affected your senses in ways that you don't even remember anymore. And why should anyone think about something that is slowly killing them? It certainly wouldn't be uplifting dinner table conversation for me, either. Unless, of course, I were discussing (through a hole in my throat) the billions of dollars my lawyers were hoping to win in my suit against the very people I willingly purchased cigarettes from. THAT we can talk about!

Please understand that I don't wish anyone any ill outcomes. If, however, it were me making the rules, you'd have the opportunity to quit (at gunpoint) and any subsequent transgressions against self and nature would be met with...oh, how to put this delicately...a short burst of lead to your head! In fact, all the lost jobs in the tobacco industry might be offset by the hiring of a nationwide branch of Smoke Police, the SEA or maybe the Butt Crushers has a sweeter ring. And those that do quit can be forced to spend one month scouring the country for every last butt and burned out match on the streets and highways. Of course there will be renegade cadres of smokers who retreat to the hills to continue their wretched habit, but once they start huge fires and burn themselves out of their own homes, they can be more easily tracked and...well, dispatched.

Sound loony? Well, I've always imagined that the air I breath was, if not a right, then at least a very sacred element. And when I don't have that, I get a bit feisty. In fact, I get downright militant!

too busy
9.19.01
I hadn't planned for this rant tonight but I've just cracked a beer and, in spite of what my body is saying, I'm going to remain that 8 year old kid who loved late Friday night monster movies so much that I'd struggle through the sleepiness (vainly, most times) and wake up the next morning knowing at least that I had been there as the Wolfman finally came out into the light, even if I'd missed him once again.

Which brings me directly to my point. We knew this latest Wolfman would come into our light sooner rather than later. Christ, we've been seeing it with our own eyes and hearing it told to us directly, in no uncertain terms: our number was coming up. We were on deck for a good one, a wake up call, a slap in the face. You can't be made more aware of some crazy millionaire Arab's wrath about to unfold. But that's useless to talk about now.

I watched with a sickening, palpable disgust in my stomach as my kid played with his cars in front of a picture of the most successful megalopolis on Earth reeling from a vicious stab wound. And I, like anyone else watching, was mad. But I was mad at you. I was mad at Americans. I was pissed at ourselves because we all knew damn well it was coming and soon. One of the guys who survived the Pentagon attack had gone through a report about surviving an airplane attack on that building that very day. But we were too busy. We were too busy wanting to be called African-Americans, and Asian-Americans and Mexican-Americans and on and on ad nauseum instead of just Americans. We were thinking about our hockey teams and football teams, and the video games to buy and the Pumpkin Ale that should be coming out soon, our hair, and new shoes and what to have at the BBQ this weekend. Oh, and don't forget to buy some lottery tickets so we can imagine having so much cash that we can fund a terrorist network if we want.

But we don't want to do that. We just want to be nice and safe and comfy. Well, that's what pisses me off. We don't want to see guns in our airports and we don't want any noses broken when we arrest scofflaws. We don't want have to leave our fingernail files at home and wait outside while brave dogs and braver men go through our buildings looking for explosives. We didn't want any of this and now it's foisted upon us and I'll tell you something else for free: we'd better learn to live with it. Because we made subconscious decisions to wait until we were absolutely forced to take these measures as opposed to taking them on our own terms, they look very different now. We see a guard with an automatic weapon now and our thoughts are going straight to the bastard zealots that created this mess. Just like they'd hoped.

We didn't listen to the message sent to us over and over throughout the `90's. That's why I'm mad at you. And myself. And all of us for not believing what was being said to us. In actions and words. We can't be silly Americans anymore, people. And as my son played with his cars and our world changed forever, I felt a little better because I knew we wouldn't be silly anymore.

in my perfect world
11.21.01
I understand that what I last wrote could be taken with some offense by someone who serves proudly in the military, the police force, or even as a security guard. I get that it's pretty easy to sit here and rag on America for not ever having our guard up. But consider that, in my perfect world:

It's very difficult for foreigners to get in to the United States to pursue their personal goals...like it is in most other countries.

And when you do get in and create havoc, you don't get deported, you get beheaded...as they might in some other countries.

There are armed guards anywhere there is something or someone of vital importance...like most other countries.

You'll suffer mightily if you decide that you'd like to act in a treacherous and destructive way...as you would in most other countries.

You wouldn't live a life of relative comfort in prison if you're found guilty of the above acts...as you won't in most other countries.

You run the risk of being shot to death immediately if you're caught committing awful crimes against us...as you might in other countries.

And nobody gives a rat's ass about your fucking civil rights when you're a murderer...as they shouldn't in other countries.

So, essentially what I'm trying to say is that I am still pissed that we are slow to recognize that, as a part of this diverse world of ours, our diversity has doomed us to a perpetual state of inaction. Even now, I hear grumbling about the theory that military tribunals for these fine, upstanding and religious martyrs-to-be will infringe upon their rights. And I still don't understand the idea that an illegal immigrant, or anyone other than a citizen, is entitled to the same rights as we are. But then, there are people here in LA who feel it's their "right" to ride a bus. And more recently, that it's a right to make a certain wage. Please...

The kind gentleman who took me to task (my apologies for not being able to post it here) for being too hard on those of us who are a bit "soft" has a point. But I maintain that we spend too much time debating "rights" in situations that are too fluid and, forgive the unfunny pun, explosive. While the planet changes hourly, for better and worse, we expect to adhere to thoughts and passages that were meant for times of far less volatility and danger. All I'm saying is that if we don't rise to the occasion, and we slowly seem to be, we'll pay much more for our "rights" than we can afford.

a settling of dust
2.3.02
I'm in an entirely new world now. It's a fun and wholly rewarding place and I have truly never been as happy to be alive as I now am. Fatherhood has allowed for an amazing transformation, the kind of transformation religion seems to make, if only temporarily, in some people. I haven't changed my viewpoint on anything, but I have definitely formed new views on things I hadn't thought or cared about before, and solidified them on others. It's been a settling of the dust, I suppose.

I happen to think I do well as a father and I know a few people who agree, at least to my face. So when I see or hear of instances of negligence or worse, I get pretty mad. I figure if I can make a decent Dad, it shouldn't be that hard for anyone else. And when I see examples of less than thoughtful parenting, it just makes me very sad. That's precisely what brings me to an incident that, while innocent enough on the surface, makes me wonder what is going on out there in the rough and turbulent world we call ours.

I was holding my son in my arms as I waited in a checkout line, chatting with my wife. Outside of the fact that even these are great bonding moments for my son and I, and outside of the resultant kisses on my boy's sleepy cheek, we were an ordinary family patiently waiting for our turn to go home. In the line to our left I'd noticed a small boy with a toy he was holding and what must have been his Mom and her female friend, and I'm sure I smiled at him at some point as we all waited. I'd turned back to the conversation with my wife and suddenly, this small boy rushed around as if to confront my son and me, staring up at us for a moment. We all smiled pleasantly enough but he quickly used his toy to deliver a weak blow to my stomach. He then turned, and just as quickly retreated back to his place in line, four feet away from us! The "mother" figure quietly uttered his name in a tone like she'd heard a funny but dirty joke, looked at her friend as if to say "What can I do?", and he settled into his prior position, glaring at us in a hurt and unrepentant way, like a dog that's been scolded for barking at an old family friend!

Maybe you would've come up with a sensible response to such a thing but I found myself as close to speechless as I get. I stared the kid down and eventually said "What's up, dude?", pretty much what I'd say to any adult who'd trespassed against us. I don't know how an 8 year old might interpret that question but he just glowered like he'd been punished enough in life, and I quickly drew the conclusion that he probably had.

It wasn't till I was on the way home that I came up with something that might have made sense as a reaction. I could have walked over and taken the toy, saying something like "I get it, you were trying to give it to me! Cool, but you can be much nicer about it next time!". I might also have been arrested and then sued by the parents or guardians for imposing myself on this clearly distressed kid and scarring him for life, as if he isn't by now. Ultimately, I'm not surprised by the woman's non-reaction and I'm not surprised that the kid was moved to violence by the sight of a father and son spending time together. This is what makes me sad.

I've thought long and hard about my reaction should my son do something like that, and I can tell you that my wife and I agree that it would be harsh, swift and decisive. And by that I don't mean violent. He hasn't even received a pat on the pants yet and I hope it's because he hasn't earned it. But I don't think he's going to be doing those sorts of things, and I'll leave it at that rather than go on about how well he seems to get along with others. I just worry about the hordes of children out there that are even worse than this innocent and hurting little boy and I don't mind telling you that I'm not looking forward to meeting them, at all!

the mental high chair
2.24.02
I'd thought about tonight's topic once or twice before and dismissed it as a petty, uninspiring gripe unique to me and of interest only to a few old school, small town minds who are on the very brink of extinction and going out with whimpers, not the screams you'd expect of those who would fight for their very existence. Well, here is a scream for you!

I've had it! I've bent until I bowed before the storm of insensitivity and pure contempt that I receive as a customer in most, yes most, of today's markets and other establishments and I shall bend no more. I will now stand straight and demand what it is I deserve and want. I will stand for what is, in fact, mine!

You know the waitress who won't come back with the 75 cents change, don't you? You wonder "Why is she stealing her tip when I'd just replace the change with something more? Hmmm..." you might say. If you're like me, you would even get her and explain it, thinking she really needs the mental high chair.

How about the age old courtesy of thanking the customer for bringing her business to no place in particular? It's gone, folks. I end up thanking THEM way more, as it turns out, just because it's so ingrained in my psyche. But not most people below the age of 40. I'm not saying it's generational, but I could make a very strong case for it. I think in the society we now live in, the person behind the counter selling you beer, unless he actually owns the store, feels not that you deserve some thanks for giving him a job, but he is in fact doing you a huge favor. You got your stuff right? If you aren't happy about getting thanked, go somewhere else, would you!!! It's impossible to say just what drives these people, but I know it isn't courtesy. And I suppose for the most part, it begins at the top. Courtesy is just going out of town on a jet plane and landing in some small town somewhere where they don't even need it. It's already there in abundance.

But I'm over that. I feel bad thanking someone who I'm giving business to without so much as a smile, but I will survive. I'm not so sure about the lady down at my local milk drive-thru though. She could be in danger of getting a Hostess cupcake rack thrown into her shop, and as close to her as I can get it too. I was taken aback the other day when I went to get some Krispy Kreme donuts, handed the guy my six bucks, and watched him move on to another order. "How much are they?" I asked. "$5.99 sir" came the reply. My confused but composed face betrayed me. "Oh, we're out of pennies". In spite of the very strong urge to sit there until he was forced to scrounge in his pockets or go to the bank, I sped away, feeling like I might go round the drive-thru once more just to create some havoc. I didn't. I went home and wondered why that's always bugged me so much.

Tonight, as I pulled into the AltaDena milk drive-thru and told the apathetic clerk what I wanted, pennies were the last thing on my mind. I was happy, hanging with Wy and getting some cow juice. It was all good. She comes back with my jugs, I give her the six bucks, she says thanks and walks away. As she began to engage the next customer I tried to reengage her. The customer actually directed her attention back to me as I asked her how much the milk was. "$5.99" came the reply. "Well, I want my penny then!!!" said I, and as she handed it to me, I proceeded to explain to her, with no room for misunderstanding, what a crummy thing to do that is. Needless to say, she just stared at me like I had taken a crap in the Ganges and I drove off just as pissed as I would have been without the damn penny.

Do I really care about my penny change? No. I pick them up when I see them but it has more to do with my issues with something of any value wasting than any future scheme to get rich from collecting them. It's pure and simple principal here. When I've borrowed things, I've given them back just as they were (with a few exceptions), and when it's money, just as much. Including change. I don't round up or down, I give them what they're owed. I know it's strange to some people, including one person I knew who would always keep the change when he went to get drinks. It's a very different world we live in now and I don't like it.

the night does it to me
9.11.02
It's been quite some time since I've written anything here and I think it's because I've been pretty content lately. No, of course that's not it...I've been offline!!! Seriously, things are pretty damn good for most of us when you consider what could be going on, what could be worse in our lives. Mine is no exception. In fact, the only thing I can complain about right now is the fact that the night has always, and continues to, instill me with an energy, a drive, a third wind of sorts. And sometimes it's just plain unwanted.

Like now. I would love to go to sleep because I haven't had much of it and I know tomorrow will see my 42-going on 28-year old ass lagging bigtime when the coffee wears off for the first time. I was tired enough today and wanted to hit it early and sure enough, here I am! Of course, I'm enthused about getting back at this column and updating and being half in touch with the world again, but this has been my time for getting things done since I can remember. In high school, I was up all night playing, reading or working on something. I'm sure a lot of people are like that but I wish I could control it a little more now. No, I don't. I like staying up when I have no business doing it. I like doing lots of things that I have no business doing. And I hope it stays that way. See you tomorrow night. Late!

please roll your car
12.22.02
I would like to love people. In fact, I would love to be one of those blessed souls who just can't get enough of humans and the great and splendid things they do. But I'm not. I think far too many of us are abject cretins. I tend to spend my time with people who aren't, but that's my choice and another discussion entirely. Let's take an example we can all relate to: that special person in the far left lane who cruises at 5 mph over/under the speed limit and who steadfastly refuses to keep to the right regardless of the circumstances. The basic tenet, courtesy and even law, if I'm not mistaken, is that slower traffic must keep to the right. There are many a sign prominently displayed on every freeway I've ever seen, so I do believe that one could, and should, be cited for impeding traffic. But let's forget that it's a law. Let's concentrate on some the fundamentally flawed logic these mindless, black hearted, self-absorbed and loathsome creatures must use to justify their narcissistic plot to control others:

The left lane is damaged from truckers and the heavy traffic it normally receives so it's really bumpy and I won't drive it.
I understand, but you need to pull to the right lane when you see someone coming up behind you and, if you must, retake the lane afterward. Is it that hard on you? No, you just believe you're entitled to that lane and any problems you cause are no skin off your pimply, fat ass. Right? Wrong!!!

You shouldn't be going faster than the speed limit anyway.
I see, and you're the cop who'll take me down, eh? I get it, I'm going to die in a fiery crash and take innocent people with me but for you, civilian peace officer of the year! Please!! Actually, I'm driving quickly and safely and the only crashes that will occur are the ones caused by you as I, and hundreds like me, have to swerve into the right lane to avoid your pompous ass, you dimmest of bulbs, you!

It's my road too, and I'll do what I want!
Oh, I see. Well, in that case, if it's MY road too, and I just happen to choose to go north in the southbound lane, which way can I expect you to turn as I approach you head on at 95 mph? Into a huge tree, I hope!

I'll control the tempo of the freeway. It feeds my pathetic and paltry ego!
Yeah, you and the people that walk so painfully slowly through crosswalks when our light is green, forcing us to bitterly quell the desire to drag you under our car to the next light, where we pull into the automated car wash and have you hosed off the undercarriage and straight down a sewer drain. All to no one's dismay!

And on and on it goes, all of it a mile high pile of shimmering dog dung. These people are slugs at best and rude, arrogant cowards who cause traffic mishaps and trudge on, having seen said mishap in their rearview at worst. And every time I approach one of these imbeciles I imagine them pulling over and letting me, and the long line behind me, pass. Does it happen? Yes, occasionally. More often, the offender just sits there, on the cell or just brazenly staring at you, daring you to question their behavior.

All I can do is wish, hope and pray to any God that will listen, that, one day, one beautiful, ever-glorious day, they roll their vehicle in a fiery, one car, single fatality accident. The world will be all the richer on their leaving it!

am I hearing you right?
3.1.03
I'm not going to belabor what any sane person should already know about Hollywood and the people that make that town famous. However, it defies my senses sometimes to hear what these actors and, in some cases, musicians are saying about the possible war we face. It further boggles the mind to imagine that they truly believe in what they say. I'm not going to go into the point by point reactions to what I've heard from them, but I will remind them that we have been attacked.

They (and we know who they are) don't like us!! They don't care if you are waving a placard suggesting that your own country wants to kill civilians and murder Arab babies. They won't spare you when they detonate a bomb at your studio. They won't remember that you chained yourself to a pole in Baghdad to act as a human shield or gave the Iraqi government some propaganda material. They'll be extremely pleased that they killed another American (using the term loosely) and will move on to plot the deaths of more.

You should understand it is not our choosing that terrorists hide among the innocent and behind civilian masks. It is not our choice to go to war. And for oil? Please, if we needed oil so badly we would have taken it long ago. We're not that kind of society. We obey the rules, just as we obeyed the U.N. mandate and backed away from killing Saddam in the first go around. If you think this is political, go to New York and speak with the widows of the Twin Towers and their families. Ask the people at the Pentagon what happened. Ask the still grieving families, the fatherless children of the planes that were hijacked what it's like to have terror visited upon you if you want to think about innocents being hurt.

I'm not begrudging their right to disagree and dissent. I'm suggesting that they are simply and conveniently forgetting the point. And why? Fear. It's nothing more than that. The terrorists accomplished that quite effectively. Every time I hear some rubbish spewing forth, like what I heard from one of my formerly favorite singers, I hear pure, unadulterated fear. And I don't blame them. The difference is in doing something about it. And we will.

Damn, I guess we're doomed!!
4.18.03
Here we are a few weeks later and I've heard more drivel about this war than I could stomach in the next 10 years, beginning with that darling little snippet from some idiot named Jeanine Garafull-o-shit. I've had a problem with her since I heard a first hand account of how annoying she is in a casual bar setting, combined with a "performance" I once saw on HBO. Indulge me while I compare her to a mechanic who can't fix cars. You'd think he would look for alternate career choices, right? But I digress...

Her very public pronouncement that "we are doomed" if we go to war in Iraq was just the decorative flourish on the cake of dissent against our war on terror. And that cake is tasting pretty sweet for those of us who recognize that the future is here and we will have to deal with it daily for the duration of the terrorist's short lives. Unfortunately, it's tasting like fresh, slightly runny, litter sprinkled cat poop for those pitiful "patriots" who haven't had enough reasoned logic to defend their positions at any time during this stressful period, especially now! Hey Jeanine: I was afraid of biological weapons too! I was afraid we'd suffer horrendous losses too! Does that mean we close our eyes and pray they won't come and spoil our beach party? To you, it does. To me, it means we take it to those animals and send the message that, if the good times are over for us, they sure as hell are over for you! We will hunt you down like the cockroaches you are and, before we douse you with Raid, we'll pull your legs off and roll you up in nice, sticky tape and... Sorry, two minutes for over-sharing.

And I don't have any problems with you anti-war losers (except when you hinder emergency services, carry vulgar and sophomoric signs, act like petulant children...ok, I do have a problem with you!!!!) because I know you really just can't get over Bush being President, like a kid that can't forget losing a game of Monopoly. You just carry around a ton of bitterness and let it out at the first opportunity. That's fine. Just try to imagine Gore getting us out of this one, will you? My guess is he'd be trying to sue the terrorists right now.

So, Jeanine and pals, a high price has been paid for this important message to the world and we all benefit from it, even, as usual, you punks. If you don't want to face the abundant facts that justify every second of this and future operations, and you don't want to take your silly, baseless cliches and go home either, at least recognize that we handled this roach nest with aplomb and there are a few more to eradicate. It's going to happen no matter how much you bring up Hitler and generally sound like idiots. And why? To save your ever-growing, ever-burgeoning, free and fat American asses. And, if I can speak for our fearless and professional troops, you're welcome!