Lenten Season

It all started on Ash Wednesday morning. I did one of my usual polls on Facebook that morning. It was an open poll which is rare, since I usually do multiple choices. I usually do these little polls as my way of saying "hi" to my Facebook friends as well as doing an across the board reality check; myself mainly included. I have a curious mind and sometimes I like to see the similarities of what is on other peoples' minds and see if it's compatible with my own thoughts. Since it was Ash Wednesday, I asked my friends (whether they are Catechists or not) what would they give up for Lent. I had several answers, one answered "superstitions" which kinda stood out with the usual answers whether it had something to do with food and others. I really had no idea what I was going to give up for Lent this year-- and being known as "Mr. Catholic" in my rednecky neighborhood in North Carolina, I had to make a good answer. I don't know if I had an answer to my own question or I didn't even answer to it other than "I won't eat meat on Friday" or something close. In a way, I was looking for an answer for the next forty days and forty nights until Easter Sunday. Yet, the answer to my question came to me that Ash Wednesday night...when I was least expecting it!

I am sure most of you read about my car wreck in which I lost the true love of my life, a 1997 Toyota Corolla which took me to my job and back without incident. When I lost the car, I was stuck most of the time either waiting for one thing or the other. The cycle started when I waited for a rental that the other guy's insurance company furnished me with for the next week and a half. A short time later, I waited for my claim check which would cover the cost for a replacement car. Since I had limited time, I can only find what I can get. Even though I now had money to cover anything that came my way, it didn't last for long about as long as the short time I had to find a car. To start off with, the pickings were slim--practically anorexic! In all the searches in the scant four days and a decent amount of settlement money in the bank (and creditors LOVE it when you have money in the bank, and strangely enough, the mysteriously KNOW you have money in the bank!), I came up with a 1984 Toyota Corolla. For a 30 year old car, it looked good AND it had better gas mileage with a Lincoln Town Car which was the other car I could find that was on sale. There was a Buick in the mix, but I found out that the Buick was two years older and I later discovered that the miles were rolled back! So I ended up buying the 28 year old car trusting it in "good faith" with the guy who sold me the car. Good faith can only go so far, especially when it stalls every few miles.

Make a long story shorter, which is hard, the gas tank needed to be taken out and cleaned out. Enter the theme song of this story which is Tom Petty's "The Waiting (Is The Hardest Part)". And in the first chords of Mike Campbell's opening guitar riff with Benmont Tench's organ wafting from the background, the waiting began before Tom's howling vocals and his 12 string guitar scratches. My waiting has no musical flourishes, after 6 mechanics and nearly two grand pissed away from buying the car and the repairs involved, the waiting was the easiest part it was all the other crap I had to endure like missing two weeks of work and the endless bantering of my roommate and co-workers. It wasn't that it was a lemon, it was someone's mistake-- somebody decided to spray liner in the gas tank and forgot to clean the tank out, hence the fuel line was all clogged up. When the car was finally "fixed", little did I know was that a new problem arose. I was told to fill up the car "easy"-- this was my introduction to 'Gas Tank 101', this when I learned immediately about gas tanks and other parts of the car. For example; did you know that the part of the tank that you fill the gas in is called the "filler spout" and there is a rubber hose that runs from the "filler spout" and the gas tank itself? Well, I was introduced to this information when a tsunami of GAS came out of the side of the car when I was trying to fill it up! I was "easy" but little I knew about this hose (I always thought it was one solid piece) and little the mechanics knew about the tear in this hose. And when I went to auto parts stores; I started with the one that rhymes with "Schmadvance Auto Parts", they looked at me I had a horn growing out of my head. I had a fellow customer at "Schmadvance" telling me to sue the guy who fixed the car, and the guy who sold me the car...it came to the point that I was going to sue the guy at "Scmadvance" who was telling me to sue everybody else for making the situation even more shittier than it is. Before you can say "Judge Judy" however, another auto parts store (rhymes with Schmo'Reilly" for possible future reference) said that they had I was looking for but now I have to wait until this coming Tuesday to have this part put in since the mechanic is taking of until then from his Easter break. Again, I live in the rednecky part of the country since this is the "Bible Belt" and the mechanic is about 30 miles away from me which is still pretty much considered "nearby" where I live. Hopefully, like the closing bass line from Ron Blair and Tom Petty's last "whoa-whoa-whoa" of  the "...Waiting..." song, hopefully "... the hardest part..." will be over very soon and hopefully "...everyday..." I'll have "...one more start" to a halfway decent future after the 40 plus days of Hell I had to endure!

And now this story ends today on Easter Sunday, the end of Lenten Season; the forty day and night period that Catechist Christians like us Catholics, as well as Episcopalians, Lutherans, and other similar religions observe. Part of Lenten Season is to reflect on what you gave up for "pennance" or the one thing that we had to give up for Lent. "Pennance" is pretty much a kind word for "punishment" which us Catholics kinda do to ourselves anyways, but it's a little more than that. Now before some of you out there think I'm chasing "the Flying Spaghetti Monster", which is kinda funny because my religion is based in Rome, it's not about religion for me. I am a member of the community since my church is part of it and I am more of a "community member" than a "church member". It's not about "Papal" but "people", and it's more about what I can put on my resume than what I read in the Bible (which is both equal to me to aid my survival in this modern day life). In this scheme of how I see things as a Catholic and a human being, I want to know is what I learned from Lent.

I was talking to a good friend of mine after Easter Mass this morning about the "car situation" he is gracious and kind enough to lend me his vehicle for the past few weeks to make up some lost time and lost money. I am eternally grateful to him and another friend who recommended me to the 6th mechanic who finally fixed my car "right" and will hopefully complete the job this Tuesday once I get the hose from "Schmo'Reilly's Auto Parts". Me and my friend (who knows my situation well) segued into Lent and I asked my friend if there was something that I can learn from my "instant pennance". He paused for one second and then said..."It's NOT you, it's THEM!". Really, it's not what I learned but what OTHER people SHOULD learn! The ones who should pay for the sins are the previous 5 mechanics, the guy who sold me the car, the know-it-all lawsuit happy customer at "Schmadvance", and my nosy roommate (and nosier co-workers).It's like that line that I gave to my ex-girlfriend "It's not YOU it's ME!", except in this situation I didn't stalk myself when I was taking a bath or bringing in a suitcase and saying over and over again "it's only my laundry!" (my ex was nuts).  But my friend is right, I shouldn't blame myself for what happened nor should I learn from my mistakes even though it was never my mistake to start off with. It's human nature to blame yourself in most situations, we are all privvy to it. But, I never asked to be rearended, I never asked myself to play "buy a $2000 car in four days", I never really ask for anything-- I always tried to do it on my own. Maybe God is trying to tell me to "screw everybody else's opinions" and for once I should try to stop giving a crap to other people's lip service! It's not me to pay the pennance simply because I am not the "sinner" in this situation! I should be grateful for the true friends who have my back and understand and hope karma gets even to those who rather talk about "being" a friend! Until then, I am going to wait for that one last part-- a rubber hose that will cost $25. After that, I will not wait for other people's feedback and if I want results, I'll make my own results! The one thing I learned from Lent I should not be "the patient one" anyone; perhaps it's time for some of the people I deal with should learn a little patience for once! I would like to end this blog with a better closing hook, but Tom Petty always has the best ones in his songs!

Boyz N' The Hood(y)/ "Respect Mah Authoritah"!

 (Side 1: Boyz N' The Hoody)

What happened to Trayvon Martin is a tragedy. George Zimmerman should be punished for what he did. People should not be persecuted for what they wear. I can stop right there, but the news is not going to stop at least the press is going to linger about this for a long while. And everybody who is everybody in the news and in the celebrity spotlight is getting into it! Everybody's wearing a hoody, I've seen Jane Velez-Mitchell (aka "I'm a lawyer!") walking around wearing her hoody and carrying a bag of Skittles and "ice tea". And there are photos of Lebron James wearing his hoody and carrying a bag of Skittles and his bottle of "ice tea". Okay, first of all it's "ICED TEA", people! If it was "ice tea", the kid would have been holding a block of brown ice! I know I was an English major in college, but C'MON PEOPLE! Make your point but for the love for the friggin' English language don't destroy your point of view with a grammatical error that even a 6th grader knows it's a grammatical error! And technically, being in North Carolina might help here in this case, it's really "COLD tea"!

"Ice tea" aside, EVERYBODY is getting into the act with what happened to Trayvon. Dr. Drew did an entire show about Trayvon Martin AND for the first time in history, he did not go into his drug speech! Al Sharpton is now "popular" again and of course he plays the race card...and yeah, race had something to do with it-- but I hate to say race is not the only isssue. Of course, the hoody is also part of the problem-- since people associate the jacket with "gangsta culture" and paranoid white morons like George Zimmerman used the hoody as an excuse for his actions. People in general judge others in what they wear. There is a picture of Trayvon Martin floating around wearing a Hollister shirt, doesn't that make him a douchebag since douchebags supposedly wear Hollister and Abercrombie shirts? Judging goes beyond race, but don't tell some of these yahoos like Al Sharpton and Jane Velez Mitchell since they're hogging the spotlight by...that's right...JUDGING! Then again, George Zimmerman is also part of the rabble since he judged Trayvon Martin for "looking suspicious", But who am I to judge?

What I see is that even though this would never happen if Trayvon Martin was white, but aren't we jumping the gun? Yes, celebrities and those are in the public eye are taking part of this and wearing a hoody. But the media and general press are only delving into the obvious. Trayvon was Black, Zimmerman was raised white (his mother is a South American Indian); I get that. But I truly believe that what the problem is is that you had someone who should've have never got the authority to be in that field of work. I actually believe that those who do security should be selected more carefully if one is to carry out "the law in their own hands". And maybe we should not only dissect George Zimmerman but the current "Stand Your Ground" policy in Florida and similar laws in other states.

(Side 2: "Respect Mah Authoritah")


Nobody has put this in the spotlight other than the hoody, the bag of Skittles, and the bottle of "ice tea"; but no one touched the fact that Zimmerman is a "rent-a-cop". Now for those who don't know what a "rent-a-cop" is, these are usually the "Auxilirary Police Officers", "Neighborhood Watchmen", and Mall Security Guards (or "Mall Forest Rangers" as I call them). Zimmerman is a "Neighborhood Watchman" in the gated community that he lived in at surburban Florida. Zimmerman has been known by the press as "a wannabe cop". Even though it might sound hypocrital, but I generally judge some (not all) mall security guards and "auxilary police officers" as "wannabe cops" or "rent-a-cops". I had run ins with some of these people; and really, haven't we all?

 Last year, during a job, I was waiting for a client whom I was supposed to meet outside the nearby mall. I waited outside my car and a "Mall Forest Ranger" came up to me twice asking me a bunch of questions: "What are you doing out here?" "Are you and your friend gonna make a tour outside the mall?" Ranger Rick was circling the mall in his white SUV with the blue letters and the red lights on top of the vehicle. I went inside the mall and ended up playing "Marco Polo" with my cell phone with my client and his LME for 20 minutes rather than waiting outside thanks to "Ranger Rick"! I could've called this clown in to Mall Security but since I'll be dealing with more wannabe cops who dress like freaking forest rangers, I let it slide and make my rendezvous points less "suspicious". I understand he was doing his job (mainly for minimum wage) but so was I (for not much higher than minimum wage)!

I also remember in the small village I grew up in, there was an "Auxillary Police Officer" who guarded the town. The "Auxillary Police Officer" who I will call "Sam" was a guy who wore Police issue mirrored sunglasses and had a standard police issue mustache. He looked an awful alike the construction worker from The Village People (and I am TRULY not kidding about that)! Now I never really had an issue with "Sam", however the people I know had run ins with this guy and the description I recall from what some people said is pretty George Zimmerman-esque when I think about it! Some got along with "Sam" and some didn't. "Sam" had a few nicknames like "Tackleberry" from Police Academy and "Barney Fife" to describe his mannerisms. Again, I never had a run-in with "Sam" but even though it was the 80's and the Village People get-up was pretty common for that time, how well do I know about the people that are supposedly watching out in the community that I live in?

My take is this: there should be a major overhaul to companies and communities who handle personal security. These companies who do mall security and neighborhood/community watches need to skim the crud off the workforce and do away with the wannabes--those who think that watching "Dirty Harry" or "Paul Blart" is a prerequisite for simple security. I mean, all you're really doing is that if you see something wrong, REALLY wrong, you call the REAL police! If the REAL police or 911 says "do not pursue him, we will handle it", you do what THEY say because you are NOT a "real cop"! I truly think that these companies that handle security should be very prudent in who they hire! Haven't we learned from Black Water and Hallyburton in which the "wannabe cops" were in that case "wannabe soldiers"? I know that Federal and State funds are dried up but could there be a funded program from either the Federal or State government and fund training programs--in which a fee is paid by the job applicant or the company/town council they're about to work for--that can properly train these people to prevent another "Ranger Rick", "Sam", and George Zimmerman! I also believe that we need to take laws like Florida's "Stand Your Ground" act and be reviewed so the lawmakers can actually see where the actual line is within the sand of politics.

We all want to be safe, and we all want to have that protection whether we are out in the community like a mall or living in a community; gated or non-gated. But if my taxes are involved or the rent I pay is responsible for funding something that can benefit my security and well being, what am I really paying for? Really, what sacrifices are to be made for our safety and well being? A young outstanding Black teenager who was the star of his football team and was bound to go places in life is taken away so tragically short! Is Trayvon Martin the sacrificial lamb for what's bound to happen next? I hope George Zimmerman gets what's coming to him-- no doubt! But before we all wear hoodies and sing "We Shall Overcome" as we shake the bag of Skittles to keep in tune, we need to see the big picture. Race is part of the issue, I agree, but in reality this is an action of a random moron who hid his prejudice behind a plastic badge. The moral of the story is this...we should not give assholes like George Zimmerman any authority! In fact, if you can't understand or can't even spell the word "authority", don't even bother to undertake any responsiblity!

The Life And Times Of An Aging Hipster!

Let me start off with a direct quote from The Urban Dictionary: hipster Someone whose fear of being labeled a conformist and obsession with being different closely parallels the fear of being labeled different and obsession with being mainstream...the person whom the hipster so vehemently despises. A hipster will read this, realize it's true, and love it because it's ironic. taglines: dumb annoying shut up stuff (source; Urban Dictionary)

I've been this way for years. Maybe it's a result from my Asperger's, my penchant for useless information started as a kid. I was at a point that I was emotional about what I seen or believe.  I was different in a crowd, and I was the first one to point out a cultural trend. I know that the term "hipster" has been around for the past 70 years. I, however, think that I was "THE FIRST" hipster even back in grade school. For example, I dressed in layers since I was an early teenager. I mean I was raised by a single parent mom, so I didn't have the amenities of a typical teenager. Yet what I lacked in substance I made up in "style".  My "style" was a bit gaudy and tacky like wearing Sears Toughskins until I was in  high school! But in the 80's gaudy and tacky was the in thing, and even though my gaudiness and tackiness was not as gaudy and tacky as the in crowd. But I still let my  freak flag fly...made by Sears! Even my political views started out in my early years. When I was thirteen, in the Summer of 1980, I went to Camp NYABIC, a summer day camp that was mainly for children with learning disablities and other cognitive disorders. I guess I was the first hipster and Aspie to enter camp-- which I'm sure annoyed the counselors and fellow campers! But anyway, it was the Summer of 1980 which was an election year of course. I was asking the counselors who would they vote for either Reagan, Carter, or even the Independent John Anderson. The counselors were floored that I would ask that sort of question. Some would then turn the tables and ask me who I would vote for  even though I obviously could not vote. I would say that I would vote for Jimmy Carter (gimme a break, again I was 13 and I knew my opinion didn't mean a hill of beans). The reason why I would vote for Carter  was I was fearing "the nuclear war" and how "nukes" would destroy the world. I even protested nuclear energy and I was doing stuff for the environment. Again, I was on the brink of puberty and here I was at what was known as "the retard camp" spouting politics! The counselors liked me since these were mainly college students with summer jobs, meanwhile the kids have a love/ hate relationship with me. Here I am talking big, and also I was not into the same music the other campers were into. The campers were into KISS or light puffy stuff like Olivia Newton John. I was listening to Pink Floyd and The Who  with the counselors,because I knew where the "future" was. When I went back to camp two years later, I was bashing Reagan and I discovered MTV... some of the campers got wise and actually followed my trend (yet most I admit did like Reagan and did not want to do the Reagan bashing thing). But here I am, in my early teens, and I feel like I was onto something. This carried on into high school in which I got transferred to a high school overrun by Preps.  Preps were the Reaganite/ Izod wearing status quo that pretty much put a stranglehold across the country. I started to layer my Sears ensemble and did my "hippie idealist" thing. The Preps and  and I never got along. I did my thing, often alone, and they had their little "Men Without Hats" dance parties and worship the almighty Reagan God as they drank the  blood of newly slain welfare babies (at least that's what I thought as an angry teenager). But being the angry teenager sparked off my Hipsterdom. All the "cool" kids listened to "Born In The USA" era Springsteen or Madonna or the MTV "flavor of the month". Me, I discovered REM, The Replacements, and the jangly alternative stuff that was speaking about my differences and problems. One band stuck out with one song for me... and that was DEVO's "Through Being Cool". Screw being "normal", and the ones that were invited to the party can go fuck themselves and they drown by chugging the blood at the altar of the Reagan God! I started my own party, however more times than often, I was the only one-- at least that's what I thought. There were very few of those who were in the same boat that I was in.  I always felt that my identity as someone who was countercultural and antiestablishment had no place in the world. I was alone, or at least that's how I felt. Then enter three events; the beginning of grunge music, 9/11, and the Great Recession. When Kurt opened with "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Eddie followed with "Alive", my generation had a voice. I was wearing flannel long before the grunge craze. I was ironic wayy before Alanis Morrissette even thought about the song (and btw; the song's not really ironic, don't ya think?). But the 90's paved the way for people like me to come out of the woodwork!  We became the trendsetters for once. We, the outcasts, became the judge of what was cool! We were the first to call out everything. We were the first to find things that was cool like Crocs (even though I don't wear them) and Pabst Blue Ribbon (even though I don't drink it often, too watery and tinny; don't like drinking out of cans). I do wear khakis and skinny jeans-- I tend to wear more earth colors. I can quote George Carlin who I think was the first modern era hipster. I'm into wine, even tho I like a good Michelob Light or Genny Cream Ale when I have the opportunity. I write as you can see. I did poetry slams in the 90's. And I was one of the first that said that the Twilight series is not cool. I also said that Lord Of The Rings was going to be the Star Wars of the time. We were the first to listen to Radiohead. The ball is in OUR court now, and it feels good! Yet, we're still on the outside looking in. We are still the butt of jokes. The Reagan God worshipers are now the Fratters and Right Wingers who tease us often. We are betrayed sometimes negatively on You Tube videos and various shows on TV. We're still bums... even lowlives...but we're still here! I am now at an age that is not considered "cool". I'll be 45 this June and there are quite a few who are older than me. Yet, your main group of Hipsters nowadays are in their late 20's to early 30's. So I am now out of the loop again of something that I believe I help started. But it's not a total loss, we're still around and we can pass the torch to our younger brethren or in this case the torch that we pass is often a can of PBR or a glass of Merlot!

In Loving Memory of Bluey

I lost a dear family member last night, at least she was like a member of the family. She was like a friend, a dear friend, to me. I remember her smile, at least it looked like a smile. And to be honest, I don't know if it was a "she". I mean, I dunno what a "she" would have-- it didn't have an Adam's apple then again it did not have breasts and I seen others like "her" and they had more curves. Then again, a four door sedan would count as a "she" would it?

But that's who Bluey was, a midnight blue 1997 Toyota Corolla. I was actually thinking of calling it "Adam Corolla" but that would be kinda corny wouldn't it? Plus, it did not make any sarcastic remarks like Adam Corolla does but I could swear that I had a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was on the snarky side! Bluey was her own person...okay... if she was a person. And before you think I am completely nuts, that's because the most of you that know me can actually TESTIFY that I am nuts anyway, I actually named most of my cars. My first car, a 1975 Plymouth Fury, was called "The Great Pumpkin" because it was dark orange and it was friggin huge. Then I later had "Ol' Yeller" who was a 1979 Chevy Chevette, it was known as "pissy" both because it was bright yellow. Since it was a Chevy Chevette and it WAS yellow, it had another name...LEMON. Then again I had my first ...eh... y'know...I also had my first dump by a girlfriend later on with that car. That's when I had my 1979 Camaro... I drive slow as a slug I admit (that's because I DRIVE THE FRIGGIN SPEED LIMIT) but it was a cool looking car and it was a great touring car -- the highway mileage was actually good even though there is one "actual" highway in Long Island that you can do actual "highway mileage" on! I called my Camaro several names, "The Chick Magnet" (even though I did not get a girlfriend with that car), and "Betsy". I left my Camaro back with my Long Island roots to go to grad school in Buffalo. I was carless in Buffalo  until I got my first "real" job-- enter Mrs. Goldberg. Mrs. Goldberg was a 1987 Ford Tempo, who kinda reminded me of an old Jewish woman; she complained now and then, but she had a warm heart and was very reliable (minus the brisket). I had a few cars after that. When I moved to North Carolina, I had a few cars but I was barren of a car with personality but enter Mrs. Goldfarb. Mrs. Goldfarb was a 1991 Ford Tempo which meant it was Mrs. Goldberg's cousin and it had that nice friendly disposition for a Goyim driver like me. After a couple of years with Mrs. Goldfarb, I had a Buick... a 1998 Century to be exact. The Buick was a sequel to my Camaro like Mrs. Goldfarb (which I later sold for $50 to a demolition derby driver) was a sequel to Mrs. Goldberg. My Buick, whom I dubbed "The White Knight" was like a chick magnet and had all the bells and whistles. I had "The White Knight" for a couple of years, then the gas prices went up, and so did the miles-- about 230,000 to be exact. The "White Knight" had fallen deathly ill, blown head gasket. I did my goodbyes. And then came Bluey.

Bluey's story is different from the others. The fate on how I had Bluey was different. I had a weekend job in which I took care of a severly disabled boy. My Buick died when I was driving back from the boy's family. The grandfather seen my fate and had a car that his father owned. The father got sick and eventually gave it to my client's grandfather. There was attachment with my client's grandfather but knew I would take care of her. She was a big dividend in the era of high gas prices, around 30 to the gallon. Bluey was special, the situation was special, it was like a blessing from a loving family. Fate also twisted it's way in our relationship as it began. It began with the death of my Buick and later my client's great grandfather--the original owner of Bluey died. And later, my client died several months later during my shift. Bluey was about as fateful as he was faithful. She always started, never stalled. Aside for a flat tire, I was never stranded, even though I was only "stranded" for a half an hour, until the tow truck operator changed my tire. Bluey was the perfect car for me...she became the best car I had ever owned!

Fate sometimes comes back to visit, but we know that fate can be a vengeful beast! Last night, on Ash Wednesday, I was running an errand. Other than an impending storm in the background, it was an average night. I slowly came to a stop with a pickup truck ahead of me, plenty of room to stop for me. Then I heard a deathly howl from the Hell Hound itself ... okay, it was a loud screech from a Ford coming from behind me. Then came the "and then...BANG!" part of the story and the "my whole life became a flash before my eyes" part quickly followed in a millisecond, which was about the time I blacked out. The deploying airbags awoke me from my half second slumber. And then the Ford pushed me into the back of the pickup that was ahead of me. The impact was so great that when I with the pickup truck's back gate dropped and crushed Bluey's hood. Like a bad Oliver Stone movie, the silence fell and there was wisps of smoke dancing around the scene. I was a little bruised here and there, and I had an inkling that I will have that "You'll feel THAT in the morning!" experience (and BOYYYY that's true!). However, I was more concerned about the fate of Bluey which I know wasn't good from the impacts I felt! I examined the carnage-- Bluey's headlights were hanging down like a loved one's eyes closing for the last time. My car was totalled-- my life was gone-- I drive 75 miles a day working with disabled clients, and I cherish those 75 miles. I remember driving those miles with Bluey like it was holding hands with a girlfriend in a committed relationship, but I actually did not do anything (this time), but instead of a douchebag she had a crush on or a secret lesbian lover (and both ACTUALLY happened to me!) she left me for Fate. I'm sure she had time to say "I love you" before she had gone... at least she started when I pulled her off the road even though the whole rear end dragged with the trunk up ten feet in the air. But I heard the last hum of Bluey as she was pulled onto the tow truck. As the tow truck driver said my car was pretty much totalled, the asshat who drove the Ford was given a breathilyzer test, he wasn't drunk but he had a suspended license. Luckily, the asshat had insurance on the car even though it wasn't his car. So as I was leaving, the North Carolina State Trooper was apologizing for my loss, and then added with his cool Southern twang "Dang, he got you good! I wish I could I arrest him but I can't!" So at least, I was not at fault, which I was always paranoid of-- but paranoia is a pall bearer in this funeral. As I stepped into the hearse, okay tow truck, I took my beloved to her final resting place... a body shop in the Foothills of North Carolina. Bluey's time came and gone in this ball of fate. Even though she was about 15 years old and was pushing 200,000 miles, she left us too early.

I called my Mom the next morning and she said something that made sense, this could be a blessing in disguise. I might have a better car, perhaps a pickup truck, since it has a bigger crumple zone. The insurance company rep said that I should have a claim within the next 24 hours...possibly a rental car might be involved. So I still remain hopeful for now. But whatever happens, fate can be a good thing. Maybe I'll get a nice chunk of change and find another 90's era Toyota Corolla and for some reason I want a white one and call it "whitey" or maybe "Albino Jones". Maybe my memories of Bluey ran deep or just maybe Toyota makes damn good cars. Now I know this sounds like a Springsteen song (maybe I'll write my blog about GIRLS next time!), but this car was special like a girl or even like "Born To Run". There are parts in life in which the little things become central. Bluey became central for a little thing in my life. Other cars (and maybe even women) will appear in my life, and the wheels of life will spin again.  Bluey was just a car, and a car will be replaced often (and I hope very soon in my situation). I'm sure there are other blue Toyotas, and other cars in the world. Bluey is now in the great big parking lot in the sky with Mrs. Goldberg and the others. Who knows what would happen next? Another Bluey might appear in the horizon! Anything could happen anytime. If I did not go out on that errand last night, Bluey would still be here-- but what would happen next; something good or something bad? We willl never know the answers or why Bluey left the highways of life, but fate has a way... We all hear that line that every cloud has a silver lining-- it's true; and the reason why there is a silver lining is because it's chrome plated!

"The Big Insult Theory" & Other Nerd Stereotypes

I am a Nerd and I am proud. Twenty plus years ago, with the cultural mores of a mainstream society, I could not make that statement. I kept to myself in high school in college and pretty much today-- I pretty much kept out of the mainstream back then and kinda still now. But a wave came that geeky people like me rode on... we all rode on  that wave, Kurt Cobain, Bill Gates, Barack Obama, Steve Jobs, Jon Stewart, Janeane Garafolo, all members of Weezer; nerds of all colors and genders rode that wave that crashed into the lonely island of popularity and social status.We were all on the outside looking in. We were those who never got invited to the party-- most of us never cared...SO WE MADE OUR OWN PARTY!

Nerd culture became the new thing and it is still now in a way. We got "nerdcore" as the geeks rapped about Boba Fett and "Freaks and Geeks" hit the airwaves for a brief season launching the careers of Geek gods and godesses that now infiltrate our movie theatres. But then in 2007, CBS launched a series that pretty much put a kibosh on the Nerd Renaissance and threw a curve into the wave... and that was "The Big Bang Theory"!

I ran into the show (trust me, not by choice) as my roomate (trust me, not by choice) watches the show religiously-- repeats, canned laughter and all. Because of the other wave known as the Great Recession hit me, I had to rent out a room and share my living space with a stranger. I am sure that others are in the same situ as me whether they are friends, strangers and even parents.Yet, other people have different lifestyles and tastes and sometimes even beliefs. When I moved in, my roomate seen me as a college educated person with an advanced degree and who is rather shy and keeps to himself. That is when my roomate seen "people like me" on "The Big Bang Theory". My roomate then asked me when I am going to start working at a college like the "Big Bang Theory" people do. I sat through a few episodes (again, not by choice) and I felt like I was back in high school again, but not in a good way. I never recieved any locker shoves, "swirlies", or the physical tribulations that "people like me" went though in high school and college. However, I had my share of verbal crap and the alienation "people like me" went through. Those who were throwing around the insults and various mockeries were the Reaganite rich white boy Frat jockstrap trash and their cheerleader girlfriends-- probably the same assholes who ended up as the writers and the production crew of "Big Bang"! My roomate was probably not part of either side of the Frat boy/Nerd fence-- but she never seen the shit I had to shovel.

I am a Nerd, and I am pretty damn proud of it. The only TRUE Nerds I embody are the ones on "Freaks & Geeks" and of course "Revenge Of The Nerds" (The first one of course, the sequels kinda sucked). I am by no means athletic, actually I'm into sports (okay, more stats than anything). I know my sci-fi and some comics. I am not into Role Playing Games ("RPG's" to us geeks), but when I occasionally have the opportunity to being involved in an RPG, I usually call it "foreplay". Yes, I actually get laid, but with actual women and not "robot" women...even though I could've SWORN there was a girl who thought she was a robot! But, I don't wear glasses, I don't have a pocket protector and I have the inkstains in my pockets to prove it! I consider myself a "trekker" (notice I did not say "trekkie", b/c "trekkie" is not the proper term!). I know some Star Wars, but I am not die hard like others, but I loved "Fanboys". I am more of a "hipster" than anything, I often delve into culture especially the obscure music of the 70's, 80's, and 90's, and old TV shows and movies of the same era. I do my thing, and I have come a long way from that shy geeky kids even though I am still prety shy and STILL incredibly geeky!

Personal BS aside, for those who haven't seen "The Big Bang Theory", it is a sitcom on CBS about these two Nerd roomates in LA named "Sheldon" and "Leonard" ( I am so friggin not kidding and it has nothing to do with the Andy Griffith show nor any 60's CBS sitcom produced by Sheldon Leonard!). "Leonard" is one of those typical TV lonely guy "Oh whoais me" archetypes playing a bespecacled sterotypical Nerd. And then there is "Sheldon" with his gut wrenching and gut turning portrayal of an Asperger-y drone who whines in a monotone pitch and knocks incessently on a door showing no emotion and continuously rambles the name of the recipient behind the door over and over again. Sheldon and Leonard are often joined by two other Nerds which are as about as stereotypical as nerds as they are as stereotypical as their respected nationalities. And then there is the typical "blonde next door" love interest of our leading Poindexter, Leonard. Throw in the bad jokes, the Nerds' obsession with sci-fi and role playing games, more bad jokes, the "expected" behavior of Nerds (particularly "Sheldon's" antisocial behavior), ethnic jokes, and your basic sit-com schtick and you have what I call "The Big Insult Theory"!

Negative portrayal of anyone is basically negative portrayal. I just think that "The Big Bang Theory" is to Nerds is what "Amos & Andy" was to Blacks 60 years earlier. Now I am trying to not play the race card, or in this case "the Nerd card". I can say Nerd is "the new Black", but so many groups can be in that coveted postion; besides, we all come a long way no matter who we are! I am sure if I was Italian, I would feel insulted by "The Jersey Shore" or if I was a Southerner, I would be a tad peeved by Larry The Cable Guy, or shows like "My Big Redneck Wedding". Let's face it, STEREOTYPES SUCK!

I know some of you are saying "But, golly Moses, Brendan! It's just a TV show. Why you have to be so friggin serious? Who peed in your cornflakes?" I am not saying I had a "rough life", I am not saying that I lived a charmed life. I pretty much suffer about as much as anyone else, Nerd or otherwise, but I had my fair share of victories. Like others against the grain who stand out in the eyes of the Status Quo, I held my own-- you can say I even kicked some ass along the way.  I am even not saying I am trying to be the Malcolm X of Nerds, let alone start a militant army of Nerds (and possibly call it "The Geek Panthers"); I am trying to show that you cannot judge a group of people by a TV show no matter what it is about or who it is about. Like all other TV shows, we should just enjoy them but we shouldn't convince each other that we "need" to watch that show, or at least try not to convince ourselves "live" the lifestyle of that show. I don't like the show, simply put--but it doesn't mean I drown kittens or burn down churches. But stop pressuring us, man! I don't believe in jumping through hoops just to please the status quo. I just believe that if people like me and the status quo can coexist, that we can only agree to disagree. But then again "can we just get along"?

So the solution is simple, Nerds and Nerdettes: let's all ignore the bullshit and do our own thing! Maybe the best solution to EVERYTHING is turning off our TV's and actually GO OUTSIDE AND DO SOMETHING! Me; I am recoving well from the Recession and I am looking for a new apartment (sans roomate) and actually when I do move in I promise to do two things, watch something I like on TV and not worry about the shows I don't like.This way, I can enjoy a TV show that I find even more "intellectually stimulating" than "The Big Bang Theory"...."THREE'S COMPANY!"

"Too Soon"

I am sure we all heard the news about Whitney Houston Saturday night. Nobody deserves to die that young. It is also tragic that celebrities get that short of a shelf life in this world. I am not a fan of Houston's music, I never was into R&B tinged pop-- in fact, I am not a big pop music fan either. I have more of a punk/metal/alternative/classic rock background. Thus, I'm more into 3 to 4 chords on the guitar and that's it for me. I am also not a big fan of the Hollywood motif; the "live fast, die young" mantra of celebrity life. That's probably the reason why I never liked the mainstream when it comes to music and other facets of pop culture. When an overbloated celebrity falls on his/her ass; I jump on the opportunity to joke about someone's downfall or make fun of the situation. But when it comes to death of a celebrity, I generally follow the "too soon" rule. If the celebrity just happens to die-- I really don't say anything until I have some information about what happened. I also do this out of respect for some friends who are probably fans of a certain celebrity. I think the "Too Soon" clause goes back to 9/11 when pretty much couldn't joke about ANYTHING, but  after a few months everything went "back to normal".

However, after only a half hour of Houston's death, the jokes came out. Most of the jokes were centered around the line from Apollo 13 "Houston, we have a problem". I'm not saying I didn't laugh at the jokes, they were quite amusing. I thought that they were poking fun of the mainstream rather than Houston. I could have posted the jokes on my Facebook page but out of respect for some of my friends who are Houston fans, that and it's "too soon".

The way this is going, this is turning into another Michael Jackson. When Michael Jackson died, the media bandwagon began. All the speculation and gossip began right when Jackson died. Also, the comparisons followed in which Jackson's death was compared to Elvis' death. As I was watching CNN this morning, Houston is already being compared to Judy Garland as far as the drugs and the alcohol is concerned. In fact, the whole thing reminds me of Billie Holiday who had similar struggles with drugs along with Houston and Garland 40 some years earlier.  But in 2012 America, nobody knows anything about Judy Garland nor Billie Holiday since both died in the 1960's and 1950's respectively. So the only equivalent would be Michael Jackson's death since it happened only two and a half years earlier.
Michael Jackson, on the other hand, had more of a fair share of critics than Houston and his death served as cannon fodder for those who wanted to crucify him in the first place. Therefore, the backlash of jokes after Michael Jackson's death was pretty immediate but not after a half an hour.

The question is when is it "too soon"? I mean if anything; my opinion, really; the media pretty much is the blame since Houston's life and subsequent death is documented in reality shows as well as TMZ, and various shows on E! and VH1.When it comes to the press coverage and the celebrities being steamrolled, it only shows that the wolves eat their young in Hollywood! And what is really creepy is that everybody is "surprised". I seen this last night on Piers Morgan on CNN and this morning on NBC. Has anyone seen Whitney Houston's recent photos? She looks emaciated and her skin looked ashen, a far cry from the Whitney Houston of 1986! And who can forget her "Crack is whack" statement!? Is anybody REALLY "surprised"? Then again is it "too soon" to interject our opinions whether we are fans, information seekers, or interviewers on network shows? Now we are hearing reports that Houston was allegedly found in the bathtub, which sounds vaguely familiar to Elvis' death since Elvis supposedly died sitting on the toilet. Thus, the analyzing begins on the "how" and "why" of celebrity death. Yet when at the age of ten when Elvis died, whether he died on the crapper or not was irrevelant, the fact that Elvis DIED was central! 1977 America was more patient, once the mourning ended a month after Elvis dying, the speculation regarding Elvis' death then began; toilet, 19 year old girlfriend, "Dr. Nick" and all! Here's another example, remember the 1986 Challenger explosion? I remember the jokes like the "Need Another Seven Astronauts" and the distasteful "Head and Shoulders" cracks happened at least a few months after the first Space Shuttle disaster. Then again, the Challenger tragedy and 9/11 are cases when "too soon" should never even happen in the first place since the mockery of innocent people dying is in outright bad taste after all!

So are celebrities "innocent", and should not be mocked? The question is who are we mocking-- the monster that Dr. Mediastein created or  Dr. Mediastein himself? Are we then the villagers chasing the monster with our torches, but are we doing this to protect ourselves or is it just for the glory to be judge, jury, and executioner? We will never know the answers to those said questions, neither we will know when it's "too soon" or even not even at all. I hope the best for Whitney Houston's family, paricularly her teenage daughter. For those who are fans, I guess the best thing to do is remember her music. For those who aren't fans such as myself, the best thing to do is when to say when if at all, not make fun of her directly (since Houston's tragic life was an end result of a reckless media), and pretty much forgetting about it and go on to the next forseeable celebrity death.

Parables, Pulpits, and Plebes

I live in the microcosm of America, figuratively and literally. In 2003, I moved from a state of cultural diversity in New York to a state of cultural identity in North Carolina. Within the last eight years, a cultural change happened throughout the country; a Black President, gay marriage laws being passed in some states, debate over woman's health based on cultural choice, and thus the culture wars began and now is in full blow! Where do we go from here?

Me, I would like to go somewhere and stick my fingers in my head and go "la la la la la la la" everytime I hear about all this "cultural" stuff. I would like to drink, party, and get laid (and I am STILL single, ladies!), but I would like to do more. I want to be in a place where I can see a world without the obligations that are tied to "culture" and the mores of a culturally obligated moral society...CHURCH! For those veterans who read my posts on Facebook and read my blogs on Blogger and Myspace, you know all too well I am a creature of irony. I bathe in irony like it is a luxurious bubble bath, splash it on like it is a 50 dollar cologne, and wear it like a well worn leather jacket like an educated, poetic Fonz! For added irony, I try to find my personal space in Catholicism since I live in the middle of Republican/Southern Baptist hell. I consider myself "punk rock" when it comes to religious and moral values. I actually see Jesus as an original Punk Rocker; but instead of a purple mohawk and a safetypin sticking out His earlobe, He still looks pretty radical with the Crown Of Thorns and he rocks the Stigmatas on His Hands like it was an Anarchy sign on each Palm!

I even hang with LGBT's and non-Christians (mainly Pagans) and some Thumpers have a problem with that. Now I'm sorry I use the term "Thumper" and I lost a couple of good friends on FB because of it. Yet, I'm sure the Thumpers call me a "dirty hippie", a "radical", or even a "Commie" but not upfront! However, I don't even know that I'm cool enough to deserve those monikers-- if anything, it would be AWESOME to be called a "hippie", or a "radical"! Therefore, I don't know why some of these Born Agains don't like being called "Born Agains", "Thumpers", or "Jesus Freaks"-- shouldn't having faith in Christ be a compliment as much as calling me a "hippie" would be a compliment to me? And back fo the flak with me hanging out with Gay people and Pagans; didn't Jesus hang out with Canaanites, who were also Pagans? Also, Jesus hung out with Lepers who were about as much as outcasts as the LGBT community of today; with the exception that Leprosy was not considered a disease in biblical days, but homosexuality at one point in history WAS! And there was the concept of "Pro-Choice" back in the Biblical days; I am sure that the Lepers "chose" not to wear red and green because it would clash with the blood and rotting flesh. The point is that I'm not trying to mock the Bible, I am just trying to get along... especially with the Thumpers (even though we tend to agree to disagree).

I am not trying to be Jesus nor I am trying to be the Patron Saint of Irony, I am only following Him because the Bible suggests it. And notice that I said the Bible "suggests" and not "the Bible TOLD me"? Even if I did the "books on tape" thing and I listened to the Bible per verbatim, the Bible DID NOT "tell" me! Back in college, I took as a "Bible As Literature" course-- I took it not only as a prerequisite class for graduation, but I was looking at the Bible to fit in my religious and spiritual searchings. I was in my early 20's and I was looking for "something" but mainly knowledge in the long run-- mainly as a 20 something trying to see what would happen some 20 years later as he would write something on the computer about religion. But from what my professor, my Atheist professor, was saying is that the Bible is a book of moral suggestions like The Odyssey and The Epic Of Gilgamesh (and later in my life A Course In Miracles). And that what it is and should be at least that's how I see it. And come to think of it, isn't morality a suggestion anyway? And that's the problem with Christianity; Jesus turned water into wine-- and the Thumpers turn Jesus into Pepsi-Cola!

I go to church to open my relationship with God; mainly because if the Thumpers are right and the world is going to end, I might as well go out in a blaze of glory! And I like the traditions of a Catholic Mass even though it might be trivial to some. I like the whole "Aerobics" aspect of the Catholic Mass; "sit, stand, kneel/sit,stand,kneel/sit,stand,kneel..." I guess a good day of atonement and prayer not only brings me closer to God but my pants fit much better! Between the "exercise" during mass and the caedence of prayers during Mass, I always feel like the Catholics are like the Marines of Christianity! I like church because it's my time away from the news and the political crap on TV. But as I am approching the time for Collection and Communion, there is a time for the "Lord, hear our prayer" portion of the Mass. This is which anyone of the congregation makes a specific request to pray for and it could be ANYTHING! And that's when the politics come in and my American dream of separation between Church and State. Now, sometimes it could be little stuff like praying for the needy and homeless, and at one time I remember when someone summoned for us to pray for the legalization of marijuana (then again, I was one of the few who actually said "Lord, hear our prayer"). But there's this one guy who always summons the prayer "...for the ban of ABORTION and other forms of child abuse". Sometimes, I mouth the words "Lord, hear our prayer" even though I truly believe it's against my principle-- not that I think that it's a woman's right to choose what she does to her body but for the fact all this is being mentioned in Church! And YES I believe that marijuana should be legalized (And LORD HEAR MY SIN!) but even the legalization of pot, for and against, should not be mentioned in church! It's not my duty as a Christian but as an American citizen-- besides isn't that the point why this country got started in the first place? I am tempted to come out and pray for the separation of Church and State if this joker asks us to pray for the ban of abortion. But then again, I'll just shut up and do my thing. Looks like Thumpers come in all religions, but I might as well live with it! Besides, this is the Church of St. Peter NOT MEL GIBSON!

"It's Complicated" is a gross understatement of my life in the past few years. So in the end, who am I? Am I really an "open" Christian, a "Christo-Pagan", an "Esoteric Christian", or a Liberal Catholic? All I can say is that I AM HERE! What God says, God says. I also am going to a weekly "Course In Miracles" workshop at a local libarary. In this workshop I am trying to coexist myself as a Liberal and a Christian as well as coexisting myself with coexistence between people like me, the Thumpers, and the simple quest for survival. As I said before, I hang out with Pagans (nothing against us Christians and other religions, but the Pagans know how to throw a party!). I spoke to my Pagan friend (Wiccan to be more concise) about my "Course Of Miracles" workshop. She asked me "what it's like". I pretty much said it is like a 12-step program but I don't know what these people in the library are recovering from. My friend said that the people in my workshop "...are all recovering from religion!" I guess this is why everybody ends "The Course In Miracles" workshop with the "Serenity Prayer"! In retrospect, I am trying to do the right thing and have my relationship with God. A relationship with God is like a relationship with a woman; if you call her "the next day" it's like going to church on a Sunday morning (then again, doesn't "the next day" ALWAYS fall on a Sunday morning anyways?). However, if you DON'T call that girl the next day, you'll end up blaming her first be later you end up blaming yourself for blowing the whole thing in the first place. If you don't go to church on a Sunday morning, you can't blame her or anyone else--NOT EVEN GOD, so you end up BLAMING YOURSELF anyway! And I am STILL SINGLE, ladies!


To conclude this blog, I added a song that coincides with what I wrote. The following is one of my favorite songs. The song goes into religion and the consequential circumstances that sometimes follows blind faith. The video itself pretty much sums everything up..enjoy! http://youtu.be/AzNzCiZwk28