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Thursday, December 29, 2005

My Humble (Pah!) Opinion: Fuck Off, Andy Not-Rooney

I was quite bored one night, as it is Winter Break and I have no classes or job to occupy my time with, so I poked around the forums at Studio Shinnyo (random plug: go read his stuff, it's highly entertaining) and ran across a post entitled "Right On, Andy Rooney!" It's a twenty-point grievance list on various political issues, mostly hot-button ones, and I took a bit of issue with these twenty points—plus, I had lots of free time to spare. So I whipped up this rebuttal.

(Relevant aside: someone in the thread pointed out that it's not actually Andy Rooney speaking, for reference.)

There is something fundamentally . . . off . . . in the opinion expressed by the Not-Rooney, and that is the spirit of black-and-white morality on all subjects at hand. That, and the imaginary nature of the arguments to which this is a sort of response.

Andy Rooney said on "60 Minutes" a few weeks back:

As Snopes points out (see above Relevant Aside), this is a dirty lie told by dirty liars. Ignore it, it's only there for posterity's sake.

I don't think being a minority makes you a victim of anything except numbers.
The only things I can think of that are truly discriminatory are things like the United Negro College Fund, Jet Magazine, Black Entertainment Television, and Miss Black America. Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America; and see what happens...Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door.

If you are going to be so oblivious as to deny the continued existence of racial discrimination on many levels, then you're being voluntarily blind. The fact of the matter is that the Klansmen of America (previously known as the Ku Klux Klan) is still a thriving organization, still has a sizeable membership, and still is an active entity in all parts of the country. Just because discrimination is subtle and anonymously cloaked in hoods doesn't make it non-existent. Discrimination isn't gone, it's just conveniently been hidden from plain view.

Guns do not make you a killer. I think killing makes you a killer. You can kill someone with a baseball bat or a car, but no one is trying to ban you from driving to the ball game.

Yeah, killing makes you a killer. That's not clever. I can kill a man with a spoon, too. No, that doesn't mean spoons should be outlawed. However, I can't kill a man with a spoon from the window of a building high up above the ground, hundreds of yards away, and with minimal effort. Oh, and it'd also be rather difficult for me to instantaneously kill a roomful of people with a spoon. Ah, and I don't recall the last time I've heard of a spree of cases of children accidentally killing themselves with spoons. Guns shouldn't be regulated because they kill people, they should be regulated because they're highly dangerous and potentially destructive on a scale larger than anything else short of explosives. Do you see anyone arguing with the regulation of bombs? "Oh, just because bombs kill people, that's no reason to keep them out of the hands of untrained civilians! Hell, bean sprouts kill people, after all, too!" Let's face it, there's something very deeply wrong with the fact that it is more difficult to obtain a driver's license than it is to obtain an uzi in America. I'm nearly legally blind and I can buy a gun, but I can't drive a car. Think about that.

I believe they are called the Boy Scouts for a reason, that is why there are no girls allowed. Girls belong in the Girl Scouts! ARE YOU LISTENING MARTHA BURKE?

Do people still care about the Boy Scouts? I've met, like, six people in my entire lifetime who attended Boy Scouts. Maybe the problem isn't the importance of the Boy Scouts, maybe the problem is people who make the Boy Scouts into something important. Maybe the problem is that people turn it into an issue of the core, family values of America and some sort of moral foundation of a person's life when it's nothing more than a glorified camping trip where you learn to tie knots and light fires. Clearly, the life lessons of a canoeing badge can not be obtained elsewhere.

I think that if you feel homosexuality is wrong, it is not a phobia, it is an opinion.

Hey, yeah, it's certainly an opinion to think homosexuality is wrong. Maybe it's not a phobia . . . Maybe it's just a strong, controversial issue which is highly subjective and only affects the lives of millions of Americans, with no real evidence to "prove" any one side correct or the other, and something that people with strong convictions against are the ones passing laws and shaping the socioeconomic environment of the entire country. It sure makes a difference that it's an "opinion" and not a "phobia." In my opinion, I sure do think that the deeply personal decisions people make in the course of their lifetimes are frivolous, based on meagre whim, and should be, generally, ignored. I think it's wrong to be allergic to peanuts, as peanuts are a traditional, long-standing American -- especially Virginian -- institution. That choice they have made, to be biologically repulsed by legumes, is a moral outrage and utterly wrong.

I have the right "NOT" to be tolerant of others because they are different, weird, or tick me off.

You have the right to be arbitrarily intolerant of others, Mr. Not-Rooney. Engaging in such an activity often also immediately disqualifies you from being an even-handed, fair person who should ever serve as an enforcer of the law, judge, or legislator. Good thing there are none of those running around, I wouldn't want to imagine that there's a such thing as irrational, partial judges or congressmen. That is certainly nothing to worry about.

When 70% of the people who get arrested are black, in cities where 70% of the population is black, that is not racial profiling, it is the Law of Probability.

Statistics do not dictate behaviour: behaviour creates statistics. Statistics do not support the existence of statistics, alone. It's all well and good to use statistics to support a general approach to something; of course, that is, so long as it is a consistent practice which is used to formulate all given general approachs, and not just the basis by which you make one, lone, arbitrary decision. Oops, wait . . .

I believe that if you are selling me a milkshake, a pack of cigarettes, a newspaper or a hotel room, you must do it in English! As a matter of fact, if you want to be an American citizen, you should have to speak English!

Huh, right, be sure to take your English lessons before fleeing the poverty-striken, hopeless cesspool of your old country, where there are no readily-accessible libraries, computers, colleges, or roaming English professors who give out street-corner lessons in the A-B-C's of English. One mustn't forget that between your daily activity of desperately scrounging for food to feed your family and yourself and the twelve-hour shift in a Nike factory -- which netted you earning of a grand total of the cost of a single meal for two people -- to buy a pocket-sized guide to Common American Phrases and read it nightly, so that you may, one day, pass the English exam to enter America.

My father and grandfather didn't die in vain so you can leave the countries you were born in to come over and disrespect ours. I think the police should have every right to shoot your sorry behind if you threaten them after they tell you to stop. If you can't understand the word "freeze" or "stop" in English, see the above lines.

. . . I can only disagree with this point on the grounds of it being phrased in an arrogant, holier-than-thou, high-flown fashion. Way to be able to make me feel a little bit dirty for agreeing with you, Mr. Not-Rooney.

I don't think just because you were not born in this country, you are qualified for any special loan programs, government sponsored bank loans or tax breaks, etc., so you can open a hotel, coffee shop, trinket store, or any other business.

You're right. In fact, everyone is entitled to those grants and tax breaks. That's probably why they're already offered to everybody, and anyone can apply for -- and usually obtain -- government grants to open a small business, or loans and breaks depending on business and income status. I guess nobody told Mr. Not-Rooney, I guess immigrants need to stick to "taking jobs" from Americans, instead of creating their own, eh?

We did not go to the aid of certain foreign countries and risk our lives in wars to defend their freedoms, so that decades later they could come over here and tell us our constitution is a living document; and open to their interpretations.

I find this point most interesting, because I was not aware that entire countries were coming to America, these days. Why, I must have missed it just the other day when Germany was in the same Food Lion as me, or when Belgium bought gas at the station I passed. Hmph, I wonder if Japan carries a really gigantic camera around everywhere and snaps tons of photos? Oh, oh, right, right, he must mean individuals who originate from these countries he alludes to, right . . . Individuals who all have individual opinions and separate wills and ideas, who express their own personal opinions and do not speak for the entirety of a nation. Silly me, it makes much more sense to lump entire populaces into a category than speak as though a nation is one, inseparable entity. Ah, yes, and we mustn't forget the fact that the First Admendment of the Constitution of the United States only ensures all citizens free expression . . . Not foreigners. Foreigners don't matter, they don't count as people! It slipped my mind for a moment, there. After all, foreigners can't pass amendments to the Constitution, and they have no real control over your own personal opinion further than the control that you, yourself, give them, voluntarily.

I know pro wrestling is fake, but so are movies and television. That doesn't stop you from watching them

. . . Yesss, the heavy, deep moral dilemma that is pro wrestling . . .

I think Bill Gates has every right to keep every penny he made and continue to make more. If it ticks you off, go and invent the next operating system that's better, and put your name on the building.

Questionable obtainment of intellectual property, slightly underhanded and convuluted methods of avoiding classification of a monopoly, continual expansion of all-inclusive contracts with proprietary systems manufactors and distributors, vague and veiled marketting strategies which mislead and verge on fraud, unspoken agreements with solicitors and known spyware distributors to continue to allow private information to be bilked from the unknowing customers duped by said marketting . . . All of this, and none of it, whatsoever, presents any disagreement with the current capitalist, American society. Maybe the question is not about whether or not Bill Gates is entitled to his money, but whether or not anyone should be entitled to such vast amounts of money through unscruplous means. But, really, who wants to raise this question in an economic environment where it's alright to break American regulations and laws so long as you establish satellite factories and branchs in other countries in which you break those laws and then "sell" your own product back to yourself at cost so that you can, then, turn around and mark it up five hundred percent to the American public. Microsoft, Heinz, Exxon, Walmart, Sears, Nike, Adidas, Chevrolet, Coca-Cola . . . Perhaps it's just my hairbrained opinion, but maybe it's just taken a company as big and shady as Microsoft to gain so much power without explicitly breaking any rules to cast doubts into the American public's mind about the nature of its capitalistic economy, and that's what's so upsetting?

It doesn't take a whole village to raise a child right, but it does take a parent to stand up to the kid; and smack their little behinds when necessary, and say "NO!"

The point made here doesn't really make much sense, aside from the fact that it's a blatant, petty backhand at Hillary Clinton. Yes, hitting your children and denying them everything is a pretty useful guideline for rearing a kid. That's all you need, and God forbid anyone contribute anything more to the parents of the world to consider. Wouldn't want to hold people responsible for their own, individual choices, much better to blame the writers and politicians.

I think tattoos and piercing are fine if you want them, but please don't pretend they are a political statement. And, please, stay home until that new lip ring heals. I don't want to look at your ugly infected mouth as you serve me French fries!

Interesting, I didn't know there were "qualifications" for making a "political"statement. I could've sworn all you had to do was make a statement about politics. I guess not. It's easier to outright disqualify something as a political statement than to take the time to delineate between worthwhile and worthless political statements, after all. Oh, and always be sure to top off your disqualification with childish insults.

I am sick of "Political Correctness." I know a lot of black people, and not a single one of them was born in Africa; so how can they be "African-Americans"? Besides, Africa is a continent. I don't go around saying I am a European-American because my great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather was from Europe. I am proud to be from America and nowhere else

I know a lot of black people, and none of them call themselves African American. I know a lot of people, and I generally just call them what they want me to call them, instead of imposing my selected title on them. I've never really argued with someone about what to call them, since, after all, it's just a name, and not something which echoes through my very soul. And I do believe I've never really imposed the reasoning and thoughts behind why I call myself what I do on anyone else, but most people don't really argue with what I ask to be called unless they have some sort of pre-existing political agenda, grudge, or prejudice. Seems like a fair arrangement to me, because a rose by any other name is still a rose, to wax psuedo-Shakespearian.

And if you don't like my point of view, tough...

DON'T PASS IT ON!!

Maybe it's just me, but I don't see a point in expressing such a series of opinions to the world. Perhaps I am not a fan of sweeping generalizations and prepackaged political debate over manufactored political issues. It doesn't really contribute anything new to the mix, and it just comes off as a long gust of whining and blowhardy moral superiority. The simplification of serious issues into two-sentence ideologies is, mostly, an insult to the issues, themsleves, and the idea of upholding such shallow ideologies as significant just further causes friction and partisonship.

Who, honestly, has the balls to complain about the fact that it's harder to get a college scholarship as a white male than it is a black male due to discrimination, and, then, turn around and argue that racial profiling is based on legitimate statistics and thus excusable? By statistics, a vastly larger percentage of black families live in economic standing that would never allow for their children to attend college, whereas most middle-class white families can easily obtain government and independent student loans and the credit to send all their children through college; but, I guess that statistic is different from the other one? There's a word for that: hypocrisy.

And where, exactly, does one obtain the balls to argue that it's wrong for a culture of people to create and propogate media and funds targetted for those whom they have arbitrarily deemed worthy of receiving the money that they have garnered through fair and honest means, then turn around and state that it's wrong to criticize Bill Gates for having and using the money that he does, since he earned it fairly? Oh, wait, I think that place is somewhere firmly located between retardation and clinically dead.

And is anyone stopping the practice of creating college funds and entertainment specifically geared for white people? Oh, wah, you may have to hide it behind thinly-veiled titles and names that don't make it apparent that what you are doing is targetting the white community. Oops, I guess people have grown a bit sensitive about things that are clearly made for white people after inventions such as the KKK and the Third Reich. I'll start worrying about Black Entertainment Television when I see an army of black people marching down my street waving flags that read "Kill the White Man" and proceed to burn crosses in my front lawn; then, maybe then, I'll start to think there's a problem with blacks labelling what they make for blacks.

White people should stop being jealous of the fact that black people still feel a sense of comraderie and brotherhood amongst themselves. There's no real cultural identity for white people. There's no specific music. No dress. No dance. No lingo. We're white. It doesn't even mean much, it mostly means "Not African, Hispanic or Asian." Why should we want White Entertainment Television? What would that even mean ? Black people know what it means to be black, but what does it mean to be white? What would WET play? Country? Alternative? Classical? Bluegrass? Swing? Big Band? Progressive metal? Progrock? Eurodance? Black metal? Death metal? Punk rock? Hardcore? Emo? Third Wave Ska? Lounge? Opera? A quartet of people playing the kazoo? Huh, it sure is odd that nobody's come up with the idea White Entertainment Television, yet.

I think that the person who is decidedly not Andy Rooney needs to get over himself and stop spreading his worthless, immature, infantile political opinions around the Internet. But, who am I to tell him that? Nobody.

(Original Forum Thread Here)

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Have a Sign, My Conrere (Observation of the Day)

You know what I'm officially sick of, and I've only seen it twice, now?

Fast food restaurants who close their lobbies earlier than their posted hours and don't post a fucking sign.

Yeah? You know what? I fucking understand that you may be understaffed: hell, most places aren't staffed enough to handle the lobby and drive-thru when both are open in the middle of the day. The barely homo sapian workers you have couldn't juggle a single damn billiard ball, let alone two. So, yeah, fucking whatever, you're understaffed so you close the lobby as early as seems convenient.

But, put up a FUCKING SIGN, alright? Let the general public know, the few, lingering souls who don't want to deal with the shitty fucking drive-thru speaker system and the numbskulls who can't understand an order even when said clear as day, THREE TIMES IN A ROW. Let us know that the door is fucking locked before we get out of our cars, walk up, and try the handle. A fucking hint would be nice, something to save me the trouble of figuring out, on my own, that your shitty little taco slash burger slash chicken hut is only open for business on wheels.

And I know you illiterate shitholes are standing inside and laughing everytime someone walks up and tries the door. "HUR, HUR! WE BE CLOSED, BITCH, GOTSTA GO 'ROUND DA DRIVE-THRU! HUR, HUR, HUR!" All of your fucking dicks are made of styrofoam and your vaginas have lice and crabs. Die. I hate you and your snide little glances and comments.

You're a fucking minimum-wage monkey, YOU ARE DISQUALIFIED FROM THE EXPRESSION OF ANYTHING EVEN RESEMBLING SMUG. You've got a shit job that a half-sentient toaster oven can perform equally as well, probably better in most cases. Wrap my fucking taco, fry my Goddamn chicken, keep your nasty, dry, wilted lettuce off my hamburgers, plus:

POST A FUCKING SIGN.

For lazy Americans everywhere.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

What You Can Learn About a Blogger from his Blog (A Convenient Summary)

I'm not an amazingly interesting person. Sure, I have my flaws. I'm fucked-up in some ways, and, if, perhaps, your definition of interesting is flawed, then I may be somewhat interesting in that way. But, otherwise, I'm not that great.

     I'm from the suburbs of a city that doesn't even have much urban to it, really. I'm a white male, so, if I, say, had a car, my insurance would be higher than the equivalent female's; however, I am nearly legally blind, so I don't do much driving.

     Oh, right, some people find my eyesight problems to be interesting, but, at this point, I'm sick of talking about it. I'd really like to be able to sate the curiosity of everyone who wants to know why I can't see worth shit, yet do not own a pair of glasses, without having to explain the intricacies of my inherited, dry, macular distrophy. I wish people knew what "macular distrophy" was, off-hand, and I didn't even have to explain that.

     Yeah, and I'm colour-blind. It's not interesting, fuckers. Stop being intrigued by the fact that I can't identify colours properly. It's tiresome. Yeah, I thought that looked green, and it was red. I thought that was blue, and it was purple. I thought that was yellow, and it was tan. Get over it. I'm sick of that half-surprised, half-aghast look in the eyes of people as they flail to grasp what it means to be colour-blind. And, since I actually developed gradual colour-blindness over the course of years, I can assure you it doesn't mean I see in greyscale like some black-and-white movie a la Clerks. That's not how it works, and if you want to know how it does, I'm probably not going to tell you, asshole.

     I go to college, studying for a degree in Fine Arts and Computer Science: the former, because it's something I have a degree of passion for (albeit wanning), and the latter because it gets me a high-paying job, plus I find interesting. I'm minoring in Mathematics and Literature, because they accompany my two majors well and the courseload intersects enough to make it not that many more credits. Yawn, college student? Being in college is like being a vagabond teenager trying to stumble your way into adulthood—a lingering attempt to not plunge headlong into life-consuming responsibilities. Noble academia, my ass.

     I have an ecclectic taste in music, but, you know what? Nowadays, every asshole who listens to some classical music and some jazz, along with a bit of modern and contemporary music—rock'n'roll, punk, alternative, metal—classifies himself as ecclectic. So, I listen to some Vivaldi, then Gang of Four, and maybe some System of a Down, The Pillows, or Miles Davis: I'm not special. That's not interesting. That's what happens when you're a spoiled, suburban, white kid with more resources than time: you're submersed in such a bland, faceless culture that you clamour for your own identity through any means necessary, and music is a quick fix. "Oh, I'm a punk." "Oh, I'm a goth." "Oh, I'm a band geek." Fuck off, nobody cares. I don't.

     I read a lot, and write some—stories, poetry—and I'm decent at it. Yipee. As much as I am constantly constructing English sentences, I would hope that I'm decent at the word game. I like writers like Faulkner and Hemingway, Joyce and James, Flaubert and Cervantes, Achebe and Oz, Zahn and Vance. Whoopie. One in three English majors read Faulker and think they "get it," and they're only doing so because it's hard reading and they want to feel special by untangling the linguistic and narrative puzzle that is The Sound and Fury, or by drawing all the mythological parallels they can in As I Lay Dying. Yeah, you're not the only one: go read a critical essay on the books before putting out your own redundant theories, bastards. I'm, at least, not trying to put on the face of a literary guru or whatever.

     I use non-breaking spaces to occasionally indent the paragraphs of my Blog. I have a Blog with a generic template design and a lot of sporadic, random content. I've been posting on it for three, almost four years. I, typically, forget how many 'c's and 's's are in words like "necessary" and "occasion." I'm anally retentive about grammar and spelling, but not so to a point where I obsessively re-edit old posts to fix them. I'm a Blogger. It's trendy, right now: that's not interesting.

     Who the hell would think I'm that fascinating? I've got a beard with no moustache, and really long, wavy hair; I'm overweight, average height, and moderately strong; I've got blue eyes, but you could hardly tell because I squint nigh constantly, not to mention wear sunglasses about ninety-five percent of the time. I'm not fascinating, I'm some guy with a Blog, and that's it: a college student with time on his hands. That's all . . . I'm the kind of dick who uses Dictionary.com a lot and memorizes the control code for the dash (—).

Now, get away from me.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

The Sacrosant Tango (A Brief Review)

   I'd be lying if I said that 40 Year Old Virgin didn't fall flat for me as a comedy. Yeah, I love Steve Correll, as a comedian he is brilliant. But, the movie, itself, delivered nothing more than a series of a few chuckles . . . at least, for me.
   But, as something more than a comedy, it was rather well-done. The writing for it was very good, and it took the plot in a lot of directions that I did not quite expect from the "usual" romantic comedy. For one thing, it was over two hours in length, which is unusual; for another, it was hardly romantic. It portrayed sex, love, and relationships for the ugly, misshapen, awkward, difficult, convuluted, messy things they are, instead of glorifying it all with Hollywood visuals and make-up.
   It also did an interestingly elaborate job of establishing the characters of the supporting cast, not just focusing entirely on Andy (Correll) and never bothering to really go that deeply into the other people present. It actually had a rather adequate amount of scenes that gave you a sense of his co-workers and friends (one big reason why it was such a long movie). Really, it turned out to be a very character-driven story, instead of something hung up on the clichés and deus ex machina-type events.
   So, for being something very genuine and not just a shallow Hollywood comedy, I give The 40 Year Old Virgin an 12% Failure Rating.

[EOF]

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

My Imaginary Carapace

  Well, it's been awhile, and the Fall semester of college has ended. Whee [unenthusiastic].

  So, I just got back from a low-vision specialist slash consultant or what have you (for my little problem), and I will have a new toy coming soon. Also, by "toy," I sort of mean "an optic aid necessary for compensating the lack of rudimentary functions of my eyes." Same thing, though, really . . . (It'll be the 6x magnification version, in case you're curious or are just a freak for details, you dirty freak.)

  I'll be like a modern-day pirate, except without plundering, a ship, a crew, a parrot, a missing leg or eye (and without the obligatory eye-patch), the striped clothing plus bandana and slash or the plumed hat, or . . . Piracy. Just call me Captain . . . Brownbeard the . . . Visually Impaired Marauder of the . . . Seven . . . What the fuck is wrong with me? I am so lame. And, also, tired.

 So, enough of this.

[fin]