Tuesday, July 25, 2006

A Story Well Told

The following was relayed to me by a coworker this afternoon. I’ve embellished somewhat in the name of clarity and my personal voice. All writers are propagandists and I’m no different in that regard. But the meat and potatoes of this story remain as they were, relayed to me in confidence and providing what I believe to be an accurate picture of life inside the American service industry.

“So,” (she said to me in the smoker’s ghetto outside our shared workplace) “I only worked at one call center before this one. This was in Texas. So I asked for the day off on July 3rd, like, two months in advance. My daughter’s first birthday, right?”

(Here I rolled my eyes in precognitive understanding, letting inertia carry my head with around with them. I knew where this would surely head.)
“Day rolls around and what do you know? They scheduled me to work that day. And up until this point I had, like, two occurrences* so I’m like, ‘Oh, what the fuck ever.’ ‘Cuz it’s either show up or lose your job, right? So I worked it. And all throughout the day I was miserable. My daughter’s first birthday, right?”

(Here I nodded, out of mutual respect if not surprise. It’s hard to be surprised by the vicious indifference of our employers. Look at me. Five years in this game and already I know the rules are always stacked against us.)
“So I get through it. Miserable, but I do. I think, Okay, not the end of the world, right? I just have to get Christmas off. My daughter’s first Christmas, right? You have to get that off. So I figure, it’s July. What the hell, right? I request the time off, it gets approved, Christmas rolls around and guess what?”

(I don’t have to guess. I can see it coming, as she could not, the way damsels in distress can see the train barreling down on them.)
“They. Fucking. Scheduled me.

“So I figure, It’s morning shift. In at six a.m., get off at four p.m, go home, have Christmas dinner. And then, on my last call, this woman asked me in this sticky-sweet, unknowning, way-too-fuckin’-happy voice, ‘Why are you working on Christmas, honey?’

“I felt my face start to twitch. Spasms, right? My left arm went numb, my chest started to hurt and I said, polite as you please, ‘Because stupid bitches like you can’t wait until tomorrow to call in with you’re fucking problems.

Click

“I got up, walked over my supervisor, and said, ‘I quit.’ And I left. Fuckin’ security guard was all mad when I went into turn in my badge. I was like, ‘Suck my clit, bitch.’ And so I left.

“And that’s why I haven’t don customer service since then. I fuckin’ hate it, man.

(I nodded, completely agreeing. But as I crushed my cigarette against the ground I reminded her that we’re not, technically, customer service. We’re Entitlement to Customer Service.)

“Yeah,” (she said) “keep saying that. Eventually, you might believe it.”

As I rounded the obtuse corner that seperates the smoker’s ghetto from the rest of the building I smiled and shook my head. Never believe. Mouth, parrot, and regurgitate all you want. But never believe.

After all, once you do, it means they’ve already won. Beaten the fight out of you as surely as the slave drivers beat it out of my ancestors in cotton fields of Mississippi.

I keep meaning to research the origins of the term “wage slavery.” Its Wikipedia entry hides, as most do these days, behind a veneer of “fairness” and “balance” that all but assures negative aspects of this harsh, capricious world will never be called out as such. Can’t have the unwashed masses recognize their own state. That went out with the so-called Gilded Age, one hundred years ago.

Hell with it. Make of this story what you will. I’m too tired to care.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Start All Your New Years Off Right

''Ah'm sorry...'s just...birthdays always make me cry...''

Because, really, we call January 1st “the New Year” thanks to little more than the efforts of a power-mad Roman Emperor and a Polish math nerd on contract from the Pope. Not to be too anal retentive about it, but our “new years” don’t actually start until our birthdays. Both dates are, after all, a really good excuse to get shit-faced, make a fool of yourself as you try to hit on that girl you found so hot, and, with God’s help, illicit some pity sex.

My girlfriend brought this up. She’s not in town at the moment so, naturally, no pity sex for me. Doesn’t mean she didn’t have a good point. It’s one I think this country of self-absorbed, over-stimulated, perpetual adolescents should’ve probably realized a long time ago. Maybe if they had, we’d all get our Birthday’s off. To recover, if nothing else. There’s only so much water you can drink before you go to bed at ten-thirty.

My usual sleepy time being 2:30 a.m. (on a good night). Sleep is, after all, for the weak.

I knew I should’ve kept up with that weight lifting class.

Ah, well. G'night.

Tags: Umm...yeah, not really worth it, I think.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

23

Ever feel trapped between the voices in your head and the recieved wisdom of what other people believe you "have" to do?

Yeah, that's about how I feel right now.

Happy Birthday to me. It's been a long July, and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.

Maybe.

But I'm not holding my breath.

Tags? Fuck tags. I'm tired and a little drunk and it's my birthday. Fuck tags, and goodnight.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Shit Hits Fan in Middle East, American Government Removes Coat, Rolls Up Sleaves, Grabs Shovel

I find it amazing how many on all sides of the current conflict seem to have already acquiesced to the inevitability of this new war in the Middle East. Four more wars, indeed, and the Gasman marches on.

On Friday, Our Glorious Leader took time out from a busy day of G8 summit prep-work to denounce Iran and Syria. His loyal cheerleader, Tony Snow (late of Fox News) told us from the comfort of President Bush’s crotch that “Iran and Syria also have a choice to make which is whether they continue provoking and supporting terrorist organizations within the region,” He then pleaded with journalists to ignore the striking similarities between this statement and similar ones made by his predecessors in their lead ups to the wars for Iraq and Afghanistan.

Seems we have another escalating war on our hands. And wouldn’t you know it, just in time for the mid-term elections. Wow.

Meanwhile, half a world away, the crazed leaders of Hezbolla are fleeing through the neighborhoods south of Beruit’s airport, the kind of horrific ex-urb that would probably face low flying, big engine planes on any given day of the week. Okay, so this week maybe the planes are dropping “precision guided missiles.” (Which, by the way, is about as big an oxymoron as “military intelligence” or “the U.S. Department of Justice.”)

This band of scuttling cockroaches is supposed to be a ruthless terrorist organization bent on the annihilation of the Jewish people? This band of ignorant, small-minded fools who saw a troop withdraw from southern Lebanon as a sign of weakness? I’m supposed to accept them as the villains of this piece, and through them the remaining two Mid-East detachments of the Axis of Evil.

The Usual Gang of propaganda papers have already kicked their tires and stoked their fires. Can you hear the drums? Michael Laden, of the National Review.

It is very good news that the White House immediately denounced Iran and Syria, just as Ambassador Khalilzad had yesterday tagged the terrorist Siamese twins as sponsors of terrorism in Iraq.


William Kristol of the Weakly Standard:

The right response is renewed strength--in supporting the governments of Iraq and Afghanistan, in standing with Israel, and in pursuing regime change in Syria and Iran. For that matter, we might consider countering this act of Iranian aggression with a military strike against Iranian nuclear facilities. Why wait? Does anyone think a nuclear Iran can be contained? That the current regime will negotiate in good faith? It would be easier to act sooner rather than later. Yes, there would be repercussions--and they would be healthy ones, showing a strong America that has rejected further appeasement.


All of which ignores the overwhelming military assault Israel is displaying, with little or no regard for any of the spirituous evidence connecting the Hezbollah to Beirut to Iran. Or Syria. Most domestic news sources have focused on the financial implications of the story: its effect on futures markets, consumer spending and the driving force of our empire, the price of oil. Occasionally a human interest story will emerge through the chatter, but they are few and far between. Certainly there are no images of this, or any armed conflict’s final costs. Images of burning buildings, shot from neighboring hills, are acceptable, but it must be the same one, played over and over again, like those shots of the Towers collapsing.

According to Arthur Silber, it doesn’t matter whether Iran was responsible for anything or not. The connection is immaterial, as our Executive Branch has already decided to start a war.

I see that some people are questioning whether these recent attacks "were green-lighted by Iran." This is, still one more time, arguing about intelligence, and about whether it's right. Once again: intelligence is irrelevant to major policy decisions. If you're arguing about whether the intelligence is right -- in this instance, about whether Iran is behind these attacks -- you're playing right into the Bush administration's hands. Why won't people see this?

Let's say we knew for a fact that Iran is behind the attacks. Does that mean we should start the bombing tonight? No, it does not, unless you want to start World War III in earnest, and possibly bring on a nuclear Armageddon.


[Snip]

With regard to Iran, we have a card of profound significance to play; thus far, the Bush administration resolutely refuses to play it, or even consider it. We could grant full diplomatic recognition to Iran, and begin very broad negotiations immediately: on Iran's willingness to stop supporting terrorist groups and instead aid in anti-terrorism efforts; on Iran's relations with Israel; on Iran's desire to pursue nuclear power; and on many other subjects. Iran has made a number of overtures over the last several years that emphasize that this is precisely what Iran itself wants, but we refuse to engage that country except in the most strictly delimited ways, and even then, only with great reluctance -- and in a manner that makes meaningful discussion impossible.


Mr. Silber is one hell of a writer and a new personal inspiration, if that means anything. His blog is a testament to someone with a cast-iron stomach for the depravity of the human animal. His argument is, basically, our Glorious Leader’s gang follows a set pattern. They pick a target and message reality to fit their preconceived justifications for aggressive war. They are thus pre-meditated war criminals, and subject to all applicable laws.

Is anyone, anywhere, suggesting we go all Nuremberg on Bush (II) and the resurrected Tricky Dick (II)? Is anyone suggesting the United States use its diplomatic weight to force a ceasefire on the parties? Is anyone, anywhere, asking either of the opposing sides, “Are you people fucking crazy? You do know you’re killing each other…right?”

No.

The powers that Be have apparently acquiesced to this war, allowing it to continue for whatever reasons they see fit.

What honestly scares me is how quickly the public at large seems to have acquiesced as well. A coworker turned to me, also on Friday. I’ll call him Wellford, because he resembles the Quaker Oats man and former rodeo clown in more ways than I’m sure he’d care to acknowledge. “Doesn’t it seem to you like a world war situation?” he asked me. It was eight o’clock in the morning and I was still asleep with my eyes open.

“You assume the first one ever ended,” I told him.

He blew air through his nostrils in acknowledgement. Yet his remark (more of a casual comment, really) kicked something over in my head. The historian Howard Zinn once cribbed this observation from an (unnamed) female student: “War is like cyanide, one drop and you’re dead.” I’m beginning to think war is a lot closer to the waters of Lethe. One drink and you forget your basic human morality. War (particularly distant war against small, brown people) becomes numbing, debased, even common. It increases the amplitude of its own inevitability. So much so that my coworker can blithely, and brazenly ask if I agree with his assessment that “it seem[s] like a world war three situation” to him.

I’d say God help us, but the two oldest gods of the Middle East are apparently helping themselves to double handfuls of their faithful followers. Well, okay, maybe not double handfuls on the Israeli side just yet, but you wait until those ground troops land. Oh, yes, ma’am, just you wait.

Occasionally, I contemplate my own solution to the Middle East Crisis. I came up with it years ago. Around the time of President Bill’s Camp David meetings, in fact. It’s a monstrous, Watchman-style plan, only without Ozymandis’ eclectic taste for mass murder and bastard children of science and technology. I would give all the god’s children at least six months to relocate, with U.N. aid workers huffing around the clock to get everyone the bloody hell out. Then, well…can I say this without getting arrested? Or getting blackballed by Homeland Security? How many times must I emphasis that I wish no loss of life to any living human being. I deplore violence, especially the organized violence that is war, and seek only a redress of Middle Eastern greviences with the least possible amount of bloodshed and suffering.

To that end, I wonder if it would just be best to irradiate the entire strip of land? Relocate its people wherever they could go (or leave those who chose to stay…but only with the full knowledge of what they were staying for) and shower the place until it glows in the dark for the next five million years. Then if Elohim and Allah still want to fight their dirty little proxy war they’ll have to do it without humans as we know them today.

Besides, Dr. Manhattan was right. Nothing ever ends…an aphorism that is certainly true of the Middle East…even toxically radioactive elements eventually decay.

Of course this is no real solution. If I, or anyone, were to ever accomplish such a thing it would no doubt only inflame tensions on all sides. It would be Superman IV: The Quest for Peace all over again, except in the really real world, where the really real leaders of the military-industrial-infotainment complex have quite the hard-on for smiting those who oppose the status quo. Much like the gods they worship, now that I think about it.

I’d rather not, but I find war distracting in the worst of all possible ways. Look at it here, and look at me, look at all of us wallowing in our own supposed futility. Where are the protests? Where are the riots? Summer’s here and the time is right for fighting in the street.

But I know. It’s hot outside, and too damn hard to fight for peace and justice. Why bother? Why care? Why do anything but sit, idle, like the fat lumps we all know we are and stare into our machines?

Why indeed, when its so much easier to just roll over, throw our legs into the air, and believe it's already been decided for us. After all, it probably has.

Tagnation: Current Events: Israel: Lebanon: Iran: Syria: War in the Middle East: George W. Bush: Watchmen World War III: The Apocalypse

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Today's Cryptic Words from Jesus H. Christ

Nothing of particular note today. I only have a few quotes from your savior I'd like to save. From gnosis.org

"Perhaps people think that I have come to cast peace upon the world. They do not know that I have come to cast conflicts upon the earth: fire, sword, war. For there will be five in a house: there'll be three against two and two against three, father against son and son against father, and they will stand alone."


and, even better,

The disciples said to Jesus, "Tell us, how will our end come?" Jesus said, "Have you found the beginning, then, that you are looking for the end? You see, the end will be where the beginning is. Congratulations to the one who stands at the beginning: that one will know the end and will not taste death."


Don't know why I my interest in such matters would be peeked of late. Couldn't have a thing to do with recent world events, could it? Nothing new about blood in the Holy Land, is there, now?

Tag lines: Jesus Christ: encouraging words: Gnostic: The Gospel of Thomas

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Shamless Self Promotion

Not that anyone reads this...thing...but I've just gotten around to uploading my review of Superman Returns to And You Thought It Was Safe. It's a long piece of bile-driven screeding but it's done and I'm always proud of them one they leave the nest.

I so need to redesign my website. It's current layout dates from sometime in the middle of Our Glorious Leader's first term. I'm bored with it, in all frankness. Have been for some time. My search for a job brought most of my creative projects to a screetching halt. I am now Five unfinished short stories to the wind and counting. Everyone I know is either broke or barreling towards it. My girlfriend is across the country, where she'll remain until...the Goddess knows. In a week I'll be 23 and I've already officially nominated 2006 for the coveted title of "Crappiest Summer Ever."

Linear time can be such an unfeeling bitch. Now that I have the stupid job I keep waiting, expectantly, for the feeling of security I've been told its finanical rewards bring.

I suspect I've been lied to.

When I get some time I plan to write a long, detailed essay about the uncanny similarities between my new job's training program and cult indoctrination. If I'm careful, if I'm clever, and if you, Constant Reader, eat all your vegitables before desert I might just violate a few Confidentiality Agreements for you.

Tagitation: And You Thought It Was Safe Movies Superman Returns reviews wage slavery The Crappy Summer of 2006

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Today's Uplifting Music from Senator Orrin Hatch (R-UT)

I like to tease my webmaster, Nathan, with the continuing adventures of his state's senior Senator. He lives in Utah, where it's hot as blue blazes and by the grace of God they are lucky enough to have a Senator who knows the gays must not marry, who knows the video games must not be violent, who knows the flag must remain un-burnt, and who by God, knows that the terrorists illegal immigrants must not win corrupt us with their singing in foreign languages. The Lord knows they've already do so much with their marihuana.

In this spirit, I bring all of you: Hatchmusic.com. As the website says,

Music became an integral part of Orrin's life at a young age. Even though his parents, Helen and Jesse, were very poor, they made great sacrifices to allow their children to experiment[...]with different instruments.


The best compilation of theocratic balads since young Johnny Ashcroft stepped down from the Justice Department.

Tag, you're it: Orrin Hatch Republicans Utah music Nathan Shumate politics politricks John Ashcroft

Sunday, July 09, 2006

"Democracy" in Mexico

The polls closed over a week ago. The election is too close to call. Thousands take to the streets demanding a recount as the opposition candidate (who’s already been branded a loser by the international press) assures his supporters that he will fight to the last to get every single one of their votes counted.

Ohio, 2004? The Ukraine, 2004? Venezula, 2002? Or Florida, 2000?

No. It’s Mexico, our neighbor to the south. Last week’s contentious Presidential race— between Felipe Calderon of the ruling, conservative, Party of National Action, and the former mayor of Mexico City, Party of Democratic Revolution candidate Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador—was officially called “too close to call” by the PNA-controlled election commission yesterday.

Greg Palast is, as with so much else, keeping his eye firmly inside the hurricane. For the past week regular dispatches for Mexico City have appeared on his website. They provide a sharp, contrasting picture to the tepid, occasional coverage afforded Mexico by the mainstream press. Even Palast’s sometime employer, the BBC, has already called the election for Calderon, despite the obvious disparity between the exit poll numbers and Election Commission numbers.

Where have we seen that before?

In the Ukraine, barely a month after widespread stories of voter fraud failed to gain traction in America, wild variation between official counts and exit poll tallies led the United Nations (and States) to denounce Ukraine’s fraud-ridden sham of an election. No one (apart from Congressman Conyers and the crying voices of Air America radio) dared to bat an eye at this irony. It passed without notice on these shores.

Now Choicepoint Inc. (the database company responsible for the infamous bogus felon list of Florida, 2000) has lent it services to Calderon’s PNA, turning over reams of data on millions of Mexican citizans that the company collected in clear violation of Mexican law.

Our Glorious Leader has already welcomed Senor Calderon to the international club of right wing, idiot savant politicians…though there’s some dispute between the two leaders as to whether they’ve actually met before.

Together they could make the most powerful barbershop quartet on the planet, once Bush and Calderon joined up with that mad bastard Prime Minister of Canada and whoever’s President of the Dominica Republic this week. They could call themselves The Unelectables and hit triple platinum within a month…so long as Karl Rove is their road manager and Choicepoint their marketing company.

It would be glorious, and just as absurd as what’s already happening out in the real world

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Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Rain of Fools

My roommate (and best friend, who does not hate me…yet) informed me I should’ve watched the fireworks.

My adopted state of Oregon does not allow private citizens to possess the hurtful things. As a card-carrying resident of a Blue State I am “led” (that is ruled over) by people who believe the main responsibility of government is protect we the people from ourselves. (As opposed to the Madisonian style of government that rules the Red states, declaring as our Found Father did, that, “The primary function of government is to protect property from the majority.”) No fireworks that leave the ground, or contain more than X amount of gunpowder. Those are reserved for the state, county, and metropolitan government to cash and carry. And every year, at precisely ten p.m., fireworks explode over the river that knifes through my fair adopted city.

I walk out to the pavement, barefoot and smoking through bloody gums. Explosions ring out through the Willamette River Valley for precisely five minutes. Then all is still. Apart from the sirens. The shouts. The drunken ramblings. The laughter of kids. And we can’t forget the many and varied secondary explosions from all over the city. Call those concerned citizens taking the law into their own hands. Vigilante patriots who just can’t let this day pass without blowing something up. Sure, you can tap their phone, peek into their bank account, arrest them on sight at any Port of Entry, freeze their credit cards, destroy their rental history, withdraw federal student financial aid, and lock them up in a four-by-four foot steel wire box on a hot beach in the south of Cuba…but, by God, they’ll be damned if they let the fourth pass without blowing something up in the sky.

(And whatever you do, don’t question how they celebrate their national holiday. You’ll be immediately earn the label “whinner” or “sissy,” or “bitch.” You’ll be asked what the Founding Father’s would think of all this tripe and if you know you’re history then you’ll admit, “They’d probably hate me. George Washington, the Burner of Villages, would probably have me shot me on sight, like those men who led the Mutiny of the New Jersey Line.)

Often I dream of flying, but I’d hate to fly on the fourth. Last night I dreamed a dream…but now that dream is gone from me.

Why do I hate America?

Plenty of reasons. Among them the fact that I must continually repeat them in face-to-face communication.

Today’s Encouraging Words come from Howard Zinn:

“War is like cyanide: one drop and you’re dead.”


As Will Hunting said, “You want a good book, read People’s History of the United States. That book’ll knock you on your fucking ass.”

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Fear and Loathing on Our Nation's Birthday

Let’s recap.

On this national birthday, in this evil year-of-our-Lord, 2006, in this hive of fugitives, in the midst of desperation I have managed to:

• Start a cross-country fight with my girlfriend over the phone, having not returned a call due to a previously arranged pressing engagement in town. She is currently 1300 miles from the side of the bed she claimed and by all the gods that ever were I miss her. Long-relationships are, by their very nature, beset with stress, mostly due to the extended period of time it takes to communicate any emotion, be it anger, catharsis, or (as was the case we me here) shame.

• Lose a job

• Beg my parents for money, something I despise, despite their overwhelming willingness to give it to me, usually at the slightest provocation. I do not mind prostrating myself before authority figures for monetary gain. (For what is a job but “Yow’sa, massah!”-ing the boss? There’s a reason we’re called wage slaves.) I mind the ease with which I secured the funds. A similar species of trusting ease has repeatedly burned my grandparents. Their sons (my uncles) are not as honorable as I am, and more time goes by the more I think they no longer have the capacity to feel what I am feeling now. Either that gene is carried exclusively on the X chromosome or they surrendered this capacity somewhere during the 1980s.
• Receive said money.

• Pay rent

• Piss off my roommate, who is also my best friend. I have a strong suspicion that she no longer trusts me. Were it any other person, I would care less. But it is her and she is the one who, long ago, picked me up when I was down. She is the one I turn to when I need my moral compass checked. We have forged this relationship over years and I depend upon it as sure as I depend upon the gravity keeping this keyboard on my desk.

True, I’ve been a jobless fool the past…well, nine months…true, I am at times and inconsiderate jackass. But, Lord God, I had no idea it had professed the point where she would accuse me of theft.

Until today.

I feel the Fear that I am Loathed and am imbibing alcohol to cope. This is not a problem so much as a temporary solution. At best I will pass out and wake tomorrow in time for a scheduled job interview.

I know I should devote a few words to American, the Beautiful…but I find nothing beautiful in the civilization that invests this land. It has given me nothing but pain, heartbreak, insecurity and disgust. I pray for rain. I pray for tidal waves. And right now I have a special place in my prayers for another rum and coke.

Ah, there it is.

Happy fucking Independence Day. May all your democracies be exported through military force. As Chairman Mao said, long ago, "Change must come through the barrel of a gun."

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