mister peace

Now for something completely random: Thoughts that entered my head without my asking them to.

Old people and traveler’s checks. I was standing in line at Subway the other day and I had the misfortune of getting behind an older gentleman. This senior citizen couldn’t have merely walked up to the counter and asked for a sandwich, or even asked about a couple sandwich ingredients, he had to make a custom order so obnoxiously overwrought with detail that it took a few different “sandwich technicians” to complete it. All the while, he went out of his way to emphasize that this was his first trip to Subway and that he wanted the sandwich to be “just like he saw on television.”

I know there’s a very vocal portion of the population that thinks its sweet and wonderful when old people try to go do things like the rest of us, but I really do wish most restaurants and retail outlets had separate departments dedicated exclusively to handling the needs of the elderly. Failing that, I kind of wish they’d just stay home. I know that sounds insensitive and horrible, but old people really DON’T like the rest of society. I think if they just made up their minds not to interact with the rest of us, it would be better for all of us.

When I worked in retail, one of the worst things an old person could do is attempt to pay with a traveler’s check. Traveler’s checks are a complete mystery to a vast majority of society, yet there are a few odd birds who actually think they’re legitimate currency. When we were trained in how to operate the registers, we were taught how to ring cash, credit cards, personal checks, and gift certificates. In the odd chance someone attempted to pay with a traveler’s check, we had no idea what to do, because you see… traveler’s checks ARE A MYSTERY. You might as well pay with Russian rubles or Flintstones play-money. Even our store manager had to take a guess (she suggested we ring them up in the same manner as a personal check).

How does the traveler’s check system work? If the funds are coming from a lending agency, wouldn’t it be easier to use a credit card? If the money is coming from your bank, you could write a personal check or use a Visa debit card. Hey, they even have this thing now called “cash” where the entire exchange is done on the spot, no fuss, no muss. Whatever the traveler’s check system is, you could just be done with it now, because I think .000002 % of the population actually gives a damn. Part of me suspects its some sort of antiquated relic of the pre-WWII era, sort of like war bonds and victory gardens. I get this hunch because no one under the age of 70 uses the traveler’s check.

Wood paneling. In the 1970’s, Congress passed a law that stated everything manufactured for the duration of the decade must, at least partially, look like wood.

The strange part is that it wasn’t just room interiors. I can understand that people wanted to decorate their walls with wood veneers but the wood paneling craze went deeper than that… it was some sort of sick obsession that caused an entire nation to cover everything is tacky and completely out of place plastic wood. Wood paneling appeared on things that could NEVER be made out of wood. Alarm clocks had wood paneling. Station wagons had wood paneling. I once had an Atari unit that had wood paneling. This does the exact OPPOSITE of create a naturalistic vibe, as nothing could be less realistic than a car whose chassis is made out of oak.

Company dress code. The place I work has a dress code. Not a very strict one, mind you, but it’s business casual. I’ve never seen anyone reprimanded for violating this dress code and it makes me wonder what they’d do if you did. Some guesses: They might have a set of dual-gender “community clothes” that can be worn by anyone in case offending garments need to be removed. Maybe they send you home early? I like to think that they force you to strip nude and go about the rest of your day in the buff, so as to shame you and enforce the dress code simultaneously.

Because that would be REALLY funny.

I am in the process of becoming vegetarian.

You might be wondering why I would do such a thing. To be short, I discovered too much and I can’t in good conscious continue living the way I have been, knowing that innocent animals had to suffer to be made into the food I’m eating. I’m sure that’s the standard answer, but it holds true in my case just as it’s held true in the cases of thousands and thousands of vegetarians over the years. Call me naive but I believe there’s no problem that can’t be solved by people being made aware. Over the years, it’s become more and more apparent that the meat-producing industry is absolutely brutal in their treatment of animals destroyed and consumed as food and I’ve reached a point where I’ve learned too much. The information is out there and it’s positively stomach-churning. Needless to say, I’ll be talking more about this in the future, as it’s an issue I feel very close to but I’ll spare the gory details for today.

Must becoming a vegetarian be a process? It depends on the individual. I am phasing meat out of my diet incrementally so that I can get a better handle on the situation and plan step by step. Although for some, it’s as simple as making the commitment and then never eating meat again, I’m choosing to do it piecemeal and thereby fortifying my vegetarianism as a lifestyle choice entire, and not just a momentary diet plan. Speaking of phases and moving incrementally, I want to eventually become a vegan entirely, as the dairy industry is guilty of inhumane treatment of milk-producing cattle.

Excepting one or two meals involving chicken, I’ve gone the past two weeks with no meat. I’m upping my grain, fruit, and vegetable intake and that’s not easy for a guy like me who’d rather eat a cheeseburger than a lettuce, tomato, and onion sandwich. I’ve been a meat-eater my entire life and I’m not even partial to vegetables, but I am finding substitutes that aren’t entirely disagreeable. On the topic of substitutions: vegetarian burgers aren’t as horrible as your initial impulse tells you they might be. They aren’t exactly the same, but they are quite tasty, me having tried my first just earlier this week. Meat substitute is also prominent in Morningstar Farms food products, which I’ve taken a shine to. Honestly, this experience isn’t as nightmarish as you’d think it be as you listened to the meat-eaters of the world bemoaning constant salads and “rabbit food” as the only meal options available to veggies. That’s evidently not the case. Coming up: I receive the Veg Starter Kit I requested, courtesy PETA. Supposedly, it includes recipes and tips on veggie living, so I look forward to getting it in the mail soon.

I also attempted soy milk and anyone telling you that it’s exactly the same as standard dairy is lying. Soy milk has a slight tang to it, leaving a vaguely bitter aftertaste that a thick, chalky glass of milk never does. I think the difference in acidity is the most disagreeable part of the soy milk experience, however… although it tastes a lot different than dairy milk, it’s not so god-awful that I wouldn’t drink it. It’s just something I’m going to get used to down the road.

The biggest change for me will be “coming out of the veggie closet” and talking about this to my family, all of whom are deeply conservative and would never even consider vegetarianism. The ironic twist is that everyone in my family loves pet animals and even the men have an abnormally soft spot for cats and dogs. This brings me to the crux of my argument and the point that should be driven home any time a discussion on this topic is breached: people who love animals but hate or don’t understand vegetarians aren’t stupid, hypocritical, evil, or close-minded, they’re merely uneducated on the topic.

Nobody in my family knows anything about the modern meat industry, and there was a time when I myself certainly didn’t, either. The myth is that vegetarians consider themselves evolved and therefore better than meat-eaters, but the truth is that I’ve merely read literature that a meat-eater hasn’t, seen videos that they haven’t seen, or heard testimonials they haven’t heard. I’m not better, smarter, kinder, or more advanced than anyone chomping down on a fat steak, I’ve just peeked behind the curtain and learned something that they haven’t. As such, I’m never going to hold it over them and pretend to be more compassionate or a better person than they are, I’m merely going to explain what I know and that I’m doing what I’m doing out of love. Hopefully, that’s accepted. We shall see.

The road to vegetarianism is truly a learning experience, and I’m not done learning yet. It starts with curiosity and ends with some new enlightenment, and hopefully a change. The moment of truth comes when you stop seeing your food in abstract terms and begin drawing the connection to sentient animals who can feel pain. It’s easy to see a cheeseburger as a THING, because it doesn’t look like a cow. After you’ve seen it made, however, there begins a subconscious association between the product and the animal it came from. The difference is psychological, but to hear a cow scream absolutely changes the way you perceive the food you’re about to eat.

Again, this is a process for me, so I’m writing this as a novice still on the road to veg. I need to keep going and I need to plan. I need to learn more, study, read, and I might even join a group online, but I have to keep going.

Here’s to the animals.

Talk about life not being fair. When I was a kid, the tooth fairy brought me less money per tooth than she did to other kids just because my parents were poor. We all like to hear the legend of the tooth fairy and think of some sort of benevolent, kindly sprite, but the truth of the matter is that she’s a prejudiced bitch. That’s classism plain and simple and I’m going to make it known.

Similarly, Santa had it in for me. While other kids enjoyed extravagant and pricey Christmas gifts, Santa brought me whatever meager toys he could gather together. Why, you ask? Because he’s a hateful elitist who thinks he’s above the working man. Think about it: kids who come from poorer families always suffer with fewer presents and presents of a lower quality, at that. Santa can bite me.

While I’m on a tear, genies are constantly trying to stiff me, too. That rule about your last wish not being for more wishes is bullshit. I’m going to go through the fine print with a lawyer specializing in genie-related litigation (they advertise in late-night infomercials) and find a loophole if it’s the last thing I do. If it means a class-action suit, then so be it. I’ve had it up to here with mythological creatures who think they can give me the run-around just because they have powers that I don’t.

And don’t get me started on leprechauns.

My dearest angel:

Today is Valentine’s Day and, like always, I can only think of you. You, the reason I wake up in the morning, the melody in my song, the very heartbeat in my chest. I’m sorry for the bumps in the road and I’m sorry for my faults, but I will always love you and I’ll always be there for you.

You amaze me. Your infinite and unending capacity to love, your kindness and warmth, your gentleness and beauty… you are sublime and I love you down to your soul. I’ve never met anyone as caring and giving as you, and I never will. You amaze me by feeling more deeply than I thought possible and by letting me into your life and loving me without stipulation. I’ve never known what unconditional love is and I’m still getting used to it, but know that I love you the same.

If I had all the time in the world and unlimited resources, it would still be impossible for me to catalog the things about you I love. I love your soft and warm eyes, eyes that invite and give kindly. I love your sweet and beautiful smile. I love the way you laugh and the way you speak. I love your skin and I love every part of your beautiful body. I love YOU… I love you entirely, down to your essence. I want to surrender myself to forever and spend the rest of my life lost in your embrace. I love you when times are good and when they are bad. I love you when the world is dark and lonely and I love you when everything is just as it should be. I love you without stipulation or hesitation. I love you when you don’t love yourself, and I love you despite the moments when I feel afraid to love anyone.

And I am amazed by how you love me. When no one else loves me, you do. When I crumple to the floor and feel I can’t go on, you lift me up again. I want to do the same for you. I want to care for you and hold you and give you your wings. You are my biggest fan, my supporter, and my partner in everything I do. No one has ever meant that much to me or given me so much. I’m not sure what I did right to deserve you, but I promise I will do everything I can to be the same support and unconditional love for you in turn. I could say “thank you” a million times and still not be finished, but I’ll say it again: Thank you. Thank you for giving me the greatest joy and hope I’ve ever known, a joy and hope I didn’t think were possible before I met you.

Thank you for being a perfect match for me. We share so much that I feel you are the other part of my soul, gone missing until now. You are my other half and I need you more than words could ever say. You laugh at my jokes, understand my problems, and are an identical fit sexually and romantically. You give me so much happiness and pleasure that I feel indebted to you and I hope I can offer the same in return. I want to make you laugh, make you orgasm, and make you smile with the giddy thrill of love, now and forever. I want to give all of myself, body, mind, and soul, to you and I know that you’ll accept.

I know we’ve had our share of hard times and things aren’t always easy. I don’t mind because I know you’re worth it. When things are hard, I hang tight and don’t let go and I hope and know you’ll do the same for me. You have an inner strength that astounds me. While we all have our faults, I gladly accept yours because they make you who you are and I hope you can do the same for me. Whatever problems we run into are dwarfed by our great love for one another. They will fade and recede, because we both have each other.

I love you. Because I found you, I can feel what I’m feeling now forever and I can give my love to my perfect angel, completely and unequivocally. I can feel secure, knowing that I have someone to hold onto, even though I’m not sure I deserve it and I’m not sure why I’m so lucky.

This Valentine’s Day, my gift will be a bit late because of money constraint but I hope my words are like special presents that find their way to your heart. I hope this is the first Valentine’s Day you feel truly loved, satisfied, and as happy as you deserve. I hope you have the greatest Valentine’s Day of all and with many more to come.

I love you. Today, tomorrow, and forever, I love you.

Yours truly.

My updates have been sporadic lately, and I haven’t posted at all in the last week. There are two reasons for this.

Firstly, I don’t like my computer and my computer doesn’t like me. (LINK) My PC is so flaky lately in terms of performance that it’s actually discouraging me from using the internet. I’m going to have to do something and get it looked at, but when your computer doesn’t work, it can be a burden sitting down in front of it and attempting to use it.

Secondly, blogging daily is a bitch when you work full-time and are developing a serious aversion to spending extra time in front of a computer upon returning home.

For both of these reasons, I’m just not feeling the drive.

Hence, I’m going to break my own rule and only post here three times a week. Since June, barring a hiatus in the fall and a slump in the winter, I’ve posted an average of one post a day. From here on out, I’m going to attempt quality over quantity (notice I said “attempt”) and post only on Friday, Sunday, and Wednesday of each week.

Sure, I’m a hypocrite. I’ve always espoused the virtues of writing every day whether you wanted to or not and sticking to creative commitments, so who am I to break a promise I made just a short month ago? I’m learning as I go, and that’s the only answer I can give. Creativity happens in “waves”… you get a lot of ideas, then no ideas, then a lot of ideas in an endless cycle. You love writing, then you hate it, then you love it again. The one thing I can be sure of is that burning out is much, much worse than loosening your schedule. I might return to daily blogging, but for now I need to relax my computer time because it’s either that or go crazy and delete the website entire just to be rid of it. If posting daily is damaging my chi, then a change needs to happen. NOTHING is worse than burning out.

So, Friday, Sunday, and Wednesday it shall be. Additionally, I’d like to take more time to write better pieces instead of hurried ones… I’ll give the “quality over quantity” approach a try, since I’ve been doing it the other way around for so long.

Back on Wednesday.

An aside: Has anyone reading this already broken their New Year’s Resolutions? I got to February before I shattered mine. Not too shabby, considering my usual lack of will power.

Another aside: Is anyone reading this stupid enough to commit vehement and principled statements to posterity via their blog, only to later become history’s biggest jackass by waffling and changing their minds? I sure am!

Just thought I’d take a minute to say “thanks” to anyone who wanders to this blog from Tumblr. I’m finding that my tumblelog brings in more hits on a daily basis than WordPress does lately.

Tumblr, for those of you not in the know, is awesome. I wrote about it here and, more recently, here. It’s a blogging platform that’s quick and to the point. Tumblrs tend to feature great content, a cool community, and they look great, to boot.

Thanks, tumblers all.

Random thoughts floating in my head:

Paul McCartney was, and continues to be, kind of an airhead.

As far as popular suicide methods go, I’d love to see seppuku come back into vogue. Always performed with a full-size katana blade, of course.

John Belushi was the single most overrated human being to ever tread the face of the planet. Eyebrow-arching and spit takes do not history’s greatest comedian make.

Anyone who thinks Morrissey is a whiny, self-pitying, woebegone ponce of dubious talent should burn all of his or her Kurt Cobain records.

The universe continues to give me reason after reason after reason NOT to vote for Hillary Clinton.

They say dogs are smarter than cats because dogs can learn verbal commands and comprehend social patterns. At the end of the day, however, an animal either craps on the floor or craps in their litter box.

High school teaches us that getting drunk every weekend is to be aspired to and being a nerd is shameful, but adulthood proves the exact opposite true.

I’m trying to think of nicknames for Mike Huckabee, should America’s white, middle-aged, bigoted, Christian demographic put him in the White House. So far, it’s almost too easy.

If you only visit one new website today, it should be http://songerize.com

Creationists still can’t explain the human body’s vestigial tail.

I like grossing people out by making them picture a vestigial tail.

I should get back to work.

Much in the way some people are fascinated by the human trainwreck that is Britney Spears, I read Julia Allison’s tumblelog with rapt attention. Not because I enjoy it or because she has anything good to say, but because I’m deeply amused by someone that detached from reality and I’m placing bets on when and how she completely unravels (my latest prediction: a lifetime of hard aging, resulting in enough plastic surgery to make Joan Rivers look healthy).

For those of you not hip, Julia is a crack celebrity gossip journalist, which should simultaneously make your stomach knot and also question whether or not the word “journalist” should be used in this context. She writes for Star or The National Enquirer or The Weekly World News… I forget which one, but it’s the kind of yellow rag that might headline with a story of Mel Gibson talking to aliens as opposed to election coverage. She also makes talking-head appearances on basic cable news shows, where she dishes the dirt on who’s dead and who’s not. Among bloggers, she’s notorious for being possibly the most narcissistic and self-absorbed human being on the planet, and among bloggers, that’s really saying something.

Check out her fascinating online journal yourself sometime. You’ll see an endless litany of blog posts that take self-promotion to a whole new level. While short on genuine observations of the world around her, Julia never misses an opportunity to analyze herself. She talks about looking good, feeling good, her past relationships, what she’s thinking about, the things that make her who she is, past boyfriends who have told her how great she is after the fact, how proud she is of her good looks, her money, her dog, her hair, and if all that introspection isn’t enough, she posts a constant stream of self-portraits. Imagine stopping what you’re doing, regardless of what you’re doing or where, to take pictures of yourself and posting no less that a half dozen to your own blog PER DAY. Did I mention she posts A LOT? Never short on updates, she’s prone to letting you know what she thinks about herself several times a day.

The funny thing about said pictures is that they’re always utterly false and forced, as plastic and artificial as a home photo can be, but they’re always presented as spur-of-the-moment peeks into her life. It creates this hilarious sense of surrealism where you know you’re looking at what can basically be described as a promo shot, but it’s pretending to be fully candid. It’s like looking at the headshot of a Hollywood celebrity if that headshot were in a restaurant. I’m beginning to think Julia is constantly pretending to be real but it’s just a veneer of “reality drag” sort of in the way a reality TV show presents candid family moments that only look like candid family moments, because nobody fucking acts like that.

Julia’s writing fascinates me. Not in that I respect it or find it thought-provoking, but in the way you might be drawn to the diaries of a madman after he vanishes, never to be heard from again. I sincerely believe that what I’m reading is the last will and testament of a mind so gripped by delusion and self-grandeur that it CAN’T be long for this world. Julia is constantly trying to portray herself as a being of kindness, thoughtfulness, beauty, and intelligence, but it’s forever tempered by half-hearted attempts at faux-modesty. One of my favorites is when she is thankful that her beauty didn’t bloom while she was still in her formative, adolescent years because people who find themselves in that situation have to face the reality of their sexuality while too young to understand the magnitude of the situation. In a single blog post, she calls herself beautiful, wise, and mature while off-setting the massive amounts of adulation with the admission that she was an awkward and unsure teenager. Amazing. It’s the ultimate in masturbatory diary-writing.

Also funny is her staunch position that what she does has any real credibility. She frequently talks about deadlines and editors and the writer’s life as if she’s Hemingway 2.0. She’s a celebrity gossip diva, which puts her somewhere between Mary Hart and a hairdresser who won’t shut up about Brangelina on the journalism valid-o-meter. It’s not as if she’s the next Woodward and Bernstein or anything. Yet, she takes her 2 minute segment on Glenn Beck, which might typically involve errant Lindsay Lohan speculation, and presents it like she’s been hard at work on her next Pulitzer. Oh, the exhausting and demanding life of Julia Allison, the 21st century wordsmith/seer/shaman that Hunter Thompson never was. She’s such a hard worker! Being that brilliant isn’t easy.

Speaking of hard work, I almost shat myself reading her account of the difficulties she had upon striking out on her own as a youth. She was REDUCED to taking a job in retail, from which she was fired after a few weeks. How she lowered herself to working at Bath and Body Works is beyond me (why that’s the same job one of the NORMALS would have to endure!) but I’m just glad she found her true calling: casting judgment upon people she’s never met while stroking her own ego.

The thing that’s so devious and so utterly stinky about the whole thing is her propensity for masking self-adulation behind a thin veneer of humility and decency that’s more fake than her bogus “cute smile” that appears in all those pictures. She’ll rub her metaphorical clit for a paragraph or two then sum up by saying that she could be wrong or that she’s still learning. She goes such a long way to emphasize that this ISN’T rampant narcissism it’s a journey of self-discovery. She makes sure to point out when she fails, although that’s just to cushion the fact that she bludgeons her readers over the head with self-congratulation at every turn. She’d be a psychologist’s field day.

Basically, she’s good at calling herself nice and that’s too often a red flag for a total fake. She’s good at creating the illusion of niceness, which is as bad as being a bitch outright. More annoyingly, she loves her own cuteness, and I can’t stand that trait in anyone.

I don’t know her so how can I judge? Because she’s putting herself out there and asking for it. She’s making herself fair game and I’m reacting to her blog, which is very obviously part of the public discourse. There. That’s my justification so take it or leave it. And for anyone who says I’m just giving the attention-craving loon exactly what she wants, I say so be it. I can’t help but keep reading. Like a car crash, etc. etc.

While I’m on the topic, please read Reblogging Julia, a tumblelog that parodies and discusses Julia Allison on a regular basis. While not able to keep up with Her Highness (who could?) they do an admirable job of finding and commenting on the most choice parts. It’s hilarious, brilliant, and well-written. Read it, laugh, and enjoy. They get bonus points for coining the nickname “Our Lady of Introspection”.

I run into all kinds of bizarre and funny names in my company’s client database. Keeping in mind that the following are real, not made up by me and certainly not gag names, here are some of the worst:

“Gordonna” This, I’m assuming, is the feminine form of Gordon. Seeing as Gordon isn’t the most pleasant name to begin with, this is just adding insult to injury. I can’t even imagine doing this to your daughter. Gordonna sounds like a monster in a cheap Toho film.

“[first name] Snore” Yes, Snore was this gentleman’s surname. It’s hard to be taken seriously at staff meetings for him, I imagine.

“Wyette” Either the feminine form of Wyatt or a gross misspelling. Either way, it’s a horrible, awful name.

“Chikelia” This is not a typo in our computers, it’s her name and I confirmed it.

“Rong Wang” My inner 13 year old is so pleased to find that this is the name of a person who actually pays taxes and has to function in society. His name sounds like an all-Engrish porno film or possibly the brother of Rite.

“[first name] Wanke” I don’t know if this is pronounced “wanky” or simply “wank” but I enjoy it.

“Earnell” It’s like the names Ernie and Earl had a horrible mutant love-baby. Although this name happened to belong to an IT professional, it sounds like an original cast member on Hee Haw.

I continue to love my tumblelog. (About tumbling) I’ve also decided that Tumblr is an all-around better site for networking than MySpace. Granted, I don’t have a MySpace account, but I’ve known countless people who did, I know how it works, and I know who’s using it. Here’s why I would recommend Tumblr, given the option:

Emphasis on content. The emphasis on MySpace is clearly on racking up a high friend-count. Granted, there is all the room in the world for new music, blogging, and whatever else you want to use it for, but that’s not what people DO use it for… at least, not to the extent of other, better websites. It seems that online communities find a purpose and niche (and through this, an identity) regardless of how open-ended the original site might have been. In the case of MySpace, the priority seems largely to be amassing an enormous number of friends, and it’s the exceptions that prove the rule.

Less idiots. Granted, every cool person on the planet is using MySpace, but every dipshit is, too. With Tumblr, the latter doesn’t seem to be the case. The key demographic using Tumblr is younger, hipper, and savvier tech geeks, artists, designers, and tastemakers with nary an ugly front page or jumbled interface in sight. Granted, I’ve jokingly bagged on hipsters in the past, but this cultural group has their priorities in line when it comes to user-generated content, design philosophy, intelligence and good taste. Meanwhile, the MySpace crowd STILL consists largely of disenfranchised high school students of dubious intellect and a penchant for L33+. Again, I hate to make blanket generalizations as it seems that every human being on the planet is currently using or has used MySpace, but it’s the exception that proves the rule.

Less sex predators. As far as we know.

Did I mention the content? Pictures, quotations, blog entries, you name it. And the quality is really high. Smart people with a genuine love of photography, art, and socio-cultural observation seem to be flocking to Tumblr, and it shows up as you go through the list of people following you.

Better “friend” system. With Tumblr, you navigate from your dashboard to your “following” page with a mouseclick and it’s immediately obvious who is following you and who you are following. This list doesn’t appear on your front page, however, because that would be annoying and obtrusive, wouldn’t it? Like everything relating to Tumblr, the friend system is brilliant in its simplicity, elegance, and design. It’s deftly executed and makes it SO much easier to find new and interesting people who are posting worthwhile content.

Speaking of finding new followers, the best way to go about it is to reblog other people’s stuff, which puts their name under said content in the form of a link. When they reblog you, the same is true in reverse. In this way, you can see where anybody whose content you happen to like is finding their shit, which leads to a tidy little web of like-minded Tumblr-buddies. This is relevant because, as I mentioned earlier, the sharing and “friending” system is based on content rather than random and arbitrary “adds” picked up from wherever. Substance is important to Tumblrs. If your tumblelog doesn’t feature stuff worth looking at, nobody will.

More on this topic some other time.

I once heard Glenn Beck claim that Robin Hood was an example of a fictional or mythological character that exemplified conservative ideology (his claim: Robin Hood stole from the government and gave it to the people, much in the way tax-cut loving Republicans want to keep your money in your pocket). No no, Glenn. You silly tit. If you’re going to talk about metaphor, you have to get it right.

This is an election year and everyone is thinking about where everyone else falls on the political spectrum. Of course, nobody is more crucial to the political process than fictional characters. Here now are some of history’s greatest archetypes and where they fall on the political map and why.

RIGHT-LEANING CHARACTERS:

James Bond

James Bond is an old right-wing boor if ever there was one. A former military man, Bond kills for the government and there ain’t nothing more conservative than that. The very embodiment of antiquated, patriarchal thinking, Bond is the type of guy who loves imperialism almost as much as he hates feminism. A misogynistic pig of a man, Bond was at his best when treating women like dirt, although producers had to go and be all PC by bringing in a female M. Also a pretty obvious metaphor is the fact that he kills commies in the interest of furthering capitalism, mother Britain, and the Western Way. How’s that for right of the center?

Iron Man

Iron Man is Tony Stark, a billionaire industrialist and scientist who made his fortune selling weapons to the military. I could stop right there, but I’ll continue. After a traumatic event that nearly kills him, he decides to use his abilities to defend humanity as Iron Man, which is still pretty damn violent when you think about it. Not exactly one to volunteer at soup kitchens, Stark improves the world by building himself a robot suit that launches rockets and blasts laser rays, which is to say nothing of his War Machine armor. Also, he’s a filthy rich drunken womanizer, so he would have no problem fitting in at most country clubs.

Obi-Wan Kenobi

This one might take a bit of imagining, but think about it: He advocates lifetime service in a vaguely militaristic outfit that demands complete and total dedication to the Republic, he belongs to a religion that forbids sex in favor of spiritual subservience, and he has been known to sport a mullet. Obi-Wan is a bible-belter at heart. Just look at the picture above. He’s got that “angry libertarian who reads weird newsletters and hates Jews” look going.

LEFT-LEANING CHARACTERS:

Robin Hood

Robin Hood is the very embodiment of wealth redistribution. He stole from rich governors and viceroys and gave the money to poor people. It doesn’t get much more liberal than that. OK, it does. He also lived in the woods with a bunch of his friends and never worked. A bit of a hippie all around, Robin Hood was an outlaw who believed social justice trumps hegemony. He was the anti-hero that personified shades of gray. Republicans get pissed just thinking about people like him.

Auxiliary character: Green Arrow, a comic book character who introduced the concept of social justice and “fighting for the little guy” to DC comics. Hates “fat cats” and shoots a bow. Basically, he’s Robin Hood if he were in the Justice League.

Zorro

Zorro protected the poor citizens of southern California/Mexico from unscrupulous land owners. I guess that’s pretty much enough to land him on this list. Plus, he had that air of trickery that characterizes lefty discourse as opposed to the rights blustery machismo. Zorro means “fox” and it also means “Lou Dobbs’ worst nightmare” for those of you not up on your español. Plus, any straight guy that comfortable looking a bit foppish is probably not part of the Sean Hannity crowd.

Thor

Thor, the Norse god of thunder, was introduced to Marvel comics in the 60’s. Now, in the new millennium, he’s re-created by Mark Millar as the world’s greatest hippie. No, I’m not kidding. Go read The Ultimates. Thor lives in Europe, which, considering that he pals around with Captain America, is kind of lefty in and of itself. Additionally, he drinks a lot (preferring dark, European stout), wears long girly-hair, hates the American military-industrial complex, espouses conspiracy theories, and supports Nader. He only helps The Ultimates (a super-team created by the American government and FOR the American government) if it involves saving lives and is absolutely necessary. He is THE fictional lefty.

OK, that’s all for now. Possibly more at a later date.

I love so, so, so many things about my girlfriend; far too many to name in just a single blog post. But one of the many is the fact that she has brilliant taste is music. Her taste in music is similar to mine, only much better in quality and in terms of variety and scope. I can’t tell you how lucky I am that she shares a lot of music with me.

Guys reading this: one of the best things you can ask for is a girlfriend with good taste in art, books, movies, and music. It’s a sign of intellect and aesthetic discernment and what could be better than that? It’s extremely satisfying and cool and you’ll be glad in the long run.

It’s simply astounding how bad some peoples taste in music is and if you’re in a relationship with said person *cough*davematthewsfan*cough* it can be a grueling chore to continually fake an interest in bland music.

And for fuck’s sake, pick a decent “our song”. Our “our song” is simply beautiful and I honestly cried the first time I heard it. No, nothing by a hip-hop artist who’s showing his sensitive side for a duet with a pop diva will be considered an acceptable “our song”. Nor will anything by a nu-metal band attempting to try their hand at a poorly-played “ballad”. Please do much, much better.

I know you’re reading this. Thank you and I love you.