Gone Daddy, Gone!

There is a certain overwhelming truth that has become a Hallmark of this day and age. All deception will eventually make it’s way to the light of day. Communication is instantaneous and everyone is anxious to hear what exactly happened. It’s only a matter of time.

That said, I’m glad you’re leaving. In fact, I can’t say anybody’s heartbroken to see you in their rear-view mirror.  If I’d had my way, I’d have thrown your shit into garbage bags and thrown it on the front lawn a long time ago.  By the way, has anybody ever told you that your profile looks like a Skeksi from the Dark Crystal?

Your contribution as a pope is a legacy protecting child molesters and being generally divisive.  Instead of delivering a message of peace and unity, your Christmas speech was about how gay people are ruining the concepts of marriage and family. Now there are allegations of corruption and money laundering…Really? You’re the holiest man the Christian world can produce? Really?

You’ve done nothing to try to keep up with the modern world. You’ve taken an antiquated message and used it to alienate people. Catholics, this is the best you can come up with, a former member of the Hitler Youth? Really? It’s no wonder that people are leaving the church in droves.

The news is saying that the Pope’s ailing health is the reason behind his stepping down. There’s absolutely no way that’s true. The stigma behind being the 1^st Pope in six hundred years to step down by far outweighs the ailing health scenario. I call bullshit. There’s absolutely something a foot here.

The Boy Scouts, Rick Perry, and The Governor’s Mansion

I normally don’t do a two-fer, but I have to call him out on this.

Rick Perry is urging the Scouts to not change their policy and include gay people. I don’t know who that queen is trying to convince with taking every single opportunity to stand up in the middle of church and proclaiming “Gay people suck!” Rick, the topic was do unto others as you would have others do unto you…oh wait, now I can totally see why you would say that. Your mind immediately went to that sex place and you had to open up and tell everyone that you’re not some mincing fop. 

It would be different if he just did it once. But the man is practically printing up t-shirts that say “anything but queer” or “ask me how NOT gay I am.” Only someone desperately trying to cover up the fact that they are secretly gay would feel obligated to do that. This behavior is akin to a third-grade girl going up to the boy she likes on the playground, smacking the shit out of him, and then running away. That’s right, Rick. I’ve just indirectly called you the developmental equal to a preadolescent female. Does the dress fit? Because you look ridiculous in it. I once knew a compulsive liar who, upon meeting someone, would say that she never ever lied -- same sort of thing.

Rick wants the public to believe he's protecting the children. In actuality, less than 1% of child molesters identify as gay or homosexual. 

The rumor mill is saying that Rick Perry has a type -- mid 20s, Latino and well-muscled (whatever you’re into, mister lady) -- and that the torching of the governor’s mansion was actually done by a spurned lover. There are multiple news sites that report that Rick had a relationship with his former secretary of state, Geoff Connor, and is currently in a relationship with one of his two male chefs, paid for with taxpayer money at $10,000 a month.

Rick Perry was an Eagle Scout, which he believes entitles him to open up his word hole and tell the Boy Scouts what they should and should not do in regard to policy. He thinks they should continue to be bigots by not including gay people. Saying that all gay people will be expelled from the Scouts is to teach young people that discrimination is right and an American value. Governor Perry, you are sending a message that gay people are targets and “less than”. No one asked for your opinion. It is not your place to mandate morality. You’re a figurehead at best.

The Boy Scouts are leaders, concerned with making noble choices and good decisions. The Boy Scouts is about helping those who need assistance.  The Boy Scouts is about welcoming all who wish to help because it’s the right thing to do.

My message to Rick is this: Cut the shit and stop acting like a dick. Every time you open your mouth, it just makes people look harder, which is the opposite of what you want them to do. Focus on making Texas the greatest it can possibly be. Texas loves all of its sons and daughters, not just the ones you deem suitable.

A Magic Eight Ball whose only Answer for everything is PRAYER, but try shaking it anyway: an open letter to Rick Perry:

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Not to bring up old shit, but let’s look at your track record. Your big push for the presidency was an ad about how gay dudes shouldn’t be able to fight openly in the military. Not a good move. Turns out, people don’t really hate gay folks as much as you want them to believe you do. The words you were searching for were “Thank you for serving our country”, a service you never bothered to do and you were a Military Science major.  I never served in the military either, but I support ANYBODY who’s willing to lay down their life for the benefit of this great country. You should re-evaluate your priorities, perhaps try an attitude of gratitude. 

The part of Planned Parenthood that provides abortions is completely separate from the one that provides health care to lower income women -- you know, the one that consists of treatment for cancer, diabetes, STI's, high-blood pressure, checkups, and yes contraception.  You refused federal funding in any way for all services. So now all of these women have to go without medical attention or pay out of pocket. That was 200 million dollars that you turned your nose up at, and you don’t even own a vagina. You care for children until they're born. Your message to children then becomes “go outside and practice breaking some rocks”. You signed a bill slashing education by 4 billion dollars. Great, so now that we have all these kids, let’s not educate them.  Way to keep Texas competitive, Rick.  Are you kidding me?

Your latest is a response to gun control. “Texas needs prayer.”  No, what Texas needs is a leader who can stand up and deliver a message without sounding like a total tool bag.  I have no problem with responsible gun ownership. I appreciate the skill of marksmanship. Our problem is crazy people, and at this point in the game, one could very easily argue that we currently have one living in the governor’s mansion.  Sane gun owners don’t kill people. Crazy people kill people and it doesn’t matter if they own guns, because they will find guns or something else that works. Texas ranks dead last in mental health spending per capita. Increase mental health spending, at least as a proactive measure to show your constituents that perhaps you have a vision that will prevent the need for guns in regard to protection.

Your priorities are way out of whack.

Douche.

Sincerely,

John Padgett

Exiled to France: An open letter to Lance Armstrong

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Dear Lance,

It’s not the doping that pisses us off. Cycling is a sport that’s rife with performance enhancing drugs of some sort or another. I also realize that this is going to sound like a tween movie cliché if I say, “everybody does it”, but it’s true in this case. It’s become sort of an unspoken understanding that a huge chunk of those competing in the sport are doping. Cheating is so rampant in the Tour De France that when blood doping isn’t found, they blame the bike.

It’s the lying that pisses us off. Wait. It goes beyond lying. It’s adamant lying. Then when people accuse you of doing it, you sue them. Wait. It goes beyond suing, you annihilate them. Lance, you’ve ruined lives, over and over again. I’ve never met you, but I know plenty who have and everyone says the same thing. “He’s a prick.” In fact, you’re a self-identifying prick. I understand that it takes a special soul to reach the level of achievement you have.  You’ve beaten everything that’s come across your path and you’re invulnerable. Perhaps that’s why you expose yourself to women you work with. What are they going to do? You’re Lance Armstrong. Everyone not on “team Lance” is treated like cancer, to be dominated, defeated and annihilated. It’s a shame. I feel sorry for you.

You say you came clean because of your family. You did it for your kids.  I don’t buy it. That is the most selfish thing I believe I’ve ever heard. If you really had your family and children in mind, you would have denied it and taken your secret to the grave. Instead, you have placed your indisputable shame on the shoulders of your children to carry for the rest of their lives. It’s impossible to outshine you. You’ve worked hard to make it that way. Because of that fact, your handiwork will smudge every achievement your children will ever make in some way. Thanks, dad!

I’m pissed that you’re a Texan. It’s bad enough that GW Claims to be from here (he’s not. He was born in Maine. Sorry Maine, but hey, you got Stephen King.). You have taken the Texan counter argument away from us when we travel abroad.  When I would go to Europe and tell people I am from Texas and they’d wrinkle their noses like they’ve just smelled a fart and say “George Bush” and then I’d drop your name and everything would be okay. I can’t do that now. Thanks, Lance!

So what now? I’m sure all your proverbial chickens are coming home to roost and the lawsuits are about to beat down your door. As far as the endorsements are concerned, you have sold more merchandise for these companies than they could have ever sold without you. You have made many people a great deal of money. That money should remain to be yours; that said, it’s time you fix what you broke. Now you pay for all the lives you’ve destroyed and careers you’ve ruined, some of which can’t be fixed.  Next, leave the state. You have furthered the already sullied reputation of what it means to be a Texan with your behavior. You are no longer Texan. Don’t claim it. You should be banished to France. I’m sure they will be licking their chops to hear that you’re coming…and take Rick Perry with you, we’re done with that nut-sack too.

You were the best thing to ever happen to cancer. For cancer survivors, you were the living symbol of perseverance and triumph over a creeping death sentence, living proof that the odds can be beaten, Austin’s favorite son. 

A huge disappointment.

Dude.

Sincerely,

John Padgett

It appears the mother-ship of giggling spastics has beamed down an away team.

A late afternoon at the coffeehouse.

I was originally going to post about my family or the flu epidemic but instead, I am now going to blast these ridiculous morons. Let’s take this point by point. If you’re at a coffeehouse, please realize that many people are here to work. I am one of these people.  Irritating me will get you marginally famous…and not in a good way. For the record, I don’t give flying can of smashed assholes about your conversation, but if you get in the way of my work, I will absolutely provide color commentary of your conversation.

I realize that reading has fallen out of fashion, and therefore, I’m not in the slightest bit worried that any of the above pictured morons is reading this, and if you are, it’s most likely going to take you weeks to get through this smidgeon of an article, and then there’s the hurdle of comprehension…yeah, I’m going to sleep easy.

1. If you suck at reading aloud, don’t come to the coffeehouse and practice. No one wants to hear you sound-out your way through “The Little Engine that Could.”  There she was, blithely giggling away as simpletons do. Pecking away at her smartphone and then reading out factoids at the top of her lungs…badly. “Peanuts aren’t really nuts. Prairie dogs aren't really dogs at all. Panda bears aren’t really bears.” It goes on and on. Hey guess what? You being told to “Go fuck yourself.” Isn’t intended as wishing you the best on your evening alone. There’s a fact for you.
2. Go ahead. Say “like” one more time. “I was like oh my god. That’s like totally how I got Herpes”.  Once the can of "LIKE" was opened, the gaggle of spastics LIKE exploded. Like flew everywhere. It was akin to a Facebook post of a kitten sneezing or a puppy that woke itself up with a fart. Like. Like. Like. Like.
3. It’s “hanged”. No really, it is. While I’m moderately impressed that you sort of know who Guy Fawkes was, there’s no way to tell whether or not he was hung. He was hanged. Hung refers to cock size, but let’s not go down the reproductive road for you. In fact, let’s just go ahead cross that off your to-do list altogether. Spare the gene pool. Where’s your sense of mercy?

Through my shameless eavesdropping, I’m wondering if my being a curmudgeon has derailed my sense of compassion and led me down the path of heartlessness. Have I completely lost it? Nope. I still have a love of humanity. It’s inconsiderate behavior that I despise. It’s the lack of regard. It’s their parents that should be popped in the mouth with a wooden spoon for rearing these children in an environment that fosters this behavior. I’m sure at the end of the day these young people are perfectly nice, probably when they’re asleep.

The Answer is Super Easy...

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Folks are pissed…in both directions. 

It’s about chicken sammiches and a dude who shoots his mouth off about what he believes.

People got their panties in a wad about it. 

I’d love to say that it’s not a big deal, but it kind of is.  I said earlier that to tell a gay person to “Calm down, it’s just a chicken sandwich.” would be like going up to Rosa Parks and saying, “Chill out, it’s just a bus ride.”.  

There’s a lot more going on here than just someone exercising their right to free speech. It’s about money, and how much of it is going to places that would not only persecute gay people, but are also staunchly against contraception of any kind, sex ed., gambling, abortion, stem-cell research, obscenity, euthanasia and divorce.  These foundations get millions from the chicken dude.  If you’re on board with all that, not just with some, but with all, then have at it.

Some religious sects feel that marriage is threatened by gay people, so they’re trying to restrict marriage to just be between a man and a woman. I understand what they mean. I hear it all the time…It’s 'cause of the bible and stuff.

I’m not going into the who’s right and who’s wrong of it. I’m not going to change anybody’s mind. Issues like this are purely emotional. Very few people are going to be swayed in a direction that is contrary to what they already believe. Which is to say, that it boils down to an argument between five-year-olds;  “My dad can beat up your dad!” and the like; except in this case, it’s the “My non-visible deity working in mysterious ways can kick your non-visible deity working in mysterious ways' ass, and we’re gonna prove it through the purchase boneless chicken sandwiches!”

Yeah, that’s tellin ‘em…fer sher…

The solution is clear, why not let every couple have a civil union? Gays, lesbians, straight people, it’s all civil unions in the eyes of the government. Real simple. Then a marriage is done in a church or wherever with the minister of your preference. This way, everyone has the same rights, and if you don’t want two dudes, dressed in speedos, tying the knot in a wading pool filled with mayonnaise, in the locker room of your church, so be it, but in the eyes of the law everyone is the same.

Your church is your business. Keep it out of everybody else’s. That’s just being a bad neighbor.

Dodging Trolls Who Are Trying to Control You

It’s an election year and you’re being manipulated. Political pundits and candidates on both sides of the aisle are bombarding you with manipulations to get you to give them what they want i.e., a job and power over your life. It’s just the way it is. I’m not saying either side is right or wrong, but I urge you to just examine the message and ask yourself the question, how is this dude trying to get me on his side? Is he trying to inspire me and tell me that we have the power to succeed in whatever capacity, or is he trying to sway me using the verbiage that would have me wake up in a cold sweat and screaming in the middle of the night from the threat of imminent doom.  Either way, you’re not getting the entire truth. Just listen to the message and ask yourself, what does this kid want? No matter your political affiliation, the bullshit salesman stopped by offering samples.

It’s not just politics. The world is filled with all kinds of people who will try to get you to do things for them, things that they either can’t be bothered to do or are unable to do. We all could use some assistance from time to time, of course we could, no man is an island and so forth. That said, the absolute best way to go about getting this assistance, at least from me, is to be straightforward and ask for it. It’ll save everyone involved, time, energy, and guilt. I will help you if you’re genuinely in need, but I’m weary of being manipulated.

I used to be the guy who would go the extra mile, throwing myself right under the bus if it meant someone else’s life just got a little bit easier. Perhaps it’s my nature, or maybe it’s because I’m trying to redeem myself for all that crap I got away with when I was younger.  Whatever the reason, my motives are now entirely selfish. I get to feel good about myself and I won’t feel like such a douche when I’m having the “Well, what had happened was…” conversation with Saint Peter.

Here’s a few manipulation tactics. Please keep in mind the effectiveness of these tactics is a direct correlation on your ability to tolerate awkward situations and imbalance.  If you can’t deal with awkward, you’re gonna get taken. It’s that simple. Ambivalence is your best friend.

Are you really sorry?

You’re not, are you?

You know these folks, we all do. Apologies fall from their mouths like teeth in a trailer park. They sneeze and say I’m sorry. Any favor being asked of you is prefaced with deep regret.  They’ll launch into an anecdote, but first they have to apologize. It’s at that point that I immediately leave the room. I would have the same reaction if someone started espousing the joys of their particular fundamentalist religion or elaborate on their encroaching wedding. I’d rather have a cat spray me in the face.

Here’s why they do it. By immediately apologizing, they are putting you in the position of being the perpetrator and they, in turn, are your victim. It’s awkward. You’re a good person, you wouldn’t wish any ill will on anybody, especially someone who thinks they’ve done something untoward to you or put you out in some way.  So, in the spirit of establishing balance, you now have to give them something, a favor, your attention, etc. This process spares the apologizer from directly asking you for the favor or whatever and also the pain of rejection they will undoubtedly feel when you tell them you’d sooner sit on a hot curling iron and wriggle than lift a finger to help them. The way you sidestep this issue is simply saying “Ok.” and walking away.  If you really want to give the knife that they’ve already fallen on a twist, when they apologize say “Good.” Or even “Fuckin right”. The key here is not to give the apology any power. It’s as powerful as you make it. Feel free to just walk away. If you don’t, you’re setting yourself up. 

The Stare Down

I knew a girl who would stare you down until you offered whatever it was that she needed. It was brilliant. Pretty sure she was a Jedi.

“Hey, I’m going to the post office, be back in a few.” And then I’d try to turn and walk away…but then…

“Oh you’re going to the post office?” That’s when she would do it. The stare down…

Unwavering…

Unblinking….

Silent, but the pause is so pregnant, it’s crowning.

“Um. Yeah, I have to get some bills…in…the…mail. Is there something you need me take to the post office for you?”

“Oh yes, thanks! If you could get these in the mail for me that would be great!” And then she would hand you a stack of envelopes, which may or may not need stamps.  This was a trick done in an effort to spare her the trouble of an errand but from time to time if you were cooking she could glare a meal right out of you.

The way around it is, again, not giving it any power. When asked if you are going to the post office, the answer is “Yes.” And then just go.

The Drama Queen

One of the more common manipulation tricks is so common I’m not sure it’s even worth mentioning, but for the sake of posterity, here you go. Also, it’s kind of ambiguous as to when it’s actually being used as manipulation. When people complain or put on airs of being burdened, pained, or oppressed in some way, we come to their aid.  It builds a sense of community and makes us feel like we’re Boy Scouts helping some crone across the street. The key here is to realize when it’s venting. It’s also a difference in communication between men and women. Women don’t necessarily want or need help when they’re venting. They just want to get it off their chest, which helps them digest the whatever issue.  Men on the other hand, immediately try to solve the issue, which makes men much more susceptible to this particular tactic. Chicks can also take it as an invitation for a pissing contest as to who’s got it worse. This is yet another instance of my leaving the room in order to seek out a cat to mark me up in lieu of listening to whining. Yeah, I know I’m fluffy.

There’s a slew of ways people try to get you to do something or get something from you. Some are harmless. Some aren’t (i.e. blackmail). Just realize what you are getting into when it happens. Listen to what you are being told, or the way you’re being treated and then decide whether or not you give a shit. That’s all I’m say’n.

From the Archive: The Foundlings

Deacon the Milkman and I have been hosting a couple of exchange students from Tierra del Fuego. Their original host-family had them working in a sweatshop and calling it “vocational school” as they were learning how to sew in 36-hour stints. We rescued them and they came into our lives with nothing but the homemade clothes on their backs and various “tickle-me Elmo” limbs stuffed in their pockets. They said they were going to trade them for cat food. Evidently, there’s a huge market for bootleg Elmo parts. Anyway, they’ve been shacking up in my office for the past week. If you saw the look on their little faces when we told them they were having Hamburger Helper for dinner with Oatmeal substituted for meat…well there just aren’t any words.

Deacon found them jobs as bologna gatherers at our local slaughterhouse. Pick’n up the parts, dust'n ‘em off, throw’n them in the bin…I know they’re thanking their lucky stars. Every night, we hear them crying themselves to sleep with tears of joy. Occasionally, we have to shake a can full of pennies at them in order to keep them off the furniture or urinating in the refrigerator, but I’m sure you know exactly how these sorts of things go.

Two nights ago, I was crawling into bed and found a full bull’s bladder sitting on my pillow. The skin was taut, round, almost bursting with urine. The way it gleamed in the light it almost looked like if you so much as breathed on it, it would go off. The workmanship! Those little scamps had sewn all the openings shut and put in our bed to make sure we’d find it, not unlike the cat who kills something and leaves it in front of the coffee maker for you to find. It was so sweet. It was also very delicate, must have taken them hours to prepare it. Deacon grabbed one end of it and I the other, and we headed downstairs to give it back to them. Because our hands were full, we had to kick open the door and then hurl it at their shared twin cot. Sure, in hindsight, we could have gently set the bloated orb outside their door and tip-toed back up the stairs, but we wanted them to share in our excitement and give it back to them immediately. The look of shock in combination with unbridled tear-streaked, urine-bathed joy was an image I shall take with me throughout the rest of my days…I love our new foundlings.


*Here’s the translation
We’ve got neighbors whose a/c went out. They’ve been with us for most of the week. In Houston no A/C really does mean sweatshop...like Hell's crotch.

Unfortunately there’s no such urine-bomb experience that I can relate to you in truth…I just sorta made that up…
They were exemplary guests…

The importance of "NO!"

I have been through the wringer lately. Working with today’s youth, trying to get them through the pitfalls of higher education relatively unscathed. I’ve come to notice that even though I do my very damnedest to help folks, I have been ending my days on a note that what some folks need to hear, more than anything, is “no”. It’s an issue that has been plaguing me from many sides. We are apparently fostering a culture where everybody wins. The sad fact of the real world is that first place isn’t given for participation, it’s an accomplishment. No one is going to give you a prize for effort when you botch a lung transplant.  I understand that people need a healthy self-esteem and a real sense of self-confidence in order to not fall face down in a ditch of self-destructive habits. I get that. At the same time, the Special Olympics model isn’t how you run a company, a country or even how you go about achieving your dreams.

I estimate that the cause of this situation stems from parents who have gone out of their way to make sure that their kids grow up without having to endure any of the heartaches that they grew up with. It’s done out of love, which is endearing.  To that, I would bring up the example of generational wealth. Kids, who have been able to have anything they wanted even if just they wanted it out of novelty. What they get from the interaction is that all they have to do to get something is ask…sometimes not even that. Street smarts is cultivated, and if you don’t have to develop that sense of getting what you want from life for yourself, then you won’t.  Most people don’t take Algebra because they’re seeking a challenge; they take it because they have to. Work is hard. “Yeah kid, I know. It sucks... character building and all that. Buck up.” Back to the parents that bubble-wrap their kids against life’s little bumps, scrapes and knocks, most come from reasonable means, not rich, not poor, just making do with what they have. But telling your kid that they’re smarter than everyone they come across could be just as detrimental to them as calling them a moron. They don’t finish things or pursue their goals because they’re already smarter than everybody else, as opposed to the moron who won’t make the attempt because they’re too stupid to pull it off, so why bother? There’s got to be some middle ground here.

What I’m getting at here is the over-inflated sense of entitlement. I hear “I don’t want to do anything that’s hard” almost on repeat. I find that my helping them find the path of least resistance handicaps them from flourishing into well-rounded and disciplined individuals. Am I becoming part of the problem? My job requires me to plot the course that will lead my students to their goal. I cannot tell them “It’s not going to happen”. Instead, I have to tell them “In order for this to happen, these things must be done”. I can do that; however, many of them don’t pick up on the subtleties of diplomatic language.  One of my professors was a hack writer who told the class, “Don’t even try to write humor, because you can’t do it.” He was poet who was in love the sound of his own voice. If you can imagine a guy who rolls up the car windows when he farts because he wants to truly be at one with his essences, you’re on the right track. I took it as a challenge. If you want me to do something, tell me I can’t.

Tell people “No”. Saying no isn’t a crime. You have no need to feel guilt about it. It’s not your job nor place to please everyone. There are people that you should try to appease. If you are in some sort of subordinate role in a relationship, it’s important to try to appease these people, your boss, your probation officer, your teacher, your client, the judge that could send you up the river etc. Say yes to these people.

Your kids are not on this list. They have to say yes to you, not the other way round.

Give them the power to realize that life has to be seized and taken, it won’t be handed to them on bended knee. Tell them no. I implore you. Tell them no. You’ll be doing me a solid. Thanks.

How to Take Down a Bully

Bullying takes on many forms, physical for sure, but there are also verbal forms of bullying. Here’s where I give you the golden ticket on how to win a verbal skirmish you might find yourself in. We’ve all been there. Someone has put you in the crosshairs and started attacking your person with distasteful comments. The following prescription, when followed correctly, should save you the unfortunate fate of public ridicule. Keep in mind I developed this as a defense mechanism out of necessity. I had to come up with a system that would put people off, or at least serve as a deterrent from screwing with me during my obnoxiously awkward teenage years. I was so awkward and nerdy that I made other, lesser nerdy people look not nerdy. I was therefore, an easy target. Those guys from the Big Bang Theory? Yeah, those are my homies.

One thing that I’ve learned to be overwhelmingly true is that people who are hurting, go out of their way to hurt other people, so at least they aren’t alone. Bullying stems from insecurity. These people should be pitied. I highly encourage you to not go after people because you can, or because you’re trying to “teach someone a lesson”, that’s a lie that you tell yourself to make yourself feel better for being needlessly cruel. Treat your words like you would a gun. Don’t shoot your mouth off simply because you can. It’s reckless, ridiculous, and will probably end up blowing up in your face. That said, my sister used to call me “the pit viper” when we were growing up, and I look back at those moments fondly. I didn’t go looking for fights, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t figuratively armed to the teeth. I did it because I knew that if I didn’t stand up for myself, that I’d be bullied for the rest of my life. So I made the list. I carried a list of intricately worded and extremely vulgar insults in my wallet for the occasion when I could publicly napalm those bastards with insults and put-downs. I never needed to pull it from my back pocket. I had that shit committed to memory. I’ve since graduated from university with a degree in Communication Studies, and here’s a smidgeon of what I’ve learned.

1)Do not lose your cool. This is the cardinal rule of confrontation. Picture the most revered and effective killers. The truly effective ones are the ones that are cold-blooded, methodical killers who do it without fear or emotion. Javier Bardem in "No Country for Old Men", The Terminator, Ninjas, Cobras, Sharks, these are your role models here. The reason this is rule number 1 is because even if you are triumphant in the rhetoric portion of this encounter, if you transform into to rage-fueled maniac on the verge of turning green and throwing furniture, you’ve lost. It’s that simple. Cool as a cucumber, baby…that’s you.
2) If you did it, OWN IT! If you are accused of something and you did it, own it. Own it without shame, unblinkingly, and with pride. What is going on here is an attempt to shame you. If you remove the shame from the accusation and own it, then you have disarmed the accuser. For whatever reason, you found it appropriate to do the thing that you were accused of at some point, so own it. Example, if Bill Clinton had simply fessed-up to the BJ when he was asked about it the first time, things may have turned out differently. “Not only did I receive oral sex from that woman, but it was really mediocre. On a scale of 1 to 10, I might give her about a four. The effort was there though.” There’s another reason why this tactic is worth using, in this day and age it is almost impossible to conceal the truth. Information is instantaneous, and the juicier the dirt, the more likely it is to find it’s way to the surface. So, if you deny it, and you did it, and it get’s out that you did it; then on top of everything else, you’re a liar too. Most people don’t come back from that. Ask Bill.
3) Name Calling. Name-calling is for cowards and it’s lazy. If you’re going to call me names, why not call me purple? At least by calling me purple the insult would be interesting. Name-calling is simply slapping a label on someone as to how you think they should be classified, and nothing more. Consider the source. For instance, say Rush Limbaugh started calling me names. If Rush Limbaugh being the big fat, drug addict that he is, decided to start throwing labels at me, I can’t think that I’d even be bothered to even marginally care…why? It’s the opinion of a big fat drug addict, he ain’t the Dalai Lama. It’s important to acknowledge one important thing about name-calling, and that is, you never address the comment itself. You attack your accuser. “Oh Rush, maybe if you’d take minute and stop popping those oxycotin like tic-tacs, you’d see that no one gives flying rat’s ass what comes out of that dysenteric blister of a mouth of yours, and you could finally move on with what little life you have left and leave people alone.” See? Go after the accuser.
4) The poisoned arrow. This is complicated but very much worth knowing about. This is a piece of critically damaging information that will sink your opponent’s boat. It’s used in politics all the time. In fact, it’s the holy grail of campaigning and everybody’s looking for it. If you have a poisoned arrow, covet it. This is to be used as purely a defense mechanism. Seeking out a fight to use one makes you just as bad as the bully who’s pushing you around. The ideal way to address this situation is wait for the fight to come to you and make it in a very public place. This won’t be difficult due to the fact that bullies seldom go after people when they’re by themselves. They do it because they’re trying to gain support by their peers. Let me tell you the beauty of poisoned arrows. If you have one, use it. Don’t threaten to use it. Don’t take the high road. Use it and aim for the jugular. Threatening to use a poisoned arrow neutralizes its effectiveness. The first step in disarming a trap, is knowing of its existence. Assassination is the goal here, wounding someone only gives them the opportunity to convalesce, rally their troops, and retaliate later. Swift, clean and total annihilation is the only course of action. Please keep in mind that if you level someone, all bets are off. You are making it known that there is no hope, nor interest in reconciliation or making nice. If you were to liken it to a warzone, you are essentially nuking the battlefield and turning the desert to glass. That said, this decision has a cost, if you nuke your boss, be prepared to leave expediently. If you do this to a lover/husband/wife/significant other, it’s over. If it’s a teacher, you just bombed the class. The point here is that everybody has to eat crow at some point in their lives for whatever reason, to keep their job, to finish a project, to keep a marriage together, whatever, that fact of the matter, shooting a poisoned arrow sometimes just isn’t worth the aftermath. Be prepared for that.
5) Character assassination. Think of it as a clean slate for the miserable slob who’s been giving you a hard time. Here’s how you do it. First, if someone’s calling you names, don’t get suckered into a name-calling fight. It’s dumb and serves no purpose. Instead, go for the reason why the turd is calling you names. Acknowledge your being an easy target, but the reason why he/she’s attacking you is because what they fear most in themselves could very easily be what they’re accusing in you. It’s like the fat girl running around the playground calling other people fat. She’s attacking other people so that she won’t get attacked. It’s lame. So when you bring it up that she’s calling you fat because her brother comes home from being the worst player warming the bench at soccer practice, rips off the heads of her Bratz dolls, calls her a fat skank and then breaks wind on her toothbrush, she now feels the need to take it out on you…it’s pathetic. She’s calling you fat because her brother sucks at soccer. So there you are. Simple. Easy. Get to the root of the issue as to why this monkey is flinging proverbial poo at you, expose it openly, and you’re good. She'll leave you alone. You’re not worth messing with. The thing about this, is that she’s getting bullied, and is passing the pain on to you. Hopefully this will open her eyes to addressing the issue with her brother.
6) The family dynamic. The holiday season means family and some very old wounds. Many people do not have to leave home in order to find a bully. There are instances when you can deal with them as you would a normal bully, but it complicates things by the fact that when you demolish a family member, you’re reestablishing a pecking order. For instance, If you have a particularly bitter, old, rotting harpy of a family member who likes to bring up ridiculous things in your past like the time you thought “The Monkees” were the bomb or your unhealthy fondness for comic books, or that time you made a fool of yourself by doing whatever sport it is you tried out for and failed miserably. Perhaps they used a poisoned arrow themselves, like the time they outed you at your grandmother’s 80^th birthday party (if that happens to you, just own it.). Who would do such a thing? It’s the mark of a wounded soul. Everyone in the family knows this aspect about this individual. It’s possible you’ve known one another your entire lives and it’s impossible to believe that this woman’s bitch factor is flying under the radar. It’s pretty much public record to everyone involved. That said, don’t use a poisoned arrow on a family member unless you’re prepared for the backlash. Even if they deserve it, if you use it, it makes you look like a monster. It’s appropriate to pull them aside and show them the arrow and if they want to open this dialogue in public that’s their prerogative but it’s best to leave things where they are and stop picking on you.

Bullying is everywhere, odds are, it’s happened to you at some point in your life. Bullies go after people that they deem as easy targets and it’s always because they feel unworthy or insecure. They are trying to make everyone as miserable as they are, or they are doing this as a distraction. If people’s attention is focused somewhere else, they will be overlooked. If you’re the bully, please realize the pain you're putting someone else through will one day come back to haunt you. Karma is swift and unforgiving, and the people you’re bullying will one day own the company that you’re trying to get hired by.

It’s all about the junk, apparently

Sooo. Here’s this…I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that I hope that this trend of being disenchanted and only wearing clothes that are "ironic" in the sense that they’re obviously hideous is on it’s way out. The clothes you put on our body tell the world how you see yourself and how we should perceive you.

Hipsters, this crap of making a “clip art” outfit from the very worst trends of the 80’s in an effort to “stick it to the man” accomplishes nothing but making you look like an imbecile. The people you’re trying to piss off are chuckling at your expense. Imagine trying to stifle a laugh because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings…ok, this is NOT that. The people you’re trying to thumb your nose at are pinching themselves to keep from laughing because they want to see just how far you’re going to saunter down “look how much I can dress like crazy person” lane.

Your pants are already so tight that we can check your pulse through your skinny jeans and you’re rubbing our noses in it.

Your fashion statement is telling me “Hey world, I’m bored with like everything so check out my junk. I’m sure it’s way cooler than anything you’ve ever seen so don’t bother to comment.”

Keeping this in mind, I have a problem with the interpretation of lower body coverings of the millennial generation in general, not just the hipsters and here’s why:

1) Ladies, what gives with trend of hiking the short shorts all the way up your crack and then leaving the house? It’s like your asshole is half goat and decided to snack on your shorts. For real, I’m not saying you’re not a lady, but this is clearly the mark of a woman who’s ready and willing to earn some bus fare…skank. You’re gonna run out of bleach trying to scrub that skid mark out; that is, if you bother, you’re clearly not troubling yourself with underwear, why should you go the distance of doing laundry?

2) Speaking of underwear, Guys, I’m glad you’re proud of it. Really I am. It’s good to have that signature piece that says “This is what I’m about!”, but if you're one these guys walking around the with waist of your pants actually beneath your ass and your boxers parked at your navel, you’re sending the message the you’re mentally defective. One could assume that you’ve come to this conclusion to wear your pants in this manner because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that toilet paper is used vertically and not side to side; therefore, making the need to air out the region a necessity. Literally showing your ass to the public merely shows the world that anything coming from your person is not to be taken seriously and probably reeks of poo.

At this point, I’d like to bring something up, but I’m a little afraid to because if you’re a hipster, you may decide to go down this road because “this time you’ll fix ‘em”. You’re really gonna flip us off with fashion’s middle finger. And it’s called HYPERCOLOR.

These clothes changed color when you apply heat and moisture. I know it seems like a fantastic idea, but when your photo prints come back from the Wallgreen’s (because you’re not getting a digital camera ‘cause those are for sell-outs. "Yeah, take that!"…as you tweet this to all of your friends.) you will be horrified to find that this fad was actually trap; probably developed by the French to see if “Zee Stupeed Amereecans will do eet.” And boy did we ever, we totally drank the shit out of that punch. Summer hit and it looked like somebody went over our armpits and crotches with a highlighter. You couldn’t go to a theme park of any sort without you’re eyes being assaulted with fluorescent nether regions. Having lived through it once, I urge you, please, do not recycle this trend, and if you do, please go the distance and gouge our eyes out and spare us the horrific flashbacks of our childhoods. I believe I’ve made my point that, as a generation, you’re obsessed with your own genitals. Everyone could agree that Hypercoloring your junk on top of all of it is just excessive, I mean really.

Here’s a scenario that may illuminate this picture as to the mindset of these peeps. You come across an interestingly clad young person with their headphones on, just rocking out. Your interest is piqued and you therefore ask the hipster in question what they’re listening to. Instead of telling you, which would make things entirely too easy, they don this “n’yah n’yah" tone and groan out “It’s probably something you’ve never heard of.”…yeah, you fell for it. Previous generations would just flip you off, but since you’ve come this far, you go stick the other toe over the line and say “Ah come on. Just tell me.”

Then they look at you with a straight face and say “It’s crickets fucking.”

“Really? There’s band called Crickets Fucking?"

“No, it really is crickets…fucking.”

You fell for it. You got played. You may as well just own it. This trap was choreographed before you got there and was staged entirely for the benefit of making you feel out of touch and not to bother with further attempts at trying to relate to them, meanwhile they’re wearing the parachute pants you gave to good will, the grey ones…the ones the cat pissed on…yeah those. That smell never truly washes out, huh? You hated that cat, both then and now.

Did the generations before the millennials use up EVERY single fashion possibility? I sincerely doubt it, and if you stopped whining about how bored you are and found something you genuinely enjoy, I’m sure that your brain would give birth to something new. Instead of showing us that you own the parts with which to conceive something, show us you can.

Mildly Functioning...but vapid...not unlike a zombie, but less interesting

Let’s nip this in the bud.

Fad, let’s call this a fad.

Hopefully it’s a fad. But as I delve deeper into this topic, I’m beginning to find that this isn’t a fad, but an epidemic.

I’m talking about vapid people.

Rabidly Vapid.

They contribute nothing and drain resources.

In many ways they’re like zombies. The way they stumble about hither and yon...the monosyllabic vocabulary. One could argue the main difference between them and zombies is temperature and dietary habits. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say I’d sooner deal with a zombie than a vapid person if only for the feeling of accomplishment one gets from lobbing something’s head off without fear of Johnny Law coming down on you. Plus, with a zombie, you know what you’re getting into. They’re all after the same thing. At least you know they love you for your brain.

Vapid people should stand up and declare themselves as non participants and then sit back down on the couch and not leave the house ever again.

These days it’s way too easy to not talk to one another directly. And when you fall out of practice, you lose the ability to communicate. It’s like a muscle. A talkie with people muscle.

This summer, I have had a few run-ins with the “recommended homebound.” Allow me to paint you a word picture here. Say your job is a lifeguard. If a stranger (me) comes up to you and says, “Good morning,” or, “Hello,” rolling your eyes and letting out a deep sigh is probably the exact opposite of what you should actually be doing. Texting while on lifeguard duty is, I’m sure, also frowned upon. I get that this job is low-paying and that it’s time out of the day and you’d probably rather be doing other things. If that’s the case, I welcome you to go and do those other things. Perhaps you’re bored with your job or perhaps you’re having difficulty grasping the concept of a lifeguard. I say this because if you did grasp the concept of being a lifeguard, you’d put your phone away and at least make it seem like you might slightly give a shit whether or not any of the swimmers live or die. With zombies, you can count on them diving in to save you, they can’t eat your brain if you’re dead. Brains are so much better fresh. Who wants a dead brain? And since vapid people are brain dead, they’re safe from zombie onslaught…bastards.

These people are apathetic on the best of days and it’s out of control. I would love to sit up on my throne, judging all that I survey and declare, “Yes … yes, this all good. I am awesome, as is all that I gaze upon … we live in a perpetual state of awesome. And those outside are envious and hurt. And that makes me smile.”

No I can’t say that, because it is untrue.

We, as a civilization have made it WAY too easy to not interact with one another. In fact, we go out of our way to shield ourselves from dealing with each other directly. I actually know people, as I’m sure you do too, who won’t pick up their phone, even when you’ve been texting back and forth and you decide, “Screw it, I’ll just pick up the phone and talk to this shmoe.” Sounds reasonable, right? Wrong. Thanks to the cell phone. You can order entertainment, pay bills, forage for food and dump people without uttering a peep much less a “thank you” or in the case of dumping, "fuck you".

To illustrate this conundrum, please allow me to point out the craze of “planking.” If you don’t know what this is, it’s the idea of taking a picture of yourself, expressionless and face down, lying on your stomach, stiff as board. It’s a real thing, really. Um … huh? Perhaps getting older is turning me into a humorless codger, but honestly, a picture of a person contributing nothing except a faint pulse isn’t something that I’d like to stash in a book of precious memories somewhere. Because everything eventually evolves into something else, “owling” has sprung forth from planking, like this ridiculous non-exercise needed a sequel. These activities involve nothing but mimicking a corpse or squatting like a primate giving birth.

But I digress. These are merely the results of an oxymoronically thriving vapid culture. (Vapid. It’s one of my favorite words. It is almost onomatopoetic.)

How do I know if I’m vapid?

Perhaps this example will give you an idea as to the sorts of so-and-so's I’m talking about. I ride my bike to work because A) gas is stupidly expensive these days, B) It keeps me in shape, C) I can park anywhere. That said, I ride like my hair’s on fire. If I have to slam on my brakes to avoid greasing your oblivious ass because you’re texting or chatting on the phone when you’re crossing the street, then you’re clearly part of the problem and this should be seen a green light to start harvesting your organs. At least then we could perhaps save the life of someone whose sole purpose involves more than rolling their eyes or whining about what they’re being asked to do.

A Quick Word to the Vapid

The world is here to engage you, if you are uninterested in interacting, don’t venture out into it. Loping around like the living dead is a waste of everyone’s time. I urge you to stop treating your brothers and sisters of this planet like cardboard cut-outs to be used like vending machines.

I know we should feel graced because you decided to show up. The reality of it is this: Go home.

And if you stroll into my path, you either have a death wish or you aren’t entirely here to begin with. I go fast and get irritated with folks who slow me down. There’s probably a metaphor for life in there somewhere, but whatev.

Yup, I’m that guy.