A Nation of Fools

"Do not blame Caesar, blame the people of Rome who have so enthusiastically acclaimed and adored him and rejoiced in their loss of freedom and danced in his path and given him triumphal processions.... Blame the people who hail him when he speaks in the Forum of the “new wonderful good society” which shall now be Rome’s--interpreted to mean 'more money, more ease, more security, and more living fatly at the expense of the industrious.'" - Cicero

Rome fell.  As do all empires.

A wise man once said....

Whenever a sentence begins with those 5 words, we are about to be subjected to something meaningful.  No one ever says, "A smart man once said" or "An educated man once said".  The reason is, wisdom trumps intelligence and education.




Intelligence is gained in a classroom behind books.
Wisdom comes from experience and learning from those experiences.

So, the election is over.

Jimmy Carter got his second term.  Yesterday is still today.  Nothing changed. 

As half of America believes the other half is stupid, the stupid half thinks the other half is more stupid.  Both sides are wrong.

We are a nation of fools.  A nation that doesn't learn from history.  A nation that is willing to elect a man with a messiah complex just because he makes us feel good.  We are swayed by words and rhetoric while ignoring actions.

A wise man would look at unemployment figures, food stamp recipients, gas prices, the deficit, scandals, broken promises, and inflation.  He would then elect someone whose fingerprints aren't stamped on those statistics.

We can blame Congress or blame the other party until we realize that Congress, both houses, were under democrat control from 2006 to January 2011.  We can forgive the president until we realize that he has signed 141 executive orders bypassing separation of powers and literally defying our constitution.

A wise man knows that any president, regardless of party, who ignores our constitution is a traitor to this country.

We are a nation of fools.  A nation willing to settle on the lesser of two evils.  A nation that believes evil has different degrees. 

Politicians are not the problem in America.  We are.

Politicians are merely a symptom of what ails this country.

We elect the same people over and over; then, we expect different results.  It is the definition of insanity.

We have become a country that loves our political parties more than our country herself.  We would rather be right then seeing the right things happen.

How do I know this?  Because half of America is calling the other half stupid while the stupid half is calling the other half more stupid.

We aren't a stupid country.  We are a foolish one.

Rome fell because the masses became lazy.  They idolized their leaders as if they were Gods.  They sacrificed their freedoms for a false sense of security.   The Roman emperors all knew that the Romans were only concerned about 2 things:  Bread and Circus. 

Rome was divided and conquered by her own leaders.  As the empire burned, Nero fiddled. 

We are a nation of fools that believes preemptive war prevents war.  A nation, so disillusioned, that words, no matter how untrue they are, would rather feel good by those words than the reality of the lies that exist within those words. 

We are a nation that will elect the same people in power every year then point our fingers at everyone else.


A wise man recently said, "'Blaming the prince of fools should not blind anyone to the vast confederacy of fools that made him their prince.'

That wise man was referring to us.

All of the problems in this country cannot be blamed on one political party or even one man. 

The blame lies on us.


The fools.

From a Park Bench

I was advised to watch a certain movie during a specific period in my life.  One of those art imitating life types of movies. 

It happened to be my favorite genre.  So, taking a break from my self-imposed pity party was an easy chore.

All the best scenes in movies always take place on a park bench.  I swear, its true. 

There's that scene where Daniel is sitting next to his son, Sam, while learning about his first crush which later culminates to Sam running through the airport to kiss her.  If you've seen Love Actually, then you know the park bench scene.

Even Forrest Gump is centered around a park bench.

When my head gets clouded with thoughts of uncertainty, I go for an aimless run.  One, on par of that famous scene with Forrest.

I suppose there are two types of runners:  Those with a plan, such as Sam, as he ensued his first love through the obstacles of an airport and those like Forrest who just run until they've had enough.

Tonight, I went for an aimless run and approached a lonely park bench and just sat down.  It was the perfect remedy for clarity. 

As I lazily sat there, that movie recommended to me during that challenging period of my life, flashed into my head.  More specifically, one scene did.

Summer is now married.  Tom is exasperated; completely unsure how this woman who always preached independence could settle down with a man that wasn't him.  So, Tom, delicately asked his former love... "How?  Why?"

"I just... I just woke up one day and knew."
"Knew what?" Tom replied.
"What I was never sure of with you", Summer exclaimed.

The scene was a park bench where clarity was exposed.

I empathized with Tom.  The first time I saw that movie, I was Tom.  Even to some degree, I still am today.

No man wants to be a question mark.  I suppose we all want to be exclamation points. 

I don't really know where I am headed these days.  I do know that sometimes being aimless in our journeys can lead us to a place of clarity.  I also know clarity is never revealed until we start asking the relevant questions.


I think about these unappreciated park bench scenes in movies and realize that they all have one thing in common:  no one is running.

It's always two people; talking and listening.


Communicating.

I'm certain there is something to be learned in that.

Rear View Mirror

What have I become, my sweetest friend.

Johnny Cash or Trent Reznor.  I can't even say I prefer one over the other.  I suppose, it's just the lyric.  Maybe, the images conjured up of those faces waving in my rear view mirror as I reflect on all the twisted and bending roads that led me to...

Now.

I hate those moments where I walk in reverse because I don't want to lose sight of her face.  One second, we are inches apart.  The next, she is just a shadowy figure in a crowd.  I hate making that 180 because... because, she is just so beautiful.  And I love her.  Mostly, its because it could be the last time.

I suppose I worry too much about proverbial rear view mirrors.

Everything runs full circle anyway.

If I were to list each person who has greatly impacted my life over the years, I would not be able to recall ever saying goodbye to any of them.  I think about that.  I never said goodbye to my 5th grade teacher or that one best friend or that first love.

There never were goodbyes because I knew...

We all know...

Because I knew, they would be as much a part of me now as they were then.

Formal goodbyes are reserved for those temporary crutches, for those who impact us minimally, for those who served their purpose for a specific moment in time.

But the rest, those who impact us greatly, never engage in goodbye rituals.

I think about that when they stumble back into my life, years later.  Be it, an old snapshot in a photo album or just a passing thought.

I remember them vividly because we never let go of those who helped us become who we are today.

I saw my old pastor tonight.  82 years old and he looks exactly how I remember him 30 years ago when I first met him.

Oddly, maybe ironically, I don't remember the last time I saw him.  And that's how it always is with those who impact us greatly.

The rear view mirror only exists for those we intentionally leave behind.

I would be surprised if he remembered me.  I was an awkward kid; no different than all the thousands of awkward kids he has mentored through the years.

I saw his face.   Here.  On my laptop.  I believe I found him for a reason.

So, I wanted to reintroduce myself to him.  More importantly, thank him.

A boy without a father tends to remember those men who positively influenced them.  Because those types of men are rare to those types of boys like us.

I wrote him a quick note.  I thanked him.  Then, I decided to share my favorite memory of him.   It went like this:

One evening after Wednesday night service, you and my mom were talking outside. I wanted to go home. I was hungry and simply tired. I was nagging my mom, pulling at her pants leg and trying to rush her so she'd stop talking to you.
With the kindness and patience of a great man, you leaned into me; handed me $5 and said, "on your way home, stop at Mcdonalds". Then you, gave the kindest smile I have ever been the recipient of.

Not a great story.  It's rather ordinary to anyone else who isn't me.  But it's funny.  I was 10 years old and this is what I remember about him.

I think about such people often.  Those who are responsible for my redeeming qualities.

I have no idea what my calling in life is; who I am supposed to be; what I am supposed to do and what stories others will tell of me when that day comes I stumble back into their lives or thoughts after a long absence.

But I hope, they can't recall any goodbyes or a proverbial wave.

I hope their rear view mirror is as blurry as mine.

MANhancement

I checked my email tonight and this was waiting for me:

Someone out there thinks I need enlargement pills.  I base this on the fact that there are over 12 Extenze ads in my email.

According to my email, I am being offered a 7 day FREE trial of this product.

My question is.... Say, I decide to try this product for 7 days, does my penis become bigger for a week and then return back to its' original size once I don't buy a full prescription?

Is this a lifetime pill I have to take? 

I am guessing this company is fairly confident after one week of having a new and improved penix, I will continue to buy the pills.  I suppose it's like owning a Honda your whole life and then you win the lottery and buy a Porsche.  You will never want to go back to your Honda.

One of the emails from Extenze has a picture of NASCAR in it.  

Ooh ooh, Nascar supports Extenze?  I must buy it then.  Seriously, Nascar sucks ass.  Taking left turns for 3 hours is not my idea of exciting.  

It seems logical that Nascar would be a big supporter of Enzyte.  Everyone knows that people who race cars have small penises.  Monster truck rallies, Nascar events, professional weight lifters.... they are all filled with the penile impaired.

It's called over compensating. 

Now, I am not in the market for enlargement pills.  Penis size is a man issue.  Size queens aside, most women don't measure a man by his penis size.  Men are more concerned about their size than women are.

It's called insecurity.

I always have to laugh when a man publicly states how big his junk is; as if it makes him a bigger man.  I would bet every cent I have that every bully walking this earth has a small penis.

I will even bet every president and politician we've ever had suffered from the same thing.  If you don't have self-perceived power between the legs, then run for office. 

Obama may be half-black but I am guessing his white part is what dangles between his presidential legs.  The same goes with Tiger Woods.  He may be half-black but his Asian half dangles between his lying cheating golf playing legs.

It's all about ego and power for men.  It's why men cheat.  It's why some men think penis size is directly correlated to their manhood.

But really if size is what made sex pleasurable for women, wouldn't childbirth lead to the biggest orgasm a woman can have? 

I would be lying if I said I didn't consider trying the 7 day FREE trial.  I like free stuff.  Hell, I am all for self-improvement.  I would get eye laser surgery if I wasn't afraid I would be the one the doctors fuck up on; leaving me permanently blind.

So, I decided to read a little more on this product.  I am curious if it works.

Here is part of a case study on Extenze:
The vast majority of product testers experienced outstanding results with Extenze. Over 80% of the Extenze product testers said they experienced a noticeable increase in length and girth, with over 20% claiming "huge" increases. 40% of our Extenze users reported better ejaculation control and increased sexual stamina after using Extenze. Unlike other products, our product testers experienced extremely fast results (a one-inch increase in length within the first month of use) with Extenze. Extenze users, on average, said they gained as much as 2.5 inches in length and a 30% increase in girth. With a success rate of over 90%, you can be confident that you will get excellent results with Extenze.  

But like anything, you have to take things with a grain of salt.  We know only people who are unhappy with their size are taking these pills so I am guessing that it would be hard to dissatisfy the dissatisfied.

I do wonder if Extenze would make a 12 year old bigger or if it would make someone who is already big even bigger.

I don't actually like the idea of everyone having a big penis.  The world would become a Catholic School where everyone is wearing the same damn Catholic school uniform.

There's beauty in diversity. 

I wouldn't want to see every woman on earth walking around with fake tits.  I don't want everyone woman to dye her hair blonde.

These things make us lazy. 

Give a man a huge penis and he will begin to think he doesn't have to do the other things women want and enjoy in the bedroom.
Well, not all of us, are like that.
   

My Speeding Ticket (Rant)

It took 19 years of driving to finally get my first speeding ticket.

It happened this morning.  But I am not taking this bullshit lightly.

The most important person in my life practices law for a living.  Yeah, she's practicing it.  While she is busy practicing, I am busy perfecting it.

Anyway, I am fighting this ticket all the way to the Supreme Court, if I have to.

Let's look at the facts in my case:

*I was going 57 mph.  The speed limit was 45. 

*But I was only 1/2 mile away from the freeway where the speed limit is 65 mph.

*If you do the math, 57 is the exact speed limit if you add 45 and 65 together and divide it by 2.

For those who practice math, I perfected it years ago.

*Going 57 mph is completely reasonable; considering I was the only one on the road and the freeway was really close.

*Second of all, I live in a retirement community.  Every old person in my city drives 30 mph.  Some even drive fucking golf carts on the streets.

Why aren't they getting tickets?  Who's more dangerous?  Someone like me driving 57 or one of those blind, barely seeing over the steering wheel, slow to react, blue haired, should be in a nursing home drooling over the daily menu of tapioca pudding old people going 30 mph?

The answer is obvious.  ME.  I am the safe one.

But let's just pretend that I am the felon this damn cop believed I was.  Let's pretend that going 12 mph over the speed limit is such a heinous crime.

Sometimes, some crimes are warranted.

For example, say a woman is on her period and has no money for tampons.  Would it be wrong for her to walk into her local grocery store and rob them at gun point?  Of course, not.

Or say, you have diarrhea really bad and you are nowhere near a bathroom.  Would it be so wrong to pull your pants down in aisle 13 at Walmart and take a shit right there if you couldn't hold it in any longer?  Of course, not.

Some laws are meant to be flexible.

And this hold true of my speeding ticket.

I overslept this morning.  Also, if I didn't have to work on New Years Eve Eve, like most people, I wouldn't have had to speed. 

Once the cop pulled me over, I rolled my window down.  I was completely polite.

"Good morning, Sir", I said.
"DO YOU KNOW WHY I PULLED YOU OVER, CRACKER?"  He angrily asked me."I was probably going just a tad too fast, Sir.  I am deeply sorry."  I kindly said.
"HOW FAST DO YOU THINK YOU WERE GOING, HONKY?"  He sternly asked.

"Sir, I was probably going 55 mph?"  I replied.
"YOU WERE GOING 57 MPH.  YOU COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEONE."  He said.

Then, he took my insurance, registration and license and went back to his vehicle.  He sat in his car for 30 minutes "writing my ticket".  I believe he was pleasuring himself to my driver's license because it shouldn't take 30 fucking minutes to write a 3 sentence ticket.

Once he was done pleasuring himself to my license and writing my ticket, he handed everything back to me and gave me a stern warning:
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU SPEEDING EVER AGAIN. MY STREETS NEED TO REMAIN SAFE FOR ALL OF GOD'S CHILDREN AND HIS ELDERLY FOLKS.  CRACKER ASS WHITE BOY."
Then, I headed to work.
 
Do I have a case?

Is 12 mph over the speed limit too fast?

Do all black cops hate white fine citizens like myself?

Happy Thanksgiving, Asshole

There’s an unfunny adage, “Opinions are like assholes.  Everyone has one.”

It’s one of those sayings that people like to throw around.

Adages, clichés, doublespeak, similes, proverbs, sayings, one-liners, platitudes, maxims, and idioms all annoy me.  They irritate me because a lot of them are just lazy expressions.  The authors of most adages and clichés rarely even consider what they are saying.

This holds true with the unfunny one about opinions and assholes.

Yes, everyone has an opinion.  Fact.

But not everyone has an asshole.

In college, a good friend of mine had a roommate named Dave.  Dave was one of these people born without an asshole.   Because I didn’t feel like spending all day on Google trying to figure out this medical anomaly, I went to two web sites.

One site claimed that when a baby is born without an asshole, the doctor pokes a hole where it should be and is given a colostomy bag to empty its wastes into for the rest of his or her life.  I am not sure if this correct.

I do know that Dave had a colostomy bag and he emptied it about 2 times a day. 

One night after a long night of drinking, I walked in on Dave changing his shit bag.  It was almost as funny as the time I walked in on a girl in a public bathroom  who was standing on a toilet trying to insert her tampon.  That’s another drinking story for another day.

All I remember is Dave was standing near the toilet with his pants down holding a bag.  He started screaming at me to GET OUT and that was that.

We never spoke of the incident nor did I care to relive it.

This thanksgiving, a lot of us will be reflecting on things we are thankful for.  There are certain to be countless blogs with the usual clichéd blessings…. I am thankful for family, friends, living in a free country, God, good health,  blah blah blah…

But I doubt many if anyone will actually consider being thankful for having an asshole.

This thanksgiving, I believe it’s time we thank our assholes (if you have one).

Speaking of assholes….

The economy doesn’t seem to be getting much better.  With government spending out of control and higher taxes coming to those who give jobs to the rest of us (aka The Rich), jobs will continue to be difficult to find for those who are unemployed.

As the assholes in Congress are debating this new health care bill (which will be funded by taxing the shit out of everyone), I wonder how long it will take for Americans to stand up to this wallet draining government and return to our ways of self-reliance.  The assholes in Congress love making promises of free hand outs while using class warfare (aka the rich vs. everyone else) as a means to get THEIR agenda passed.

And if you’re wondering what THEIR agenda is; it’s POWER.  The assholes in Congress simply want power.  As they villianize the rich, they seem to forget that they themselves are rich.  Being rich is THE AMERICAN DREAM.  Now, the assholes in Congress make it sound evil.

This thanksgiving, I will be thankful I have a good job.  I am thankful I live in a free country where the American Dream is still possible. 

I am thankful for my mom and my friends.

I am thankful for that special person in my life.

I am thankful my basic needs are met daily; food, shelter and clothes.

I am even thankful for the little things I take for granted; like my asshole.

I am not thankful for the assholes in my life or the assholes in Congress.

But like some unfunny people say, “Opinions are like assholes.  We all have one.”

And on that note, I am thankful that I am given the right to share my opinions without fear of death or being arrested.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone  (including Dave who will be eating a lot and having to shit in a bag afterwards).

Passion of the Fish‏

I received this text this morning:

Remembering when you were 4 years old.  I took you fishing; stick, string and no bait.  You were certain you would catch a fish.  You didn't want to leave the good day.

Mom sent this to me.

To understand why this text really affected me today, you would have to understand the relationship I have with her or lack thereof...

Mom is not the sentimental type.  Mom contacts me a few times a month; always on pay day.  Our relationship is more of the bank teller/customer variety.

Today, I felt like a son.  For the first time in years.

Maybe, mom has been bitten by the mortality bug.  Her health is getting worse.  Her bills are getting higher.  Her friends can be counted on one friend.  The love of her life is her dog and the slot machines.

Maybe, mom took a stroll down memory lane because she is simply getting tired of this journey called life.  It's written on her face.  Her eyes are dull.  Her smile is about as real as a painted on smile on a clown.

She's tired.  Her passion for life is merely a droplet of water that evaporates more and more each day.

I am her son.  I can read her like a book.  Despite our lack of positive communication, I know what she is thinking and feeling at all times.

When you have a bond with someone, be it blood or be it the love of your life, you always know when the other person is breaking or overflowing with joy.  Their peaks and their valleys become yours.

I look at mom and often wonder, "What were her passions in life?"

As a kid, all I remember is her being focused on paying bills.  That's it.  She did not entertain thoughts of remarrying.  She did not have a career in mind.  She did not have a particular hobby. 

Mom simply wanted to make sure I had a roof over my head, food on the table and a good education.

I suppose her passion was me.

When I was 4 years old, my passion was catching a fish... catching a fish without bait.  In my simple underdeveloped mind, I believed throwing a line and hook into the water was enough to lure a fish.

"No bait?  No problem."  That was how my mind worked.

I was also the same kind whom, on occasion, would put bread on the end of the hook as bait.  The bread would float off and, once again, I'd simply fish without bait.

I was stubborn and passionate about proving the experts wrong.  Fish like hooks, not the bait attached to them.... that was my theory.

I never caught a fish without bait but according to my mom in her text message, I considered the effort; the futile effort, a good day.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I have two passions in life.  I still define a good day by the effort I put into these two passions.

Futility doesn't play a role in the two things I am passionate about.

Mom has lost her passion for life.

What she doesn't realize is that she hasn't lost me.

Not today.