Blogtucky, we hardly knew ye

Change is not always good, not always bad. Sometimes it's just change. My ever-so-slightly chameleon-like nature requires me to change something, anything, about my life at least every three years. Once again, it is impelling me to shake things up and dust things off.

New job? Check. Accomplished in the spring.

New home? Working on it and hope to have it accomplished in the next couple of months.

New city? Someday, someday. Not today, not tomorrow, but not right now.

New outlook on life? Well, funny you should ask . . .

Thus, today we are saying a fond farewell to Blogtucky, a writing forum that has served me well for a number of years but that has since fallen out of favor with me (and pretty much with everyone, lo is the unpopularity of blogging in this fast-morphing digiscape).

What happened exactly? Was it a bitter divorce or a gradual estrangement? Did Blogtucky cheat on me or did I cheat on it? And did anyone notice? Or care?

Tick the box next to "gradual estrangement." But a few people did care that I stopped writing, which was very flattering indeed. Just not enough to make me start up again.

I think life happened exactly. When I had less going on in my life (all work, very little play), Blogtucky was an enjoyable escape, a satisfying way to share my alleged thoughts and humor with friends far and wide. I had fun writing with regularity and getting feedback from people I knew and even some I didn't, adding a couple of new friends along the way who share my interests and tolerate my half-witticisms.

When I, ahem, changed jobs in mid-2007 (a very long time ago, it seems), moved to a larger city, and began traveling more for work, I found I had less time for writing and, so it seems now, less time for myself. And, by extension, everyone else around me.

My bad.

It wasn't all travel, although a hell of a lot of it was--and I have 185,000 Visa Points to prove it. There was a French course in Montreal, repeated trips to Montreal, love in Montreal, and, ultimately, heartbreak in Montreal. There was a near-total economic meltdown, political stagnation, and hate speech. There was Facebook, and there was Twitter.

I could see the humor in some things, but only 140 characters at a time. Other things, other times, I couldn't see the humor at all. And, thus, if I couldn't say anything nice, it was just better to stay at home and scream at the TV.

I didn't figure this all out until I changed jobs again this past spring. Suddenly, I was no longer getting ready to go on a trip/just coming back from a trip/recovering from a trip. Slowly, I became less tired, less braindead. Eventually, a few months later--now, in fact--I realized that, wow, I might just feel like having a life again.

And writing for me is a part of life. I can't say I do it well or that I even do it often enough. I can't say I've made much of myself as a writer, having only a small portfolio of professional articles, one book chapter, some reviews, a journal (on an obsolete software platform, no less), a handful of half-assed stories, and this blog to my credit. Maybe that will change. Maybe that won't. I'd like to be known and appreciated for my writing, as I think at times it's as good as anyone else's out there who makes a decent living at humor and opinion. But there is a lot of writing out there already. I'm not sure I can make myself heard over the din. And at times I'm not sure I want to. I like my privacy, I look out for my thin skin, and people who send me messages signed "From a Northern Idaho Patriot" worry me.

But that's for another place and time.

Perhaps on my new blog starting . . . now.

Educational but . . .

"What, me worry?"

* * *

Educational, informative, authoritative (look! real citations! and no random editing to suit one's own agenda!), but . . . not once do they mention his successful career as a professional shithead.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Breitbart

When "playing possum" goes too far

Only in Western Pennsylvania . . . or only where alcohol is involved . . . or both.

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/10085/1045894-100.stm

I love this story because--

1. A possum was involved. (I think possums are so ugly, they're cute. Still . . . there are most definitely limits in my take on "possum love.")
2. It happened near Pittsburgh. (We've got a full Pantone matching system of local color.)
3. The Post-Gazette felt the need to explain that "alcohol was involved." (Who would have ever imagined?)
4. The story even made the BBC news headlines. (Oh august body, where is thy sting?)
5. Naturally, all of the above.

Cantorankerous

I'm just a guy who can't say no . . . to a photo op!

* * *

Oh no! Someone's done got mad and shat . . . erm, shot at Congressman Eric Cantor's office in Richmond, Virginy. Who would do such a thang? Why he's the nicest, friendliest, kindest, most pleasantest feller around . . .

*gggggggaggggggggg*

Oh, sorry, choking on my own vomit there for a sec.

But, come on, really, who didn't see this coming? These threats against elected officials in a highly polarized, emotional political and social climate. Frankly, I'm surprised that worse hasn't happened so far--that is, something worse than being spat on or being called a racial or sexual epithet, which we've had plenty of lately.

And, frankly, I'm surprised worse hasn't befallen a Republican by now. Eric Cantor has proven himself to be a Level 1 a-hole, snarkier-than-thou--almost as snarky as John Boehner and Mitch McConnell combined--and quick with the petulant, insincere cri-de-coeur at every photo op or press conference.

Of course, it doesn't just come down to Eric Cantor, Virginia-R(ighteous Putz). He's just one of the many players in a very public performance of Birth of a Venal Nation: Demagoguery in White Sheets, brought to you by the Republican Party--plus the letters F, U, and U, S, of A. All filmed in glorious Tunnelvision by Fox News. The latter has done an especially impressive job managing the crowd scenes, featuring hundreds and hundreds of extras from the Tea Party Dance Troupe, the John Birch Theatrical Society, the Ron Paulettes, and the Lyndon LaRouchebags.

It's been out of hand for months, years even. From Bill Clinton onwards and maybe before--although while a group of us never liked nor trusted Reagan, and there were definitely protests, I don't recall a bunch of self-anointed "patriots" showing up at rallies menacing people with weaponry or threatening to water the tree of liberty with the blood of Ed Meese.

From what I recall from those days, the most high-tech the weaponry got was a loose Birkenstock or Doc Martens, which the wearer no doubt tripped on while running from the protest line.

I had hoped all this angry insanity would die down after the 2008 election, when there was a clear winner and a clear loser. But the clear loser turned out to be an especially sore one. Maybe the party-that's-really-noisy-but-not-much-fun, gave the new president a couple of months before they started their next election campaign. Agreed, though, this is more time than some of the liber-azzi (rhymes with Liberace!) gave Obama before they started talking about a "failed" (in their eyes only) presidency.

But, over the last year, this domestic dissent has only escalated, in- and outside of the Capitol. Some of it, I suspect, is just generalized whining and whimpering during an especially rough economic period, one that settled in well before January 21, 2009, but one that hasn't vacated the premises as quickly as the former president did. Social strife is to be expected when people are hurting and remedies aren't as forthcoming as we would all like. It's probably worse here than elsewhere in the developed world due to our full-of-holes social safety net.

Please note, I'm not making light of people's suffering, or fun of it either. From my limited experience being unemployed, all I can do is imagine. But I think it would be fair to say that the hysterical protests against health insurance reform and deficit spending--two actions designed to help alleviate hardship both in the long- and short-term--seem, hmmm, well, let's say misguided and counter-intuitive. I'm just not convinced that you'd think your government was doing much good by you if it stood idly by while you lived out your fantasia on the theme of individual responsibility and bootstraps, either.

However, the anger and drama have gone beyond the I'm-hungry-tired-and-cranky stage. Well beyond that. To a positively scary place, full of mobs and hate speech; crude, racist iconography; antique talk of "states' rights," secessionism, and "redistribution of wealth" (code for "I'm selfish and hate anyone who's worse off or better off than me"); and now, incrementally, violence.

I half-expect John McCain to cane an opponent on the floor of the Senate any day now. I wouldn't blink an eye if Texas Governor Rick "Good Hair" Perry fired on Fort Sam Houston. And, sadly, I fully expect there will be an incident of serious domestic terrorism before it's all over with.

So I agree with Eric Cantor--this has to stop now, before someone gets seriously hurt.

Funny, Eric, that this should upset you now that it's happening to you and not your colleagues . . . but, oh, let's not be cynical.

Fomenting a polarized, hostile social and political climate should indeed stop. I for one would fully support Mr. Cantor's call for members of both parties to work together, showing respect and decorum toward one another--not to mention toward those whom you allegedly serve.

Perhaps then, you could get back to your raison d'être for being in Washington--addressing the myriad of social, economic, and security issues confronting our country.

Heck, here's a topical thought--and a freebie: You might even start with working toward better gun control . . .

You're welcome.

File under "Day Late, Dollar Short"

Or, if you prefer, "Insane Clown Posse, Right-Wing Contingent." Totally your call.

Report: Fox News ‘Divided’ over Glenn
Beck

http://www.fancast.com/blogs/2010/tv-news/report-fox-news-divided-over-glenn-beck/

Favorite quote:

Kurtz also spoke with Fox News employees claiming Beck stages his high-strung antics, including the infamous teary breakdowns, although a Beck spokesperson quickly shot that down as “cowardly” complaints.

To quote Jon Stewart from The Daily Show in a recent imitation of Glenn Beck, "I promised myself I would cry."

Laugh or cry, what's peculiar is that Glenn Beck divides the "talent" at Fox--meaning that there are those who stand with him, as well as those who don't.

Feh, this crazy new math. Rather than doing division or subtraction, apparently you can now add a negative like Glenn Beck with a negative like Fox News and still come up with positive numbers for both.

Only in America. Only at Newscorp.

Hurray for the Red, White, Black, and Blue, Part 1: Hit Me Baby, One More Time

Loving America is a lot like being in an abusive relationship, I would imagine.

At first, the relationship goes wonderfully. America showers you with attention and presents. America talks big and tells you how it's going to be for you two, when you're married, when you're settled in your new home, with your consumer goods and kids. It's exciting! Maybe a little too exciting! You can't catch your breath!

So you make the commitment. How could you not? He's the best thing you've ever known--albeit the only thing you've ever known. Everyone around you tells you how lucky you are, and who are you to argue otherwise?

And you believe it all. Until America starts neglecting to come home from work on time. Or doesn't come home at all. And doesn't even bother to call.

Other things seem amiss, and America is vague on details when you start to question him. Worried, feeling needy, you ask what's changed, what's gone wrong, what have I done?

But America isn't sorry. In fact, he's pissed off at you for asking, for "nagging" and "bitching."

"Bitch," he calls you. "Nigger." "Faggot." He spits at you.

"But wait!" you say--

And then it happens. He snaps. He slaps you hard across the face.

You scream and cry, and America cries, too, and promises never, ever, ever to hurt you again. There, there, baby, it'll be alright. I'll give you the moon and the stars, a trip to the Moon, and then to Mars. Or maybe Afghanistan and Iraq, too.

Nevertheless, they're all empty promises. America hits you again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

You cry, you wail, you grieve your guts out over your pain and the injustice of it all. Haven't you been there for America? Don't you feed it and care for it and give it money when it needs it?

You try to tell your family and friends, but they don't want to know, can't really fathom, don't see things the same way. You realize that either they don't care or that they're being abused by America, too, their own version of America at least. They just don't call it abuse though. 'Cause for them it seems normal by now.

They just tell you to tough it out, whatever it is, the problem you think you have. It's the best you're gonna get, so why make yourself miserable wanting something you can't have? Eat it. Suck it. Swallow it.

America cried with you at first, but then, he doesn't bother apologizing anymore and, worse, starts to blame you for his abuses. You cry louder at first, but this only makes him angrier, and the abuse intensifies and frightens you more.

So your tears dry up, and you start to suffer quietly on your own. That is, on the days when you feel anything at all.

Sometimes you don't know if America is going to kill you. Somedays you think it may have already done so. You feel dead inside, at least. Maybe you've killed yourself. Maybe you should.

After a time, too, you can't distinguish the abuse from a better reality--because the abuse is your reality. It feels normal, regular, expected. Maybe even anticipated. You start to want it a little maybe. 'Cause it's the only thing that makes you feel anymore.

You see others around you, suffering, screaming, fighting--for a while at least. At first you feel sympathy for them. You remember when . . .

But then, their complaints become tedious. Annoying. Enraging!

Why can't they just deal with it? Tough it out! Stop whining! It's the best you're gonna get! There's nothing else out there, certainly nothing any better, so don't go looking, don't go expecting!

And then you snap. And you slap. And in that very instance, you become just like America.

Reform-atory school

Good news . . . but we're still not there yet. The short version reads, "Tom Corbett, you're a douchebag," but I thought this might carry more weight.

To Attorney General, Tom Corbett, Pennsylvania:

Dear Mr. Corbett,

I understand that the Attorney General's Office is considering filing suit to block healthcare insurance reform legislation, in the process of being signed into law at the federal level.

I certainly hope it does not come to this. I think the legislation is a landmark effort at instituting much-needed reform, putting restrictions on insurance companies from predatory practices--something that, in theory, I think you would support (the restrictions, that is). In addition, it adds greatly needed coverage for all Pennsylvanians and strives to cut skyrocketing healthcare costs.

I fail to understand this weak argument, apparently Republican or Tea Party in nature, that this legislation infringes on states' rights. I thought we settled that issue in 1865. I can't see how this idea betters our country. Trust me, having grown up in a region known for flogging that old (Civil) warhorse, I don't think any of us want to go down that path, legally or morally.

Regardless, if you choose to follow through with this suit, I hope you will do so with consistency and file suit against accepting Medicare, Medicaid, military recruitment, highway safety laws, civil rights legislation, and any number of national legislative efforts that impact Pennsylvania and its citizenry.

Surely you can agree that as an attorney, consistency is important, no matter how unpopular it might be during an election year.

Kind regards,

Tim Winni,
Pittsburgh, PA