Soy un perdedor

It's been growing, like another wart on the ugly face of American pop culture, for a few years now.

I'd hear these rumors and rumblings and increasingly regular references on popular fake news television shows. Like jungle drums starting in the distance and getting closer… "beck"…"Beck"…"BECK"… For some reason, everyone seems to be talking about Glenn Beck. Especially the people who hate him the most.

They have virtually canonized him in the social media circle jerks like Twitter, where it's common to see attempts at wise cracks from 140 character pundits such as ... The thing that doesn't make sense to me is why, when so many people dislike him so much, do they devote so much of their cognitive energy him.

I mean, it's one thing to listen, read, talk to people with whom you disagree. This is a sign of healthy intellect. But eventually.you have to realize where a person stands and that person isn't likely to change their position (especially when their career and their millions of dollars are dependent upon them being in that position).

I mean, if you're a hemp wearing, flag burning, drum circle sitting hippie and you've regularly listened to Rush Limbaugh for the last 20 years -- well, you might want to reconsider the hemp thing.

You know what I'm sayin?

If you're one of those delusional Hope&Change suckers with your head stuck firmly in Nancy Pelosi's assets and your pink blinders filtering out all rational evidence that both so-called political parties have failed The Republic (if you can still call it that) miserably and you still bother to scour YouTube for Glenn Beck's latest screed, then I can only conclude that you're either not-so-bright or you're some kind of rage addict.

Or both.

Look, I like you guys. I really do. That's why it's so awkward to try to explain to you how you're being used. But I'll do it anyway. Because when you care about someone, you keep their best interests in mind even when it's uncomfortable.

You see, son, Glenn Beck doesn't give a flyin' FOX what your opinion is. I suspect that he doesn't even care what his own opinion is. To Beck, it isn't important to have the "right" opinion, or even to have a well considered and rational opinion (obviously). It's only important to have an opinion that a lot of people (not to put too fine a point on it, but YOU) disagree with.

In fact, the more irrational and polarizing his statements, the better. This will get people reacting, talking to their friends, posting on Twitter and Facebook and blogs. That keeps him on the top of the consideration ladder. Keeps his audience numbers high (again, that's you).

And that keeps the advertising dollars rolling in.

It's a pretty old game. Something that Limbaugh and Howard Stern have been doing for years, not to mention a certain dumbass from the west side of Topeka and even local bloggers. People like Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow do it as well, they just don't seem to be as good as Beck at manipulating large numbers of people who both agree and disagree with them.

So to sum it all up: You are being used¹.

If you hate Glen Beck so much, you should stop paying attention to him. To be ignored is the biggest injury you can inflict upon his ilk.

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1) Yes. I do realize that by posting this on my blog I have been drawn into the whole affair of promoting Beck by criticizing him. And it does make me ill. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make to try to get you people to see that you're being manipulated.

tagged: Glenn Beck, Obama, media, Limbaugh, Howard Stern, FOX, Twitter

YouTube Tuesday: History of Greed

Another animated short from the Vancouver Film School examines the roots of greed and lust in the human condition. It's cute and profound.



tagged: YouTube, Tuesday, History of Greed, movie, short, animation, caveman

YouTube Tuesday: Conference calling

I'm fairly certain that anyone who works in a professional environment has dealt with this issue at some point.

If you're like me, working with agencies and colleagues on both coasts in a time when conference rooms have tended to become a virtual phenomenon rather than a tangible one, it's probably far more common that you prefer.

But at least we can still joke about it.



tagged: work, office, conference call, life, professional, David Grady

A tale of two cities

There's been quite a public debate of late regarding the fate of a certain parcel of land in a certain highly-prized district that also carries with it a significant emotional attachment for certain groups of people.

Now I'm not one to casually dismiss the emotional attachment people have for places, buildings, cars, or whatever. Especially when the place and buildings in questions are now so intricately woven into our collective identity.

But in cases that involve private property rights (which, really, are just an extension of personal freedom), it's helpful to take an objective look at the facts, lest we inadvertently set a precedent that we might live to regret later.

So the facts are these:

• The property is privately owned.
• The city has zoning codes and usage ordinances in place to ensure that any construction is appropriate for the site in question.
• Our laws and constitution guarantee protection equally to everyone, regardless of gender, ethnicity, religion, etc.

I understand that to those with a strong emotional interest in the preserving the purity of this historical site, the proposed building project seems insensitive and inappropriate. Those people certainly should voice their opinions, as they have a constitutional right to.

But let us not use the heavy hand of government to deny those with whom we disagree the very property rights we hold dear for ourselves.

Change can be scary, but it can also be positive and is often accompanied by opportunity. Highwoods Properties and Polsinelli Shughart should be allowed to build the building they proposed*.

Let us not stand in the way of economic progress and cultural understanding. It's fine to remember the past, but not at the price of sacrificing our future.

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*Perhaps they could gain public support by including an "Islamic Community Center" on one or two floors of the building.


tagged: Kansas City, building, Cordoba Center, Highwoods Properties, Polsinelli Shughart, Country Club Plaza, property rights

Random Photo XXXVII: Liberty Memorial

We hit up the Liberty Memorial and the National World War I Museum last weekend. We really enjoyed ourselves, though we didn't allot enough time to tour the museum. Unfortunately, it closes at 5:00 and we didn't get there until around 3:30 p.m. An hour and a half sounds like a good amount of time, but not when you consider all there is to see.

One thing we made a priority was a trip to the top of the Liberty Memorial. That's where I snapped this shot looking down at the plaza 217 feet below.

You can tell that it was late after noon by the quality of light and the length of the tower's shadow. I also shot a pic of the tower from the bunker museum below.

If you haven't visited the WWI Museum/Liberty Memorial in a while, I highly suggest you make it an item on one of your weekend itineraries.

tagged: random, photo, Kansas City, Liberty Memorial, World War I, museum, history

YouTube Tuesday: Empire 1900

Sometimes, all it takes it a little old-fashioned sci-fi get to you through the day.

And it doesn't get much older-fashiondier than this clip of the penultimate scene from The Empire Strikes Back (by far the best of the Star War's movies) passed through an old-timey filter and set to silent movie music.

It's like Industrial Light and Magic meets Metropolis. Anyway, not sure I'd want to watch the entire movie this way, but this scene makes for a nice distraction.



tagged: YouTube, Tuesday, movie, Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, silent movie, Metropolis, Industrial Light and Magic

Hopeably

A couple of days ago I was having The Worst Day Ever.

Overslept. Woke up with a stiff neck. Kid wouldn't eat her breakfast. Blew out my flipflop. Stepped on pop top. Cut my heel had to cruise on back home. You know the kind of day. I'm sure you been there yourself.

Anyway as per usual, later in the day I took part of my lunch hour to do a little headline scanning, a little keeping up on current events. Man was that a bad idea. Not a good day to read a bunch of depressing news.

It started with the realization that within a couple of years, all of our antibiotics will be completely useless.

Turns out that while we've been focusing our pharmaceutical R&D on longer hair, lower cholesterol and erecter penises, bacteria have been naturally selecting themselves to be more bad ass than any drug we have on the shelves.

So sometime within the next decade, medical science will be set back 60 years. Simple procedures like a tonsillectomy will carry life-or-death risk.

Then that bleak little tidbit was followed by a reminder (as if I needed it) that the United States is bankrupt, and most just haven't admitted it yet.

Decades of overspending and over promising "entitlements" in exchange for votes have left the U.S. in a gigantic fiscal hole that will have to be filled somehow. You think Greece had it bad with their "austerity" measures? Well, you can say adiós to your cushy 33% tax bracket my friend.

We have 78 million baby boomers who, when fully retired, will collect benefits from Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid that, on average, exceed per-capita GDP. The annual costs of these entitlements will total about $4 trillion in today’s dollars. Yes, our economy will be bigger in 20 years, but not big enough to handle this size load year after year.

This is what happens when you run a massive Ponzi scheme for six decades straight, taking ever larger resources from the young and giving them to the old while promising the young their eventual turn at passing the generational buck.

Herb Stein, chairman of the Council of Economic Advisers under U.S. President Richard Nixon, coined an oft-repeated phrase: “Something that can’t go on, will stop.” True enough. Uncle Sam’s Ponzi scheme will stop. But it will stop too late.

And it will stop in a very nasty manner.

There was still more bleak news. Deflation is here. Unemployment is getting worse. The housing market is a disaster. And perhaps the saddest report of all, that 100 year old Scotch they found in Antarctica? Yeah, nobody will be allowed to drink it. It will be wasted instead of tasted.

I tells ya, it's almost enough to make you want to watch a Lady Gaga video some days.

But then I heard something that really helped. A nice little piece of fortune cookie philosophy that, while simplistic, is amazingly pertinent and powerful. It's a single line from 30th Century philosopher and poet Phillip J. Fry, who once said to a despondent colleague

You can't give up hope just because it's hopeless. You gotta hope even more and cover your ears and go "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!"

Wise words indeed.

Probably the best thing to do is kick back, watch some reality TV, keep my credit card debt paid off, try to enjoy the tumble down the cultural decline we're all in the midst of and hope it gets better.

tagged:hope, antibiotics, debt, bankruptcy, Ponzi scheme, Futurama, Phillip J. Fry

Door dingbat

Rewind to the spring of, say, 2004. It's a few days after I just bought my first (and probably last) brand new car.

Nothing flashy. Just a 2004 Nissan Altima, with enough extra features to allow me to ride in comfort, but nothing garish or unaffordable. The important thing for this anecdote is that the car was new. Not a scratch. Only the miles I put on it during a test drive. New car smell and everything.

So the pride of driving a new car was still with me three days later, as I drove to the very top of the parking garage to park waaaay far away from all the inconsiderate jerkholes who had no respect for other peoples' brand new personal property. I was worried, of course, about the all-too common phenomenon of the door ding — those small dents in your car caused by the careless opening of a door by the occupant of the car parked next to you.

And sure enough, when I returned to my car for the commute home, there was a large divot in the side panel of my formerly new car — just THREE DAYS AFTER I BOUGHT IT!

Pissed? I was. Enraged, even. But it made sense. Buy a new car, put too much emotional energy into the idea of having a new car and fate pretty much demands that you be brought back down to the hard pavement.

To paraphrase John Lennon, instant carma's gonna get you.

Over the past few years I've acquired quite a collection of door dings. Large ones, small ones, long ones, short ones, round ones, deep ones, shallow ones. Sometimes I wonder if it helps my fuel economy, the way the dimples on a golf ball help it slip through the air.



Now whenever I see a new dent, sure, I'm ticked off. Well, disappointed is more the word. The point is, I'm used to it. I've come to accept that it's just a fact of life in the urban environment.

But not everyone has come to that realization.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, I'm out running errands on a Saturday afternoon. My Supermodel Wife calls and invites me to beat the heat with her and our two daughters at our favorite used book store in JoCo. By the time I arrive, my SMW has already parked and taken the kids inside. I meet up with them, browse for awhile, pick out a few books, read to my 7-year-old for a while. You know, we're having a nice time.

About half an hour into our excursion, a fit-looking 60s-ish woman approaches my SMW and asks if she drives a gray Toyota. SMW says yes. The woman replies that "we have a problem with a door ding" and asks SMW to come outside.

I stay with the kids inside where it's cool. SMW's not too upset. She's also used to getting door dings and anyway it's nice of the lady to come in and report it to us.

Ten minutes later SMW returns to the store. Now she is pissed. The woman hadn't come to confess to denting our car, she came to accuse SMW of denting their car. During the discussion, the woman tells my wife that their Lexus SUV is "the only car we have, and we're always careful not to park where any other cars are…"

Well, SMW said she saw a small scratch in the clear coat, but couldn't conclusively say that it was from our car. Nevertheless, she gave the Lexus owner our phone number. Not sure why she wanted it. If she asked, I'd apologize and say I feel bad about it, but I'm not paying to fix a door ding.

This happened a few weeks ago, and we never heard from the Lexus owners. I'm a bit bummed about that. Because I'd love to get on the phone and explain the realities of driving a car in an urban (suburban) area, and that if your priorities are so far out of whack, you shouldn't be driving such a fine automobile.

tagged: car, automobile, door ding, Kansas City, society

YouTube Tuesday: Day in a life

Today's edition of YouTube Tuesday features a short film, Maybe One Day, that kind of reminded me, on a meta level, of the Beatles song A Day in the Life.

The film takes a brief look at a universal sentiment that everyone comes to at one point. Here's a blurb from its YouTube page:

This film conveys a sense of life and experience, extreme and heightened feelings as well as pensive and quiet moments. It is reminiscence, a visual diary and a document of a day. This is achieved through the journey of one man.

tagged: metaphor, journey, Beatles, YouTube, Tuesday, A Day In The Life, Maybe One Day

The Hunt, Part 2: The Trap

I previously vowed to capture an image of the elusive White Squirrel at any costs. Little Moby seemed somehow to have sensed this, and his appearances became more rare in the days following my utterance bloggerance.

On the occasions when he would show up, he seemed jittery, even for a squirrel, and more wary of his surroundings. However, even as he became more careful, he seemed to extend his range. And a couple of times I found him foraging for nuts and grubs in my own front yard.
Thus, I added a tactic to my arsenal. If I could find a way to confine him, it would be an easier thing to photograph him. So I stopped by my local outfitter's store to procure a steel trap that would do the trick.

It was of a rectangular steel cage design, a trap door at either end triggered by tip plate in the center.
I masterfully baited the trap with wheat bran cereal held in place with a mortar of peanut butter. I placed it behind some shrubbery in our front yard and waited.

In the morning, a few days later, I received an excited message from my first mate. She said I need to go and check the trap.

It had been sprung.
Finally, I thought, putting on shirt as I made my way to the front yard... finally I'll have my chance. At long last I'll shoot a picture of the white squirrel and prove to the world (well, my immediate acquaintances anyway) that it exists.
When I Arrived in the front yard and inspected the sprung trap, I was surprised and disappointed. It did contain a varmint, and the beast was white(ish).

But rather than the White Squirrel, I found myself face to snout with a ghastly, coarse-haired, rat-tailed opossum.

It hissed at me as I lifted the trap from behind the bushes. I placed it on the gravel driveway to photograph it. I felt compelled to document the catch, even though this was not he quarry I was after.

I was simultaneously disgusted by and sorry for the pathetic marsupial. It was obviously well-fed and healthy. It was so large, in fact, that I wondered how it fit into the trap in the first place. But it was obviously frightened and confused, stuck so tight that it could scarcely turn it's head from side to side, let alone turn around in the steel cage.

It stared at me with black, beady eyes, like a cold cup of coffee, as I determined what was to be done with it. Finally, I decided to take it to the woods around a creek in a nearby park to set it free.

Laying a plastic trash bag down tin the back of our SUV, and placing the trap with opossum therein on top of the plastic, I drove to Roe Park. But as I drew close, I saw the park was crawling with suburbanites. The parking lot was full and the baseball and soccer fields were packed with people. Obviously, this was not a good place to release such a solitary specimen.

So I continued on. Presently I came to an area of new road construction, a bridge across a creek that was as yet lightly traveled. I put the steel cage near a stand of tall grass and opened the trap door to release the prisoner.

It wandered out into the grass and out of site. I put the trap back into the car, got into the driver's seat and prepared to return home. But as I turned the ignition switch, I looked up and saw the opossum trumbling along the road's curb.

Rather than make it's way toward the relative safety of the nearby creek, it had wandered back to the street. I snapped a few more pictures, then left as the opossum continued on toward the bridge and almost certain death under the wheel of the next passing car.

Opossoms aren't that bright.

tagged: white, squirrel, Moby, suburban, wildlife, animals, Johnson County, Kansas, opossum, trap