Can't Someone Else Do It?

I just got done listening to a man prattle on and on about the evils of credit cards, and how they are always "out to screw you" and that they charge too much interest. Due to TGWOoFY's illustrious past, I know a great deal about credit cards. More than I ever wanted to. And, I happen to know he is wrong. But, that doesn't stop people from placing blame and trying to make everyone else responsible for their actions.

Another man came into our office the other day, head full of steam. You see, he received his tax bill in the mail, and instead of mailing it to his mortgage company himself, he had us do it for him, and it didn't make it. So, who's fault is that you ask? Well, of course it is our fault. How could it possibly be his? Just because I manage to mail my tax bill, doesn't mean he should have to. That would mean buying stamps and envelopes and putting it in the mailbox at the end of his driveway. What are you, mad or something?

These are just two examples of the epidemic of "It's not my fault." Actually reading your credit card statement is hard work. So just bitch when things show up that you don't recognize, instead of actually paying attention to your spending and your wife's. Mailing your own tax bill is hard, why not make people at a retail bank be responsible for doing it for you.

Why is it so hard to take responsibility for yourself? I know sometimes it sucks, but come on. No one else in the world cares about your crap, so why make them take charge of it. It's not the teacher's fault your kid gets in trouble, it's theirs. It's not your boss's fault you suck at your job, it's yours. And, it not the opposite sex's fault you are single, it's yours.

Come on people, it's time to get right. It's not that hard, and trust me, the world will thank you.

Un Pocito Gay

I think most women would agree that men are confusing. Despite their efforts to paint themselves as uncomplicated, they certainly are not. They do all the same things they accuse women of doing. Gossiping, contradicting themselves, and changing their minds. They also are notorious for sending mixed signals. Doing one thing, yet saying another. Let me illustrate.

After the recent media attention heaped on John Amaechi, the former NBA player who came out of the closet, and the subsequent homophobic response from some in the sport, it sparked some conversations about attitudes towards gay people. More particularly, men's responses to gay people. Let's face it. There is, by and large, a more visceral reaction among the "man's man" crowd about gayness. That includes the military and sports teams. But, for all their apparent disgust, there is an awful lot of questionable things going on there.

Here are these big manly men. Showering together, walking around naked, peeing next to each other, and basically showing off their junk at the drop of a hat. Why the fear of a dividing wall? Did the stadium run out of money, and therefore can't afford partitions for you to pee without showing your willy? And, in locker rooms outfitted with plasma TVs and leather couches, you skimp on the walls in the shower? Interesting. Then, during the game. The ass patting, the hugging, picking each other up, and general merriment that ensues after a score is positively fancy. Same for the military. Can't John Q Taxpayer foot the bill so you can wash your privates in private? (I know, bad pun.)

These practices aren't confined to the locker room though. Men peeing next to each other, with just a tiny piece of Formica between them, has always puzzled me. As I said above, what is the problem with walls? I know you all can pee standing up, like you are constantly in the woods, but would it kill you to have some privacy? It just doesn't make sense.

To my knowledge, there is really no time in a woman's life when we want to be voluntarily naked together. Any woman you know can take her bra off without removing her shirt. And, can exchange that shirt for a new one, with minimal flesh exposed. As for peeing, privacy is a given due to our sitting down requirement, but we will wait out anyone else in that bathroom to poo in private.

So, I don't know what to make of all this, I am just curious as to what the explanation might be. When does male naked time stop being gay, and start being manly? Why all the open floor plans? And, more importantly, if you can stomach all that, then why the hang up about gay guys?

But, Can it Erase Shame?

I have become smitten with a brilliant invention, and I can't stop raving about it. It is the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.

I must admit, at first I was skeptical that this product could do what it claimed, but I am now a convert. We had a spot on our counter top, that we dubbed the Gorbachev, which we attempted to tame with many different techniques. But, until this little beauty came into our lives, it wouldn't budge. Now, it is gone. Nothing short of a miracle. It also cleaned the many spatters of tomato sauce that Greazy gets everywhere behind our stove. The scuff marks that our shoes leave inside our front door were also no match for this little beauty. In short, it is indeed magic.

I recommend this product to anyone, and it comes in several varieties. It can clean anything, and I do mean anything. So, get to work on all the nasty things in your life. If only it were big enough to erase people.

Oops, My Bad

The saying goes that everyone makes mistakes. That is true. We all do. So, how come when you make a mistake, you feel so alone?

In addition to feeling embarrassed or angry at yourself, or that you are a bad person, there is a real sense that you are the only one who has ever screwed up so badly. You just feel like no one else can possibly be a stupid as you, no one would ever do the "horrible" thing you did. And, so (unless you have no conscience, in which case none of this applies) the beating yourself up begins. You go over it and over it in your mind, thinking of all the things you could have done differently, and replaying the gory details of it, just to really make sure you feel bad enough. Because, clearly you are evil and need to suffer.

Now, of course, with a little perspective, we would all realize that unless someone is dead, physically injured, or worse, no slip up is the end of the world. Be it a huge gaffe at work that makes your boss turn eight shades of red. Or the foot-in-the-mouth moment at the in-laws. Or, the worst of all, hurting someone you truly care about and love with your thoughtlessness.

So, how do you get over the mistake and move on, without spending countless hours depressed and hurting yourself. Great question. And, the truth is, I don't really know for sure. I am far too likely to stew about things for far too long, making myself the villain in every scene. And, maybe I am, but I really don't think so. So, to all that I have wronged, please forgive me. But more importantly, I forgive myself. Try it sometime, it feels pretty good.

Uncivilized Disobedience

Despite the cold, and despite that fact that part of me didn't even want to, GT and I made our way to York Suburban High on Saturday night, and took part in a demonstration against the Westboro Baptist "Church" and their appearance at the school's production of the Laramie Project. All 10 or 12 of them, to about 200 of us.

These "people" took a break from picketing soldier funerals, to come and rail against us "gay lovers" and sing God Bless America. It was highly effective. Despite their vile words, such as "This is why so many of your children are coming home from Iraq in pieces" their protest was largely ineffective. They were outnumbered, outsmarted, and generally outclassed by our group. It ranged from the silent protests of some, to the declaration that "God loves everyone, even pirates."

I am proud to have been a part of something positive, and something that shows York isn't all bad. That there are many tolerant people living among us. And, that hate groups aren't welcome in our town. No matter how silly and insignificant.

*For a light-hearted look at how crazy these people are check out this site, made in response to the charming site run by the WBC.

OH MY GAWD!!

I wasn't going to mention all this, but it has gone far enough. Okay, I thought I was the only one in the world who's life was empty enough to concern themselves with trivial crap. But, apparently I was wrong. Some people just will not be happy until they can find controversy where there is none. Or, until they can be offended by something that is not in any way offensive. Clearly there is a new evil that has been unleashed on the world, and it is the commercial and a well placed guitar. Well done CBS, you godless, amoral network.

Now, the fact that Prince performed at the Superbowl was strange enough, but, get this, he held his guitar in front of his body, and it looked kind of like a giant penis when view behind a giant sheet. Sure, okay. I totally agree with you. How dare he strike a rock star pose while being a rock star? Then, there was a commercial featuring a Snickers bar and a couple guys who kiss, kind of. This is also outrageous. Both to gay advocacy groups, and straight guys equally. Who would have thought it? Then, of course there is the despondent GM robot which is so frightful and terrible, it is also totally offensive.

Can I ask a silly question? Do people have any idea these are commercials? They know that robots don't really feel, right, and that that the guys with the Snickers are actors? I swear to god, can't these people get a hobby, like fishing or something? No, apparently, they all have the networks on speed dial and are poised to call in the moment they find something a little "scary" or "offensive" (at least to their tremendously delicate minds.)

I can tell you something that offends me. Stupid people, with no sense of irony. People who cry out against indecency, as typified by Prince. And then, they watch a modern day bloodsport where people are trying to hurt each other, while women in costumes with giant breasts cheer from the sidelines, while they get drunk. God, don't these people know some things are sacred? I mean, think about the children? When will CBS stop the madness? First a Janet Jackson boob, and now this?

I wish we could go back to the days when the Superbowl meant something. When companies spent millions of dollars on pointless ads, and a city shut down for a week so that two groups of men could compete for supremacy in tight pants. That is what America is all about, damn it.

Don't You Ever Get Tired of Being Wrong, Marge?

I want a job where I can be wrong almost all the time. A job where I can take pot shots at people who are actually doing what I can only dream about, and cut them down. I want to say one thing one day, and then when I am proven wrong, be able to sidestep my original opinion for a more popular one. I want to make bold predictions, and then disown them the moment they don't happen. I want to hold someone up, put them on a pedestal and worship them. Then, I want to knock them down, spit on them and turn my back when they "fail" me. In short, I want to be a sports writer.

As a late comer to the world of sports (more specifically talking about sports) I view these jobs with envy. I want to shout my opinions to anyone who will listen, and then be able to backpedal faster than Lance Armstrong trying to avoid dog doo-doo. At my job, accuracy is one of the most important parts. I think it would be tremendously freeing to have a job where my performance is based not on how well I actually do my job, but how loudly I can say something and how deftly I can disguise the fact that it is a pile of crap.

All I want is the chance to pontificate about how absolutely essential it is for a certain athlete to do something, and then when it happens, move the goal post back another 50 yards and start again. And, when I can't find fault with an athlete's performance, I will find fault with his/her so called character. For writers, this usually means picking apart their comments, TV ads or shoe color. Anything to bring him or her back down to earth. So, I can feel superior. And, if you offend someone, well, just get them to yell at you, and you'll have column fodder for the rest of your career.

So, where do I sign up? It sounds like so much fun, like a dream actually. Believe me, I am an overly opinionated, mean, angry, grumpy person. Let me at these over-paid, over-blown, over-hyped jerks that I want to spend my life talking about.

Peyton Worshiper

Congratulations to my Peyton, and the Colts on their Superbowl victory. I knew you could do it.









(PS, was I right about the booty, or what?)