Funny, yet true...

HAHA


(By the way, who else is glad that Americans no longer have to pay the State Dept. $3000 to be evacuated from Lebanon?

And who else is mystified as to why we're going to wait a week to send Condoleezza to the region for some diplomacy? Looks like we’re going to wait for Israel to decimate Lebanon, kill untold number of civilians, ignore international condemnations, fracture itself from the rest of civilized world, and royally piss off the Arab community, all in the name of toppling Hezbollah, BEFORE we intervene. Sounds like a great idea, huh?)

Let's take a break with Beyoncé...

Beyonce "DeJa Vu"

Right now seems like a pretty good time to forget about the world’s troubles, sit back and enjoy the R&B siren du jour’s newest summer hit...

World Unhinged?

So, let’s review:

1.Iran is spitting in the face of geopolitical pressure by continuing it’s progression towards nuclear power. While they report to having only the purest of intentions (i.e. nuclear power plants for energy), the more likely objective of possessing WMD is as transparent as it is scary.

2.North Korea is firing rockets like it is freaking New Year’s Eve, except this event is less celebratory and more self-aggrandizing. And while these rockets spend more time falling haphazardly from the sky than they do actually working, they are certainly much better rockets than the ones North Korea didn’t have six years ago. While there is no way North Korea will be able to strike the US mainland any time soon, I’d be quite nervous if I were in South Korea or Japan right now.

3.And, good ol' Israel seems to want to bomb Lebanon into extinction. Don’t get me wrong, when two of its soldiers are kidnapped by Hezbollah, Israel has every right to respond forcefully; but Israel’s response is completely disproportionate to the crime. To put into perspective, the bombing of Beirut is reminiscent of the U.S. attack against Afghanistan, but that was in response to the September 11th attacks—that response was proportionate.

This over-the-top response is clearly not just about the two Israel soldiers; it is also about Israel not sitting idly by while its neighbors call for the death of Israel. This is about a people who believe that God chose this land for his people to settle and live, and the Israelis are not about to disobey God’s wishes. This is about a people who escaped slavery, wandered the desert, saw their temple burned (twice), spent about 1800 years in diaspora, were vilified for causing the death of Jesus, and then were systemically tortured, killed, and almost eradicated by the Nazis. I think that in the end, the bombing of Lebanon is Israel declaring that they “ain’t taking shit from anyone anymore”.

The problem is that a good chunk of the Arab world still wants to give them shit. These particular Arabs sees the presence of Israel, and all western influence in the Middle East, as an affront to Muslim sovereignty and dominion over the Middle East. But, the problem is even more basic than that: Israel is bombing Lebanon, with whom Syria and Iran are aligned. Hell, the entire region will be aligned with Lebanon if this bombing campaign continues much longer. And so here goes Israel and Hezbollah, about to plunge the Middle East into chaos unimaginable.

Can we call this a powderkeg? Sure. The perfect strom? Maybe. World War III? Well, that’d require at least two world powers facing each other from opposing sides (and I fear that an Iranian/North Korean alliance equates to one world power).

Now, can the current volatile state of the world be blamed solely on George W. Bush? Certainly not; the roots of this problem stretch back…well, centuries if you want to get technical. However, it still remains that U.S. military attention and force is bogged down in a quagmire caused by a misguided attempt to find WMD that we had no proof existed before the war, and found did not exist once we got there, while getting the added bonus of toppling a dictator whose strength and influence barely existed outside his nation’s border. The fact that we are "bogged down" presents the question: if diplomacy doesn’t work, does the U.S. have the ability to have a viable or realistic method to bring these three abovementioned situations under control?

In addition, as we all know, there a number of world issues that could benefit from the attention of the most powerful and richest nation in the world: the ozone layer is gradually become little more than an ozone screen, the US gulf coast seems to be just as unprepared for this hurricane season as it was for the last one; the starving and genocide in the Sudan continues unabated; and the might of the US military may soon be needed to bring two rouge nation-states in line while at the same time extinguishing the volatile Israeli/Lebanonese situation. However, the United States has no choice but to continue to commit itself to being the buttress holding up the wobbly Iraqi government—for an undetermined length of time I might add.

And somehow, despite the fact that the world is flirting with coming completely unhinged, I remain strangely optimistic that humanity will make it through. Perhaps this is because, from WWI to WWII, from Hiroshima to the Cuban Missile Crisis, from the Cold War to India/Pakistan, it still hasn’t happen.

Here’s hoping that our luck doesn’t run out.

In remembrance

Because I fear that we're beginning to forget...

progress

I met a guy through a friend over the weekend. This guy, who is gay, and I had fun hanging out with our mutual friend Jon, but I didn't think much of it...until this IM conversation:

[his IM name]: fyi i thought you were damn cute
[his IM name]: *blush*

Hey, it's progress, I'll take it. And although he lives in Winston-Salem NC, there was the exchanging of cell numbers, so we'll see...

When did the Democrats get a backbone?

The Democratic Party has been all but neutered since...um...John Kerry's run for president? The Republican "Contract with America"? Jimmy Carter? Lyndon B. Johnson's lack of a second-term? Yeah, that one.

But, in the past two days, two separate events have rocked this liberal's socks off:

1) (First, a little background) The Federal minimum wage has remained at $5.15 since 1998. In contrast, the US Congress has raised its salary from $136,700 to $162,100 between 1998 and 2005. That's an increase of $25,400 over seven years (or an increase of about $3,628 each year)

So, the minimum wage worker hasn't seen a pay increase in almost a decade, but the Congressperson has seen a substantial pay increase during the same time period. Now the Democrats deserve some blame for the anemic minimum wage, but who has been in control of Congress for all that time period--and the White House for most of it--the Republicans of course.

That is why I'm so proud to see that Senate Democrats want to raise the minimum wage to $7.25, while simultaneously blocking a Congressional salary increase. Is it possible that the Democratic Party, who stills holds just a minority in Congress, may actually stand up and do something substantial and worthwhile for the nation? Oh God, please say it's so.

(I’ll refrain from debating which is better: giving tax-breaks to rich and expecting the benefits to “trickle-down” to the lower-income individuals, or giving more money to the lower-income individuals, who will in turn pump money into the US retail economy. If you want to have that discussion, email me)

2) You may remember that back in March, Senator Russ Feingold introduced a resolution to censure President Bush, based on the President's controversial wiretapping program that some consider to be circumventing the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act. I must say, the concept of any politician speaking his mind by proposing legislation that will probably go nowhere, simply because that politician wholeheartedly believes that the said legislation needs to be proposed, is politically incredible. The concept of that politician being one of the current incarnations of Congressional Democrats is all but astonishing.

Well, Senator Feingold continued to be a politically rarity when, on this past Sunday NBC's "Meet the Press," he once again spoke his mind. He discussed, with veracity, honesty, intelligence, and eloquence on subjects such as the Iraq war, potential troop withdrawals, whether the war has made America safer, and defending himself against Vice-President Cheney's perennial charge that anti-Iraq sentiment boils down to "cut-and-run" and other hot-button issues.

I'll let the man speak for himself:


Russ Feingold on MTP June 25, 2006

russ feingold


While I don't agree with every word Senator Feingold said, it is clear that he's not regurgitating some pre-approved Democratic talking points; he's talking from the hip. If the Senator Feingold keeps saying what he means, and meaning what he says, I may just weep for joy.

Supporting a minimum wage increase AND Democrats speaking their mind; Democratic Party, are you revived?

Ahhh! Real Monsters!

Congrats to Nicole Kidman for marrying the (non-psycho, non-couch-jumping, non-homosexual, non-closet-case, non-Scientology drone) country crooner Keith Urban. Congrats to Keith Urban for being about the luckest man on the planet.

With that being said, forget Nancy Pelosi, Nicole Kidman's over-botoxed dad scares the ever-loving beJesus outta me. Ahhhh.

click at your own peril.

(He reminds me of that guy in "Hannibal" who was in the wheel chair and got eaten by the warthogs. Freaky.)

Yeah, right

These guys were plotting a terriorist attack against the Sears Tower?




Please, they look like rejects from the rap group Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony. And they asked for boots, uniforms, machine guns, radios, vehicles, bulletproof vests and $50,000 in cash from al Qaeda to wage their proposed jihad against the U.S. That's not a very good jihad-waging list; but wow, they would have been the most strapped guys on the block. And $50,000 can buy lots of pot, which it appears that these fellows enjoy.

Oh, and the guy they were requesting their supplies from wasn't from al Qaeda; he was from the FBI.

Terrorism should never be funny, but damn this is just hilarious. Idiots.

Nothing could be finer than to be in CAROLINA in the morning

Carolina Hurricanes: Stanley Cup Champs, 2006.
Hells Yeah!!

Fair and Balanced

In the interest of "fair and balanced" criticism:




As a democrat, it is so sad that Democratic Party may take a majority of Congress in November, not due to the party's strength and vision, but rather due the public's dissaifiaction with The Grand Ol' Party and the President.

Plus, I'm pretty scared of the current House Minority Leader, Nancy Pelosi, becoming the Majority Leader. No; seriously, her face scares me, and I don't want to see it more than I have to.

Republican Hypocrisy

From a friend’s “bulletin” on myspace:


Ronald Reagan - divorced the mother of two of his children to marry Nancy Reagan, who bore him a daughter only 7 months after the marriage.

Bob Dole - divorced the mother of his child, who had nursed him through the long recovery from his war wounds.

Newt Gingrich - divorced his wife who was dying of cancer.

Dick Armey - House Majority Leader - divorced

Sen. Phil Gramm of Texas - divorced

Gov. John Engler of Michigan - divorced

Gov. Pete Wilson of California - divorced

George Will - divorced

Sen. Lauch Faircloth - divorced

Rush Limbaugh - Rush and his current wife Marta have six marriages and four divorces between them.

Rep. Bob Barr of Georgia - Barr, not yet 50 years old, has been married three times. Barr had the audacity to author and push the "Defense of Marriage Act." The current joke making the rounds on Capitol Hill is "Bob Barr...WHICH marriage are you defending?!?

Sen. Alfonse D'Amato of New York - divorced

Sen. John Warner of Virginia - divorced (once married to Liz Taylor.)

Gov. George Allen of Virginia - divorced

Henry Kissinger - divorced

Rep. Helen Chenoweth of Idaho - divorced

Sen. John McCain of Arizonia - divorced

Rep. John Kasich of Ohio - divorced

Rep. Susan Molinari of New York - Republican National Convention Keynote Speaker - divorced


While I do not have the time to confirm the validity of all those statements, I have no reason to believe they are false; especially since I already knew about some of them. Also, I know that two of the greatest Americans to ever live—Franklin D. Roosevelt and Martin Luther King Jr.—both had affairs; if these two great Americans could stumble in their fidelity, what would prevent Bob Barr from making a career out of getting divorced?

So, it seems that the abovementioned Republicans have done a pretty good job at “threatening the sanctity of marriage” without any homosexuals involved.

Ahhhh, Republican hypocrisy never gets boring.

No 40 virgins

I'm not quite sure what meaning or message this imagery is supposed to convey. Perhaps that Abu Musab al-Zarqawi either performed or oversaw a number of ruthless beheadings and other forms of violence, and the above is his Danté's Inferno -style eternal punishment. Perhaps it is some form of Islamic imagery to which I am unfamiliar. Whatever the message, it does convey that the bastard is nowhere near those 40 virgins, and that is enough for me.


And while I wish that his death translated into a decrease--or discontinuation--of the insurgency-inspired violence in Iraq, I doubt it...

Watch out!

HA!



("Compassionate Conservative" my ass.)

What constitutes The South?

Yesterday, my new friend Ben was waxing poetic about his home state of Arkansas. Now, I’m not going lie, I didn’t think there was much to be proud of in Arkansas unless you supported Bill Clinton—or lived in Little Rock. Nevertheless, Ben taught me to appreciate the Ozarks, Razorbacks athletics, and Arkansas’ strong Southern culture.

Excuse me, Southern culture? Arkansas?

Now, I know you may find it strange that a gay black man loves the South (and trust me, I find it just as strange), but I never considered Arkansas to be part of my Dixie. But after my personal—and I’ll admit haphazard—test of Southern-ness (prevalence of Rebel Flags, sweet tea, Confederacy membership, unbearable humidity) I decided to concede and recognize Arkansas as the South. Upon retrospect, I should have also inquired about the local pervasiveness of kudzu and use of the phrase “y’all,” but we all know that hindsight is 20/20.

So, for your edification, my South now constitutes: Southern Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas.

And now, to explain the notable exclusions:
1. Northern Virginia (or NOVA, as the locals call it) cuddles right up to the sprawling metropolitan area of D.C. As a result, NOVA’s attempt at an identity is lost in the shadow of a capital known for its progressiveness and intermingling of diverse national and international cultures, both of which constitute an antithesis to the South.
2. Kentucky is on the fringe of being the South, so I’ll consider the state if someone convinces me to care about it.
3. Texas can't be the South because everyone from there seems to wants Texas to be its own nation anyway.
4. Florida, much like California, is such an American oddity that marches to the beat of its own Red Bull fueled manic drummer, that sometimes I wonder if it’s still considered part of the nation, let alone the South.

In other news, Pennsylvania is a Mid-Atlantic state, maybe even the Mid-West, but not New England (if you were wondering).

Do I crave the center of attention?

Ahhh, life is returning to something that resembles normalcy. I’m four weeks into the six week training at the new job, I have received the first paycheck, and the new apartment is no longer buried under a clutter of boxes. I suppose you could say that “the flux” has subsided.

Oh, and the wedding of Lindley and Mark was wonderful, as was the carpool down to Greenville (thanks for the company Linda and Phil).

But something has been troubling me since Greenville. The night before the wedding I was talking with my friend Kat who was also down for the holy matrimony. Kat randomly wanted to confirm her hypothesis that a certain Furman graduate and I did not get along, because, as she put it, “your similar personalities might clash.” Indeed, this Furman grad (let’s call him “Sturgeon”) and I aren’t exactly friends; but we’re not enemies either—at best, we’re acquaintances.

Well, as the conversation with Kat continued, she half-way said that both “Sturgeon” and I tend to dominate conversations. Um, wow.

So, now I wonder, “do I dominate conversations?” Certainly, as an only child whose parents divorced, I was the focal point of my mother’s attention. Perhaps I crave that same attention in other venues in my life—with friends, social situations, facebook, this blog, etc

Could it be that my sociability verges on being domineering?

Maybe I need to tone it down in social situations: stop focusing on myself and my stories as much, while simultaneously lessening the expression of my humor, verbal quips and one-liners (which would directly contradict this blog's existence, I know).

Or maybe I don’t over-dominate conversations. Maybe my ability to excel in social situations is not due to me browbeating other people into social submission, but rather due to me just excelling in social situations.

I haven’t really figured it all out yet.

What was that clicking on the phone?

Yeah, we're getting a little closer to "Big Brother" here.


(Although, I gotta say, I’ve never put much stock in the idea that terrorists want to kill Americans because we have freedom of speech, press, to bear arms, religion, or judged by a jury of our peers. This is because I think someone on the other side of world who’s just trying to make it day by day couldn’t care less about what political concepts make Americans’ lives more free.

I mean, do they want to kill us because they’re jealous that we can peacefully assemble?

No, they want to kill us because our government has a long history of getting involved in, and manipulating, foreign nations’ political and social climates, including—but not limited to—surreptitiously supporting coups. That, and our presence and influence in the Arab world (not to mention our support of Israel) are seen as an affront to Islam and to Arabs controlling their own part of the world. Not saying that any of that warrants terrorist activity, just saying that's why terrorist hate us, not our freedoms.

Wow, didn't expect to go on that tirade...)

Ring Finger

As I've gotten older, I've noticed some new interest have entered my world.

I now care about 401(k)s and IRAs. Getting good medical coverage rocks my world. I watch CNN like it's my religion, and I see MTV as a stinking pile of crap that destroys your mind and sense of what is good and evil.

I realize that by renting an apartment instead of living in a townhouse, I'm essentially throwing my money away every month. I have become inquisitive about where to purchase the best furniture for the best price (which has lead me to bemoan that's there's no IKEA closer than four hours away, and forced me to accept that Target may not actually be the best place in world).

Furthermore, everyday I'm more and more upset about how much the state and federal government waste my tax money. (WHY am I still paying for Social Security?)

Well, today, I realized that I have achieved another rite of passage into adulthood. Twice today, I found myself looking at an attractive male's ring finger to see if he is married. TWICE. I knew people did such things, but geez. Is it possible that guys my age are more likely to be married than gay? (um, yeah, rhetorical question, I know the answer.)

Is it possible? Am I getting old?

What's next? Will I be impatient to receive AARP benefits? Will I start watching C-Span? Will I call the 16 year old speeding by in his Mustang a "young whipper-snapper?" Will I go on a harangue about when I had to walk to school, up hill, both ways, in the snow? Will I wax nostalgic for the days when gas cost less than a dollar a gallon?

Oh wait, I already do the last one…crap.

Life in Flux

I officially declared early May, “Life in Flux;” when life will be turned upside-down, shaken, tossed around, and then wait around for me to put it upright. There are three reasons for the life in flux:

1. THE NEW JOB:
Yes, once again I have a new job. The mentoring thing didn’t work, mainly because the money was inconsistent (I only got paid for when I physically interacted with a client), so I did the job search once again and hit pay dirt. I will be working for Biogen Idec, doing over the phone customer support for clients taking Biogen’s Multiple Sclerosis medication.

Trust me, the job is awesome: not only do I get to help people with a debilitating disease (something I love), but I also get medical, dental, vision, 401(k), stock options, and an unreal salary—this a real person job.

The new job also means that right now I’m one week into a six-week training for the new job, and that I won’t get a paycheck until the 19th, which may mean that I’ll have to pull out the credit card that hasn’t been used since college, just to make it until the 19th.

2. LINDLEY'S WEDDING:
This upcoming Friday I’ll be driving down to Greenville, SC for a friend’s wedding. I like weddings, and I like Lindley and Mark together, so this event would not be stressful if it weren’t for the wedding being on Saturday, me driving back to Chapel Hill on Sunday, and on Monday moving into…

3. THE NEW APARTMENT:
Indeed, the Monday after Lindley’s wedding, I’m moving into a new apartment with the current roomie Diana. In addition, I have to be completely out of the current apartment by Tuesday.

So, in the span of four days, I’m going to be in Greenville at a wedding, driving back to Chapel Hill, moving out of one apartment, and cleaning and vacating the current apartment. I’m tired just writing that.

Plus, I’m not looking forward to that transition where you have to get all the utilities switched over to a new residence—I may be without cable or the internet for a while (shudder).

My life should be back to normal by the 21st, expect more blogging around then.

Hooters Hokey Pokey

Since it was my last week at the coding job (blog post on the new job coming soon), last Thursday my co-workers decided to take me out to lunch. Awwww.

Now, apparently there have been questions in the office about my sexuality, partly due to the fact that I only came out to a select few co-workers, and partly due to the fact that I’m apparently not the most straight-acting gay man on the planet. So, in an attempt to determine my sexuality, my co-workers decided to take me to the restaurant that no gay man finds intriguing (or stimulating).

Hooters.

I suppose they thought that I would be against eating at such an establishment, citing the objectification of the women’s body or some such, and thus confirm my homosexuality. Instead, I was thinking, “mmm, greasy food, bring it on!”

Our waitress was nice, the table conversations were lively, the food was…um…mediocre, but the big moment came when our waitress pulled me from our table to go do the Hooters Hokey Pokey. She had been informed that this lunch was in my honor, and saw it fit to help me celebrate...or rather have me do something embarrassing in a room full of strangers.

And so, with Hokey Pokey music playing, and rather timid, uninterested onlookers forced to observe this display in Hooters culture, I was made to put my “right wing in” (elbow), then my arms, legs, and “whole chicken.” As usual, this dance was punctuated by shaking of aforementioned appendages, tuning myself around, clapping, and proclaiming that “that’s what it’s all about.” Hilarious.

My co-workers were impressed with my “being a good sport.” I’m impressed that I’ve now been to Hooters.

sidenote: The employees actually called the dance the "Hooters Pokey" to fit into the flow of the song. I refrained from refering to it as such, because poking a hooter just sounds wrong. ha ha.

$2.89 a gallon

The jump in gas prices has hurt, but it could be worse.




Everyone with a fuel-efficient car, please stand up.

White House shake up

Ha ha.

Indeed, when the guy who was in charge of the budget is now in charge of the White House staff, and the guy who handled policy and politics dropped the policy, are you really getting a refreshed staff who will help pull you up from a 33% approval?

How do you?

How do you tell a friend that he’s drinking too much? No, scratch that; how do you tell a friend that he’s getting drunk too much?

How do you tell him that his recent over-indulgence in alcohol and marijuana is unhealthy? How do you tell him that he is using substances to escape the uncertainties in his life?

How do you tell him that, as a man who wants to become a pastor, as a man through which the Christian and non-Christian world views Jesus Christ and the Lord God, he is doing the religion a disservice?

How do you tell a “brother in Christ” that he is stumbling?

And what do you do to help?

I suppose I’ll find out soon. Sigh.

God Be in My Head

I attended Easter service at the Duke University Chapel, and the choir sang such gorgeous choral blessing. The paean was so soft; it verged on being a lullaby, but its words were so powerful and touching, that I wanted to share the blessing with you all:

God be in my head and in my understanding. God be in mine eyes and in my looking. God be in my mouth and in my speaking. God be in my heart and in my thinking. God be at my end and in my departing.

by John Rutter

llegal Immigration

(Note: I use the term “illegal immigrant(s)’’ to refer to any person from any another county who enters the United States via clandestine and non-legal means with intention to reside here long-term.)

Monday was “National day of action for immigration justice,’’ a massive, nation-wide demonstration which advocated the rights of—and pushed for amnesty for—illegal immigrants. The issue of illegal immigration has been in the news for weeks now, and during this time, I have attempted to wrap my head around this complex issue and determine where I stand.

And where do I stand?

On one hand, there is the argument that illegal immigrants do not pay taxes and do not possess necessary documentation to make use of services afforded to American citizens, thereby causing a drain on American resources. You may think that illegal immigration can not cause that much of a drain on resources, but there are an estimated 11-12 million illegal immigrants in the nation. Many, if not most, of these immigrants have children who attend public schools; but these families do not contribute tax dollars for school upkeep and improvement—legal immigrants and American citizens are paying for illegal immigrants to go to school and use school resources.

Furthermore, hospitals are required to assist whoever comes through their doors, even if the patient has no health insurance or a personal means by which to pay for services (illegal immigrants rarely have either). With no way to seek compensation for services rendered, the hospital has to eat the cost of the services, which in turn causes them to raise fees and costs, which causes health insurance companies to raises prices to compensate for higher hospital bills. Yeah, classic snowball effect.

During this illegal immigration debate, I have been very disturbed and confused by the notion that illegal immigrates have some form of “rights’’ that the American government is trying to ignore or circumvent. This notion is perpetuated when people avoid using the term “illegal’’ when discussing “illegal immigration.’’ You may call them “illegal,’’ you may call them “undocumented,’’ but in the end, these are people who gained entry into this nation surreptitiously. They purposely and knowingly avoided the proper channels and process by which to enter the nation, and as such, are not citizens of this nation. So, while illegal immigrants certainly have human rights, they have no rights under the U.S. Constitution. The American government can not circumvent the rights of people who have no (Constitutional) rights.

I have also been baffled by protesters proudly waving non-American flags during pro-illegal immigration rallies and demonstrations. I do not understand what place another nation's flag has at a demonstration that tries to encourage change in the American government. Having pride for your native country is fine, but such pride does not, and will not, persuade the American government, or people, to support your cause. Thankfully, the protest organizers have disseminated the idea that the American flag should be used to persuade the American government to action. Yet, the fact that this idea had to be disseminated demonstrates the protesters’ lack of appreciation and understanding of the nuance of this complex issue. Do they really understand how to get what they want in the confines of American society, history tradition, and culture?

Furthermore, do the protesters understand that for most Americans upholding the law is paramount? If the protesters do understand this, how can they advocate for better treatment for law-breakers? As I mentioned before, illegal immigrants are called such because they broke the law. The idea that we should forgive law-breakers and help them better themselves baffles me.

Imagine, if you will, that you take a vacation for a month. Now during your vacation, a homeless man breaks into your home, eats your food, and wears your clothes to go on a job interview. You then return home to find your house occupied by the homeless man’s family. You order him to leave, but he refuses, citing that he has found a job, that his kids are in school, and to make him leave now would be inhumane. However, he suggests that you should make room for him and his family in your home because he deserves to be treated fairly. This allegory reflects the (unsound) logic used by supporters of illegal immigrants—the supporters would let the homeless man stay.

Supporters of immigrants also claim that illegal immigrants “do the jobs that Americans won’t do.’’ The jobs that are supposedly too demeaning for Americans are: construction, housekeeping, large-scale yard work & landscaping, low-level restaurant staff, etc. But I argue that there are Americans who will do these jobs. I once met a man who lays concrete during the warmer months. He does a job that is not easy, prestigious, or high-paying, but it is a job that he can do. However, every winter he is out of work when it gets too cold to lay concrete. With a lack of job openings in his field, he spends the winter months at home, jobless. Here is a man who takes a job during the summer that most Americans would avoid, but he can’t find work during the winter. Supposedly, illegal immigrants are doing jobs that he wouldn’t, but I think that he would take these jobs if he could. And what of the homeless population with their “will work for food’’ signs? Yes, some of them are mentally unfit to hold down a job, but these men and women desire employment to lift them up out of poverty. In all, where American politicians and illegal immigrant supporters see Americans who won’t take low-paying jobs, I see an untapped workforce.

In light of the above tirade, you’d think my opinion on illegal immigration would be cut and dry. But, in the end, illegal immigrants are trying to better themselves and their families. I know that if I lived in a developing nation and saw a way to gain entry into one of the richest nations on Earth, I’d do whatever it takes to get there. And the fact remains that illegal immigrants want to work hard, make a decent wage, and achieve the American Dream—a universal goal for most Americans, legal and illegal.

Furthermore, as an American, I remember the words emblazoned on the Statue of Liberty,

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Also, as a Christian, I KNOW that God and Jesus Christ see no distinction between “legal’’ and “illegal’’ Americans—that kind of love is unrestricted. In my lifelong journey to be more Christ-like, shouldn’t I try to emulate such loving-kindness?

Alongside my American and Christian status, another facet of the illegal immigration debate complicates my opinion of the issue. There can be no easy, uncomplicated, inexpensive, and/or universally agreed-upon method by which to remove all illegal immigrants from this nation. Illegal immigrants are here, they have burrowed deep into the underbelly of the American workforce; they are a buttress that numerous American businesses rely on. In essence, any federal dragnet meant to remove illegal immigrants would be too porous to get the job done, and too immediately destructive to American business and the economy.

So what are the options? Cut and dry amnesty for those who knowingly broke the law, and continue to do so every second they spend in this country, repulses me.

As mentioned above, forcibly sending every illegal immigrant back to their nation of origin would be complicated and improbable, if not impossible.

Granting illegal immigrants some form of less-than-full-citizen status would clearly create second-class citizens, which is not a viable option.

So, it seems that a guest-worker program is our best choice; but I fear that such a program will come nowhere near resolving the issue.

I suppose that all I can do is hope that our elected officials can make sense of this complex, emotionally-volatile, core-defining issue and devise a workable solution.

I’m not holding my breath…

Katie Couric

I don’t know about Katie Couric’s move to CBS. I mean, the ''whole first female solo anchor'' thing is all well and good, but as the above cartoon insinuates, Katie may not be the best choice as an evening news anchor.

Sure, she reported the news on the Today Show, but she also moderated cooking segments and showed us the new-spring fashions. She’s like that nice neighbor lady who would bake you cookies, show you her new milkshake maker, discuss the protest in France, tell you what Salma Hayek is like, and ask how your first year at college went.

In other words, she’s trustworthy, intelligent, and resolute; but she’s also sweet, personable, and non-threatening. I’m not sure those last qualities are what are needed behind the anchor’s desk of a hard hitting, news driven program.

Of course, the other problem for CBS—and in general, the concept of the evening news cast—is that by 6:30 pm, people have already gotten the day’s news via their cable stations. I know, personally, by 6:30 pm I’ve already watched an hour of The Situation Room with Wolf Blizter (CNN), an hour of Hardball with Chris Mattews (MSNBC), and 30 minutes of Lou Dobbs Tonight (CNN). That’s quite a force for CBS, ABC, and NBC to compete with, and I don't think that Katie Couric is the solution.

Congrats to Florida, "ha-ha" to Tom Delay

I have a confession: I didn’t watch the college basketball championship game tonight. The entire tournament comes down to this one game, and I didn’t care to watch.

I don’t really know why I was so indifferent to a Florida/UCLA match-up. Maybe my ambivalence was due to the fact that I couldn’t care less about either team or the players, maybe it was due to the dismally boring Final Four games, maybe it was due to no UNC/Duke/or even George Mason in the final.

Nevertheless, I’ve been posting about basketball for a while now, and in the interest of consistency, I felt I should comment on Florida’s win over UCLA, 73-57 (another blowout, blah).

So, um, yeah, good job Florida.

In far more interesting news, U.S. House Representative Tom Delay isn’t going to run for re-election, feeling that his connection to lobbying scandals have hurt his chances of re-winning his seat. It’s always nice to see a powerful yet pompous, arrogant, power-hungry, gerrymandering politician go down.

And yeah, I changed the templete of the blog. You like?

Crazy girls in coffee shops

Today, I awoke to a voice mail from my friend Fiona. She was in Durham for the day and wanted to see me. You see, Fiona was a co-worker at the infamous “residential mental health facility” that I worked for a year back in ’04-’05, so it has been a while since I have seen her. Color me excited!

So, we arrange to meet at a coffee shop in Durham. As I’m enjoying my lemonade and ham & cheese sandwich, I overhear a strange girl talk about how she can’t eat raisins and grapes in the same day because they’re essentially the same fruit. I chalk her up to being one of those people with particularly odd dietary habits that they think will keep their body in balance or whatever, and continue with my Fiona time.

Then, Fiona says that the strange girl and her friend just said “Virgil” and “CooperRiis.” You see, Virgil is the Executive Director of CooperRiis, so apparently this random strange girl knows some info about the “mental health facility.” I figure there’s no way that such a random coincidence could occur, and I tell Fiona that she must be mistaken. Then, I hear the strange girl and her friend say even more CooperRiis-specific words, and I am officially convinced.

How peculiar. One current and one former employee of CooperRiis met for lunch in Durham (four hours away from The ‘Riis) and they are sitting next to two girls talking about the place. Wow.

At this point, the strange girl jolts up, spins around, acts a little spastic, and runs off somewhere in the shop. After some discussion as to if we should say anything to these girls, Fiona and I take Strange Girl's abrupt exit as an opportunity to introduce Fiona and myself to Strange Girl’s friend (hereafter known as “not-strange girl”). Not-strange girl seems as generally shocked at the coincidence. Then, Strange Girl comes back, and seems generally uneasy about the coincidence.

But Fiona and I express loving-kindness, magnanimity, and compassion to Strange Girl, and get her to talk about her CooperRiis experience: how she’s been a visit to The ‘Riis, how her parents want her to go there, how she doesn’t think she needs therapy or mental assistance, etc.

So, as the conversation continued, Strange Girl randomly flipped out about her shoelace, didn’t want to shake any of our hands because of germs, says that she wants to be an astronaut but hasn’t gone to astronautics school, asked to have Fiona’s blueberry pie, and other such strange things. Based on her behavior, I personally (and internally) diagnosed her as Paranoid Schizophrenic, OCD, and maybe a little Manic.

But hold on, we find out that Not-strange Girl went to same college as Fiona! In fact, Not-strange Girl knows Fiona’s sister! Oh, what the…Fiona and Not-Strange Girl then recall that they were roommates! Then, Strange Girl pipes in, “hey [not-strange girl], didn’t I know your roommate? Then the light bulbs go off over Fiona’s and Strange Girl’s heads, as they now remember each other. My mind is blown. Blown. And then, they say, in unison…


"APRIL FOOLS!"

What can I say, they got me.

p.s. Strange Girl is not crazy (or strange), but she is one fine actor.

Champions

Second team to win two consecutive NIT championships!

G O
G A M E C O C K S

(yeah, it's NIT, but I really don't care.)

George Mason?

Okay, I’m sorry, but today’s basketball events just beg to be commented on.

First off, accolades to Florida for knocking out Villanova 75 to 62. However, since all I know about Villanova is that they were a number one seed, they’re in Pennsylvania, and the school’s name sounds like a bad drag queen, I’m pretty indifferent to their loss.

But, there was another game today.



GOOD LORD. Where did George Mason come from? This number eleven seed just knocked off the number one seed UConn, 86 to 84 in overtime. This number eleven seed just beat the last two national champions (UConn and UNC). This number eleven seed just blindsided everyone.

There are no more number one seeds left in the tournament. And with that fact, I think it's safe to say that about 98% of the brackets are now decapitated. I can't wait 'till Saturday--people, it's on!

I. LOVE. THIS. GAME.

Live Action Simpsons

In the interest of those of you who have no interest in basketball, and thus may have been bored by my blog lately, here’s a little internet treasure:

Tonight, the legendary opening credits of The Simpsons will be done by live actors! That’s right; live action Homer, Bart, Marge, Lisa, and Maggie!

Besides the lack of spiky and beehive hairdos, the accuracy of the video is amazing. So, in case you will miss this landmark Simpsons moment, I provide you with this link.


http://www.tvgasm.com/archives/miscellaneous_tv/001828.php

Beware of the Brackets

I have never been so engrossed in one sports event as I am in the Basketball Tourney (which may be due to the fact that the tourney is several sporting events, but you get my point). My weekend plans are now built around when the best games are on and I’m able to discuss teams and players with some degree of knowledge (although my knowledge usually amounts to reiterating what I’ve heard on ESPN and CBS).

But one piece of knowledge that I have acquired all on my own is this: DO NOT FILL OUT A BRACKET. Ever since Friday, I’ve had multiple friends complain that their brackets are screwed up/dead/destroyed/obliterated/or currently serving as mulch in a hamster cage. My friends have lost money because no one expected Bradley to do this well, and they’ve lost pride because…really…Wichita State? Now, these friends won't be able to fully enjoy upcoming games because they'll be praying that the remains of thier once great bracket will be survive 'till the end.

Luckily, my basketball naivety prevented me from even attempting to guess which teams would go how far. As such, I am able to watch and simply enjoy the athleticism and occasional buzzer beaters. I can learn more about the game without bemoaning my ignorance of Georgetown and their apparent awesomeness. I have no extraneous concerns about how one team’s win or loss will personally affect me.

Now, I will say that the losses acquired by North Carolina and NC State suck (really UNC, George Mason, come on now). And yes, I am now relegated to root for Duke and Boston College, simply based on their “local boys” status and ACC ties respectively. But I didn’t lose any money, or pride, due to the UNC or NC State loss, so I can deal.

So, I suggest to you my friends, stay away from building brackets (unless you’re a compulsive gambler, in which case, stop watching sports altogether). But you probably won’t heed any of my warnings, so I’ll be here to console you next year when—let’s see what would be random—Northern Iowa beats Texas.

Homosexual Repellent

Let me first say that I have wanted to comment on the Dubai Port deal, the resulting Republican Congressional revolt against The White House, and the enervated President for some time. However, the whole situation changes every day. Thus, I’m going to wait until the situation seems relatively resolved…then see if I still care.

Now, to the post proper:

Today was another beautiful, spring-like day that just screamed for me to spend some time outside. So, I headed over to Caffé Driade, which is a lovely, intimate, locally-owned coffee shop with great outdoor sitting areas and an open-air interior.

Upon arrival, I walked up to make my drink order and was greeted by a tattoo-covered, funky hair, slightly emaciated male employee. Now, Tattoo-guy (as he shall hereafter be called) was obviously gay, but if you know me, I go for preppy guys. Thus, I was fairly indifferent about interacting with the first gay guy that I’ve come across since…um…forever.

So, I got my drink, and sat down to begin studying the GRE. After about an hour, when I finally began to actually understand percentages, a guy dressed like a Banana Republic model walked into the shop. His excellent wardrobe, 4 o’clock shadow, and general attractiveness peaked my interest. “Hmmm,” I thought, “this could be promising.” So I turned on my game of…trying to make eye contact, because if you recall, that’s my only game (sigh).

However, a few seconds after I spotted Banana Republic-guy (hereafter, that’ll be his name), he and his female friend left the shop. I shrugged off my missed opportunity and continued my studying. Then, I turned to my right and saw Banana Republic-guy waiting in line. I awkwardly contorted myself to try to see if he was looking even remotely in my direction, but alas, he did not seem to notice me.

So, when Banana Republic-guy is next in line, Tattoo-guy asks how he can help him. To this, Banana Republic-guy hands Tattoo-guy a card and says, “I wanted you to have my number.” HIS NUMBER! Banana Republic-guy just hit on Tattoo-guy. I. Am. Shocked.

Now, I know different people have different taste, but what the hell? How did I get overlooked for Tattoo-guy. When did someone spray me with homosexual repellent?

To add insult to injury, once Banana Republic-guy left, Tattoo-guy got all gitty. In fact, despite the fact that he apparently just got into a new relationship two weeks ago, he couldn't help but tell all his friends at the coffee shop what just happen-which meant that I had to hear the story repeated. A lot. I mean, really, Tattoo-guy (who's in a relationship) gets hit on, and I (single and preppy) don't? Once again, I throw up my hands in defeat.

Related to this disheartening episode (and in case you were wondering) according the mutual friends, Sam is not gay, I haven’t seen John since that night, and Patrick never called me back. In addition, gay internet connection sites have produced nothing except for one particularly self-centered jerk. I’m sorry to say that today did not help elevate my frustration and hopelessness on the issue of finding a mate anytime this decade. (sigh, again.)

But, on a funny-and purely inconsequential-note, apparently my blog has spawned another blog. I guess this makes Nick’s blog a grandfather.

My A.W.O.L. Cell phone

Saturday night, I went to Raleigh to hang out at my friend Jon’s house. It was a good, fun-filled evening that ended with Jon, Al, and I talking briefly on the porch. I mention this because when I went to the porch, I didn’t realize that Jon was about to go to bed. So, all of sudden, the conversation ended, the night came to a close, and Al and I left the porch, heading to our respective cars as Jon headed back inside, locking the door behind him.

As I got into my car, I realized that I didn’t have my cell phone. No biggie, right? So, as Al drove off, I headed back to the house, and knocked on the door. No answer. I rang the door bell. Same (lack of) response. I kept trying, figuring that surely Jon, or two of the other people in the house, will hear the doorbell and let me inside to retrieve my a.w.o.l. phone. Well, I’m guessing since the house is two stories, they didn’t hear the doorbell, because I was still stuck outside.

And it was then that I realized the inherent paradox of my predicament: normally, if I left something in a friend’s house, and needed entry inside, I’d use my cell phone to call them. However, without use of my cell phone to retrieve my cell phone, it was time to use that Furman 100,000 dollar education for something. ”Ha,” I thought, “I’ll use the back door!”

Yeah, the back door is locked.

I stared up at the second floor window, hoping to suddenly develop telepathic abilities. Instead, I resorted to the classic “throw a pebble at the window” trick. But, it being 2:30 in the morning, the moon didn’t quite illuminate the ground well enough for me to find a pebble. What, prey tell, is small enough to be thrown high distances, yet blunt enough to make a sound to get someone’s attention?

So here I am, at 2:30 a.m., throwing my CHAPSTICK at Britt’s window. Yes, chapstick. I can now say that I’ve thrown chapstick at a window. Life=complete.

After about a thousand rounds of chuck-the-chapstick, I gave up. I got into my car and set off for the 30 minute drive back to Chapel Hill, sans cell phone.

Have you ever been without your cell phone? It’s horrible. I felt so incomplete. I was cut off from the outside world. What if my tire blew out and I needed AAA? What if a friend needed me to pick them up from somewhere? What if Engin saw the post and got the urge to call me? Certainly, he needed someone to console him over the 74-72 double overtime lost to Boston College. Trust me, I’m the man for that job. (And how would Engin have my cell number you ask? Um...stop trying to use that logic stuff. He would have my number okay; it's called "destiny" people.)

Anyway, I got home, and used AOL IM to tell Jon about my situation. Don’t you love the multiple ways to communicate nowadays?

Fast-forward to the present: after a drive to Raleigh in the daylight hours, my cell phone is back in my possession, and world order has been restored. Yay.

Hey wait. I just thought of something. Yesterday, I paid $2.19 a gallon for gas, and then saw gas for $2.13 a gallon. That; plus my cell phone catastrophe…umm…when did I cause a “hidden car” situation?

The Hidden Car Pledge

We’ve all had this experience:

You’re in a crowded parking lot, wondering where all these other people came from, and why they decided to come to the same place that you need to shop. You drive as slow as your car will allow, keeping a sharp eye out for that elusive vacant parking space so that you may get your errands done. As you drive, you pray to your respective deity for a space, but your hope wanes, and you begin to contemplate parking at the McDonalds across the street.

But then, eureka, there it is! You’ve won. You’re the winner of the parking lot lottery. There’s the space of your dreams. You swear it has a bright aura emanating from it’s…wait…what...there’s a MINI COOPER in your space. You curse, grumble, and move on, wishing you had a voodoo doll for the owner of that blasted “hidden car.”

Yes, the hidden car is the bane of all drivers’ existence. It taunts us, thwarting our noble goal of parking our vehicle. You can (and should) hate a Ford Expedition for its gas-guzzling, planet-killing properties, but at least it’ll never be a hidden car.

So, while a Ford Expedition will never be a hidden car...



...my Ford Focus hatchback is. I hadn’t realized this until recently, when two friends brought it to my attention. It seems that the Ford Focus had been the culprit in many a hidden car situation for them. And when I learned that my pride and joy was an evil hidden car, I felt such shame. How could this be? How many people have I thwarted in their attempts to park? How could I go on with life?

So, friends, I make a pledge to you and world:

I, Warren, shall park my car with its hidden car properties in mind. I shall never pull to the very front of the space, so that I may ensure that my car’s back end shall be visible by all who pass by. If I do not adhere to this procedure, may the consequence be dire.

May I get stuck behind a driver going five miles under the speed limit—in the fast lane!
May my grocery store cashier need to do a price check. On. Every. Item. In. My. Cart.
May I get bothered by salesmen of cell phones, European lotions, expensive fragrance and anything else that the mall has in its arsenal.
May the bartender inform me that they do not carry the only beers that I drink, but let them be in amble supply Natty Light.
May I fill up my car’s tank, only to see gas for cheaper down the road.
May I be subject to any and all other punishments that the Parking Lot Gods see fit if I single-handily cause yet another hidden car situation.

Friends, I trust you will keep me accountable with this pledge. Thanks in advance.

A new reason for me to love basketball

People, meet Engin Atsur

Are you ready for some...basketball?

Football is over, baseball isn’t here yet, and I live in the epicenter of Tobacco Road (seriously, I’m pretty much equidistant from UNC and Duke). Hello college hoops: welcome to my life.

In the past month, I’ve watched the most college basketball that I’ve ever watched. I’ve gone to parties to watch basketball; I’ve gone to sports bars; I’ve called up friends to find out where they’re watching the games; I’ve put Sports Illustrated on my internet favorites list (ok people, pick your jaws off the floor. Frosty, I’m looking at you).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a little confused with the game. My main gripe is, unlike in football, NO ONE EXPLAINS FOULS. The players are all tangled under the key, and suddenly the ref blows his whistle. But, before there can be an instant replay so I can figure out who did what to whom, the fouled-on player is taking his free throw. What the hell, what just happened? Apparently, in this sport, I’m supposed to actually listen to the moronic announcers.

My recent focus on basketball is accompanied with actual basketball opinions. So let me say that while Duke is doing very well this year, I think we learned from the Panthers/Seahawks game (which still stings a little) that a team can not count on going all the way based on one tactic. The Seahawks understood that if you shut down the Delhomme/Smith combination, the Panthers have nothing. If someone figures out how to shut down J.J. Redick, or at least limit his impact, Duke is in trouble. I’m not saying that a team will actually figure out how to enervate “the J.J. affect,” I’m just saying that I don’t think that Duke will win the title this year. That seems like an honor that UConn is going to get.

Now, you’d think that this basketball fascination is all roses, but oh no, it comes with a dilemma: Which team to root for. I didn’t go to college here, so I don’t have an allegiance to UNC, Duke, or NC State, but it seems like UNC is in a “rebuilding” year, so I can’t fairly judge their performance this year. I’ve already expressed my issue with Duke’s game this year. As far as N.C. State, it’s not hard to pull for the underdogs, and as far as Tobacco Road goes, that’s the moniker that State holds. Yet, how long can you root for the underdogs? I mean, after a while, you’ll get frustrated with your team almost pulling it together.



My current solution is to simply pull for all three; you know, a sort of “support the area schools” thing. That’s probably going to fly for about another two weeks, and then I’m going to have to pick a team. But until I then, I’m just going to enjoy my sport du jour.

Why's life gotta get in the way of living?

You know that adage, “if it’s not one thing, it’s another?” Well, I’ve come to appreciate that statement. Let me start at the beginning.

A month after I moved to Chapel Hill, I felt that I was settled enough with work and living arrangements to start studying the GRE. If you don't know, the GRE is an entrance exam for graduate school—it’s akin to the LSAT for law school and the MCAT for med school.

I figured I’d study for about a month and take the test at the beginning of November. Well, I soon found an obstacle thwarting my goals—money. The GRE cost $115. Granted, I could have easily had that much money, if it weren’t for that pesky car payment; but if I didn’t have that pesky car payment, I’d be walking everywhere, so…

My only choice was to try and save money while continuing to study for the GRE. I figured working 35 hours a week at $13.50 an hour; I’d have the money in no time. To my dismay, North Carolina had other plans. Friends, N.C. taxes the hell out of you, consider yourself warned. (And don’t even get me started on how I’m still paying for social security when it’s clear that the money won’t be there when I get old).

Skip ahead a few months, and I finally have enough money to take this damn test. Woohoo, GRE, I come! Wait, no, not so fast. It’s January, and my contract job is scheduled to end at the end of February (I knew it would end in February before I moved, so I can’t be mad). Thus, I started another dreaded job search. Meanwhile, the contract job got an extension, so it looked like I could count on it to last until April--sweet. However, it seemed wise to continue the job search in order to transition from one job to another smoothly.

The job search came to an end two weeks ago when I got a part-time job at Triumph, a community-based treatment service for people afflicted with behavioral, emotional, and mental difficulties. I figured I could work both jobs, and when the contract job ended, I could find an inconsequential retail position (read: not dealing with the seriousness of people’s lives).

So finally, with enough money in my checking account, and no concerns about finding a job, it was looking like the GRE was within my grasps.

Then, Friday came. The boss at the contract job said that because data had been trickling in from the field (long story, don’t ask), we were now only allowed to work 20-25 hours a week. And while not explicitly said, this also meant that the job would be lucky to last until early March. Looks like I'll be hunting for that inconsequential retail position sooner than expected.

So, here it is, mid-February, and I still haven’t taken the damn test. In fact, because job hunting is a part-time job itself, the amount of time that I can dedicate to studying has dropped significantly. Thus, I’ve probably forgotten whatever math I learned back in October (btw, I hate math with a fiery fiery passion that knows no bounds, if you didn’t know).

All of this aggravation has resulted in a very difficult realization: I’m probably not going to grad school this fall. Even if I found a job, and took the GRE by mid-March, I’d have to scramble to get applications turned in, and pay the applications fees (or see about getting them waved), travel for interviews on the campuses, etc. All of that seems pretty much impossible when I have car taxes due soon, and I have to think about buying a mattress, other furniture, and finding a new place when my current lease expires in May. That would be just too much happening all at once.

Friends, I have this wonderful, altruistic goal of counseling people afflicted with mental illness, but Life is thwarting me at every turn from taking the first steps towards that goal. I’m exacerbated, but I gotta keep on keeping on.

(At least my poll numbers aren’t at 39%, so that’s something for which to be thankful. I mean, with everything that's been happening lately, I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.)

Steelers win, 21-10

Congrats to Pittsburgh for their Superbowl win!



While I’m happy for them, it does mean that another year of football is over (except for the Pro Bowl). And no, my recent enthusiasm for football has not been the result of me liking a guy and trying to get him to like me (for shame, those who thought otherwise…you know who you are). I’ve simply enjoyed watching the pure athleticism, strategy, and ebb and flow of the game.

You see, basketball moves too quickly for me, points are relatively easy to come by; but in football, there’s an amazing build-up to a potential score, with the occasionally long run that gets you screaming your head off. In other words, you can sit there on your lazy duff and watch a bunch of guys run, kick, pass, intercept, strategize, and screw up. Then, you can criticize or praise said guys for said actions, depend on if it was good for your team. Plus, if you missed something while conversing with a friend, no worries, there’s always the instant replay.

Now, if only there were more male cheerleaders, the game would be perfect.

New Job! (and yes, I still watch the news)

Yeah, there have been several world events that I thought about posting about: warrant-less wiretapping, Arial Sharon, Hamas, Alito, the fall of Tom Delay, Iranian nuclear program, ExxonMobil’s insane profits, UPN/WB merger, Brokeback Mountain, etc I haven’t been able to because my current job will ending in March, and I’ve been looking for a job. As a result, starting next Monday, I will be a mentor/semi-counselor for adolescents with behavior, emotional, and mental problems. I’ll be doing this in addition to the current coding job, and when that jobs ends, I’ll probably find some inconsequential retail job. Here I am, getting another wonderful grad-school application booster and a great opportunity for real-world experience, woohoo.

However, to compensate for my lack of (blogging) attention to world events, and in the interest of my two cents, here you go:

Did anyone learn anything from the Alito hearings besides Mrs. Alito's tearducts work? I want my tax money back.

The Palestinians feel that Israel took their land, and the Palestinians want that land back. Hamas basically purports that they will do anything to get said land back. Thus, the Palestinians voted for Hamas to get their land back. It’s very “A plus B equals C”, and this is one damn scary reality we’re left with.

Brokeback Mountain is a study in the human condition—a variation on the “two-starcrossed lovers,” with a protagonist clutching the emotional reticence that society taught him. This movie would work if it was about a man and woman, and that’s the best reason to see it—in the end, it’s a good movie about people.

The NSA may wiretap someone’s phone, and either get a warrant beforehand, or 72 hours after the phone in tapped. I don’t understand how getting a 3 day retroactive warrant can hinder the NSA from getting the intelligence as soon as they feel they need it. I never want to see this country attacked again, but I also want to make sure someone keeps an eye on the people who keep an eye on us, i want my civil liberties intact, and prevent the downward spirial towards Big Brother. I love this country, and I want to make sure it doesn't lose sight of its ideals. Get a freaking warrant people, it doesn't take much, you know where the office is, you can send the Undersecretary of Paperclips if you want.

If you’ll excuse me, the President’s State of the Union is over, and while I had no interest in sitting through the hour-long speech out of fear of the possible coma it would induce (because no one can deliver an invigorating State of the Union, admit it), I care enough to get a recap of the speech. So, let’s see what you said W.

wallets

So, last night, after leaving a party, I felt a little rumbling in my tummy and declared that I wanted some fries. So at 1:30 a.m. I drove to Wendy's with my friends Jon and Britt. We used the drive-thru, paid, got our food, quickly consumed said food, and continued with our night.

Now, fast-forward to 11:30 this morning when I get a call from Jon. He was wondering if his wallet was in my car. I went to check, and indeed his wallet is there. Oops. So, I had to drive back to Raleigh to deliver the wallet; because, ya know, Jon may want his driver's license, credit cards, money, et cetera.

As I was heading to Jon's house, he told me that Britt was also looking for his wallet. Could Britt's wallet be in my car? I turned around to the back seat where Britt was sitting, and yep, there's a black wallet in my back seat.

Two wallets...left in my car...on a Wendy's run. I couldn't help but laugh.

The O.C.: An Orange pile of CRAP

Back in 2003, the world was taken aback by the phenomenon known as The O.C. During this era, you could walk into almost any college dorm room and hear gasps, laughs, and plot predictions from O.C. viewers. And what a viewership: gay, straight, male, female, fratty, independent, we all loved The O.C. It was more clever than 90210, had more drama than Dawson’s Creek, almost as witty as Buffy, better drawn characters than Melrose Place—it was pure magic on your TV screen.

Then something happened—The O.C. started to suck, and suck hard.

It began when the show started to no longer be about the unique world that is Orange County. Marissa used to be the most popular girl in high school, Summer was her number 2, and when not attending their urbane, beachfront high school, they attended extravagant yet sordid parties. These parties were a world that the dorky, friendless Seth was not part of, nevertheless, he continued to pine over the unreachable and popular Summer. He was hindered from ever realizing Summer’s affection due the social hierarchy that ruled both the school and county. Three seasons later, that hierarchy has been forgotten, the parties no longer happen, and Summer and Marissa exclusively associate with Ryan and Seth (come on writers, you can’t be popular when you only have three people you ever associate with, one of whom you are dating).

Similarly, The O.C. circa first season was sprinkled with the adults gossiping, backstabbing, embezzling, and committing adultery. Now, the adults serve as little more than backdrop for Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer to interact with. Even the adult-centered plots seem like mere intermissions between involvements in the four teens’ lives. This isn’t a show about the idiosyncrasies of Orange County; it’s a show about a cast of one-dimensional characters who revolve around the four principals

Not only do these one-dimensional characters exist merely in orbit of Ryan, Marissa, Seth and Summer, their orbit is so weak that they are all at risk of being jettisoned out of the O.C. universe. There was Luke, who once hated Ryan, then accepted Ryan and Marissa as a couple, then crashed his car, then moved to Oregon with his gay dad. There was Lindsay, who didn’t respect Ryan’s worthiness of being born, then fell in love with Ryan, then found out that she was Kirsten’s half-sister, navigated the tightrope of dating your half-sister’s stepson, then moved to Chicago with her birth mom. There was Anna, who was funny, smart, quirky, and an all around perfect match for Seth, but Seth will always love Summer, and instead of keeping this awesome character around to continue to spice up The O.C., Anna got shipped off. For a while there, the writers even forgot that Marissa had a little sister, but rest assured, once Kaitlin’s storyline is resolved, she’ll be gone—I give it four episodes, tops.

Why only four episodes? Well, because that’s what The O.C. does: creates a complex, almost convoluted storyline that has promise to create oodles of drama, only to be resolved in two to four episodes. Back in the good ol’ days of Season One (when the writers cared about the plots), Ryan was the only one who saw through the nice guy façade of Oliver, seeing instead Oliver’s true nature as a Marissa-obsessed, compulsively lying, NRA card-carrying, psychotic freak. It took half a season before anyone else caught on to Oliver’s craziness, and in the mean-time, Ryan came off as a jerk. Due to dramtic irony, we—the viewers—knew that Ryan was right to not trust Oliver, and as such, we were on the edge of our seats as the drama unfolded.

Now jump to last season finale: Marissa had just shot Ryan’s brother as he was about to pummel Ryan! Wow--would the brother survive, would Marissa go to jail? We got the answers in the next season premiere, and they were “yes” and “no” respectively. The entire storyline was resolved IN ONE FREAKING EPISODE. Also, there was an evil Dean of Students who expelled Ryan and Marissa, but after a pretty weak blackmailing by Sandy, left The O.C. four episodes after he came. Remember when Marissa was a lesbian for a while? No? Not surprising. I could go on, but you get the picture.

Even with the plotlines being cut so short, they are far too predicable. When Marissa had to go to public school (because, my God, NO ONE should be sent through THAT torture), and she was befriended by Johnny and his clique, it was so clear what was going to happen. There would be a spark between Marissa and Johnny, Ryan would get jealous but trust his girlfriend, Marissa would try to resist Johnny’s expression of love, Ryan will clandestinely see Marissa and Johnny getting physically close, blah blah blah, BORING.

This show has become utter crap, its noxious fumes radiate from my TV, I can no longer watch the beauty and talent of Adam Brody be so heinously misused, I can no longer witness Marissa try to express feelings beyond her body’s hunger pains (seriously, I think Mischa Barton weighs less than the box of Triscits that she’s not eating).

It’s done, over, The O.C. is dead to me. Please excuse me as I watch Battlestar Galactica.

Out of touch

I consider myself to be pretty much on top of what’s going on in the world. For example, I can hold conversations about wiretapping, the Iranian nuclear program, the current state of the mental health field, the weaken General Motors, and illegal immigration. I even know that the North Star is actually three separate stars.

So HOW THE HELL did I not know that Jamie Foxx had an R&B album?



God, I’m out of touch.

Dang, that is a sweet sidewalk you might say

Do you love The End of the World? Well, someone decided to do a sidewalk chalk sideshow of the greatest flash animation known to man. I would pity these people, but it's far too awesome.

http://www.dbrodie.photosite.com/endoftheworld/

Are you ready for some football?

MY GOD. I thought the Penn State/FSU game was intense, but my palms are still stinging after the torrent of clapping I did as Texas just clinched The Rose Bowl against Southern California. Final score 41-38. It’s so good to see the fake “USC” go down…who’s number 1 now?

Much props to Frosty, Nick (Skippy), Nate, the boys upstairs, and anyone else who helped me appreciate the greatness of football. It is because of you that I am in such a jubilant mood right now.

And I have the NFL playoffs to look forward to...nice.

It'll always be USC and Carolina to me

There are some things that I have noticed are different outside of South Carolina. For one, Strom Thurmond is even more of a joke. You also realize how beautifully simple yet awesome the palmetto and crescent moon is compared to every other state’s flag. For some reason, state and US highways are not given names in the Triangle, but rather are referred to by their numerical designation, which can make driving a little confusing. Indeed, I spend considerable time on highways 1, 54, 55, 15-501, 751, 147, and so on. Columbia peeps, did you even know that Two Notch Road is actually US HWY 1?

But the biggest difference is the USC/Carolina conflict. If you’re not from South Carolina, or have not spent considerable time there, you may not realize that the University of South Carolina at Columbia is called both USC and Carolina. Outside of the state, these names refer to University of Southern California and University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill respectively.

This fact is difficult for a South Carolinian to accept, or even come to realize. When I was younger, I was so impressed and proud that Zack, Jesse, and the rest of the Saved by the Bell crew were considering going to “USC” for college. It was some years later when I realized that the Baysiders had no intention of moving to South Carolina.

So, now what does a South Carolinian do when he wants to refer to his Fighting Gamecocks? Well, let’s see; the University of South Carolina was founded in 1801, California did not become a state until 1850, and their university was not founded until 1880. In my opinion, the school that was created first should be referred to by the USC acronym—we were “USC” first. You may call the other school “Southern California,” “SC,” or freaking “So-Cal.”

Now, I concede that for the rest of the world, Carolina means UNC, especially in basketball. I also note that UNC was founded first, and their athletics are more prominent. But I’m sorry; my brain just doesn’t allow me to freely say “Carolina” in reference to UNC—the neurons just won’t fire.

So, I fully admit that outside of South Carolina, I may not be the norm, but for me and the state's other 4,200,000+ citizens, USC and Carolina refer to the same school and you non-South Carolinians will just have to deal with it.

I just noticed that I included a number of wikipedia links in this post. For variety, and since I mentioned Saved by the Bell, I just wanted to remind you how excited Jesse was…until she was so scared.

The pic says it all

(Shamelessly borrowed from The Link, but it's a picture of my friends Stephanie and Hunter, so it just begs to be used)

Holiday Message

I’m heading to Columbia tomorrow for the holidays, but before I left I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Winter Solstice, and (for all you Atheists/Agnostics out there), happy last few days of December.

Much love to you all.

Was he flirting?: update. (Well, kind of an update)

This morning I went to the church that I spoke about in the “Was he flirting” post. I was hoping to have a new church experience, be around fellow young people in church (I’m one of the few young people at my current church), and get a chance to talk to Sam again.

The service was, well, have you ever seen the movie “Saved?” Yeah, it was like the high school auditorium scenes; heavy on the “praise and worship” and the “who’s down with G-O-D.” Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but the service today did spend a considerable amount of time singing “praise and worship” songs. There was a time in my life where this kind of service was what I needed in my relationship with God, and while it’s a perfectly legitimate way to worship the Lord, I’m just not in that space anymore.

On top of this, the pastor made thinly veiled swipes at Catholics for their reverence for the Virgin Mary. His brief mention on this issue allowed the congregation to misconstrue that Catholics worship the Virgin Mary on the same level as Christ, which either means the pastor has a deep misunderstanding of Catholicism or purposely prevaricated the issue—either doesn’t sit well with me.

Plus, I didn’t get the feeling that this could be a church that I would feel comfortable attending in regards to my sexuality. I also have no interest in doing mission trips in foreign lands (but I’m suppose to think about it apparently), or watching a video recording of several strangers’ baptism.

So yeah, I doubt I’ll be going to that church again. And to top it all off, SAM WASN’T EVEN THERE. So not only did I spend my Sunday at a service that I didn’t enjoy, feel comfortable at, or feel would help me “grow in Christ,” I didn’t get to talk to Sam. Also, since I won’t attend this church, my chances of seeing Sam greatly diminish.

All of this put me in a funk for the rest of day, and revived my perennial doubt of having a romantic relationship any time soon. No worries, I’ll probably be in a better mood tomorrow.

Et tu, Brute

The other night, I was hanging out with my friend Yendelela and her friend Adrian. At one point, I sided with Adrian in a minor disagreement, to which Yendelela jokingly said, “Et tu, Brute?” I laughed, and she expressed glee that I understood the literary reference. Apparently, she feels that the people who could understand the reference are few and far between. Once, she even had to explain the “Ides of March” to a Duke University Law student.

All this makes me wonder if the typical American has knowledge of similar scholarly references and facts. I know such knowledge is sort of inconsequential, but my God I hope the American education system hasn’t failed the populace that badly (or that the American populace has failed itself).

Was he flirting?

Yesterday, I went to a Christmas party in an apartment upstairs. I had previously met one of the roommates in the apartment complex gym a while ago, but I had not met his other two roommates yet.

So yeah, a party of about 30 people, and I only knew one of them. It was a little awkward, but it was also a lot of fun.

At the party, Ryan, the guy I knew, introduced me to Sam. Now, while I talked to plenty of people at the party, Sam and I talked a lot. To be more precise, Sam seemed to engage me in conversation. He knew few people at the party also, but he was too sociable and friendly for me to imagine that he was avoiding the social awkwardness of meeting a mass of new people. I just couldn’t see him being nervous talking to anyone else there.

So, I’d say 85% of the conversations I had that night were with Sam one-on-one. Our conversations were full of quick banter and jokes—really good stuff.

As the night progressed, I thought, “Wait, is he flirting?” I couldn’t figure it out, and I had no safe way to flirt with him beyond maintaining the conversations. Since I have not come out to Ryan (the guy who invited me to the party), or Ryan’s two roommates (who knew Sam), I could not ask them if Sam is gay. Coming out to someone you just met in order to ask them to give you dirt on guy you think is cute is not exactly kosher. And I couldn’t ask Sam for his number, because if he is straight, that would just be incredibly awkward and uncomfortable for both of us.

So, I’m left with not knowing if he’s gay or straight, or if he was flirting or what. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than it is, and more than likely, he is straight, because that’s just the way my life works (btw, grrrr). Nevertheless, since, Sam, Ryan, and a lot of the people that I met that night go to the same church in Durham, hopefully I’ll see Sam in the near future. Then, maybe I can get a better sense of what the hell is going on.

Oh the trials and tribulations of the gay man’s life.

All Hail the Hatchback Trunk

Recently I went outside to warm up my car, but when I came back to the car to leave for work, I found a problem—I couldn’t open the door. My engine was running, but the car would not let me use the remote “key fob” (thanks Robby for teaching me that term) to open the door. No problem right, just use the key? Well, the key would not turn; due to the cold the keyhole was kinda frozen.

Now, while I appreciate Ford Motor Company’s concern my safety, and thus making it impossible to use the key fob to open the door while the car is running, such a safeguard is a pain at times like these. I had no time to castigate (GRE WORD!) this safeguard however; and knew of only one way to get into my car—through the trunk.


For some reason (probably the raised rubber that surrounds the key hole) my trunk was able to open using the key. This little tidbit would have done me no good if I didn’t have a hatchback automobile. As you know, a normal sedan’s trunk is enclosed and does not allow access to the car’s cabin, but a hatchback allows full access to the cabin after removing the little roof thing (see attached picture).



So, imagine, a random black guy, crawling through the trunk of a car, and over the backseats. Yeah, even I couldn’t help but laugh. Thank God for my agility, flexibility, and relatively slender body. Soon after navigating the cabin of my car, I was off to work, being very glad that I purchased a hatchback.

Btw, someone told me about an aerosol-type can that is used to defrost keyholes. Does anyone know where I can purchase this—besides Wal-Mart, because, you know, Wal-Mart is evil.

I just wanted it noted...

...that I spent 4 years in college and never participated in a keg stand, or watched an entire game of beer pong. I've lived in Chapel Hill two and half months, and I've now done both.



Also, before tonight I've never seen someone build a chair fort to throw peanuts, but that's another story.