Reparations

I'm kind of torn over the recent Tracy Morgan anti-gay rant. On the one hand I love Tracy Morgan and respect his right as a stand-up comedian to say whatever the hell he wants. Anytime I've ever watched him he has vomited hilarity. On the other side of the coin, I love the gays as well. I've written to my Congressmen and went to protests and whatnot and believe they should be given the same rights as everyone else. Hell, I even love gay stand-up comedians. After all, Ricky Gervais is easily one of the funniest comedians on the planet in my book.

As to Tracy Morgan saying that if his son came home sounding gay that he would "stab that little n***** to death", I get the feeling it was a bad joke in the wrong context (probably, I didn't hear the joke and if I'm being honest the way Tracy Morgan talks makes any random gibberish sound funny). I'm sure if Lisa Lampanelli made a joke about her son sounding gay and finished it with the punchline "stab that little n***** to death" she could make it work. Which is kind of funny because she's white and has probably f***** Tracy Morgan at some point. But, the gays love her so it's OK! It must be because before she goes on to tell incredibly offensive jokes about gay people she prefaces it by saying "first off I have to say that I love all of you c********** f******". I'm sure if Tracy would have said that first he would have had a little more luck. Or maybe not, there seems to be a perception out there that black males are particularly homophobic so maybe he has to overcome that stereotype before he can talk about these other stereotypes.

I know it seems rather ridiculous that two people could say the same thing with one being embraced and the other ostracized, but sometimes you need ridiculous solutions to ridiculous problems. With the Kobe Bryant incident, and now this, we're seeing the beginning stages of America as a society saying it's not OK to bully, chastise, or make fun of people because of their sexual preference anymore. It's kind of like the way white people were scared to say anything about black people in public for fear of being labeled a racist for all those years. Homophobia is the new racism. Weeding out misplaced hatred takes a generation or so but it clearly can be done. After all, no one thought a guy like Obama would be president now, just like not many would foresee us having a gay president 40 years from now (we will!).

I know the whole idea is kind of silly but it has been shown to work. The anti-PC crowd will hate it, but then again most of them hate everything anyway. It's our own fault. For far too long the punchline of any gay joke was a punch, just like for hundreds of years the lynch pin of any black joke was... well, you get the idea. It might not be 40 acres and a mule, but black comedians were able to monopolize making fun of black people years and we got some pretty damn good stand-ups out of it from Pryor, to Murphy, to Rock. All of whom did pretty well for themselves and that's the closest to reparations we'll ever get. Now the rest of us will have to fork out money to people like Mario Cantone, Ricky Gervais and other up and coming gay comedians if we want to see gay people getting made fun of professionally.

We'll be a funnier nation because of it.

Oh, and in case I ever screw up and write something that sounds homophobic, I would like to say that NoFU loves each and every single one of you wonderful cocksuckers.

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No. F U(FO)

At times I feel a bit like an alien. These peculiar creatures are always entering, leaving and reentering my life. I have conversations with them, study them, learn to understand them, and sometimes I even develop enough of an affinity for them to care about what happens to them. Of course, I eventually snap out of it and realize that I am just the same as they are.

I am a human being. I eat, sleep, fuck, and rebel against the thought that I'm just like all the rest of humanity. It sounds mundane, but it's not so bad. Anyway, it sure beats the hell out of being a dung beetle. A well-trained eye will notice our physical differences and our individual idiosyncrasies the same way an aardvarkologist can separate aardvark A from aardvark B. From the perspective of an alien though, everyone looks the same.

Instead of fighting it, I'm learning to embrace the sameness of us. I've noticed that when I do, I feel less like an alien and begin to really live. I'm only just beginning to realize this. That's why I still have to intellectually justify it with a meaningless blog post. Just like everyone else.
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Image taken from: http://www.wallpapersahead.com/paranormal?pid=55

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Heat

If there is anything as pleasurable as sitting on the porch and sipping an ice cold Corona on a hot night in the windy city I have yet to find it. Well, at least not anything a gentleman and a scholar such as myself would mention.

Summer has finally arrived and I couldn't be happier. My only regret is that I don't get a summer vacation anymore. I would sell my soul to waste the next few months of the year in my own little bubble while hustle, bustle and booty shorts swarmed around my sanctuary.
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Image taken from here: http://blog.catalyststudios.com/2005/06/how-design-conference-chicago-05.html

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Have it Both Ways, I Insist.

I'm not exactly sure why but I've always taken a severe umbrage anytime anyone makes a statement that doesn't make sense. At the same time I have a habit of blurting out completely absurd sentences all day long. This, of course, makes me a hypocrite. Which isn't really so bad. When you think about it, being a hypocrite is extremely advantageous if you're good at it. You can say one thing and then do whatever the hell you want. It is terrifically easy and I'm  not really sure why it hasn't been embraced more in society. There aren't as many hypocrites as we say there are, it's just that when one is exposed we feel such intense glee that it feels like it happens more often.

People often hold up politicians as models of hypocrisy in action. Sure, there are a few, but for the vast majority of politicians it simply isn't true. Most politicians say one thing and then do nothing. That isn't hypocrisy, it's laziness. I come from a "do what I say, not what I do" world. Where I grew up hypocrisy had a different name. It was called parenting. No sane parent would say it's OK for a child to do the things that I've done (no matter how good it felt). Socrates was sentenced to death thousands of years ago for corrupting the youth. He wasn't a hypocrite and look what happened.

[INSERT YOUR OWN CONCLUSION HERE]
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Image taken from: http://www.justsaypictures.com/images/contradiction-what-contradiction.jpg

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She Tastes Like Music

She wore Johnny Cash t-shirts and was eager when performing fellatio. Obviously she was the love of my life. I even proposed, but her daddy didn't like me much. He was a big Johnny Cash fan, too. The problem was that he loved his shotgun and daughter just as much as the Man in Black.

I ended up leaving her for a skinny chic that liked the Ramones. She was nice and all, but the head felt kind of sedated. I enjoy her company, but I find myself developing a secret wanderlust. I checked out Miss Metallica, that silly White Stripes girl and even this woman I worked with that loved The Beatles. The latter had potential, but she always looked half dead to me.

I miss my girl in black. As much as I'd love to live in the past I just can't. For now I'll just ride things out with Ramona until a girl in a Frank Zappa tee comes along to blow... my mind. You perverts.
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Image taken from: http://media.photobucket.com/image/johnnie%20cash/lehappy/P1130675225.jpg

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In my day...

Last night I was having a conversation over the internet about what it was like before the internet. It's such a vague memory now even though the internet only really became a part of my life about a decade ago. I try to comprehend what life without the internet was like and I always come up short. I vaguely remember being at a mall and using a pay phone to call someone to come pick me up.

I remember there were these things called pagers which you could call but they would only beep. I would dial a number at a pay phone. Then I would enter something like 420-20-911, followed by my phone number. Sometimes they would call back, other times I'd have to go find them. I never have to find anyone anymore. I don't have to even remember anything anymore. I was never much good at remembering things anyway.

I still remember my old house number, my grandma's number and the number of a few of my friends. I think that's kind of cool, but it is also going to date me horribly. I'm probably the youngest person alive that remembers a life before technology. When I'm 60 I'm going to be telling all these young whipper-snappers what it was like before facebook and twitter. Then I'll get really annoyed because they'll ask me what  facebook and twitter are. I'll laugh and say, that's how I used to stalk your mom. Then I'll smile and say, if only birth control was digitized.

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The Picture of Dorian Gray: A Review

Oscar Wilde was quite an interesting character in the literary scheme of things. He was incredibly irreverent and witty and he has to be one of the most quotable people in history. If you don't believe me just read a page of his quotes, they're incredible. He was both decadent and defiant. He scandalized society when he had an openly gay relationship back when you could still get sentenced to prison camps for that sort of thing (which he was). He led a most extraordinary life and if anyone out there has ever read a good biography on him please let me know. He seems like my type of fellow.

Even if you haven't read The Picture of Dorian Gray you've probably heard the story. Dorian Gray is an extremely attractive young man whose portrait ages but he doesn't. For some reason or another I had always thought that if he looked at his own portrait he would automatically age but I think I must have gotten that idea from an episode of Scooby-Doo or something. At the urging of the always interesting Lord Henry, Dorian sets upon a path of decadence and debauchery that would wear down and rob the youth of any normal man but the effects can only be seen upon Dorian's painting.

Thanks to this innovative premise, Wilde is able to take jabs at the superficiality of society throughout the book. We talk often as a society about the importance of moral virtue and other such high-minded ideals yet studies show that good-looking people on average have higher incomes than the rest of society. Dorian  isn't shunned by Victorian society for his infamous immoral deeds, but is instead continually embraced because of his beauty. I sort of liken it to the way a man will put up with all sorts of craziness from a woman because she's really, really hot. There is a seductive quality to great beauty that few, if any of us, are immune to.

At first I had trouble linking the plot with the aestheticism of which Oscar Wilde was a leading proponent. The work of art portrayed in this novel indeed served a very clear function and alluded to the moral consequences of Dorian's actions. Then I began to think that perhaps Dorian was the work of art himself. Because Dorian Gray was a piece of art, his intrinsic value came from the way he looked alone and all of the immorality in his personality doesn't matter in an artistic sense because he is nice to look at. Aestheticism says that art has value simply because it is beautiful, there is no need to look at moral or political underpinnings to enjoy a piece of art. Sort of how we still appreciate Alice in Wonderland despite the fact that Lewis Carroll was probably a pedophile. We can separate the art from the artist and the message the artist may have been trying to portray.

I'm not sure I buy into my own theory but I needed something for this review, damnit. Half of the fun of this book, after all, is all of the questions it raises on numerous philosophical subjects (some of which I haven't even mentioned here in the interest of brevity). The rest of the joy comes from simply enjoying Oscar Wilde's wit. Because of his charm he is able to craft a heavily philosophical novel with an intriguing story without all of the excess of say an Atlas Shrugged. If you're interested in art and the philosophy behind art then I highly recommend you give this one a read.

Up next, Prometheus Bound .
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To read my previous book reviews click here.

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Dear Alice,

You've wasted my time, my life, my love and my mind! I thoroughly despise you. If you died tomorrow I'd skip your funeral. Tragically enough, you'll never perish. Not even the brightest flames in Salem could burn a witch like you.

I should hire some back-alley, voodoo priestess to curse you with paralysis then pay an out of work tailor to string you up like a marionette. I could hide in the rafters and as the curtains opened I would finally be the one to pull your strings. The children would gather, laugh, hoot and holler as I paraded you around. The harlot now led by the ignoble buffoon.

They'd love you, I'm sure of it. Ever the little actress, always the self-aware performer. They would marvel at how real you looked and shudder in terror at your haunting brown eyes. When I was done toying with you, my doll, my love, I would drag you to the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. From there we would give our final show. Fin! Finito! Our finale! I'd cut the strings and watch you spin into the hood of a Toyota. Alas, I know I'd follow you down, for even in death I cannot escape you.
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Image taken from: http://scaweblog.gmu.edu/?m=200812

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