A friend of mine was in despair this morning from watching Morning Joe. Everything going on was getting to him. Here's what I said.
Recommendation 1: Stop watching Morning Joke. Mika is a vapid fool and I'm convinced that Zbigniew bangs his head against the wall every single morning wondering how he ended up with such an idiot for a daughter.
Scarborough himself has yet to explain the dead intern in his office.
Willy Geist is a phony masking his utter lack of intellectual ability behind sardonic-isms.
Recommendation 2: Yeah, we lost NY9. This sucks.
However, remember that while we lost 9, we won 26 and 29 last year, two upstate districts that had been Republican since the Civil War. Bigger wins. 9 was a thin margin, 26 and 29 were a good deal wider.
The Rs played the Israel card very well. Better than the Ds played the Medicare/Social Security card. They took it for granted and not without cause. Let that be a lesson.
Recommendation 3: Stop watching the Republican debates. You won't get anything out of it. None of those candidates are going to say anything particularly insightful.
The race is going to be Romney v Obama. It may or may not be a close race.
The race is going to be Perry v Obama. It will be a landslide victory for Obama and quite possibly hand the House back to Nancy Pelosi.
Unless either of those two things suddenly changes (always possible) there's just no reason to watch. Think of the reasoning as the same reasoning you use to not watch Jerry Springer. Why bring yourself down watching the worst of humanity?
My grandmother died on September 7th, 2001. She had been living in a suburb of Pittsburgh ever since her third husband, a retired steel worker, had died decades earlier.
Being next of kin it fell on my brother and me to get down there and take care of things. My mother, who happened to be in NY that weekend drove the very large family van with us in it. The funny thing is that this was my father's mother who had died. But my mother, never one to pass up a road trip with her sons. Besides, she had a big van and we were going to need it. It's a long drive from New York City to McKeesport, PA.
To say that my grandmother was not well would be an understatement. Always somewhat emotionally immature as well as an alcoholic, she had left behind a small apartment piled wall to wall and knee high in Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes mailings and chintzy "consolation prizes". So when we arrived at her place on the morning of September 9th. We had a lot of work ahead of us.
It took us two days to get all the garbage out. On the morning of the 11th, we turned on the news as we got ready to leave the hotel and head to the apartment. There was a small campus fire at UP Pittsburgh. A dorm kitchen apparently. We watched the coverage of that, grabbed our free hotel coffee and headed over. One there, we packed up all the "consolation prizes" to take to the Goodwill in the next town. Deciding we needed to stop by the hotel on the way to the Goodwill to use the bathroom, we headed into the lobby, van loaded with stuff.
In the lobby, guests and staff were all gathered, watching the television. All I saw on screen was smoke. I thought to myself "Wow, that campus fire is out of control". I turned to a guy standing next to me and asked him what was going on. He told me that planes had just crashed into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I stared at him in disbelief, my face probably for an instant communicating "fuck you, what's really going on?" But I saw he meant it.
We had to keep moving though. There was just too much that had to be done at grandma's to pause. So, after our bathroom break, we got back into the van to head to the Goodwill. The "Kill All Towelheads" signs were already up on pick up trucks that we drove, listening to the Today Show on the radio. As we commented to eachother on how we were already blowing it, the first tower fell. How my mother managed to stay on the road at that point, I'll never know.
It's a very odd experience listening to someone narrate a terrible event as it is happening. Matt Lauer's voice will forever have that echo for me. In a way, I'm grateful that I wasn't among the millions watching. Weird as it was, I think it was easier to process emotionally for me than seeing it would have been.
We unpacked at the Goodwill which was for all intents and purposes abandoned, and went back to town. We had to stop at the town funeral home to arrange grandma's cremation. On the way, we listened to the second tower falling.
When my brother and I returned to the van from the funeral home, our mother who had stayed in it to listen to the radio told us that another plane had just crashed in Shanksville, about 70 miles from us.
It seemed like the end of the world in that moment. The Twin Towers were one thing, the Pentagon part of the same thing...but a field in rural Pennsylvania? "What the fuck?" just doesn't even cover it.
We took a few moments to pull our heads back together and get back to grandma's apartment. We were finally going to be able to deal with her actual possessions. And start to figure out what to do with everything.
Much of it, oddly, was still in boxes though she'd lived in that apartment for 20 years. (I guess she needed the room for all the used PCH mailings). Taking the box nearest where I sat, I opened it carefully. It felt like it would be mostly paperwork and that seemed like the best place to start anyway.
When I opened the box right there at the top, was a plastic framed 3D photograph taken of the World Trade Center to commemorate the opening of the Twin Towers. My grandmother had kept it from her visit that summer of 1970.
I gasped. All the time it took to get through the detritus she had left behind...the events of the day and the first actual possession of my grandmother's I uncover was this.
It has to be said that I am often slow. Not in general, but certainly on a social level I’m like slow glass. It takes awhile for the light to pass through and reveal itself to me. Especially when it comes to relationships and sex.
I’ve written about this here before. I have a running joke that I could be in a dark corner/room/anyplace with a woman and she would be tearing my clothes off, covering me with passionate kisses and begging me to take her to bed/the wall/someplace/anyplace and in my head I’m thinking “I wonder if she likes me”.
Yeah, okay, that’s an exaggeration. I’m not quite that slow…but sometimes I’m close. Also that scenario rarely actually happens, when it does…I’m generally way more on the ball….so to speak.
But last April, when I attended MomentumCon (thanks very very hugely to my friend @dangerouslilly), I began to learn and realize just.how.slow. I actually am and have been.
Let me explain, if you’ll be kind enough to indulge me and read on.
My whole early life, I’ve been giving myself hints about what my desires were and are. What I like, what I don’t like what I want. My subconscious would give me ways of thinking looking and thinking of things. But I wasn’t getting it. I think the reason for this is because I grew up in a fairly repressed household…you know, the classic “stop touching yourself” kind of thing when you’re a kid…subtle if unintentional parental messages of shame. You know the drill…It was the 60s and 70s and my parents were young and children of the 40s and 50s.
So I never asked myself certain questions and I managed as I grew older to squelch my darker ideas about sex and thus left them unexplored.
In my early teens I read books by gay men, knowing that I wasn’t attracted to men. I was fascinated by the sense of being “other”. I was mystified by this. Why was I so interested in the thinking of struggling gay men when I was clearly attracted to girls. I didn’t realize this then…but I was drawn to reading about people who struggled with self and societal acceptance. I think I was trying to tell myself that I had desires and attractions that I wasn’t accepting. It certainly was what I was doing. And since there were no ready books for me out there yet (Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty was completely out of my radar until I was in my 40s) Merle Miller was what I had to go on.
In college I became frustrated with the plethora of books on women sexuality and the absolute lack of books on male sexuality. Other than a book by Bernie Zilbergeld, I could find nothing. This is the very early 80s. No internet. And oddly, though I was in a very liberal college with lots of artists, I wasn’t encountering the kind of “dark play” that still crept in the back of my mind. In high school I would role play with my girlfriend, but she would only go so far and since I viewed myself as being unusual I simply let it go as far as she was comfortable and resigned myself to not going further.
I simply had no awareness of any other option and I think, being partially on the spectrum, or at least the way that I was on the spectrum, things just didn’t occur to me. So…suppression continued…it went on through my brief marriage and even further.
A couple of years after my separation from my wife, I discovered online role play…you know…the old Yahoo chat rooms. I just went early on to meet people but eventually learned there were people creating their own “worlds” and stories.
I was in my 30s and this is where things, still slowly, began to come alive...
Yesterday we took my daughter up for the second semester of her Junior year in college. We go up as a family, my daughter, ex-wife B, her boyfriend/fiancee, F and me. F has a car that's a small station wagon and he's happy to make the drive.
F is a drummer and has been a musician for awhile and knows his stuff, but generally when it comes to certain kinds of music I tend to turn to my daughter as the young one more attuned to current or recent music.
So yesterday as we are heading north I get a tune stuck in my head. 8 notes that repeat several times...I'm sure it's a Coldplay tune, but the rest of it is gone...I hum the notes to my daughter who also finds it familiar but isn't sure it's Coldplay. F finds it familiar too anWd after a few minutes is sure it's a Kraftwerk song.
I tell F that I'm sure that's not it, because I heard it on a radio, and Kraftwerk, brilliant as they are, hasn't had anything play on a radio in a store in decades.
After awhile F blurts out "Computer Love" and I look it up on my iPhone and sure enough, there are those 8 notes...but it's not the song.
Eventually my brain kicks in...the song I'm thinking of is "Talk" and once we listen to both as iTunes samples I learn that Talk is indeed inspired by Computer Love.
Computer Love is a song that accurately depicts the loneliness that comes with being sort of obsessed with communicating through computer. Talk is a song about uncertainty in communication among other things.
Turns out there's a wiki page on this. Who knew? Well, apparently Wikipedia and I'm betting scores and scores of people. Sometimes my ignorance cracks me up.
We all learned something yesterday...and I got a tune unstuck in my head. FTW.
Here for your enjoyment, are both songs.
Computer Love by Kraftwerk. 1981.
Talk, by Coldplay. 2005. This is the official video and I love the retro science fiction theme.
The other day I watched the movie Adam on HBO. It's a beautifully told story of a young man with Aspergers Syndrome and a budding romance he has as he begins to strike out onto the world on his own. Hugh Dancy's performance as Adam is spot on.
Without tieing things up in a neat little Hollywood bow, Adam shows what happens when there is understanding, compassion and an open heart toward people who see and experience the world differently. It also faces the reality of such things with bittersweet honesty, especially in that way that depending too much on someone holds you back, yet that dependence can be the launching point for something greater for you both.
The movie has stuck with me for the last several days. Haunted me really. If you've read any of my previous blogs on Aspergers you'll immediately assume that I think much about my daughter when thinking about this movie, and you would be right. But there is much in the character of Adam that reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. I think I'll save that for another blog though.
I've been thinking much of my daughter who is now 20 and not long away from striking out on her own. The song that comes at the end of the film is one of very beautiful and simple words of encouragement and the kind of words I wish I had gotten in my youth. The kind of words I want to tell my daughter now and holds in her head and heart in the moments before, during and after she walks on stage in a year and a half to take that diploma after 4 years of struggle, growth, frustration and triumph.
This is for my beautiful 20 year old daughter who is becoming an articulate and wise young woman even as she hangs on to many of the trappings of childhood, as many of us do at that age before learning to let go and walk on.
Yesterday, when you were young, Everything you needed done was done for you. Now you do it on your own But you find you're all alone, What can you do?
You and me walk on Cause you can't go back now.
You know there will be days when you're so tired that you can't take another step, The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you will ever get
But you and me walk on Cause you can't go back now And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go Be what you want to be, If you ever turn around, you'll see me.
I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself
And you and me walk on Yeah you and me walk on Cause you can't go back now Walk on, walk on, walk on You can't go back now
It strikes me as quite an over reaction to suspend Keith Olbermann for his small contributions to two political candidates.
I understand that there are provisions in his contract and that he failed to inform your company before hand as he is obligated to. An employer does indeed have the right to reprimand it's employees as it sees fit. However an indefinite suspension is an act better saved for someone under indictment for a serious crime or perhaps something truly damaging to the reputation of the employer. This does not fit that category. Perhaps a more reasonable reaction would have been a defined suspension or the docking of pay over a fixed period of time.
This act however punishes your audience and only creates animosity. MSNBC after all, is a network struggling between 2nd and 3rd place. Showing such disrespect over what amounts to a hill of beans will only turn off what few viewers you have.
You're action demonstrates your own personal view of the situation rather than reasonable business thinking. Countdown is your highest rated show with a very loyal following. Mr. Olbermann himself has been a strong influence on your evening line up with has resulted in more weeks of MSNBC as number 2 rather than number 3 in the ratings of the 3 cable news networks.
Understand that I also believe that NPR should not have fired Juan Williams for his strange statements made on the Fox Network, nor Rick Sanchez' firing from CNN for his ridiculous statements. Much as I understand the employers reasons, there were better ways to handle that situation and created dialog over important issues. I tell you this because I want to assure you that I am not merely writing as an outraged viewer who agrees with Mr. Olbermann's positions (In fact I often disagree with him with respect). I am writing as a viewer who finds himself being treated with neglect and carelessness.
I urge you to rethink your decision. In the meantime, until such time as Mr. Olbermann is returned to the evening line up, I will not be watching any programming on MSNBC at all. Nor will I stream Rachel Maddow, Lawrence O'Donnell or Ed Schultz as I often do on my home computer. I will seek my news sources elsewhere.
Having gotten my anger out on the bus situation yesterday I can now write about the aspects of Saturday’s trip that were rather pleasant.
The first, I have to say, was the people. I mentioned John and Kyla from early in the morning, waiting in the “line”, not knowing what was up, but enjoying a beautiful sunrise.
I didn’t get any sleep. In order to make sure I was at Willet’s Point by 5:30 I needed to make sure I was out my door by 3:30 or so as the trek from Brooklyn can be problematic. A fairly long A train ride followed by almost the entire length of the 7 line. If I had had any brain at all I’d have taken Nyquil at about 8pm and slept til 2 or 3. But sleep didn’t come, so I made breakfast at 2am and drank a few mugs of coffee, then showered, then out the door.
I was reminded of how much of a party town New York can be, because I saw a lot of people going home after early Halloween parties at 4ish am while I was just starting my day.
I saw this couple whom I had thought were going to the Rally and had formed a response to those teabagger signs of Obama as the joker when in fact, they were just heading home from a party. Still, great job on the costumes I must say.
Frustrating as the line and all the lack of organization was, it must be said that Citi Field is rather beautiful to look at in the dark. I hate that it, like so many stadiums, is named after a corporation rather than the team or a team icon. But I appreciate it's homage to Ebbet's Field.
Ummm, Arianna, stop posing and pay attention.
On the early part of the bus ride I had a nice conversation with the guy sitting next to me at the time. He and his wife were from Hawaii and visiting friends in Canada. They had come down to NYC specifically to get to the Rally. It was interesting to hear someone describe Hawaii with a sense of appreciative boredom. It made me feel a little better about feeling stuck in New York.
After the rest stop (which we didn’t really need, but since the bus was having an a/c problem we did get to switch out to a more comfortable bus) seating got moved around, and the new person next to me was sleeping. So I enjoyed what scenery there is on I95 and also managed to nap for about 25 minutes.
When we finally reached DC it was a thrill to get off the bus. Five hours of sitting like that really makes your ass sore. Especially when part of your ass is titanium and ceramic. This had a lot to do with my decision to walk rather than stand and wait and wait for the Metro.
I used the GPS on my iPhone as best I could, but mostly followed others who were also walking. I was still seething from how late we were and how much that lateness wasn’t being acknowledged when I was catching up to another young couple. Close enough to hear the woman say “I just feel like my day is now wasted. I could have gotten a lot of things done today and still seen the Rally on TV. The whole thing”. I felt compelled to say “Would it make you feel any better to know you’re not alone?”
The three of us instantly became friends. We continued the walk along Independence Avenue, a very beautiful street that reminds me verymuch of parts all over Brooklyn. I didn’t get any shots of the area, but honestly it looks like a cleaner, more refurbished version of some of my earlier walk through Brooklyn blogs. The couple; Jim and Sue are very sweet people and who despite being supremely pissed off had managed to enjoy what could be enjoyed. It made the frustration a bit easier to handle.
We finally reached the CapitalBuilding where we encountered masses of people leaving the rally, which we took to mean it was over. It wasn’t…but as it turns out, we would not have been able to get to a place to see anything until it was.
It had been about 10 years since I was last in D.C., over 20 since I'd lived there briefly while on tour. I always remember that I like that town, though I forget how much. It really is, where it is not blighted, a beautiful city and I am filled with a sense of awe, wonder and national pride when I see the grace of the Capital Building.
Astoundingly hungry, sore and tired. We chose to turn back and find a place to eat as we had passed several nice looking restaurants a few blocks back.
A high point was seeing Donna Brazile heading down the hill as we turned to go back. She was talking on her phone (I think faking it to avoid too much attention, understandably) but I waved to her and gave her a thumbs up. I would like to have yelled “Kick Breitbart’s ass on Tuesday” to her but on the chance that she was sincerely talking I decided not to be that rude.
Timing is everything. That crowd I mentioned going the other way got to the restaurants before us and what seemed manageable on the way TO the Capital had become…well…ridiculous. The only place that had seats was a Thai place that had been converted from being some sort of little pub.
I’m not a fan of Thai food. I actually find it kind of boring and even more prone to the “hungry right after you eat it” syndrome than Chinese food. BUT…I don’t hate it and when it’s the only place you can eat..what the hell.
Turns out it was pretty good. Tastier than most, nothing I’d write home about or even put any energy into eating again, but it was nourishing and hot and delicious enough. What I DID love was the Thai beer that Jim and Sue talked up and ordered. Very very excellent. I recommend it highly. Chang Beer.
Jim and I talked a lot about the state of the media and how I was growing tired of pundit “analysis” shows and how we wished there were more Anderson Coopers and Richard Engels, etc. And we watched what was left of the rally on the TV as we ate and drank.
Sue, as it turns out, works with the daughter of a famous cable news journalist. I won’t mention the name here but I will say it is one of the ones that would more appropriately be found on the unemployment line than on the TV.
Jim and Sue.
Stewart’s closing speech was spot on as far as I was concerned. I may be a fan of Keith Olbermann, but Stewart has a point. And David Carr can kiss my ass until he fesses up that the media is indeed part of the problem, not just a “messenger”. Marshal McCluhen anyone?
But man…Tony Bennett singing the song that SHOULD be the National Anthem is a sublime pleasure.
Nothing overcomes anger and frustration like good conversation and company and a good buzz from a couple of beers. Seriously, unless you are an alcoholic, alcohol is a great remedy.
But we were running out of time to catch the bus back, a ride we were dreading. This is where we met Steven, the fella I talked about in yesterday’s blog who managed to get on the bus rides without having done a single thing we were required to do. We chatted and left the bar and headed toward the bus.
I mentioned how I didn’t want the buzz to fade and someone came up with the idea of getting something for the bus. To which one of us responded “We aren’t allowed to drink on the bus”.
The only possible answer to that was buy bottles of Coke and some rum and mix it.
Genius. We got some Captain Morgan Dark Spice Rum, 4 sixteen ounce bottles of coke and proceeded to make our survival kits. Buzz maintained…as well as the improved mood.
We got back to RFK which is a fascinating structure from the outside though I can see how as a baseball park it’s an epic fail.
There was more of the nonsense about wrist bands that were never checked, we got on the bus easily and by coincidence Jim, Sue and I happened to have the same driver we had coming in. A very funny woman who’s nickname was Miami Vice. She was awesome. Great sense of humor and really good at keeping us informed. She also managed to get us back to Citi Field about a half hour earlier than could be expected. That, I can absolutely appreciate.
Back in Queens, ass sore but spirits improved.
I said goodbye to Jim and Sue who were driving off to Long Island, and then goodbye to Steven who was off to his home not far in Queens. Steven, if you’re reading this, email me at OpinionatedGifts@gmail.com. Jim and Sue, please do the same, though I have Jim’s site.
Calculating the visuals for the blog posts and tired as hell, I got onto the 7 train, decided I couldn’t make my friend’s party in Hoboken and be any decent company at all.
Once home I collapsed and slept a solid non stop 9 hours. I can’t remember when I did that last. Maybe staying up all night and sitting on a bus for 12 hours total is what I need to do.
Favorite sign seen but not photographed "Make Inappropriate Sexual Suggestions, Not War"
Coming soon, I blog about conservatives I respect. It’s a short blog, but not as short as you might think.
