Creepy or Misunderstood?

This is from a local shop near my home:

It’s like the bike shop molestation episode of Diff’rent Strokes all over again.

Childhood and Rose-Colored Glasses

(This is a post from September 18, 2007. I think that it is as true now as it was then.)

When you’re living out your childhood, everything you experience is like a big-budget movie: every television show, cartoon, video game, water park and amusement park ride is epic, the best thing ever.

When you are so innocent and pure, it is easy to be wowed by what you experience; the cynicism of adulthood, the wealth of life experience, the defeat suffered in the teen years has not been beaten into you yet. So when watching a Saturday morning cartoon, going to the movies and witnessing life’s events take on that sense of whimsy and adventure that few things now, short of a global trip or real-life Jurassic Park scare-cation, could tickle your delights.

That is exactly the type of thing that “rose-colored glasses” can signify, as looking back at these cartoons, movies and events years later will tell. Have you ever tried watching that Saturday morning cartoon now after 10+ years, or that children’s movie with the McDonald’s tie-in that you wanted to see so bad? Unless you want to permanently punch yourself in the face repeatedly for a lack of foresight, it’s best not to revisit your childhood memories to see how they age. But if you do, it might be good for a laugh.

Here are a few that I have/thought of revisiting:

He-Man

Like most boys growing up in the ’80s, I loved the He-Man and Masters of the Universe line of toys and cartoon. The adventures of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde-like Prince Adam of Planet Eternia, becoming the all-powerful He-Man with a lightning strike of his valiant sword, was a magical, testosterone-charged fantasy world that kids could escape into. He-Man and his cast of unique characters — the cowardly green tiger Cringer that turns into the brave Battle Cat alongside He-Man, bony baddie Skeletor, super-hottie bodyguard Teela, brainy inventor Man-At-Arms, and all of the inventive bad and good guys — romped along Eternia in toy and television form, spawning a movie and additional television shows as well as a wake of nostalgia that few ’80s properties have seen.

That’s where the fawning ends. Have you TRIED watching the ’80s cartoon now? Even bother to look at the movie — featuring steroid-popping Dolph Lundgren as He-Man, veteran actor and Whoopi Goldberg-loving Frank Langella (?!) as Skeletor, and a young Courtney Cox — without an agenda to make fun of it? Aside from the serious cartoon re-imagining of the Masters of the Universe storyline a few years ago, He-Man was more homoerotic than a Broadway play version of Top Gun. It would take a strong prescription for tri-focal rose-colored glasses to enjoy He-Man in a genuine way. Not surprising, considering that the cartoons and movie were a front to sell action figures (DON’T call them dolls, dammit!).

Perhaps the cynicism for the about-face seeing He-Man for what it really represented, a cash cow milking kids and adults of their money, affected me as much as the other examples below. Sad, but hey, it made me who I am.

The Jackson 5ive cartoon

The Jackson 5, five young kids from Gary, Indiana, were pivotal in my life, as their bubble-gum soul were my gateway into living and loving music. By the time I was 12, I had most of their albums on vinyl (NOT CD or cassette — those rectangular things that your parents played music on). 10 years later, I purchased all the re-released albums on compact disc. I displayed several album covers as art in my house, along with a newspaper advertisement from a 1972 edition of music newspaper New Music Express. I even bought the HORRIFIC miniseries, The Jacksons: An American Dream (replayed every weekend on VH1, it seems) on DVD. To say I am a fan is an understatement.

So as a kid, I would seek out whatever J5 entertainment I could find. And that included reruns of their ’70s cartoon, The Jackson 5ive. The series originally aired on ABC for two seasons, and was shown in the ’80s and early ’90s on local television channels and BET (Black Entertainment Television, or lifelong enemy of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). Even as a kid, part of me knew that the J5 cartoon wasn’t of the best quality; the sparse backgrounds, lackluster animation, terrible plots, non-J5 voice actors and annoyingly cheesy laugh track couldn’t even beat Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, and that show was a bigger setback for Blacks than 50 Cent shucking and jiving (sorry, rapping) his gangsta ways (shtick).

Negatives aside, the J5 cartoon did offer some the best music the group and Michael (with his early solo Motown offerings) put out. And for that, I could ignore their cheap-looking adventures with little payoff. Heck, even now I can look back fondly on it. Because that’s what love is, son.

Nintendo Entertainment System

The system that cultivated my love of video games: The Nintendo Entertainment System introduced me to some of my favorite intellectual properties of all time. Mario, Mega Man, Castlevania, Ninja Gaiden, Bases Loaded, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the list is endless.

It is no secret that the 8-bit NES is one of the most popular and successful game consoles of all time, puling videogames out of a grave that Atari dug with their glut of terrible Atari 2600 games — with the nail in the coffin being the millions of E.T. game cartridges that were buried in New Mexico. And growing up in the ’80s, you either had an NES, or a lesser-known system that you didn’t talk about with friends. Hell, The Wizard, featuring tween heartthrob Fred Savage, was a glorified NES commercial/coming-out party for Super Mario Bros. 3, one of the best-selling games of all-time.

And it is no secret that the NES had its share of problems. The main fault was the console’s design, in which you slid the cartridges into a drawer system and pushed the game down. This not only let in a lot of dust but also wore out the cartridge connectors inside the system. Thus, blinking-light malfunctions, homegrown ways of blowing on cartridges (EVERYONE had their own recipe for blowing on the cartridge — “No, no, blow on it twice and one long blow across it!”) and common costly repairs. But it was all worth it to play the coolest games on the planet.

The Simpsons

The “First Family” of television animation, The Simpsons will forever remain close to my heart for introducing me to well-written comedy with a touch of heart, sarcasm, cynicism, and timely jabs at everything in societal establishment. I remember as a grade-school kid, watching the original shorts on The Tracy Ullman Show, giggling at the antics of 10-year-old Bart Simpson outwitting his clod-like father, Homer. And when the shorts earned the family a Fox television show, my brother and I were glued to the television for its premiere.

After all these years, not only is the show still on the air, but the yellow-pigmented family have spawned CDs, comics, video games, toys, t-shirts (I had several), food products, posters, and even a movie. For a show that at its onset was criticized by parental watchdog groups for the child characters disrespecting family and authority figures, its mainstream following is amazing for what was once considered a counterculture series.

Now almost 20 years later, its intelligence and humor resonate even more now, as I can understand the subtle jabs at society and government that I overlooked as a kid, blinded by the physical gags and catchphrases of “Don’t have a cow, man!” and “D’oh!” And for that, The Simpsons can be enjoyed without rose-colored glasses.

There are hundreds of other things I could mention that are worthy of blurbs — cartoons like The Gummi Bears, Shirt Tales and The Snorks, movies like Iron Eagle and The Last Dragon, my BMX bicycle and riding bikes with friends all day on the weekends — but all of these have shaped me into who I am today for various reasons. And I would not deny any of them, even if I had to wear my special glasses to enjoy them.

A “Silent” New York State of Mind

Until last week, I had never seen New York City. I mean, I had BEEN to New York City twice before, staying once on Long Island for a day in 2004 and passing through Manhattan to New Jersey in 2006. But I had never experienced the city to the extent that I was truly there. And last week gave me several good reasons:

This dude, director Kevin Smith. The man who wrote about 37 sucked dicks, Snoochie Boochies and ass-to-mouth, but also realizing the value of recognizing and finding intimacy in that one person no matter their gender, making changes in life no matter how uncomfortable they may be, and being open to new experiences and ideas. Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Jersey Girl, Clerks II and Zack and Miri Make a Porno: that dude.

He was in New York City — while filming a new movie — to perform (really, to shoot the shit) in a question-and-answer show at Carnegie Hall, “Silent Bob Speaks,” answering audience questions candidly and with humor to boot. Carnegie has seen its share of theater in its decades of existence, and the opportunity to witness the most truthful and bawdy show in the Hall’s history was one I couldn’t turn down.

The fanboy gushing in the previous paragraphs may be as recognizable as a new-form Cylon. Kevin inspired me to expand my writing and my humor, lending me a unique voice to absorb. And in turn, I turned to scriptwriting to flesh out my story-writing itch. The dude made a profound impact on my writing, my sense of humor and how I saw life from then on.

But there were other reasons for my voyage to the Big Apple:

Hanging out with fellow Kevin Smith fans, met through the View Askew online community, was an exciting — and somewhat nerve-wracking experience. Knowing one’s online words take on new light when you meet the people they originate from. And meeting the faces of those words — some met for the first time, others getting reacquainted with — was an intriguing and exciting prospect.

Equally exciting was this:

Times Square, the iconic epicenter of Manhattan. It was too hard not to gawk at the glitz and glamour of the towering skyscrapers and flashing billboards like a farmboy in the big city. My wide-eyed stares were repeated throughout the trek through the throngs of people.

I’ve wanted to visit every Major League Baseball stadium since college, and being in New York gave me a chance to see Yankee Stadium, the grandiose new home of America’s grandiose baseball team. Unfortunately, Mother Nature wanted to postpone the game festivities — with a 4-hour rain delay tempering my hopes for a game. However, the experience was even better: making friends with several folks from the View Askew community at the game was amazing, sharing baseball anecdotes, learning more about their lives and cracking jokes made a potentially miserable and wet experience into a memorable one.

David Cross once made a joke that in New York City, you are often forced to decide between seeing the most beautiful woman in the world or the biggest weirdo you will lay eyes upon. And damn it, is that ever true. Walking the streets of Manhattan and Queens, I was shocked at how many beautiful women were packed into several square miles of land. And I’m not talking about silicone-enhanced, bottle-blond women; women of all ethincities, shapes and sizes that made me go “GOLLY!” repeatedly.

Like that, sort of.

At the same junction, I was then confronted with some of the most interesting characters I’ve ever witnessed:

After I saw a middle-aged man in a dress, wearing a curly, colored wig — and uniquely candy-colored wig hair for a beard — pushing a small dog in a stroller, I thought I had seen everything. Nope. In Central Park, I was faced with a more bizarre sight: a man in a t-shirt and underwear, bent over and staring at his bloodied feet. The story behind his lack of clothes and injured toes would be that for elders to pass down to their young, but I was more worried for my safety than anything else.

That is what made my stay in New York so much fun. I had no idea what excitement, stimulation, beauty or oddity was behind the corner or on a collision course. And it’s not even scratching the surface of the unique people, the sights and sounds, the culture and the history of the five boroughs. I was there for a few reasons, and I loved them.

As for this dude:

Yeah, he was hilarious as always. The show, which was once the centerpiece of my New York adventure, was a footnote on the trip. Topics like celebrity feuds, embarrassing first dates and whether Prince or Bruce Springsteen should be killed or sexed were similarly peculiar and gut-busting. And as I absorbed the affair, I knew that the people I met and the trials shared — before and after — came because of the man known as Silent Bob. Those new ideas and experiences were indeed worth the trip.

Thanks, Kevin.

Being an asshole

We all know that one person: the one who always has a negative word or 10 about someone or something; who can’t let someones mistake slide without cutting them down to size with a timely jab; whose behavior is off-putting in most social situations; who has to be the center of attention based on a need born out of selfish mixed with insecurity.

This person is an asshole, and not only are they growing in number, they are encouraged to multiply.

There are many ways to describe the type of person who can be called an asshole: jerk; ninny; jackass; nincompoop (heh… “poop”…). But the definition of this slang word is comparable: a stupid, mean, or contemptible person.

Assholes come from different gender, social, economic and racial backgrounds. Their cultivation knows no color or creed. However, they do not know certain boundaries of etiquette or respect.

Take, for instance, an average day in your life: you wake up to the radio (that old-timey thing that noises come out of), a shock jock whose personality and ratings are based on making fun of people — including those on their staff or their employer; the drivers who cut you off or ride your bumper on the highway; the co-worker who loudly makes fun of someone’s verbal error in a meeting; the angry customer at Burger King who makes an employee’s mistake a personal matter; the customer service person on the phone that curtly deals with your request before shuffling you to the next worker. There are reasons, motivations, and reactions for, of and to this behavior, and they are all derived from and an answer to selfish motives.

Speaking of assholes…

We can’t see what came before your encounter with this person, their life that led to that point. Their upbringing and subsequent family lives, their jobs, economic, social status may hamper their reactions to the outside world and their interpersonal interactions as a result. And a lack of accountability for their behavior and positive reactions only encourage continued and broader examples of those responses.

There is a common belief that cultures glorify what is the ideal. And though people are generally good in nature, there are those properties of being human — anger, greed, jealousy, lust — that cloud judgment and behavior, particularly in the company of others and/or with anonymity, and I am as guilty as anyone else. Does the phrase “angry mob” ring a bell? Check out the comment section of YouTube or AICN.com for delightful remarks towards articles, videos and other people.

We have role models in society whose wealth and celebrity are based on their greed and manipulation of others. There are forms of entertainment geared towards engaging in crass and rude behavior. Pop culture has a Thunderdome of mean-spirited expression: Schadenfreude, satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune. Perez Hilton. Jezebel.com. Dlisted.com. What Would Tyler Durden Do. These are only a few examples of those who make money through cutting down others with comments and imagery that would make Jesus facepalm.

Jesus just saw another one of Perez Hilton’s penis doodles.

Much of this is done for a laugh. Some are a temporary remedy to boost ones self-esteem. Some feel remorse after a few minutes; others revel in the behavior like a pig in muck.

But why? Why are we worshiping behavior that flies in the face of what we (or some) are taught is harmful and mean? Perhaps there is the need to shore up one’s insecurities by preying on weaker people. Maybe there is a level of jealousy that is relieved when celebrating the mistakes of the more wealthy, powerful, intelligent or capable.

The thing is, the person on the other end does not know what provokes that assholish behavior; they only interpret the gossip or activity — behind their back, within earshot or to their face. Someone with healthy self-esteem can brush off the assaults and move on, but how many people do you know that can be identified as having a good sense of self (not to be mistaken with arrogance)? And whether you are delivering or receiving the brunt of the attack, can you say that you honestly feel good about yourself in the heat of the moment.

I would point to the idea of treating people the way they want to be treated, but I would be called an old fart or a fag. Too bad, as it would put a damper on this problem. And with a growing magnification of the rich, social elite and famous (no matter how or why) by our culture, this problem will continue to exist. And while an occasional outburst of cheeky behavior is human, a constant barrage is just being an asshole. And we all know what comes out of that: poop.

Stupid MSN News Headlines – May 2009

MSN News, let’s cut the charade: it’s over. It’s been over for some time.

Your brain-melting story headlines and equally dumbfounding content within was attractive at first – sexy, even. But the fire just isn’t there anymore. Things have become stale. There just isn’t any excitement anymore.

I remember when you used to entice my eyes with trite wordplay about fighting over pork at Dunkin Donuts or anything involving Sanjaya; now it’s like you’re not even trying. I mean, look at this stuff you’re trying to pass off:

Watch what’s ahead for stock market – This article suggests that I can see what lies ahead for the troubled Dow Jones. If this is the case, I think this info can be put in better hands – like the U.S. Treasury, for example – instead of the monkey who wrote this headline. Why are the idiots so privileged?!

Woman declared dead; she disagrees – I can imagine the woman shaking her finger at the doctors, perched on a floating cloud in Heaven and shaking her finger with sass… and then realizing that she in Heaven and is dead.

Offended by virtual sex? Get $35 – While the article talks about a Grand Theft Auto settlement, you’d think someone was being recruited for a focus group on their scale of perviness. (Note: 3D models engaging in sex? Kinda pervy.)

Why women regret tattoos more than men – Mmm… sexism. I mean, where do you get off on trying to tell me that men don’t regret lower back tattoos? I mean, immortalizing the lyrics to “Chocolate Rain” where only my lover could see it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I mean… whatever…

There's nothing sexier than a Japanese kids' mascot.

Teen surfer describes shark attack – Let’s not mince words: I don’t think there be anything of substance besides, “Whoa… dude… there was, like, this shark… and, like, it was big and… stuff, man…”

Slate: Who owns my trash? – MSN News, are your children from your baby mama writing these headlines? No adult could be in their right mind asking these.

Jubak: Why this recession is scary– Fear-mongering stuff like this is why people don’t trust the media. Good thing that people don’t consider MSN News to be real media.

Extra breasts turn up in the oddest places – Oh, don’t I know it! I know that I’ll be scratching my back and – DAMN! – found another boob!

Are we a new nation now? – Damn you’re so impatient, MSN News! Obama hadn’t even taken office and you want results! It’s like you’re a Republican or something.

Bank of America headed for a breakup? – And they seemed so good together…

In food scare, beware hidden nuts – While this is mostly likely about the salmonella scare earlier in the year, this could also be the lamest pickup line ever.

8 ways to love toast – So wait… are there more ways to enjoy toast besides eating it? Do I want to know where this article is going? Won’t someone please think of the children?!

Wal-Mart to open Hispanic-focused stores – Wow, Wal-Mart is behind the times. I mean, Eskimos are the new hot minority! Where’s their corporate-sponsored racism?

Once you go Eskimo, there's nowhere else to go.

How to be good at falling in love – I like that there is an article telling me how I can manipulate someone’s heart. I guess being a sociopath is okay when it boosts the romance industry.

Why does my sweat smell like cheese? – The eternal question. You might be asking yourself this as we speak, and you would be in your right mind to do so, but it must be a common phenomenon for MSN News to comment on it; that, or the writer is putting feelers out about his problem.

Help: I’m jealous of my hot daughter – Her father used to look at me like that… before the change…

Opinion: Beware of this rally – While this story mentions the Dow Jones rebound, it could look like they’re warning minorities to avoid that crowd of people wearing white linens and shouting racial slurs.

How to live your whole life on Facebook – It’s funny when mainstream media tries to understand and articulate new Internet trends. Again, this is MSN News, so this is just sad.

Men’s shorts sale: Save up to 50% – In theory, aren’t people ALWAYS saving up to 50% off shorts compared to pants? AMIRITE, folks?!

Twitter king Ashton Kutcher pranks CNN – I didn’t know that the Twitter social network was a monarchy – if I’m to believe this headline. Also, is this supposed to be awesome that a douchenozzle assbag fooled a news organization? Oh yeah… MSN News… right…

Can someone PLEASE put Ashton Kutcher in a movie so he'll stop this Twitter shit? PLEASE? I will pay you.

End of the line for poetry? – I didn’t know that the art of poetry, around for hundreds – if not thousands of years – could be referred to in the same way as a once-great athlete:

“You’re best days are behind you, poetry. Why don’t you hang up the spikes, go in the broadcast booth or endorse a lawnmower?”

MSN News, we certainly had our good times, but lately those times have been few and far between. But maybe we can still be friends…

Aww… fuck it. I’m just going to keep coming back to you. Maybe it was my troubled upbringing and shattered family life, but your retarded idea of love is the only type I know.

Let us never fight again…

Fembots

Like clockwork, I received my monthly issue of Esquire magazine in the mail today. Staring me in the face was Hollywood’s newest “It Girl,” Megan Fox, clad in a trenchcoat, black lingerie and a mean expression reserved for prizefighter boxers and two people blocked by a Berlin Wall of sexual tension.

Exhibit A: Megan Fox

The cover proclaimed Megan as the “Woman of Summer ‘09.” Immediately, I rolled my eyes and wondered how much more of her I would see over the course of the blockbuster movie season.

I’ve been down this road before — two years ago, in fact — when the first Transformers movie (or as it soon became clear, General Motors Presents: Transforming Cars with Little Plot for Man-Children) made sure to flaunt Megan’s sexuality in press events, photo shoots and on the silver screen. No knock on her arrival in the spotlight, as she has put in her time in such quality work like Ocean Ave. and the Kelly Ripa/Faith Ford sitcom Hope & Faith [/sarcasm], and she is a beautiful woman [/horndog]. But from the magazine covers, Transformers fanboys and horndogs screaming that Megan was the hottest woman ever, it made me that much more disinterested.

You may wonder why I seem to be displeased with Ms. Fox; that it sounds like I am repulsed by her and am therefore a gay. My beef is that like many of starlets before her and will come after her, the media — and as a byproduct, pop culture customers — sells her as something more than she is. And since that focus is clearly not on her acting — her thespian skills weren’t popping out of that coat, after all — we are being sold a trumped-up ideal of sexuality, trivializing and compartmentalizing her to merely an aesthetic piece of skin and bones. She is Megan Fox, the eye candy fembot that will make your nature rise… and with hope, plop your butt in a theater seat to see her movie.

Male fantasies like Megan have come and gone. While we can assume that they are still alive (examples: Tara Reid, Meg Ryan, Kim Basinger), their time in the limelight faded with the rise of the newest hot toddy — reduced to TV guest star appearances, occasional ads and (ugh) raising families.

Look what you did, INSECURITY!

And this isn’t just a Tinseltown phenomenon: who really heard of Katy Perry before “I Kissed a Girl” ruined ears and lives? Who will lather her in baby oil for Maxim five years from now? How about Paula Abdul, former Los Angeles Lakers cheerleader and dance partner for MC Skat Kat? Where will she be once American Idol is long gone? Middling tennis player-turned-model Anna Kournikova? Who has heard from her since she realized that she couldn’t play tennis? Not many people cared about these women — at least, not many of the right people to thrust them into superstar status. And those same people bolted like a one-night stand afraid of the pregnancy test results.

Why these certain women, though? It could be a number of factors: fitting a certain image/look (like Greg Brady’s “groovy,” corny alter ego Johnny Bravo from The Brady Bunch); piggybacking their assets with the success of a certain product; and/or notoriety for awful reasons (Paris Hilton). Without anything for people to connect with beyond the superficial, why should anyone care once our ADD-riddled society sees someone shinier?

Where am I?

We all know that fame is a cruel machine, taking an image of a human being and recycling it into tons of cash is until no longer profitable and/or tiresome to its audience. And fame built up on shallow qualities is that much more fleeting and annoying. Therefore, I wish that there was more substance to what these companies are trying to sell. Nicole Kidman, Natalie Portman, Angela Bassett, Monica Bellucci, Cate Blanchett and Erykah Badu: these are some examples of talented women of substance who happen to be easy on the eyes. (I have huge crushes on Natalie and Monica, myself.) Their longevity is a testament to their skills — tastes in their talents and looks be damned. And there are tons more that have lasted well beyond the shelf life of those like Sean Young and Tawny Kitaen.

So as with most pop-culture icons, people are built up and torn down in the grand name of capitalism. It’s like a harvest of sorts, the cycle beginning anew with every newcomer that captures mainstream society’s attention. And Megan Fox is the latest to be shuffled into the fray. Enjoy it while it lasts. I wish I could.

Casual Aggression

A few weeks ago, I saw a teenager with a white-font slogan on a black t-shirt. Shirts passing off themselves and the wearer as witty are nothing new and are rarely funny — though they are downright hilarious when they are ironic in a sad, “Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel” sort of way. This particular wearer — a plain-faced, lanky kid that looked as though shampoo was a luxury — sported the sloganized wear, “Everybody Sucks All the Time.”

This struck a nerve with me — after the initial silent giggling, of course. The angst dripping from the words could only be worn by a teenager (”Like, Oh-M-Gee and whatever!”), along with the naivete of the interpretation. How is the average person supposed to take it if they are being told by a $10 that they “suck all the time”? If they have somewhat healthy self-esteem, they would look at the owner and leave it at that. After all, whoever would want to possess a garment like that has anger issues that a shirt won’t work out.

However, it could also be seen as a common — and increasing — trend in society: the practice of casual aggression. I interpret casual aggression as spreading a message inspired by hate/anger/angst through passive-aggressive means, and you can see it almost everywhere. From clothing to our media forms and societal trends, we not only communicate things we wouldn’t dare speak, we often become indignant when we are called out for it. Racism, sexism, bigotry, biases — it can all be masked and/or deflected with a few words and distancing.

That t-shirt example? It’s as old as printed t-shirts themselves. You name the type of clothing, and I’ll show you one used for calling something or someone out.

WHY. brotha?!

Whether it’s hate speech, snide remarks (”I’m with stupid,” anyone?), something sexual in nature or good old fashioned jackassery, socks, shirts or pants, the words are there to provoke a reaction. The worst thing is that if you question the person about the garment and your reaction irks the wearer, there is a lack of understanding/accountability for the message they are putting out. (This can be a particularly-sensitive topic when it comes to sexually suggestive clothing with slogans on shirts or pants buttocks.) There is certainly the idea of free speech, and that’s all well and good, but in some cases…

*sigh*

…don’t be surprised when I exercise my right with my words.

And it only goes from there. Websites like Facebook and Twitter encourage aggression through the anonymity of the internet. It’s easy to paint an extreme version of your viewpoint online when you are hiding behind a computer screen – often thousands of miles from other people. And with said power, the weight of our words take on that much more weight when we do not know who is reading those words — let alone their individual backgrounds, past experiences, cultures, etc.

Hell, we see this practiced in the media all the time. During a President’s Day sale for Sanderson Ford in the Phoenix, Arizona area, a xenophobic radio advertisement derided people thinking about buying cars that weren’t American, followed by the stereotypical Asian music jingle (think Mickey Rooney’s Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’s). Though Arizona in general is as enlightened as Larry the Cable Guy, the lack of foresight to see how offensive that would be to anyone outweighed the poor attempt at humor — and magnified how scared that dealer was of the foreign car competition by stooping to racism. I wonder how they reacted if someone had a few negative comments of that ad.

When I think of Asian people, I immediately think of Mickey Rooney.

Another example of this subtle form of aggression in the media is one that is gathering traction with a particular segment of the population: Fox News. Though network and cable news networks are manipulated by corporate backers and agendas, few court people that are as ignorant (willfully or unknowingly) and resistant to change Rupert Murdoch’s news outlet. The conflicting message of its channel slogans and talking heads bounce between hard-hitting journalism and lighthearted entertainment, and those messages take potshots and words out of context when it comes to politics. The increasing outrage/Republican talking-point targeted messages/sponsorship of anti-government meet-ups and sometimes charged accusations come off like a spoiled trust fund kid who was written out of the will. For a viewer not in on the joke, it is easy to confuse the ludicrous and the… well… more ludicrous. Worse than that, the network can easily hide behind their line of “It’s only entertainment” or “We’re balanced!” and wave it away like “Obi-Wan” Kenobi using The Force. But perhaps that is easily overlooked considering the source and the target.

WOW...

It all is a symptom of an increasing lack of accountability by our culture. We wear our true feelings on the outside or funnel them through third-parties, and immediately separate ourselves from it — no matter how close it is to us. And examples of deflecting blame are seen every day, from big business to government, sports stars and in our own homes. Is it any wonder that it is rare when someone is NOT defensive about something they champion?

We’ve all been guilty of it at some point; heck, I’ve done it more times than I am proud of. But owning up to views and actions without the need for clothing or someone/something else is something that is more commendable than however witty or cool that thing might be — even if you are with stupid.

Riding in Cars with Weirdos 2: The Time Machine

There are so many consumer products that express our personalities, from clothing to creepy figurines stored in menageries. One of the most expensive — and therefore most often used — examples of expression is the automobile. Whether it is the decorations adorning the hunks of metal and rubber, to the threat the machine poses on the roads due to its driver, cars are the heaviest and most visible ways people show who they really are.

Here are a few examples of said means of making a statement:

Car Port Holes

Makes your car an even bigger eyesore!

Remember the stately cars of the ’50s and ’60s, awash in chrome like a shimmering pond? Most likely, those Cadillac and Buick luxury yachts of old had port holes, square or circular holes (usually three or four) running along the sides of the car above the front wheels. They signified elegance, power and decadence.

Today, that aire of richness is gone, as you can see these former glories on Chrysler Lebarons, Ford Tempos and Dodge Neons. You can buy them in bulk at your local car supply store or — GASP! — Wal-Mart, giving every wannabe baller the means to show off their fake bling. And like said wanna-balla, they will hog the lanes of the highway, doing whatever they damn well please with no care in the world. And why should they? They have their pimpin’ port holes!

Car Reindeer Horns

Santa’s forgotten reindeer: Volksjackass.

Stressed to find things to accessorize with your cheesy Christmas sweater? How about your cheesy car?! Now you can embarrass yourself AND your family members by dressing your ride like a robotic reindeer of death. After all, your car can’t fight off the whims of the holiday cheer — though some would consider it automobile cruelty — and why should it?

Another reason why you won’t see this monstrosity in the skies with Dasher and Blitzen? Because their drivers are goddamn slow! Best to leave them in the slowpoke lane, lest you want to curse out the owner and unfortunate victim of owner abuse. And why would you? THAT’S not very Christmasy.

Car Bullet Holes

Need to show everyone at your high school or mixed martial arts class how hard you are? Slap some of these babies on your ride and bask in the terrorist fist jabs of respect!

Perhaps some people think of fake bullet holes as speed holes to make their cars faster, and those people would be morons. Also moronic: their affinity for reckless driving. Don’t be surprised to see a few dings alongside those bullet holes, as the car is most likely a hooptie. And if they don’t care about the car and how silly it looks, you should care about your safety that much more.

In Memory Of

Rachel’s ghost hands, trying to escape her tomb.

Want to immortalize a loved one or friend but don’t have the cash for a casket? Then turn your car into a graveyard shrine on wheels with vinyl decals! Yes, companies prey upon the grief of humans with tacky stickers — which people buy! These same people display their grief for drivers to see for years to come! And it’s totally creepy!

And these drivers expect you to care about their car, their lives and their loss — by driving SLOW AS HELL. It’s like they’re driving the hearse to their family member’s grave site, and we’re the grievers in the parade. A few speed holes will get them moving.

Ridiculous Stickers

Such the drinking apparatus for an uptown gentleman!

Comedian Patton Oswalt once said that half of the United States has an I.Q. of 100 and over. Somehow, we’ve allowed those of double-digit intelligence drive 1.5 ton metallic and steel contraptions — let alone decorate them with whatever thoughts their brains rub together like kindling to function.

See the mug above? I saw this statement on someone’s pickup truck a few months ago in vinyl decals. Never mind that the guy probably wasn’t husband of the year; this isn’t the statement you want to show off to potential dates/ex-wives to come. And they will drive like you were coming after them for alimony. So classy!

Brake Nutz

THIS is why the terrorists hate our freedom.

Speaking of classy, this is not that. AT ALL. From the creators of Truck Nutz, those elegant replicas of dangling testicle flesh, comes the most moronic display of male genitalia… for the next six months when something even more stupid comes out.

Yes, when you want to warn people when you are about to slow down, let them focus their eyes on your red, angry glowing balls! Hey, at least someone in that truck will have them!

While these are generalities made at the expense of ordinary people, you have been warned. Be wary and a defensive driver, and you too can live to tell the tales of the weirdos.

For the Love of Shyness

When I seek background chatter and there is nothing else entertaining on television, I will occasionally slum it to VH1, letting the utter stupidity of Celebreality pollute the air while I write. While the exaggerated personalities — with their puffed-up sexuality, ignorance, greed and vulgarity — provide spirited foils to my activities, one show halted my work and killed all creativity: For the Love of Ray J.

This soul-sucking antithesis of everything decent and noble in the world, starring the 28-year-old celebrity leech/actor/singer/wannabe pornstar/creep and brother of singer Brandy Norwood, featured 14 women vying for fame and fortune love while degrading themselves in the process. One of the women (Lil’ Hood? Chardonnay? White Zinfandel?) was a bit quieter than her loud-mouthed, obscene peers, and this perplexed the slimy lothario, wondering how to get the bizarrely-nicknamed actress love seeker to open up (in more ways than one?). His attitude towards her and her apprehensiveness was almost like a billiards player examining a tough shot, a doctor inspecting a leper.

Mothers, hide your daughters and orifices!

I did not stick with the show to see if the timid flower revealed her personality (and other things) to the titular jerkstore, but one thing did stick out: Ray J’s anxiousness towards the introverted girl is an attitude that many Americans share, labeling their coy personalities as weaker and even something to fear and distrust, and it is a problem in society.

Shyness goes by many names — diffidence, timidity, social anxiety — and can be traced to numerous factors, including genetics and environment. Certain activities and/or people, and affect people can trigger the feelings of uneasiness in social situations in different ways — including mental illness. It’s a shame that, like the person referenced earlier, shyness is rarely understood and often suspect.

For a culture that values individuality and (ironically) uniqueness, Americans learn early that being shy is attributed to weakness, seen in geeks and similarly socially-inept/flawed/dangerous beings. Not being boisterous is often perceived as lacking self-confidence; being thoughtful instead of brash is interpreted as lacking assurance.

As a result, most people don’t know how to approach the seemingly timid, wondering whether they are aloof, cold, mute or plain, uptight assholes. This is often further from the truth. The introvert is often more modest and thoughtful of their feelings, surroundings and perceptions, often taxed — emotionally and physically — by social stimuli that the extrovert may feed off of for sustenance. There are millions of people that are introverted — many who hide it well under a mask of outspokenness — and bring much to the table in intelligence, passion and kindness, and because of not lining up with the uniform notion of the extroverted model, are seen as inferior beings.

See what you did to this poor girl?!

And pop culture, as it does, tends to blow up these inner fears and misunderstandings in a big-screen way. Whether it is the poindexter that is bullied or the murderer that lived quietly in one’s neighborhood (”He seemed to keep to himself”), the less assured are painted with a broad brush of pity, scorn and uncertainty. Resulting attitudes range from anxiousness (”You have to be afraid of the quiet ones”) to confusion, which further deflates the self-esteem and confidence of the person on the receiving end of these beliefs. Try to find a song, movie or book detailing the positive attributes of the reserved personality. (Though Diana King’s song, “Shy Guy,” sees the demure man as one that will be her love and her friend — never mind anything else he might bring to the table.)

It’s funny that some other cultures do not have the same aversion to the traits of the more reserved. The stereotype of Americans in many places is that of loud-mouthed, foolish hooligans (not the soccer/football fans) that act before they think — a far cry from their humble peer. It’s a different extreme, certainly, but that which can be viewed equally.

Really, though, it is not such a bad thing to think through situations before acting, having a greater sense of empathy or not following the crowd? Personally, I like the fact that while I am slow to warm up to people, I will process information and my surroundings before engaging, that I can sense emotions before acting, and that I take the feelings of others into consideration with my behavior. Being a wallflower has given me that sense of introspection (sometimes a bit too much), and makes me the person I am. No shame in that.

Do what the funny picture says!

But the question remains: how do you interact with a shy person? Like engaging with other human beings! (Strange, huh?) Being able to connect with anyone on a personal level involves taking the time and effort to understand a person’s core. Introvert or extrovert, you won’t fully know someone on first glance — ignoring the instant gratification that our society increasingly demands — and you have to put in time and work to get to know a person for who they really are. And while the quiet type might look like a challenge at first, breaking down that barrier and seeing the person within can be as rewarding — if not more so — as stripping away the shell of the more sociable.

So while the Ray J’s of the world might not be able to handle a shy person, a little time and effort will reward those who truly see themselves as human beings. Throw the negative perceptions out the window — even of those you might have of yourself – and you might find some comfort in the reserved.

Sarah Palin: The GILF of Terror

(WARNING: May contain graphic language and imagery.)

The 2008 elections have come and gone, and yet there is one thing lingering from the battle… like a fart trapped in a car, looking to escape. No, it is not Barack Obama, who is now President: it is Sarah Palin.

Palin, who is on the verge of getting a book deal about her life and time on the campaign trail, is, two months after the election, still somehow getting press coverage.

While selling a book will net her a good amount of camera time for a short time, she is getting even more, longer-lasting attention from the internets, horndogs who think it is awesome to refer to her as a MILF or — BLEEGGHHH — a GILF.

“We’re going to Taco Bell, down at the border!”

Let’s think about this for a second: the woman who claims to be able to see Alaska from her house is an object of lust, quoted as the subject of creepy male fantasies often as Britney Spears was back in 1999. These guys boast about wanting to stick their “wango-tango” in the “mosh tequila” of a dark, black void of utter stupidity.

Furthermore, I am failing to see the attraction to Palin. On a superficial level, she is an average-looking woman, but on a personality level, she is as appealing as Mickey Rourke’s liver. To think about even wanting to spend more than five minutes in her presence is akin to wanting aspirin for a painkiller after open heart surgery.

And to drive the point home, the five kids that emerged from that womb of witlessness have not yet proven whether they will follow in their mother’s footsteps of foolishness. That might be something for those dudes to think about if the condom breaks during their horizontal bop-she-bop: that accidental pregnancy might grow up into an equivalent dim bulb, unable to admit to not being able to read magazines — let alone sentences.

She thought this was a giant soap bubble. The results saddened her.

So think about this, REALLY think about this before spouting off such statements of idiocy. While it may have been funny within that inner circle of friends that uses 2001 slang, it fails to be funny when you have to question whether that union would produce something even more dumb than the two people in question.