Hey, Wisconsin! Fuck You!

Dear People of Wisconsin,

If you are tired of watching the working class and union members have their lives treated as throw-aways, I've got one word for you: Egypt.  Your Republican servants obviously don't give a shit about you.  Why not return the favor?  They are attacking your very livelihood.  They are attacking everything you've built up over the years.  Do you think a little yelling and banging on a drum is going to get them to stop?  Hell no.  You've got to, as I used to say, fuck shit up.  General strikes.  Wildcat strikes.  Boycotts to businesses that support them.  And if that doesn't work, get louder and louder.  They will only understand the loss of money and violence.  That much is proven.  If that prank call that circulated earlier is any indication of what you union folks are up against, you've got to ratchet up the protests.  Be careful to keep the public on your side.  Most people don't get that after they dismantle the public servant unions they will go after the general unions and then things like OSHA.  Big business is doing its utmost to dismantle labor.  It's time to return the favor.  Those billionaires who like to fund the Republicans -- show them what strength in numbers really means.

And as for you Democrats in hiding -- good job.  Your peers on the other side of aisle are nothing but lickspittle motherfuckers who can't even see when they are being played.  They will do anything in their power to render even themselves useless and beholden to corporate America.  Don't give up on this one.  Hang them with their own rope.


Negativity and the Art of Blowing Things Up

When you are told you are being a "negative" person, it's often by someone who is afraid of truth.  It comes from a place of wishful thinking where if you don't point out the negativity the problem will either magically disappear or people will forget about it.  It's the same mindset that let child sexual abuse and domestic violence occur for years with nary a mention in the media or polite society. 

People who are truly content with whatever another person is being negative about won't even grace the so-called negativity with a mention or thought because it will be out of the realm of their possibilities, or -- gasp -- they will discuss it without labeling it "negativity."  It is only the people who truly don't believe the shit they are slinging that will get defensive about it.

Why rock the boat?  Why upset the apple cart?  Why speak ill of something?  Why point out flaws?  I can't speak to everyone who does these things, but I can say that when I am doing them it is in the hopes of making things better.  You bring up the shortcomings so that solutions can be reached.  I called it being "realistic."  Some people would rather just daydream.

I know plenty of positive people who try to say something equally positive about everything, and that is totally fine by me.  Many of these people, when confronted with perceived negativity, embrace it well and want a discussion (after all, you just can't be negative without offering solutions -- it's like being accepting without being able to explain why -- you just look like a simpleton).  There are others, however, who think that "never is heard a discouraging word" is a mantra to live by.  It is the symbolic plugging of the ears with one's fingers and chanting, "Naaa, naaa, naaa.  I can't hear you!"  Comical at best.  Destructive at worst.

I watched the news earlier (hence this post) where the "man on the street" was being interviewed.  The "man" this time happened to be a woman looked like she really loved her credit cards and Macy's.  The reporter asked her what she thought of gas prices going up due to unrest in the Middle East.  Her response?  "Why can't they leave well enough alone?"  Why be negative?  Why protest?  Because well-enough isn't good enough, and that reporter should have called her out to explain her take on the Middle East so the viewing public could see her for the fool she is instead of letting her get away with such a statement.  Why must they complain?  It bums me out.

We live in a culture where speaking one's mind is fine ... as long as it goes along with the status quo.  Stray from that well-trod path of least resistance and you slapped down by people who have never quite managed to see the road ahead.  Why can't you leave well enough alone?  The answer is simple:  It's that attitude which made "well enough" a living Hell for anyone with anything that resembles an active mind.

Sometimes you have to throw your hands in the air and let the chips fall where they may (try working for any kind of corporate or government organization and you'll be doing that a lot if only to keep your sanity).  Sometimes you have to be vocal.  In those times, when you speak out for what you perceive to be wrong, and people label you "negative," well -- stay on course.  It means you're onto something.  It means you've hit a hot spot.  It may not be worth it in the end, and at some point you may just want to let people drown so that you can smugly sit back and one point and between fits of laughter say, "I told you so."  But until you hit that point you need to not let the wide-eyed lobotomies turn you into one of them.  Or you need to shut the hell up and enjoy the show.


Terror Threat Level High: Eureka is Being Invaded by The Man!

There's an old joke about cops.  You can never find one when you need one, but dodge a red light and hit a pedesterian and they are all up in your grill.  Finding a cop will be a hell of a lot easier tomorrow if you are in Eureka, CA.  We're getting about 1,000 of them into town (and ex-hippie governor Jerry Brown) to honor Thomas Adams, 24, a California Highway Patrol Officer (remember Chips?) who was killed in a collision right around Piercy.

Today I drove by the church the memorial is set to be held at.  There was a gathering outside, including some uniformed people who may have been officers.  Orange traffic cones lined the side of the street the church was on for several blocks.  I was in the lane closest to the church and was about to pass it when one of those uniformed guys stepped out into the street for some random reason and indicated I should move over into the center lane, which me and the three people behind me did, cutting off all those cars in that lane and almost causing an accident.  Brilliant.  The memorial service was a little less than 24 hours away.  Were they practicing?  No matter.  I did as directed and got on with my day.

Adams was a local boy.  He apparently grew up in Fortuna.  He didn't have a wife or kid (at least not from what I read), but tomorrow there will be close to a thousand of his peers honoring him.

I'm fairly sure that myself and most people reading this will never have a thousand people at our memorials.  It's kind of rare when that sort of thing happens, and I can't help have some respect for that.  Hell, if I died in the course of duty at work (a likely possibility these days), if more than ten people show up at the service my ghost will be impressed.  Adams, as mentioned before, is even getting an appearance from the governor.  My guess is that if the governor is involved with me in any way it will be some sort of trial situation. 

Those expecting something sarcastic are slowly finding themselves disappointed, I'm sure.  The guy died doing his job.  The idea of police is against most of my political beliefs, but it's not like the officer was part of the elite ruling class.  He was an average working joe, and to die on the job kind of sucks no matter how you look at it. 

I can't help but wonder, though, how all of Eureka's many, many tweakers are going to react to this influx of authority.  They're already a paranoid bunch.  Seeing them witness a parade of thousand in uniform could prove highly entertaining.


Eye of the Tiger: The Strange Case of Daniel Wu, Congressman and Nut Job

This clown is more trustworthy than Wu.
 Oregon.  Known for haven for Califorians, highbrow Shakespeare festivals, the filming of Kindergarten Cop and a city with a ton of strip clubs.  Now it has something else to add to its fame: a nut-ass Congressman.

David Wu.  Democrat.  Oregon's finest.  He makes Lindsay Lohan look coherent.  He's the reason I love politicians. 

Confrontations with his staff.  Bizarre speeches.  Interventions.  Strange e-mails sent to his staff either from his children or from Wu posing as his children.  E-mails sent with a picture of Wu dressed as a tiger.

No shit.  If you acted like this at your job, you'd be fired ... or promoted to management.  You wouldn't get re-elected.  Wu did, though.

Wu's staff tried to get him help.  Whether they were concerned or had visions of the campaign going down in flames is really neither here nor there.  One member was quoted as saying the only thing worse than losing would be winning.  You can almost see the hand wringing and the misty eyes.

An e-mail sent to Wu's staff at 1:38 a.m. had the subject line "wasted."  It was supposedly sent by Wu's son.  It read, “My Dad said you said he was wasted Wednesday night after just three sips of wine. It’s just that he hasn’t had a drink since July 1. Cut him some slack, man. What he does when he’s wasted is send emails, not harass people he works with. He works SO hard for you … Cut the dude some slack, man. Just kidding.”

5150? Cosplay nerd? Congressman? Your guess is as good as mine.
 If this was Wu's son, Wu, Jr. is just as shithouse batty as his old man.  Note, this e-mail arrived minutes after another e-mail landed in staffers' inboxes -- this one apparently from Wu's daughter!  Who does that?  The guy who dresses like a tiger, that's who.  (Yes, that is Wu above.)

In Star Wars Ben Kenobi asks Han Solo who the bigger fool is.  The fool or the man who follows him?  I would ask: Is it the fool or the people who elect him?  Oregon: This guy represents you!  He's playing hide and seek with your tax dollars (when he's not sipping wine and making fart noises into a microphone, that is).  Was it a pity vote?  Were you that unaware?  I can see not knowing about the e-mails and Tigerman get-up, but apparently his behavior was well-known.  And you still handed him the keys to the public policy.  Gotta love it.  No wonder people from a state that elected two sucky ex-actor governors love spending dough and driving badly in your state.  It's like we were made for each other.  Hell, if Wu came from CA I could actually accept his behavior.  (Eureka, my city, gave Larry Glass a seat on the city council.  He's no Wu, but fuck ...)

Wu has sought medical help, which is par for the course.  He has blamed the stress of the campaign, the death of his father and raising two kids (who apparently love sending out e-mails to his staff at all hours of the morning, those scamps) solo on his behavior.  He did not blame wine or toxins caused by his Tony the Tiger get-up, however.  Whatever the reason, be it campaign stress, raising two e-mail happy kids by himself or a bad batch of Peruvian blow, Wu has got problems that need addressing.  He could be voting on healthcare or on whether or not we should be invading some Middle East country that just got VHS players.  I don't want his kids (or him pretending to be his kids) sending some dictator an e-mail saying something like, "dude we are so gonna blow your ass back to dinosaur times.  that's not the wine talking.  that's good old American kick assness.  the attached file is a picture of me dressed as natalie portman in black swan.  i want it to be the last thing you see before you suck down a nuke.  later dude."

Thank you, Oregon.  I guess we should all just be thankful David Duke wasn't running in your state.


Let Chaos Be Your Calling Card

Some random thoughts to brighten your day.  (I'm in a "mood."  My back hurts.)

I've been thinking of shaving my mustache like Michael Jordan and Hitler's.  Hitler obviously ruined it, and Jordan brought it back.  It's a look that worked for both of them.  Now, I have no basketball skills, and I have nothing against Jewish people, but I'm still slightly afraid people will take it the wrong way. 

People in Humboldt County are really upset about the PG&E SmartMeters that are being installed.  These SmartMeters transmit your energy info through the air via magic to PG&E voodoo houses for billing purposes and, if you are to believe some people, mind reading.  If people are that upset they need to leave dangerous animals around their meters or steal PG&E trucks and dump them in a river somewhere.  Non-violent protest only gets you somewhere in Egypt.  These days, you have to hit people over the head with a hammer to get your point across.  To be clear: They only understand violence or the loss of money.  Protest is quaint like the doillies your grandmother still uses.  It's so Sixties.

Never underestimate the power of a well-placed Out of Order sign.  Especially if something is not broken.

Also never underestimate the power of a good prank.  Not only can they change reality and expose the naked emperor, they're just plain fun.  I've pulled off many, and I've got another big one brewing.  It feels good.  Kind of like when you first discover masturbation ... only it never gets old!

Next time you see one of those people who has a funny, pro-shopping key chain or bumper sticker (like the kind that says something like, "Hold me back!  I'm going shopping!" or "Addicted to Shopping") point it out and happily say, "My God, it's like you're sexually assaulting the mall."  Let that image be associated with their novelty sayings for the rest of their lives.  Always smile when you say it, though.  Everyone loves a smile.

Not everyone loves a clown ... in makeup.

Calling people's sexuality into question in a positive way, especially if you are claiming the opposite of what he/she is (i.e., you're a guy and say this of a fellow male, "He's awesome.  He really likes to hug a lot.  I like it.  It's nice.  You don't get many men expressing their feelings this way anymore."), often times shows your foils for who they really are.  Especially if they are homophobic but are afraid to admit it in these PC times.  Homophobia is ridiculous, like buying coffee by the cup every morning or thinking Taco Bell uses real beef.

The Sex Pistols taught me a lot.  They asked concert goers if they ever felt cheated (who hasn't?), and they claimed to be the poison in the human machine.  Words to live by.


The Soft Spoken Lies of a Psychopath

Working on the manuscript the past few days (not as non-stop as I'd like, but more than I've been doing) has been a lot like getting a glass of water after wandering the desert for three days.  Refreshing and a little overwhelming.  I'm on the symbolic and literal chapter 13, and I realize I've written more pages are in the last book I read (Doctor Who and the Day of the Daleks for those keeping score at home). 

I'm getting to a point where I lost the original manuscript, and things are definitely going south for the characters.  It is screwing with me less on a mental stage this time around, and a lot of the nastiness is at such a ... wet... level due to the stress at my job.  Writing it is as much a relief as it is a foundation, and I'm finding myself enjoying it more this time around.  I realize that getting it published is as long a shot as they come, but self-publishing has not been ruled out for it or any of the other manuscripts I have floating about.  It will cut out the middleman, and I can negotiate things on my own terms that way.  Ideal?  No.  This manuscript, however, may dictate it.  The marriage of sex and violence done in such an unapologetic way may leave even the most jaded publisher a bit cold, I imagine.  (And while the manuscript is not porno by any stretch of the imagination, the porno publishers would never touch it in a million years due to the subject matter.)

So where does that leave me?  Fired the hell up, that's where.  And now, as I get ready to go to the insanity that I find myself consigned to for the time being, I can't help but think that the end result of this manuscript and the drive to make the blogs succeed financially will be beneficial in almost every way possible in the end.  Dreams of a mountain compound away from all but whom I want to be around and the knowledge that future is not only seizable but conquerable keep me sane.

Of course, I could be wrong ... but I would never dream of going off course as that is the ultimate kiss of death.


Love You With a Razor

It should be a good week when both Enter the Void and The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest (American version to star Owen Wilson!) show up at your bidding.  That was tempered, however, by a stressful week otherwise that has me digging up all kinds of old editors and trying to figure out how to make a blog generate a few thousand a month in income.  Not an easy task because I'm not writing about HDTVs or foreclosures. 

I've even considered taking those two Amazon Shorts, which I now have the rights to again, and making them e-content for the Kindle.  The only problem is, I would never use a Kindle or any other e-reader, so why would I expect others to use it to read my stuff instead of pushing it in print form.  A bit of popular advice is that if you are going to buy stock, buy it in something you use.  I think the exact opposite is true, too.  Don't put stock in something you don't use.  I don't use an e-reader, so I'm not making something exclusive to that.

There are, of course, other options.  There always are.  I'm not ready to go those routes yet, as they are not the backup plans I want to engage.  Self-publishing is still in the picture, too, but I'm still not sure that is the way to go.

With the editorial change at the North Coast Journal I wonder if there is a bigger place there for me.  The article I did on Willow Creek paid well.  I've been told it is looking for more critics, too, so that may be an avenue worth pursuing if only for potboilers.

Seeing old friends tonight and this weekend may inspire me to step up the game a bit more, too.  I feel like I haven't been devoting as much time to this plan as I should be, but stepping it up as I have been has been a good step in the right direction.  If anyone has any good ideas, I'm more than happy to hear them.  Writing jobs, publishers, affiliates (not AdSense, as my account for this blog is yanked for good), or anything else, I'm open to it.  I've written for plenty of magazines in my time -- some good (Tattoo Savage), some not so good (UFO).  It's not always my favorite type of writing work, but it's a check and exposure.  Savage and Film Threat opened a lot of doors. Now I need to open some more ... especially if I want this current manuscript published.  Man, that one is going to be a hard sell ... at least in America.