I've come to realize that the young adult years are to the mind and spirit what puberty is to the body. We're learning and changing so fast, and if we're doing it right, it's every bit as confusing and painful as the physical changes of adolescence. Perhaps moreso, because we are able to understand more.
This summer, having nothing better to do, I've decided to devote my free time to learning as much as I can: studying a foreign language, reading up on history, following current events, reading the great novels, keeping up with blogs that open my eyes to injustices in the world. All of this learning is exciting and fun and wonderful, but it's also painful. The things I've learned have shown me how much evil there is in the world. Of course I knew there was - I've always known it - but what hurts is the realization that evil doesn't live in some faraway place. It can't be pinned down, as Americans like to believe it can, to a specific group of people. Evil isn't only a substance that exists concentrated within the hearts of Nazis, communists, terrorists, or whatever organization is responsible for the greatest injustices at the time. We can't bomb a country and make evil go away - indeed, in doing so we become the evil ourselves. I can see why it is very tempting to view the world that way, because it makes it much less frightening. But the fact is, evil is not a tangible thing that some people have and some people don't. It is merely the cumulative result of unwise choices - something any human is capable of. And it follows that the less wisdom we have, the more capable of evil we become, no matter what our heart's intentions may be.
In our culture today we're being constantly bombarded and distracted with information, usually the wrong information. The right information - the knowledge that enriches you, opens your eyes, makes you a better person - is undoubtedly out there, but it requires you to actively seek it. Meanwhile all the wrong information - the messages that distract, delude, or damage you - are in your face at every turn. And it's a constant and often losing battle not to get sucked into that. But it also seems to be a battle that most people have given up on, if they ever started. Most people, and it seems Americans in particular, are too busy with their Hollywood news, their American Idol, their Guitar Hero and 4Chan and - yes, dammit - MySpace, to focus on anything else in the world. Often people think real information, and the process of obtaining it, are "boring". Some feel, as I used to, that if they read the news they'd be crushed by the weight of the world. And being informed does hurt, but in the same breath it brings relief. Terrible things, brought into the light, are less frightening than the looming, hooded figure of a monster you cannot see. Fear of naming a thing increases fear of the thing itself, and the same goes for fear of looking at a thing.
And still it is frightening. It's frightening to realize that many people who seem good and decent on the surface believe deep down that Americans, white people, Christians, men, heterosexuals, thin people, or any other dominant group are superior to people who are not part of that group. It's frightening to realize that everyday actions, carried out with the utmost innocence and often with deliberate goodwill, can put the entire viability of our planet in danger. It's frightening to realize that our schools, often despite the best intentions of wonderfully skilled teachers, are being run in a way that produces not responsible, free-thinking, creative citizens of the world, but unthinking workers and obedient little consumers. And it's incredibly frightening to realize the way in which advertising, consumerism, and general ignorance are undermining the confidence of almost everyone and driving them to focus more and more on themselves, to the point where anxiety about not being "good enough" virtually robs us of the ability to see beyond ourselves. I wouldn't go so far as to call all of this a conspiracy, but I will say that the more we allow ourselves to be distracted by things that do not ultimately matter, and the more we allow other people to tell us what to think and feel, the easier it is for things to happen behind our backs that we would have fought to the death to prevent if they happened in front of our faces.
Please note that I am placing no blame here, I am pointing no fingers. I am as guilty of turning my head as anyone else, and I still have no idea what my own role in solving any of the world's problems may be. But in choosing to learn about the world, I have swallowed the red pill. I've turned from the shadows on the cave wall and begun to stumble, slowly and squinting, toward the light. It's at once frightening and liberating, but it the choice that gives me the most power over my own life, and that, I feel, is worth any heartache and disillusionment I may feel along the way. I invite you, if any of this post has spoken to you, to make the same choice. Swallow the red pill. You won't be in it alone.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Why I am a liberal
Forgive me if this wanders off the point. I know I have something important to say, but I am not entirely sure what shape it is going to take.
I've been reading, recently, about homeschooling. Specifically a few Catholic homeschool blogs, which I stumbled upon because their educational philosophies resonated with mine. I quickly noticed that a large proportion of homeschoolers seem to be Catholic, and was curious to see if there are homeschool groups for my own faith, which is Unitarian-Universalism. Upon Googling, I found very little information, some of which disturbed me.
I found a general attitude of rebellion, of "we're not like those homeschoolers - we don't teach faith! We teach science! Banish those other fools!" One that particularly bothered me was an article by a UU who asserted that the majority of homeschoolers are fundamentalist Christians - an assertion he quickly withdrew after receiving comments from a large number of liberal homeschoolers. But his apology letter bothered me, because it still had a tone of painting conservative homeschoolers as a dragon that needs to be slain.
I was upset and embarrassed that this man was representing my faith. I became a UU because I believe in the equality of all people, and the right of all people to choose their own personal spiritual paths, or to choose no spiritual path. This man, along with many others who call themselves liberals, is espousing exactly the kind of attitude I sought refuge from when I came to the UU church: the attitude that says "My way is right! My faith is right! Yours is bad and wrong!" This attitude has caused untold amounts of unnecessary struggle in the world, ranging from trivial internet arguments to massive-scale, bloody wars, including many of those that are happening right now. This does not strike me as the attitude of a true liberal - at least not as I define the word.
I am, admittedly, on the more moderate side of liberal, in terms of my own personal beliefs. I believe in a higher power (though NOT a sectarian one, who is God only to a particular group of people), I believe society should be much more focused on the wellbeing of children than it currently is, I would never have an abortion, I strongly dislike the mainstream media, and I refuse to yield to the stereotype that America is full of backward hicks and places like Europe are inherently superior. (And regardless, comparing one single country to an entire continent is absurdly unfair, however large or powerful that country may be. Europe is an incredibly diverse place, and many of its nations have very little in common with one another.) I am staunchly in favor of gay marriage and gay adoption, but this is because I place a high value on family - I feel that people who wish to build a stable family should be able to do so, regardless of their orientation. More people focusing on marriage and their children is a good thing, period. And yes, dammit, I even believe in intelligent design. (Please do not comment here and tell me this is a "pseudo-science" - I don't believe in it as a science, I believe in it as a belief.)
Furthermore, I do not see eye to eye with many people who fit the negative stereotypes of a "liberal". I'm bothered by promiscuity and oversexualization, drug abuse, outward rudeness, people who hate children, and genuine apathy and laziness (though I am careful not to confuse lack of employment with laziness - many people do quite a bit of work but make no income in the process, and many other people would like to work but are unable). I'm bothered by people who shout obscenities in public when children may be near (for example, in the housewares department of Walmart at 7:30 on a Saturday night).
By this description, I don't sound particularly liberal. Why, then, do I insist on identifying myself as a liberal rather than a moderate? Two main reasons:
1. I believe that every society has a responsibility to take care of its most vulnerable members.
This means innocent children and little old ladies, true. But it also means members of minority groups: people with disabilities, ethnic and religious minorities, LGBT people, non-English speakers, people who are homeless or institutionalized (including criminals and addicts, and especially including the mentally ill), displaced homemakers, people who get beat up on the playground, and what have you. Those of us who are higher on the societal food chain (and there will always be such a food chain, regardless of which party is in office) have a responsibility to help out those who have weights keeping them from climbing any higher. This includes welfare and universal healthcare, but more importantly it includes basic respect and courtesy toward other human beings because they are human.
2. I believe that everyone has a right to believe and do whatever they damn well please, provided they are not interfering with another person's right to do the same.
This means, in simplistic terms, that you have a right to drink yourself into a stupor every night, but you do not have a right to beat your wife after doing so. You have a right to ride your skateboard all over public sidewalks, provided you are not impeding other people from walking by. It also means that you have a right to tell my child* all about your religious beliefs, but you do not have a right to coerce her into believing them by telling her she is going to hell. You have a right to believe that gays are wrong and immoral and that God hates me, but you do not have a right to prevent me from loving who I please. You have a right to disagree with me on any given subject, but I have an equal right to reject your arguments as total horseshit. It's a simple philosophy, but it takes a certain level of awareness to truly know whether you might be impeding on another person's right. Simply adhering to common courtesy is generally a safe bet.
One of the things that I found alarming in the UU homeschool circles was the downright outrage that some religious homeschool families are teaching their children creationism. Now, I understand why there is such an uproar over the creationism vs. evolution debate in public schools, but why this would be offensive in a homeschool setting, where parents are teaching only their own children, is beyond me. I am not against you teaching creationism to your children. I am against you teaching creationism to MY children. I do believe that people should be made aware of the theory of evolution, but they are free to decide for themselves whether they feel it is accurate. I understand the desire not to have public schools telling your children something that, by some definitions, negates the belief in God. I understand this because I think school should be a religiously neutral setting - one that endorses no particular religion and does not prefer students of any given faith. I do not feel that school should be a place where individual religious and cultural beliefs are trampled or ignored; to believe this would go against my own conscience, as well as all of my teacher training. But this is precisely why I do not want religion to be taught in public school. You cannot teach any one religion without negating many others.
Homeschool is different. The very idea behind homeschool is that a family should be able to impart their own values in their children, to follow their own educational philosophy, and to escape from problems that public school may cause their particular child. I am not here to argue about curriculum standards - that's another matter entirely. Certainly there need to be standards for what children are required to learn. But here is the rub: In my personal opinion, evolution is not high on the priority list for a well-rounded education. I care that your child and my child and every child come out of school with full literacy and the ability to express themselves (via means other than txt msgs 2 there bff jill), with the ability to perform calculations of various types, with knowledge of historical events that took place before they were born, and with an understanding of how nature works, regardless of why it does. I want them to understand that there are people outside of their own community and experiences and that those people have basic human rights and valid things to say. And I want them to have the basic life skills required to get a job or do anything else productive in society. And quite frankly, I feel, as do many people, that modern public schools are not accomplishing these things. If your Catholic homeschool on a farm in Nebraska can accomplish these things, you can teach all the creationism you please and I will still be jumping for joy.
I am saddened by the divisiveness in this country. I choose to be a liberal because I feel, in today's political climate, that it is the more enlightened choice, the choice that places value on the rights of everyone. I am saddened to see that there are those on my team who are not on my side. I would like, ideally, not to see either team "win", but for all people to come together with mutual respect for each other. At least this disappointment has brought me a tiny bit closer to that goal, as I have gained a new respect for the opposing team without sacrificing my own beliefs. But I am still very disheartened that there are people espousing the same political and religious views that I claim, while holding the same attitudes that I'm hoping to fight.
In the famous words attributed to Voltaire (which were actually a summary of his beliefs, as stated by others, but still useful no matter the source): I may not agree with what you say, but I will fight to the death to protect your right to say it.
America is not a sporting event. Please, let's stop treating it like one.
*I should, for the sake of accuracy, clarify that I do not actually have a child. I'm speaking hypothetically, based on what I think I will want for my children when I do have them.
I've been reading, recently, about homeschooling. Specifically a few Catholic homeschool blogs, which I stumbled upon because their educational philosophies resonated with mine. I quickly noticed that a large proportion of homeschoolers seem to be Catholic, and was curious to see if there are homeschool groups for my own faith, which is Unitarian-Universalism. Upon Googling, I found very little information, some of which disturbed me.
I found a general attitude of rebellion, of "we're not like those homeschoolers - we don't teach faith! We teach science! Banish those other fools!" One that particularly bothered me was an article by a UU who asserted that the majority of homeschoolers are fundamentalist Christians - an assertion he quickly withdrew after receiving comments from a large number of liberal homeschoolers. But his apology letter bothered me, because it still had a tone of painting conservative homeschoolers as a dragon that needs to be slain.
I was upset and embarrassed that this man was representing my faith. I became a UU because I believe in the equality of all people, and the right of all people to choose their own personal spiritual paths, or to choose no spiritual path. This man, along with many others who call themselves liberals, is espousing exactly the kind of attitude I sought refuge from when I came to the UU church: the attitude that says "My way is right! My faith is right! Yours is bad and wrong!" This attitude has caused untold amounts of unnecessary struggle in the world, ranging from trivial internet arguments to massive-scale, bloody wars, including many of those that are happening right now. This does not strike me as the attitude of a true liberal - at least not as I define the word.
I am, admittedly, on the more moderate side of liberal, in terms of my own personal beliefs. I believe in a higher power (though NOT a sectarian one, who is God only to a particular group of people), I believe society should be much more focused on the wellbeing of children than it currently is, I would never have an abortion, I strongly dislike the mainstream media, and I refuse to yield to the stereotype that America is full of backward hicks and places like Europe are inherently superior. (And regardless, comparing one single country to an entire continent is absurdly unfair, however large or powerful that country may be. Europe is an incredibly diverse place, and many of its nations have very little in common with one another.) I am staunchly in favor of gay marriage and gay adoption, but this is because I place a high value on family - I feel that people who wish to build a stable family should be able to do so, regardless of their orientation. More people focusing on marriage and their children is a good thing, period. And yes, dammit, I even believe in intelligent design. (Please do not comment here and tell me this is a "pseudo-science" - I don't believe in it as a science, I believe in it as a belief.)
Furthermore, I do not see eye to eye with many people who fit the negative stereotypes of a "liberal". I'm bothered by promiscuity and oversexualization, drug abuse, outward rudeness, people who hate children, and genuine apathy and laziness (though I am careful not to confuse lack of employment with laziness - many people do quite a bit of work but make no income in the process, and many other people would like to work but are unable). I'm bothered by people who shout obscenities in public when children may be near (for example, in the housewares department of Walmart at 7:30 on a Saturday night).
By this description, I don't sound particularly liberal. Why, then, do I insist on identifying myself as a liberal rather than a moderate? Two main reasons:
1. I believe that every society has a responsibility to take care of its most vulnerable members.
This means innocent children and little old ladies, true. But it also means members of minority groups: people with disabilities, ethnic and religious minorities, LGBT people, non-English speakers, people who are homeless or institutionalized (including criminals and addicts, and especially including the mentally ill), displaced homemakers, people who get beat up on the playground, and what have you. Those of us who are higher on the societal food chain (and there will always be such a food chain, regardless of which party is in office) have a responsibility to help out those who have weights keeping them from climbing any higher. This includes welfare and universal healthcare, but more importantly it includes basic respect and courtesy toward other human beings because they are human.
2. I believe that everyone has a right to believe and do whatever they damn well please, provided they are not interfering with another person's right to do the same.
This means, in simplistic terms, that you have a right to drink yourself into a stupor every night, but you do not have a right to beat your wife after doing so. You have a right to ride your skateboard all over public sidewalks, provided you are not impeding other people from walking by. It also means that you have a right to tell my child* all about your religious beliefs, but you do not have a right to coerce her into believing them by telling her she is going to hell. You have a right to believe that gays are wrong and immoral and that God hates me, but you do not have a right to prevent me from loving who I please. You have a right to disagree with me on any given subject, but I have an equal right to reject your arguments as total horseshit. It's a simple philosophy, but it takes a certain level of awareness to truly know whether you might be impeding on another person's right. Simply adhering to common courtesy is generally a safe bet.
One of the things that I found alarming in the UU homeschool circles was the downright outrage that some religious homeschool families are teaching their children creationism. Now, I understand why there is such an uproar over the creationism vs. evolution debate in public schools, but why this would be offensive in a homeschool setting, where parents are teaching only their own children, is beyond me. I am not against you teaching creationism to your children. I am against you teaching creationism to MY children. I do believe that people should be made aware of the theory of evolution, but they are free to decide for themselves whether they feel it is accurate. I understand the desire not to have public schools telling your children something that, by some definitions, negates the belief in God. I understand this because I think school should be a religiously neutral setting - one that endorses no particular religion and does not prefer students of any given faith. I do not feel that school should be a place where individual religious and cultural beliefs are trampled or ignored; to believe this would go against my own conscience, as well as all of my teacher training. But this is precisely why I do not want religion to be taught in public school. You cannot teach any one religion without negating many others.
Homeschool is different. The very idea behind homeschool is that a family should be able to impart their own values in their children, to follow their own educational philosophy, and to escape from problems that public school may cause their particular child. I am not here to argue about curriculum standards - that's another matter entirely. Certainly there need to be standards for what children are required to learn. But here is the rub: In my personal opinion, evolution is not high on the priority list for a well-rounded education. I care that your child and my child and every child come out of school with full literacy and the ability to express themselves (via means other than txt msgs 2 there bff jill), with the ability to perform calculations of various types, with knowledge of historical events that took place before they were born, and with an understanding of how nature works, regardless of why it does. I want them to understand that there are people outside of their own community and experiences and that those people have basic human rights and valid things to say. And I want them to have the basic life skills required to get a job or do anything else productive in society. And quite frankly, I feel, as do many people, that modern public schools are not accomplishing these things. If your Catholic homeschool on a farm in Nebraska can accomplish these things, you can teach all the creationism you please and I will still be jumping for joy.
I am saddened by the divisiveness in this country. I choose to be a liberal because I feel, in today's political climate, that it is the more enlightened choice, the choice that places value on the rights of everyone. I am saddened to see that there are those on my team who are not on my side. I would like, ideally, not to see either team "win", but for all people to come together with mutual respect for each other. At least this disappointment has brought me a tiny bit closer to that goal, as I have gained a new respect for the opposing team without sacrificing my own beliefs. But I am still very disheartened that there are people espousing the same political and religious views that I claim, while holding the same attitudes that I'm hoping to fight.
In the famous words attributed to Voltaire (which were actually a summary of his beliefs, as stated by others, but still useful no matter the source): I may not agree with what you say, but I will fight to the death to protect your right to say it.
America is not a sporting event. Please, let's stop treating it like one.
*I should, for the sake of accuracy, clarify that I do not actually have a child. I'm speaking hypothetically, based on what I think I will want for my children when I do have them.
Friday, February 1, 2008
My closet: The final frontier
Most people dread cleaning out storage areas. It's an annoying chore, especially since these tend to be the places where we throw things we have no clue what to do with. This was certainly true in this case. However, digging through all the ugly shirts my ex left behind and all the random boxes I saved for unclear reasons, I found a lot of stuff I forgot I had. Much of it is really awesome, or at least really amusing. Here are the top 10 most interesting things I found in my closet.
#10: Photomosaic Tiger Puzzle!
#4: Hilarious Emo Song Lyrics!
This is something I totally forgot I had, and for good reason: I hate puzzles. I've hated puzzles ever since I was a kid, for no other reason than I just plain suck at them. The only puzzle I could get into was my kickass TMNT puzzle that showed the inside of the Technodrome, and that was only because my love of Krang was more powerful than my puzzle hatred.
As an adult, I have literally sat on a carpet with a bunch of six year old special ed students, furrowing my brow as we struggled together to try and assemble a 24-piece dinosaur floor puzzle. Usually they figured it out before me. My problem with jigsaw puzzles is mainly that I tend to look at the colors rather than the shapes, because shapes are not my forte. For the same reason, I've always preferred painting over drawing, since with paint you can sort of blob on some color and smear it around until it looks vaguely like a tree, or the Virgin Mary, or your Aunt Martha's psychotic poodle.
For someone who is bad with shapes, Photomosaic puzzles are like a punishment from the 9th circle of Hell. Basically, they're a bajillion tiny pictures that combine to form one larger picture. As art, they're brilliant, and fascinating to look at. As puzzles, they're pure, undiluted evil. Each individual puzzle piece contains several different pictures, meaning you cannot use color to tell where they go. You can't even refer to the box, since every piece looks exactly the goddamn same. These things make me flip out ninja style.
So, why on earth would someone who loathes puzzles buy one of these in the first place? I blame the zoo. See, every time I go to the zoo, I go with one thing on my mind: TIGERS. I've always been fascinated by tigers. They look so loveable and cuddly, yet they will eat your fucking face off. This makes them equally appealing to boys, girls, furries, and fans of homoerotic magic shows alike. The problem is, our zoo rarely has tigers around. For years it lacked tiger awesomeness entirely, until one day they made a big announcement: They had white tigers. White tigers are the cream of the crop when it comes to felines, so of course this was a major event. Major events meant being able to talk my mom into getting me things from gift shops, and that's how this puzzle came into my life. Maybe one day I'll actually sit down and work on it for like ten minutes before my cats jump on the dining table and knock the pieces all over the floor.
As a bonus, when I opened the box, I found these doodles I did of eyes in random different colors. I have no more insight than you do as to why I would have drawn a bunch of eyes and tucked the result into a puzzle box. In fact, you probably have more insight into this than I do. Share your insight with me.
#8: Evil Pig Statues!As an adult, I have literally sat on a carpet with a bunch of six year old special ed students, furrowing my brow as we struggled together to try and assemble a 24-piece dinosaur floor puzzle. Usually they figured it out before me. My problem with jigsaw puzzles is mainly that I tend to look at the colors rather than the shapes, because shapes are not my forte. For the same reason, I've always preferred painting over drawing, since with paint you can sort of blob on some color and smear it around until it looks vaguely like a tree, or the Virgin Mary, or your Aunt Martha's psychotic poodle.
For someone who is bad with shapes, Photomosaic puzzles are like a punishment from the 9th circle of Hell. Basically, they're a bajillion tiny pictures that combine to form one larger picture. As art, they're brilliant, and fascinating to look at. As puzzles, they're pure, undiluted evil. Each individual puzzle piece contains several different pictures, meaning you cannot use color to tell where they go. You can't even refer to the box, since every piece looks exactly the goddamn same. These things make me flip out ninja style.
So, why on earth would someone who loathes puzzles buy one of these in the first place? I blame the zoo. See, every time I go to the zoo, I go with one thing on my mind: TIGERS. I've always been fascinated by tigers. They look so loveable and cuddly, yet they will eat your fucking face off. This makes them equally appealing to boys, girls, furries, and fans of homoerotic magic shows alike. The problem is, our zoo rarely has tigers around. For years it lacked tiger awesomeness entirely, until one day they made a big announcement: They had white tigers. White tigers are the cream of the crop when it comes to felines, so of course this was a major event. Major events meant being able to talk my mom into getting me things from gift shops, and that's how this puzzle came into my life. Maybe one day I'll actually sit down and work on it for like ten minutes before my cats jump on the dining table and knock the pieces all over the floor.
As a bonus, when I opened the box, I found these doodles I did of eyes in random different colors. I have no more insight than you do as to why I would have drawn a bunch of eyes and tucked the result into a puzzle box. In fact, you probably have more insight into this than I do. Share your insight with me.
#9: Naked Baby Alive Doll!
Why is it that when we discover our old dolls lying around the house, they're always naked? Baby Alive is an odd shape and size, so I can't think of any other pressing use I would have had for her clothes. Maybe little girls just go through a phase where they like stripping the clothes off their dolls, perhaps around the same time they start chopping their poor Barbies' hair into hideous mullets.
In case you're not familiar with Baby Alive, her claim to fame is being the nastiest doll around. Move over, Betsy Wetsy. Baby Alive does your work and then some: She pees and poops. Even better, she poops runny green diarrhea, because runny green diarrhea is what you feed her. Clearly this is designed to provide a lesson in realistic childcare: babies shit all the goddamn time, and it's not nice round droppings like the ones your dog plops out. More clever kids than I probably drew the ultimate, awesome conclusion that you could force the doll to eat her own poop. I wish I'd been that clever, because that's the best use for a baby doll ever.
What I remember most about Baby Alive was the weird little food packets. She came with these little individual pouches of weird powdery mix. Add water, and you get her delicious diarrhea food. The sad thing was the stuff actually smelled pretty good. I always wanted to eat it myself, but I knew I mustn't. This watery goo had a purpose in life, and that purpose was to drip slowly through a plastic doll and leak out of her crotch. Baby Alive needs to get that fistula checked out.
The dolls have recently made a comeback. I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it's nice to see that kids are still playing with dolls that highlight the grosser side of parenting. On the other hand, the new dolls creep me the hell out. Either way, Baby Alive is gonna be sticking around for awhile, making poop that is indistinguishable from her food.
In case you're not familiar with Baby Alive, her claim to fame is being the nastiest doll around. Move over, Betsy Wetsy. Baby Alive does your work and then some: She pees and poops. Even better, she poops runny green diarrhea, because runny green diarrhea is what you feed her. Clearly this is designed to provide a lesson in realistic childcare: babies shit all the goddamn time, and it's not nice round droppings like the ones your dog plops out. More clever kids than I probably drew the ultimate, awesome conclusion that you could force the doll to eat her own poop. I wish I'd been that clever, because that's the best use for a baby doll ever.
What I remember most about Baby Alive was the weird little food packets. She came with these little individual pouches of weird powdery mix. Add water, and you get her delicious diarrhea food. The sad thing was the stuff actually smelled pretty good. I always wanted to eat it myself, but I knew I mustn't. This watery goo had a purpose in life, and that purpose was to drip slowly through a plastic doll and leak out of her crotch. Baby Alive needs to get that fistula checked out.
The dolls have recently made a comeback. I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it's nice to see that kids are still playing with dolls that highlight the grosser side of parenting. On the other hand, the new dolls creep me the hell out. Either way, Baby Alive is gonna be sticking around for awhile, making poop that is indistinguishable from her food.
It wouldn't be a true closet-cleaning experience without unearthing some bizarre, creepy piece of kitsch. These alarming pig statues fill that quota nicely. Given to me by a coworker who was cleaning out her closet, they were originally intended to be passed on to someone else. It was like a neverending game of Pass the Pigs, except without the potential for making softcore pig dice porn.
See, when I was in high school, I had a close friend who collected pig-related items. The unfortunate fate of anyone who collects something easy to find is that when word gets around of their hobby, they never get a normal gift again for the rest of their natural lives. Never, ever again. If you collect pigs, you can kiss your bath sets and pre-mixed jar recipes goodbye, because every gift you ever get will be pig-related. If, on the other hand, you collect antique Mexican cookware, you'll keep getting the same cocoa mugs everyone else gets, but at least those have regifting potential.
So I brought these piggies home with the intention of giving them to my friend, but I never got around to it. I also obviously never got around to actually looking at the damn things, because they're the stuff of nightmares. Now that I've released them from their plastic bag prison, I think the two on the left are going to kill me in my sleep. The third one is less disturbing, a fact verified by the fact that it, and only it, tripped my camera's "face recognition" function. I like to think he's merely a misguided pig youth, persuaded to join the Cult of Evil Swine by Papa Pork and his false promises of wealth and protection. Perhaps the little guy can still be rehabilitated, and give up the danger of the streets for a life as a spoiled exotic pet.
Or perhaps I'll dump them all in the garbage tomorrow, since they creep me out. Fuck, that's gonna be harder to do now that I've personified them. Lesson learned: Never personify pig statues.
See, when I was in high school, I had a close friend who collected pig-related items. The unfortunate fate of anyone who collects something easy to find is that when word gets around of their hobby, they never get a normal gift again for the rest of their natural lives. Never, ever again. If you collect pigs, you can kiss your bath sets and pre-mixed jar recipes goodbye, because every gift you ever get will be pig-related. If, on the other hand, you collect antique Mexican cookware, you'll keep getting the same cocoa mugs everyone else gets, but at least those have regifting potential.
So I brought these piggies home with the intention of giving them to my friend, but I never got around to it. I also obviously never got around to actually looking at the damn things, because they're the stuff of nightmares. Now that I've released them from their plastic bag prison, I think the two on the left are going to kill me in my sleep. The third one is less disturbing, a fact verified by the fact that it, and only it, tripped my camera's "face recognition" function. I like to think he's merely a misguided pig youth, persuaded to join the Cult of Evil Swine by Papa Pork and his false promises of wealth and protection. Perhaps the little guy can still be rehabilitated, and give up the danger of the streets for a life as a spoiled exotic pet.
Or perhaps I'll dump them all in the garbage tomorrow, since they creep me out. Fuck, that's gonna be harder to do now that I've personified them. Lesson learned: Never personify pig statues.
#7: Ancient Roller Skates!
Roller skating is often thought of as a 70s trend, and it's true that during my childhood, rollerblades were a lot more hip. But for some reason, between about 4th and 7th grade, kids still develop an insatiable need to go to skating rinks. This probably stems from the raging hormones of puberty paired with a desire to get the hell away from your parents. Skating rinks are one of the few places that are still considered safe to leave kids alone, with only the supervision of a few greasy college students and maybe the old guy who owns the place. They're also a place where young love tends to blossom, due largely to "couple skates" and the resulting pressure to find someone to hold your hand as you skate along the same oval path, over and over and over.
But the best aspect of skating rinks was undoubtedly lock-ins, special events that caused your parents to become temporarily insane and decide it was acceptable for you, at the tender age of twelve, to stay out all night. Naturally these always turned into a competition for who could stay awake the longest. If you fell asleep, you left yourself open to having all sorts of cruel things drawn on you with highlighter. Nobody wants "I LOVE SCOTT" glowing on their forehead in neon yellow as they fry themselves under a blacklight, especially if Scott was the smelly fat kid who pooped his pants in 5th grade.
I got these skates when I was ten. This turned out to be excellent timing, because that was the age when my feet decided to go on strike and never grow again. These skates are a size 8, which is the same size I wear now. The laces need loosening, but apart from that, they still fit. At some undetermined point in time I attacked them with glitter glue, making them all disco-fabulous with little dots of silver and gold.
Sadly, my local skating rink is gone now. To be honest I was always a terrible skater, and had to suffer the humiliation of losing my balance every time a four-year-old whizzed past me at 80 miles an hour. But it would still be nice to be able to visit there again for the nostalgia. Then again, seeing middle-schoolers engage in the same drama I loved so much when I was their age would probably nauseate me now.
But the best aspect of skating rinks was undoubtedly lock-ins, special events that caused your parents to become temporarily insane and decide it was acceptable for you, at the tender age of twelve, to stay out all night. Naturally these always turned into a competition for who could stay awake the longest. If you fell asleep, you left yourself open to having all sorts of cruel things drawn on you with highlighter. Nobody wants "I LOVE SCOTT" glowing on their forehead in neon yellow as they fry themselves under a blacklight, especially if Scott was the smelly fat kid who pooped his pants in 5th grade.
I got these skates when I was ten. This turned out to be excellent timing, because that was the age when my feet decided to go on strike and never grow again. These skates are a size 8, which is the same size I wear now. The laces need loosening, but apart from that, they still fit. At some undetermined point in time I attacked them with glitter glue, making them all disco-fabulous with little dots of silver and gold.
Sadly, my local skating rink is gone now. To be honest I was always a terrible skater, and had to suffer the humiliation of losing my balance every time a four-year-old whizzed past me at 80 miles an hour. But it would still be nice to be able to visit there again for the nostalgia. Then again, seeing middle-schoolers engage in the same drama I loved so much when I was their age would probably nauseate me now.
#6: Grape Escape!
For as long as I can remember, I've been a board game nut. There are so many different kinds, and as an only child, board games carried the added bonus of instant parental attention. I couldn't play them unless my mom would join me, and she couldn't not join me, because she already shelled out twenty bucks for the damn game, and it would be a waste if I didn't play it every single day until a vital piece went missing or got eaten by a cat.
The first board game I loved was Mouse Trap. Like most kids, I rarely actually played the game, preferring to spend like two hours setting it up and then making the trap go off until it got boring. Of course, Mouse Trap has 47,000 pieces, and it wasn't long before they got lost and it became totally useless. So a few years later when I saw a commercial for Grape Escape, I had to have it.
Even just looking at the box, Grape Escape really feels like a Mouse Trap ripoff, right down to the 800-piece assembly line of doom. But in Grape Escape, you weren't just trying to trap your opponents. In Grape Escape, the stakes are higher: your goal is to maim and kill your enemies. I got this game around third or fourth grade, an age at which kids reach their peak hostility levels and the appeal of senseless violence against peers is at its highest.
Basically, this is how the game works: Your "movers" are grapes that you form out of Play-Doh using an enclosed mold. The game board is an obstacle course filled with various death traps designed to mangle your soft, doughy body. The goal, of course, is to avoid being maimed yourself while simultaneously ensuring the deaths of as many opponents as possible. The myriad ways to die include being stomped by a giant boot, mashed by a roller, sawed in half with a saw, or my personal favorite, snipped in half by a giant pair of scissors.
We never really played the game all that often. It had numerous flaws, the worst being that most of the obstacles were so weakly held together that rather than squeeze the delicious wine out of you, they'd usually just snap off. Also, I can't shake the feeling that I really would've enjoyed this more if I had siblings. Squashing clay grapes is fun no matter who they belong to, but taking your youthful hostilities out on your mom just isn't as cathartic as doing the same to a little brother.
The first board game I loved was Mouse Trap. Like most kids, I rarely actually played the game, preferring to spend like two hours setting it up and then making the trap go off until it got boring. Of course, Mouse Trap has 47,000 pieces, and it wasn't long before they got lost and it became totally useless. So a few years later when I saw a commercial for Grape Escape, I had to have it.
Even just looking at the box, Grape Escape really feels like a Mouse Trap ripoff, right down to the 800-piece assembly line of doom. But in Grape Escape, you weren't just trying to trap your opponents. In Grape Escape, the stakes are higher: your goal is to maim and kill your enemies. I got this game around third or fourth grade, an age at which kids reach their peak hostility levels and the appeal of senseless violence against peers is at its highest.
Basically, this is how the game works: Your "movers" are grapes that you form out of Play-Doh using an enclosed mold. The game board is an obstacle course filled with various death traps designed to mangle your soft, doughy body. The goal, of course, is to avoid being maimed yourself while simultaneously ensuring the deaths of as many opponents as possible. The myriad ways to die include being stomped by a giant boot, mashed by a roller, sawed in half with a saw, or my personal favorite, snipped in half by a giant pair of scissors.
We never really played the game all that often. It had numerous flaws, the worst being that most of the obstacles were so weakly held together that rather than squeeze the delicious wine out of you, they'd usually just snap off. Also, I can't shake the feeling that I really would've enjoyed this more if I had siblings. Squashing clay grapes is fun no matter who they belong to, but taking your youthful hostilities out on your mom just isn't as cathartic as doing the same to a little brother.
#5: Cabbage Patch Kid!
I missed the boat on a lot of the girly toy trends of the 80s. I only had a passing interest in Strawberry Shortcake and Care Bears, and even then I just read the books. I knew nothing of Rainbow Brite. I might have had one or two My Little Ponies, but they also might have been cheap knockoffs, because my childhood was full of those. But Cabbage Patch Kids were another story. I had Cabbage Patch MADNESS. A relative gave me my first CPK, and I was in love. I had some totally awesome Cabbage Patch bedsheets that I used until I was far, far too old for them. Luckily my friends in elementary school were the sort who kept watching Sesame Street until like 6th grade, so it didn't matter much.
This doll wasn't my first Cabbage Patch Kid. My first was a redheaded one that I got when I was about three or four. The doll shown above is actually dressed in her clothes, and I have no idea where her own clothes went. Maybe to the same hell Baby Alive's clothes are burning in. Anyway, this doll was one I begged for when I was in third grade, after my best friend got that awesome one that came with the hair crimper. She always had better toys than me, and I coveted them badly. She had glitter crayons, Quints, Pizza Hut Skipper - pretty much every toy I ever wanted and didn't have. This was the case with the damn slutty Cabbage Patch with her styling products.
Naturally, I didn't get the same doll my friend had, but I did get this doll, who for reasons I don't fully understand, smells like cookies. Even after years at the bottom of my filthy closet. She was my favorite baby doll, and seeing her brings back instant memories of playing house with my friend, who always insisted on being called Isabella. We got in a fight over this every single time, because I thought she should get a new name after being Isabella 17,000 times. I think I got my way one time, and she triumphantly called herself Isabelle instead. I gave up after that.
Incidentally, I have no idea why this doll, who I've arbitrarily decided to call Ruby Tuesday since I never bothered to name her before, has acquired such an eerie facial tan. Probably because my mom chain-smokes and everything in our house turns orange, but I prefer to think it's a result of bad tanning products, because there's a lesson in that.
This doll wasn't my first Cabbage Patch Kid. My first was a redheaded one that I got when I was about three or four. The doll shown above is actually dressed in her clothes, and I have no idea where her own clothes went. Maybe to the same hell Baby Alive's clothes are burning in. Anyway, this doll was one I begged for when I was in third grade, after my best friend got that awesome one that came with the hair crimper. She always had better toys than me, and I coveted them badly. She had glitter crayons, Quints, Pizza Hut Skipper - pretty much every toy I ever wanted and didn't have. This was the case with the damn slutty Cabbage Patch with her styling products.
Naturally, I didn't get the same doll my friend had, but I did get this doll, who for reasons I don't fully understand, smells like cookies. Even after years at the bottom of my filthy closet. She was my favorite baby doll, and seeing her brings back instant memories of playing house with my friend, who always insisted on being called Isabella. We got in a fight over this every single time, because I thought she should get a new name after being Isabella 17,000 times. I think I got my way one time, and she triumphantly called herself Isabelle instead. I gave up after that.
Incidentally, I have no idea why this doll, who I've arbitrarily decided to call Ruby Tuesday since I never bothered to name her before, has acquired such an eerie facial tan. Probably because my mom chain-smokes and everything in our house turns orange, but I prefer to think it's a result of bad tanning products, because there's a lesson in that.
#4: Hilarious Emo Song Lyrics!
When I was about 13, I went through what I suppose you could call an emo phase. But we didn't have emo then, so it was just a goth phase with more whining. Whatever you call it, I had this irritating notion that I was deep and poetic because I wore black nail polish, listened to depressing rock music, and hated "preps".
During this phase, I happened to read a biography of Kurt Cobain, the ultimate idol for depressed teenagers who think they're emotionally deep. At least he was until My Chemical Romance came along. Anyway, the biography mentioned that in one of the houses he lived in as a teenager, he used to scribble song lyrics all over the walls. Oh my god! Talk about DEEP, man! I was starstruck by this, hoping that one day when I got famous, people would examine my childhood home and be floored by how awesome my taste in music was.
Naturally I couldn't write on my bedroom walls, because I had parents. But my parents didn't go in my closet, so I set to work immediately covering the walls with song lyric scribbles that reflected my tormented, deeply philosophical nature. I even dared to write a few of my own original lyrics, because that would be even more impressive when I got famous. (Ironic that reading a biography of Kurt Cobain made me MORE determined to be famous. Guess I didn't read the whole thing.)
Most of the scribbles have since been painted over, but since I was stupid enough to write the ones above with Sharpie, you can still easily read them. I'm disturbed by my incorrect use of "your", as I've always been an excellent speller and wouldn't usually have made such an error, even in 7th grade. Googling the lyrics disturbs me even more though, because apparently they're from a fucking Limp Bizkit song. Oh yes, 13-year-old me. Limp Bizkit. That's sooo deep. Almost as deep as the hole in your bleeding heart.
During this phase, I happened to read a biography of Kurt Cobain, the ultimate idol for depressed teenagers who think they're emotionally deep. At least he was until My Chemical Romance came along. Anyway, the biography mentioned that in one of the houses he lived in as a teenager, he used to scribble song lyrics all over the walls. Oh my god! Talk about DEEP, man! I was starstruck by this, hoping that one day when I got famous, people would examine my childhood home and be floored by how awesome my taste in music was.
Naturally I couldn't write on my bedroom walls, because I had parents. But my parents didn't go in my closet, so I set to work immediately covering the walls with song lyric scribbles that reflected my tormented, deeply philosophical nature. I even dared to write a few of my own original lyrics, because that would be even more impressive when I got famous. (Ironic that reading a biography of Kurt Cobain made me MORE determined to be famous. Guess I didn't read the whole thing.)
Most of the scribbles have since been painted over, but since I was stupid enough to write the ones above with Sharpie, you can still easily read them. I'm disturbed by my incorrect use of "your", as I've always been an excellent speller and wouldn't usually have made such an error, even in 7th grade. Googling the lyrics disturbs me even more though, because apparently they're from a fucking Limp Bizkit song. Oh yes, 13-year-old me. Limp Bizkit. That's sooo deep. Almost as deep as the hole in your bleeding heart.
#3: Vintage Bart Simpson Doll!
Ah, the infamous Bart Simpson doll. I got this for my 5th birthday, which was in late 1990, so The Simpsons was just taking off as a huge craze. Unfortunately, five-year-old girls are rarely into the sort of craze that involves bright yellow people who burp and ride skateboards. Me, I was into another, girlier craze: Quints.
Quints were basically these little sets of five tiny baby dolls, but that wasn't what held my interest. The part I was so nuts about was the fact that all their accessories came in fives too. You had five little connected cribs, five potties, five high chairs, even a little pool with five connected inner tubes. I'm not sure if I was witty enough that I would have asked for five dolls for my fifth birthday, but it would have been more interesting if I had been. More likely I just saw the commercials and wanted the damn dolls. Either way, when my dad called to ask what I wanted for my birthday, I jumped at my chance and practically shouted "QUINTS!!" into the phone. My poor dad had no clue what the hell I was talking about, so my mom had to explain it to him.
I could barely contain myself waiting for that birthday, knowing it was going to be damn special, because my dad was coming over with Quints to satisfy my toy lust at long last. Naturally when it came time to open presents, I grabbed for my dad's first, because it contained the holy, long-awaited, much-anticipated... Bart Simpson doll?? Ohhh fuck. Talk about birthday drama. I don't remember my exact reaction, but I remember that it wasn't very nice and that it made my dad feel like ass on a stick. To put it succinctly: I had a cow, man.
Fortunately, I've since become a huge Simpsons fan, and consider this doll that came out so early in the show's history to be a wonderful collector's item. Or it would be, if he had a shirt and didn't smell funny from being left in a shed for like six years. Either way, I now appreciate my Bart doll a hell of a lot more than I would appreciate a bunch of freaky clone babies who all shit at the same time.
I had literally over 100 dolls of various types when I was a kid, because my mom assumed I was 200% girlier than I actually was, and she just plain liked buying them. I liked dolls, to be sure, but more than the dolls themselves, I loved their little houses and furniture. I'm still obsessed with houses, which in my adult life has naturally translated into an obsession with The Sims. But years before I even knew how to use a computer, I had my Little People house.
This house really has everything you want in a dollhouse. First, it folds open and can be separated into two entirely different houses. The little rooms are easily switched around, there's a little basketball hoop that you can launch a tethered basketball into with a flipper, and best of all, the trash can is a slide. Your suicidal Little People can throw themselves down a hole in the balcony and pop out of the garbage can, with a smelly, rancid new lease on life. There's also a little treehouse which contains yet ANOTHER slide.
One of the original appeals of Little People was that they were tiny and portable. The newer ones are larger, presumably so they present less of a choking hazard. This makes sense given that their target age range still eats their own poop, but it also takes away the charm of having dolls who are basically round pegs. I mean, no matter what kind of design skills you have, there is no way to create a house for the new Little People that allows them to hurl themselves down a garbage chute. For me, that's a dealbreaker.
And now, the absolute best, most awesomely awesome thing I discovered in my closet...
Quints were basically these little sets of five tiny baby dolls, but that wasn't what held my interest. The part I was so nuts about was the fact that all their accessories came in fives too. You had five little connected cribs, five potties, five high chairs, even a little pool with five connected inner tubes. I'm not sure if I was witty enough that I would have asked for five dolls for my fifth birthday, but it would have been more interesting if I had been. More likely I just saw the commercials and wanted the damn dolls. Either way, when my dad called to ask what I wanted for my birthday, I jumped at my chance and practically shouted "QUINTS!!" into the phone. My poor dad had no clue what the hell I was talking about, so my mom had to explain it to him.
I could barely contain myself waiting for that birthday, knowing it was going to be damn special, because my dad was coming over with Quints to satisfy my toy lust at long last. Naturally when it came time to open presents, I grabbed for my dad's first, because it contained the holy, long-awaited, much-anticipated... Bart Simpson doll?? Ohhh fuck. Talk about birthday drama. I don't remember my exact reaction, but I remember that it wasn't very nice and that it made my dad feel like ass on a stick. To put it succinctly: I had a cow, man.
Fortunately, I've since become a huge Simpsons fan, and consider this doll that came out so early in the show's history to be a wonderful collector's item. Or it would be, if he had a shirt and didn't smell funny from being left in a shed for like six years. Either way, I now appreciate my Bart doll a hell of a lot more than I would appreciate a bunch of freaky clone babies who all shit at the same time.
#2: Little People Dollhouse!
I had literally over 100 dolls of various types when I was a kid, because my mom assumed I was 200% girlier than I actually was, and she just plain liked buying them. I liked dolls, to be sure, but more than the dolls themselves, I loved their little houses and furniture. I'm still obsessed with houses, which in my adult life has naturally translated into an obsession with The Sims. But years before I even knew how to use a computer, I had my Little People house.
This house really has everything you want in a dollhouse. First, it folds open and can be separated into two entirely different houses. The little rooms are easily switched around, there's a little basketball hoop that you can launch a tethered basketball into with a flipper, and best of all, the trash can is a slide. Your suicidal Little People can throw themselves down a hole in the balcony and pop out of the garbage can, with a smelly, rancid new lease on life. There's also a little treehouse which contains yet ANOTHER slide.
One of the original appeals of Little People was that they were tiny and portable. The newer ones are larger, presumably so they present less of a choking hazard. This makes sense given that their target age range still eats their own poop, but it also takes away the charm of having dolls who are basically round pegs. I mean, no matter what kind of design skills you have, there is no way to create a house for the new Little People that allows them to hurl themselves down a garbage chute. For me, that's a dealbreaker.
And now, the absolute best, most awesomely awesome thing I discovered in my closet...
#1: A Bunch of 80s Vinyl!!!
Motherfucking jackpot. I'm sure plenty of people have had the experience of cleaning out a neglected attic/garage/bomb shelter and finding a stack of old records. But they're usually not records you particularly wanted to find. Nine times out of ten they're forgotten relics from some long-dead relative, featuring exciting artists like the Ink Spots and the Doodletown Pipers. Since I grew up in the digital age, where everyone has attention deficit disorder and most people don't even listen to an entire song before they get bored and switch the station, I certainly didn't expect to find vinyl in my own closet.
Now, anyone who knows me at all knows I have a total hard-on for the 80s. I know what you're thinking: "Wait a minute. How on earth could you have 80s records and forget about them?" Good question. Apparently I snagged these babies for cheap in an eBay auction, pissed my pants in excitement, realized I didn't own a record player, and tucked them away for safekeeping. To be perfectly honest I thought I might have some vinyl shoved in a closet somewhere, but it was equally likely I had dreamt it, and in either case I had no idea what albums I had. I certainly wouldn't have imagined a selection this awesome.
I squealed pretty loud when I pulled out each of these, but I squealed the loudest for 1999, because I've been on a huge Prince kick lately. The man is seriously underrated as a musician, too often being thought of as another 80s pop trend, when in fact he's a really talented multi-instrumentalist who wrote like half the pop music you've ever heard. Plus he's shorter than me, which is a feat not many men accomplish.
I was also super excited for Like A Virgin. This was the golden age of Madonna, back when she was just slutty, instead of slutty and pretentious. Early Madonna is really great stuff, and was some of the first pop music I heard as a kid. I think my first taste of the generation gap came when I was dancing my ass off to "Material Girl" and my mom started complaining about the lyrics being immoral or some shit. "It's just a song, Mom! Jeez!"
Thriller was made less interesting by the fact that I already own the CD version, which puts me in the awkward position of having to explain to people why I own two copies of a Michael Jackson album. But it's great music, and if you're going to own vinyl from the 80s, you can't do much better than Thriller, which spent years as the undisputed best-selling album of all time. I think it was recently ousted by some piece of crap, but I'm not going to go Googling to verify that. That's partly because I'm lazy, but also partly because deep inside me there's still a four-year-old who gets really excited whenever "Beat It" comes on, and I really don't want to piss her off any further. She's still seething about the new Chipmunks movie.
This set of albums is also notable for the fact that Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Prince were all born the exact same year as my mom. Years of watching Pop-Up Video burned this sort of information into my brain, and now I can't get it out. I'm sure if I ever get Alzheimer's and don't recognize my own children, I will still remember that Pat Benetar used to be an opera singer and Elton John's middle name is Hercules.
Oh, and uh, there's also The Gap Band. They are clearly musicians of some sort and I'm sure their mothers are very proud of them.
Special Bonus: MONEY!Now, anyone who knows me at all knows I have a total hard-on for the 80s. I know what you're thinking: "Wait a minute. How on earth could you have 80s records and forget about them?" Good question. Apparently I snagged these babies for cheap in an eBay auction, pissed my pants in excitement, realized I didn't own a record player, and tucked them away for safekeeping. To be perfectly honest I thought I might have some vinyl shoved in a closet somewhere, but it was equally likely I had dreamt it, and in either case I had no idea what albums I had. I certainly wouldn't have imagined a selection this awesome.
I squealed pretty loud when I pulled out each of these, but I squealed the loudest for 1999, because I've been on a huge Prince kick lately. The man is seriously underrated as a musician, too often being thought of as another 80s pop trend, when in fact he's a really talented multi-instrumentalist who wrote like half the pop music you've ever heard. Plus he's shorter than me, which is a feat not many men accomplish.
I was also super excited for Like A Virgin. This was the golden age of Madonna, back when she was just slutty, instead of slutty and pretentious. Early Madonna is really great stuff, and was some of the first pop music I heard as a kid. I think my first taste of the generation gap came when I was dancing my ass off to "Material Girl" and my mom started complaining about the lyrics being immoral or some shit. "It's just a song, Mom! Jeez!"
Thriller was made less interesting by the fact that I already own the CD version, which puts me in the awkward position of having to explain to people why I own two copies of a Michael Jackson album. But it's great music, and if you're going to own vinyl from the 80s, you can't do much better than Thriller, which spent years as the undisputed best-selling album of all time. I think it was recently ousted by some piece of crap, but I'm not going to go Googling to verify that. That's partly because I'm lazy, but also partly because deep inside me there's still a four-year-old who gets really excited whenever "Beat It" comes on, and I really don't want to piss her off any further. She's still seething about the new Chipmunks movie.
This set of albums is also notable for the fact that Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Prince were all born the exact same year as my mom. Years of watching Pop-Up Video burned this sort of information into my brain, and now I can't get it out. I'm sure if I ever get Alzheimer's and don't recognize my own children, I will still remember that Pat Benetar used to be an opera singer and Elton John's middle name is Hercules.
Oh, and uh, there's also The Gap Band. They are clearly musicians of some sort and I'm sure their mothers are very proud of them.
MONEY! Yes, digging through some old bags, I found a grand total of six dollars. Hey, that'll buy me a cheap lunch, or some cheap liquor. I need to clean more often. Maybe I'm actually rich, and I don't know it. Maybe you are, too. Go clean something, you slob.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Cry more, whitey
My fists clench and quiver with desire to connect with the eye sockets of people who blame their inability to achieve admission to their school of choice because "there was no more room for a white guy like me!"
I don't understand it when people assume they would have been next in line for admission were it not for the 2% of admitted students who are minorities. If you were riding that fine of a line in the first place, blame it on the night you spent eating pizza, drinking beer and watching Bio-dome when you could have gotten a head start on your research paper. You're not going to Clown U instead of Harvard because a black woman got an extra 20 points towards admission satisfaction.
Minority students shouldn't be looked down upon as if they had to receive a hand-out to get into school. That is an issue I have with affirmative action I guess--it causes people who cannot take responsibility for their own shortcomings to shift blame onto others, and it's very easy to scapegoat minorities and assume that any person who is black, Mexican, or a woman, or a combination of these who has a job or a spot in a grad school class is the reason you were unable to do the same.
I guess it's just human nature; the whole nation in general has turned the hispanic community into an all-purpose punching bag. The economy is bad? Blame the illegals! Run your state legislature political campaign on the premise that you will build a bigger, badder electrical fence than the other guy! Any inkling that you have sympathy for these heathens or advocate a position allowing some sort of legal status to be sought by illegals means you are an amnesty-supporting anti-American terrorism-loving trollop!
I don't think anyone denies that the entirety of one nation desiring to leave it and join another by hook or by crook is a huge problem for everyone involved. I still don't think it's fair to characterize illegal immigrants as criminals unless they cross the border to sell drugs and perpetrate crimes, which many do, but they aren't the ones who are easy to catch and enforce regulations against. Because they have money.
Aside from that, I think it's more analogous to a homeless person stealing bread to feed their babies. Technically it's a crime, but I have a hard time hating someone who has broken the law rather than be resigned to a miserable fate. It's come to the point where non-Americans are being viewed as non-human. I don't take issue with someone wanting every immigrant sling-shotted back across the border so much as I take issue with the idea that these people are evil law-breakers like coke dealers and murderers. It is awfully sophomoric to sit in ones ivory tower and pass judgment from on high, condemning the actions of those who are doing something anyone would do in that situation.
Speaking of ivory towers, I have a whole rant on the health insurance debate I'll post at some point. Right now it's time to go.
I don't understand it when people assume they would have been next in line for admission were it not for the 2% of admitted students who are minorities. If you were riding that fine of a line in the first place, blame it on the night you spent eating pizza, drinking beer and watching Bio-dome when you could have gotten a head start on your research paper. You're not going to Clown U instead of Harvard because a black woman got an extra 20 points towards admission satisfaction.
Minority students shouldn't be looked down upon as if they had to receive a hand-out to get into school. That is an issue I have with affirmative action I guess--it causes people who cannot take responsibility for their own shortcomings to shift blame onto others, and it's very easy to scapegoat minorities and assume that any person who is black, Mexican, or a woman, or a combination of these who has a job or a spot in a grad school class is the reason you were unable to do the same.
I guess it's just human nature; the whole nation in general has turned the hispanic community into an all-purpose punching bag. The economy is bad? Blame the illegals! Run your state legislature political campaign on the premise that you will build a bigger, badder electrical fence than the other guy! Any inkling that you have sympathy for these heathens or advocate a position allowing some sort of legal status to be sought by illegals means you are an amnesty-supporting anti-American terrorism-loving trollop!
I don't think anyone denies that the entirety of one nation desiring to leave it and join another by hook or by crook is a huge problem for everyone involved. I still don't think it's fair to characterize illegal immigrants as criminals unless they cross the border to sell drugs and perpetrate crimes, which many do, but they aren't the ones who are easy to catch and enforce regulations against. Because they have money.
Aside from that, I think it's more analogous to a homeless person stealing bread to feed their babies. Technically it's a crime, but I have a hard time hating someone who has broken the law rather than be resigned to a miserable fate. It's come to the point where non-Americans are being viewed as non-human. I don't take issue with someone wanting every immigrant sling-shotted back across the border so much as I take issue with the idea that these people are evil law-breakers like coke dealers and murderers. It is awfully sophomoric to sit in ones ivory tower and pass judgment from on high, condemning the actions of those who are doing something anyone would do in that situation.
Speaking of ivory towers, I have a whole rant on the health insurance debate I'll post at some point. Right now it's time to go.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Anyone but Hillary!
I generally want to rub a herpes-infected pantyliner on the faces of people who say "anyone but Hillary." I'm personally hoping Obama wins; I'm not a huge Clinton fan myself. However, people who would vote for Huckabee, a chimpanzee, or a lukewarm plate of jell-o over Hillary, and then say "it's not because she's a woman" are both idiots and liars.
Well, not exactly liars. Such people claim their opinion has nothing to do with sexism, and they would vote for a woman, "just not Hillary." However, most of these people cannot express a reason for their hatred of Hillary Clinton without making deprecating references to her femininity, or lack thereof. So while such people don't hate her for BEING a woman, they hate her for not being the type of woman they approve of.
It's not an uncommon thing. A woman who is assertive and desires power is seen as a bitch. On the flip side, a woman who is more "likable," like Laura Bush I suppose--demure and non-threatening, non-offensive, would be seen as too weak to run the country. The same behaviors and personality types lauded in men are seen as deplorable in women. In other words, for these douchebags, there could never be a woman president. I guess a woman can be good enough to be Prime Minister of Pakistan and England, but we macho Americans could never handle it.
It's hypocritical to pine away for the Bill Clinton years as if the streets were laden with gold at that time, bitch that Hillary was "lol" really in charge, and in the same breath curse the sperm and egg that combined to give her life. I've heard many people do this very thing, and can't even understand the stupidity of it even when I point it out in slow, monosyllabic detail.
I have no doubt that Americans would rather vote for an ignoramus who thought AIDS victims should be quarantined--IN THE 90'S--or a person who completely switched around his political values in order to pander to his political base, than a woman. No matter their political views. I honestly don't see how someone can HAVE a political view and not care who wins as long as the winner doesn't have the audacity to sport a vagina. How could you be okay with someone who thinks the gays are an abomination and doesn't even want to allow abortions for health reasons and wants to get rid of the IRS on one hand, and be okay with someone pro-gay marriage, wants an abortion in every pot, and wants a 90% tax rate on the other? I'm not saying these candidates exist, but by saying ANYONE but Hillary, that is basically what someone is saying. They don't give a rat's ass what happens to the country as long as some fucking crotch-blood spewing she-demon isn't at the helm.
I don't even want to get started on the whole period + nuclear button = gg planet earth bullshit, but you'd think anyone old enough to vote could use a few seconds of reasoning to understand why it's totally ignorant.
I will vote for Hillary if she ends up running just because no matter my distaste for her capitulation to lobbying interests, I know she will represent my interests better than any of the republican candidates. That's really what people should be voting for anyway. I vote based on my values and who will represent them best, and I don't know if I can handle another four years of a president who slobbers all over the knobs of the evangelist third of the country and corporate interests to the detriment of all others. I could probably handle Giuliani, aside from his being a Yankee fan, but I dislike him for reasons similar those of why I dislike Clinton.
On another note--I have not found ONE PERSON who claims Clinton is some flaming socialist who can back up that statement with a shred of evidence. Was it her one foray into creating a universal healthcare plan? Guess what? Loads of people think universal health care is a good idea now. Find something new to whine about.
I have another mini-rant I guess I won't save for another day. I hate it when critics/parents/morons in general think movies have to be sanitized to the point of tediousness because otherwise it will scare teh childrens!! Children aren't all so stupid as adults suppose. I'm mostly thinking of a review of "the water horse" (yes I randomly read reviews of movies I will never watch) in which the critic gave it a poor review because parts of it were about war, and because it was teh scary.
At what magical age are kids ready to learn about the world? What good does it do to keep them in a fantasy bubble until you're ready to cut them loose from the apron strings. I think it's a good idea to keep your wee ones off myspace, the hell away from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, and a billion miles from a strip club. (Well, not because of nudity, I don't think nudity is such a horrible thing as most suppose, but strip clubs are nasty, seedy places--overt sexuality is an entirely different animal from plain nudity, and therein lies the aversion). But shielding them from every negative reality is just as bad.
How do you shield a kid from war? Never let them watch the news? Cover their eyes at street corner demonstrations (or feed them some ridiculous lie when they ask what the people are mad about?)
Shielding kids (particularly teenagers) from all knowledge of sex is a joke. Animals have sex and there's no one there to tell them how to do it--humans still have instincts. The only thing we as humans can do is tell kids how to be safe about it. Lacking that you're feeding them to the lions.
Oh well that's my rant for the day.
Well, not exactly liars. Such people claim their opinion has nothing to do with sexism, and they would vote for a woman, "just not Hillary." However, most of these people cannot express a reason for their hatred of Hillary Clinton without making deprecating references to her femininity, or lack thereof. So while such people don't hate her for BEING a woman, they hate her for not being the type of woman they approve of.
It's not an uncommon thing. A woman who is assertive and desires power is seen as a bitch. On the flip side, a woman who is more "likable," like Laura Bush I suppose--demure and non-threatening, non-offensive, would be seen as too weak to run the country. The same behaviors and personality types lauded in men are seen as deplorable in women. In other words, for these douchebags, there could never be a woman president. I guess a woman can be good enough to be Prime Minister of Pakistan and England, but we macho Americans could never handle it.
It's hypocritical to pine away for the Bill Clinton years as if the streets were laden with gold at that time, bitch that Hillary was "lol" really in charge, and in the same breath curse the sperm and egg that combined to give her life. I've heard many people do this very thing, and can't even understand the stupidity of it even when I point it out in slow, monosyllabic detail.
I have no doubt that Americans would rather vote for an ignoramus who thought AIDS victims should be quarantined--IN THE 90'S--or a person who completely switched around his political values in order to pander to his political base, than a woman. No matter their political views. I honestly don't see how someone can HAVE a political view and not care who wins as long as the winner doesn't have the audacity to sport a vagina. How could you be okay with someone who thinks the gays are an abomination and doesn't even want to allow abortions for health reasons and wants to get rid of the IRS on one hand, and be okay with someone pro-gay marriage, wants an abortion in every pot, and wants a 90% tax rate on the other? I'm not saying these candidates exist, but by saying ANYONE but Hillary, that is basically what someone is saying. They don't give a rat's ass what happens to the country as long as some fucking crotch-blood spewing she-demon isn't at the helm.
I don't even want to get started on the whole period + nuclear button = gg planet earth bullshit, but you'd think anyone old enough to vote could use a few seconds of reasoning to understand why it's totally ignorant.
I will vote for Hillary if she ends up running just because no matter my distaste for her capitulation to lobbying interests, I know she will represent my interests better than any of the republican candidates. That's really what people should be voting for anyway. I vote based on my values and who will represent them best, and I don't know if I can handle another four years of a president who slobbers all over the knobs of the evangelist third of the country and corporate interests to the detriment of all others. I could probably handle Giuliani, aside from his being a Yankee fan, but I dislike him for reasons similar those of why I dislike Clinton.
On another note--I have not found ONE PERSON who claims Clinton is some flaming socialist who can back up that statement with a shred of evidence. Was it her one foray into creating a universal healthcare plan? Guess what? Loads of people think universal health care is a good idea now. Find something new to whine about.
I have another mini-rant I guess I won't save for another day. I hate it when critics/parents/morons in general think movies have to be sanitized to the point of tediousness because otherwise it will scare teh childrens!! Children aren't all so stupid as adults suppose. I'm mostly thinking of a review of "the water horse" (yes I randomly read reviews of movies I will never watch) in which the critic gave it a poor review because parts of it were about war, and because it was teh scary.
At what magical age are kids ready to learn about the world? What good does it do to keep them in a fantasy bubble until you're ready to cut them loose from the apron strings. I think it's a good idea to keep your wee ones off myspace, the hell away from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, and a billion miles from a strip club. (Well, not because of nudity, I don't think nudity is such a horrible thing as most suppose, but strip clubs are nasty, seedy places--overt sexuality is an entirely different animal from plain nudity, and therein lies the aversion). But shielding them from every negative reality is just as bad.
How do you shield a kid from war? Never let them watch the news? Cover their eyes at street corner demonstrations (or feed them some ridiculous lie when they ask what the people are mad about?)
Shielding kids (particularly teenagers) from all knowledge of sex is a joke. Animals have sex and there's no one there to tell them how to do it--humans still have instincts. The only thing we as humans can do is tell kids how to be safe about it. Lacking that you're feeding them to the lions.
Oh well that's my rant for the day.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
CHRISTMAS LOOT
Here is my list of assorted Christmas crap. It is a huge haul, but I bought several of the things for myself including the DS, and I also gave out like a billion dollars worth of crap.
VIDEO GAMES
-Nintendo DS Lite in crimson/black
-Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass (DS)
-Super Mario 64 (DS)
-Brain Age (DS)
-SingStar 80s bundle (PS2)
-The Sims 2 Nightlife expansion pack (PC)
DVDs
-The Simpsons season 9 box set
-House season 1 box set
-The Simpsons Movie (will receive later)
-Netflix subscription
CDs
-Christmas Eve and Other Stories by Trans-Siberian Orchestra
-Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker
-Very by Pet Shop Boys
TOYS
-Giant 25th anniversary Share Bear (with the old milkshake logo, not the lollipops)
-Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? board game
STUFF TO WEAR
-Totally awesome Domo-kun t-shirt from thinkgeek.com
-Homer Simpson slippers
-Really cute purple earrings
-Set of four chunky bead bracelets in purple, pink, brown and black
GIRLY CRAP
-"Sangria Splash" scented bath beads
-Cinnamon clove scented candle
-Silver glittery nail polish
-Set of 3 mini lip glosses
OTHER
-Fucking AWESOME Beatles Sgt. Pepper calendar. It's big and psychedelic and includes diverse holidays like Eid and the Day of the Dead. I like diversity in a calendar.
-Paper shredder, which I desperately needed
-A set of really nice watercolor paints, brushes, and paper
-$150
-Assorted candy
VIDEO GAMES
-Nintendo DS Lite in crimson/black
-Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass (DS)
-Super Mario 64 (DS)
-Brain Age (DS)
-SingStar 80s bundle (PS2)
-The Sims 2 Nightlife expansion pack (PC)
DVDs
-The Simpsons season 9 box set
-House season 1 box set
-The Simpsons Movie (will receive later)
-Netflix subscription
CDs
-Christmas Eve and Other Stories by Trans-Siberian Orchestra
-Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker
-Very by Pet Shop Boys
TOYS
-Giant 25th anniversary Share Bear (with the old milkshake logo, not the lollipops)
-Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? board game
STUFF TO WEAR
-Totally awesome Domo-kun t-shirt from thinkgeek.com
-Homer Simpson slippers
-Really cute purple earrings
-Set of four chunky bead bracelets in purple, pink, brown and black
GIRLY CRAP
-"Sangria Splash" scented bath beads
-Cinnamon clove scented candle
-Silver glittery nail polish
-Set of 3 mini lip glosses
OTHER
-Fucking AWESOME Beatles Sgt. Pepper calendar. It's big and psychedelic and includes diverse holidays like Eid and the Day of the Dead. I like diversity in a calendar.
-Paper shredder, which I desperately needed
-A set of really nice watercolor paints, brushes, and paper
-$150
-Assorted candy
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Ode to the guy who chews ice in every class
Oh guy who watches youtube in class and chews ice every day
Little do you know I dream of ways to make you pay
Sometimes I imagine your head exploding, sometimes your entirety--
If only spitballs in grad school weren't such an impropriety
Maybe one day your constant mastication will ruin your teeth
Your karmic destiny will be fulfilled for causing your classmates grief
How could anyone not realize that sound is annoying?
It's loud and it's rude, it's class-experience destroying!
If I wasn't a milquetoast, I'd shove it up your rear end
But I'm a big puss, I'm not going to pretend.
I'll just be content with knowing your act will ruin your chops
Enjoy your dentures, I hope you get herpes and your career flops
---------------------
Maybe that is a little bit harsh. But look, kids, don't chew loud things in class. If you're going to snack in class, eat something soft, or eat it so quickly that the sound doesn't permeate the class for its entire duration.
I think the last two verses of that poem were weak compared to the first three. I'll have to work on that.
Anyway, that's my study break for the day.
Little do you know I dream of ways to make you pay
Sometimes I imagine your head exploding, sometimes your entirety--
If only spitballs in grad school weren't such an impropriety
Maybe one day your constant mastication will ruin your teeth
Your karmic destiny will be fulfilled for causing your classmates grief
How could anyone not realize that sound is annoying?
It's loud and it's rude, it's class-experience destroying!
If I wasn't a milquetoast, I'd shove it up your rear end
But I'm a big puss, I'm not going to pretend.
I'll just be content with knowing your act will ruin your chops
Enjoy your dentures, I hope you get herpes and your career flops
---------------------
Maybe that is a little bit harsh. But look, kids, don't chew loud things in class. If you're going to snack in class, eat something soft, or eat it so quickly that the sound doesn't permeate the class for its entire duration.
I think the last two verses of that poem were weak compared to the first three. I'll have to work on that.
Anyway, that's my study break for the day.
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