Undermoderated

This is what happens when shit gets unreal

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Bitches Ain’t Sh*t But Ho’s and Tricks…

SO… there was this blog, and then two years happened. What? You don’t get busy, doing Facebook-y things?  Well, aren’t you incredibly p-u-r-e.

Anyhow, I’ve decided I have something else to say.  Stunner, I know. I’m about to send my oldest off to college, several states away.  While I’m excited about her opportunities, I am petrified about sending her even down the street, let alone to North Dakota. She is a bright, incredible, strong, thoughtful, and beautiful woman.

None of those things is adequate protection from a culture that views her as meat.  None of those things will allow her to look at a man and instantly recognize a rapist.

A couple weeks ago, the verdict of the Steubenville rape case was read.  This case, which made national news, shined a light on a pervasive culture of entitlement within a high school sports community. And where to high school athletes go? College.

Am I blaming athletes?  Absolutely not.  I am blaming a culture.  Follow me with this, for a moment.

  1. Boys are signed up for sports teams, as young as 4 years of age. Often, their parents see a spark of physical prowess (“Johnny jumps around on his toddler bed and crushes ALL his action figures… what a lineman he’ll be, some day!”) and dream of that prowess benefiting their son, in some way.
  2. Someone informs Mom and Dad that the REAL sports are played in the travel leagues, not in park and rec.  In order for Johnny to excel, he needs to be playing on a REAL team.  This involves a  crazy payout, generally totaling, between fees, equipment and travel expenses, at  least $1000 a season. And that’s conservative. BUT! If Johnny’s on an expensive team, Johnny MUST be an elite player! High schools will scout Johnny!
  3. At some point, probably before 5th grade, one or both of Johnny’s parents will have uttered the following statement “You need to do what your coach is telling you to do! We pay a lot of money for you to participate.  Suck it up, and be a team player.”
  4. Team has to be the focus.  Peer pressure and team bonding become intertwined. Fellow players parrot the coach’s critique, but off the field. If your team mate is stealing a candy bar, and tells Johnny to do it too, Johnny’s initial refusal may be met with “This is the same reason you’re not a starter.  You don’t want it enough. You need to be aggressive, and take what you want. Don’t wait for someone to give it to you.”
  5. By the time Johnny is in 6th grade, at least one coach (and possibly even Dad) will have equated poor sports performance with being gay, or being female. Regularly. A player who botches a play will be a “faggot”. A slower runner will be told he runs “like a girl”. Losing?  Losing’s for pussies.

SO… by the time Johnny’s a freshman in high school, he wants to do whatever the team does, because that’s not peer pressure, that’s TEAM! And if your team mate jumped off a bridge, hell yeah Johnny’s gonna jump too, because he’s not a pussy! Plus, all the girls love the team.  Way easier to get a girlfriend if you’re on a team.  Hell, the school holds pep rallies, to make sure everyone knows who you are, and that you’re IMPORTANT. When was the last time they held a pep rally for the robotics club?  That buncha pansies.

And if his team mate says he’s going to get some class mate girl slut drunk and take pictures while he molests her at a party, Johnny’s gonna get him some, too.  Because she’s not on the team.  She’s not equal. She doesn’t count.  Besides, Johnny has heard from his bros on the team that she totally wants it. She’s probably slept with all of them except him, already! And coach might say he’s a faggot, but he’s NOT a damned faggot, so he is going to prove it to that bitch.

Think it isn’t a real thing?  Mike Rice got fired from Rutgers’ basketball program today, because of some videos taken months ago.  The footage shows the coach berating his players, while kicking and pushing them.  Slapping them, and calling them faggots and bitches.  When the tapes were shown to Rutgers administration, the person who brought them to the AD’s attention was let go, for “insubordination”. And the coach got a 3 day sit down, to think about his behavior.  Then, well..  then business as usual.  Because fairies complain, and if you can’t play with the big guys, you’re a pussy.

Now… go be nice to all the ladies, would ya?

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For The Children…

So, Casey Anthony was found not guilty. Know what that says? It says that real life isn’t an episode of CSI: Miami. It says, in real life, the prosecution can’t just tell you what a selfish tramp some woman is, and that makes her guilty of her daughter’s death. Sorry, folks. I know it pisses people off.

But you know what REALLY sucks? There is a movement, TWO MILLION FACEBOOK USERS STRONG, that is going to turn their porch lights on, to make people remember Caylee Anthony. And I’m not fucking joking. Two million people, who are going to flip a switch they ALREADY flip every single damned day, and call THAT a memorial. “For our little angel, Caylee Marie”, they say. And you know what? She was an angelic looking kid. Big, puppy eyes. Button nose. Chubby baby cheeks. Sweet little smile.

So, I may not be very popular for saying to those people, SCREW YOU! That kid might have been a cute 2 year old, in a picture, or in a small clip from a family movie. Cute 2 year olds grow up, jackass. All this energy should be spent on the real Caylee Anthony. And by that, I mean the kid who is still being neglected, right now.

Had she lived, right now, she’d be 5 or 6 years old. She’d be that kid who teaches your kid in kindergarten how to use ‘fuck’ correctly in a sentence, and you’d be asking that your kid not have to sit next to her. The kid who can’t sit still in class. The one you complained about, because she kept pinching your kid during lunch time, and on the playground.

Had she lived, in a couple years she’d be that kid on your child’s soccer team. You know the one… she always needs a ride. She forgets her cleats every damned game. Somehow, HER Mom always conveniently “forgets” when it’s her turn for snack. And you’re the parent who brings an extra snack, and you bitch about it. You avoid answering calls from her house, because you’ll be damned if you’re gonna drive that obnoxious kid even one more time to another game.

Had she lived another couple years, oh, Lord. Then she’d be that awkward, needy girl in your kid’s class. The one who has a penchant for lying. The one who calls your kid a faggot, and makes your kid cry. Or she’s the girl who, at barely a tween age, is wearing Playboy bunny t-shirts, and sticking out her little booblets at all the boys. Maybe she’s the one who wears too much makeup, and tells your daughter what oral sex is. Or she’s the kid who “borrows” your son’s new sweatshirt, and never returns it.

Skip forward to her teen years. She’s the girl you told your son not to date, because she was rude in your home, or you caught her with her hand down his pants. She’s the girl you won’t let your daughter hang out with, because another mom told you she steals from the store she works at, or so-and-so saw her drunk at the last football game. Eventually, she’s the girl who drops out to have a kid, or she’s the girl who everyone knows is popping oxy.

You stupid jackasses, she’s right there. She’s sitting next to you on the bus. She’s dropping off the cheerleading squad, or out of band, or out of Key Club, or off the soccer team, because all the other parents are DONE driving her, and her mom doesn’t care. She’s stealing money out of your daughter’s locker, because she never has lunch. She’s getting caught shoplifting, because she really wants the attention. She’s having a baby at 15, because then she’ll have someone who loves only her. Stop looking at the picture of 2 year old Caylee, and start seeing 7 year old Caylee. See 14 year old Caylee. See 17 year old Caylee. Turning your damned porch light on will not save that kid. Turning your porch light on will not honor her memory. Try doing something REAL, instead.

Change?

What constitutes “making a difference”?  Every day, some group or another exhorts us to “make a difference”. Hell, both my kids have t shirts with Gandhi’s face one them and the phrase “Be The Change”, referencing the quote, attributed to him by his grandson Arun, “We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.”

 

So, what change do you wish to see?  And what drives that wish?  Yesterday, I spent time at my son’s school, with a group of kids who like working with the soil.  We weed, we plant, we plan and we dream.  We build, we eat, we bicker and we scheme.  We look at the pond, which fills each time it rains, and then leaks out into the soil slowly through cracks in the cement lining, and we think about how to better cache the water. 

 

We look at the space where the cattle from the field next door break through the fence, and we scheme to block it with a compost bin made of repurposed shipping pallets.  Then we make notes about how incredibly tough the wood used to make shipping pallets is, and we plan to buy a new drill bit.

 But, as we do these things, these kids talk.  They talk about gardening, yes… about their favorite foods to grow, and their least favorite.  But they also discuss the Star Wars series, and debate the merits of each installment.  They critique music.  (If they are any indication, Britney Spears has officially jumped the shark)  They tease about crushes, and occasionally, they throw dirt clods at one another.  But they don’t judge each other.  Not like you and I probably do, whether in public or in private.  They don’t care how much each other’s families are worth.  They are unconcerned about the labels each other wears.  While I know that a couple of them may very well get a reduced price lunch, I’m the only one in the garden who suspects it might be so, and it embarrasses me to have that knowledge, frankly.

These are people who recognize the value of others, to the exclusion of their socioeconomic place in the world, their possible political affiliation, their religion, or who they are related to.  They are generous in their attribution of credit.  It is rare to hear one say “That was MY idea!” and common to hear them award kudos to a peer.  They commonly arrange to work together, and acquiesce easily when someone else has a better idea.  Stunningly, when one of them either sandbags on the job, or takes an extra piece of banana bread, they all know.  And they laugh it off.  And they remember.  The next week, the one who ate the extra snack often brings some extra food for the group.  The one who didn’t really do much the week before redoubles his or her efforts, in order to keep things equitable.  And this works!  One nine year old, when I told the group I’d like everyone to take a turn bringing a nutritious small meal, quietly approached me and said she’d like to take one of the other kids’ turns, because she thought it’d be a nice gesture to her friend, who had helped her weed when the first girl didn’t feel so well.  Yep. Pretty damned awesome.

So, make a difference?  Yes.  They are totally making a difference in my life. Be the change?  I don’t think I want to be a change, I think I want to regress.  These kids are amazing.  And they haven’t even had to change yet.

A Hypocrite With Issues…

I am starting to admit the myriad of hypocritical aspects of my life.  I’m a Green Party supporter, who drives a big ass diesel truck.  I make snide comments about others’ lack of classiness, while dropping F bombs all over the place.  I rail about the crap people serve their families, but I’m not above a bag of Five Guys French fries, oh no, I am NOT.

 

However, the news over the last few weeks has really brought out some loony hypocrites, and I won’t stay silent.  (Like I ever do, am I right? Shut up.)

First:  The events in Northern Africa and the Middle East.  I repeat, I am a diesel-guzzling-truck driving fool.  So yeah, perhaps I should zip it.  But I’m not going to.  Here are MY issues:

1) I saw this on an FB friend’s wall today: 

   “Getting sick and tired of these idiots in the Middle East dictating our gas prices here. We have two options as I see it. #1 – let us drill for our own oil here now, and our other resources that will produce plenty of oil or #2 – turn the Middle East into a sandbox and just take their oil.”
 

The fact that Americans who can’t even find countries like Yemen, Bahrain, or Libya on a map are having conversations about how we should “Go over there, take control, and take the oil while they are fighting amongst themselves” is ridiculous. 

Two options?  Really?  Jesus, we must have at least 5 ! (Hint: use your whole hand to count, not just the fingers you use to roll your boogers) 

2)      “The revolution in Egypt is going to create an untenable situation for Israel, and as such, we should have propped up Mubarek.”  (Further, we have made a peace of sorts with Khaddafi, so he’s our guy, as well I guess?)  So sayeth the screaming heads on the teevee, at least on some stations.   

Didn’t we do this with Saddam Hussein?  Prop him up, as our guy who helped us out with Iran?  Truly, that worked so well, didn’t it?  Should our foreign policy always be based on which bastard is the least insane on any given day?  Well, it will be, as long as we remain THEIR least insane bastard, I guess.  I’m taking bets on how long that will be our status.  We have had some insane moments, in recent days…  

Second: The protests in Wisconsin, and now Ohio,  with more states to come.  Again, I am happily hypocritical when it comes to unions, because I don’t think all forms of employment that HAVE union representation probably need it anymore.  Here are MY issues:

A)    Yes, unions in the manufacturing sector have basically priced their workers out of the American market.  Why do you think it is SO attractive to American companies to do their manufacturing overseas?  Because people there are willing to do the job for a pittance, duh!  Certain manufacturing and maintenance labor jobs became so $ bloated that the American people could no longer afford the product. Do you have ANY idea what a pair of jeans would cost, if it was made exclusively in the US, using only US manufactured goods?  Easily $200 dollars or more.  Should people be paid a fair wage?  Absolutely.  How do you fix this?  Well, you could start with a federal minimum wage that actually allows a person to support themselves. If a garment worker could SUPPORT THEIR FAMILY on minimum wage, their union would have less bargaining power over income.  But $7.25 per hour?  Bullshit.

B)    The issue in Wisconsin is being blamed on Teacher’s Unions.  Do the people bitching about this have any clue what a teacher makes?    If a teacher lives in a one income home, with a spouse and 3 kids, they may be living within 15,000 of the national poverty threshold for this country.  Now, add to that the fact that they do not, in fact, work a 40 hour week.  They work far, far longer.  And are often fiscally responsible for their own certification upkeep, meaning that they MUST have extended education, in order to keep their job, but that education is NOT paid for by their employer.  So, Joe Teacher works as a HS math educator.  He has to report to school at 7:AM, and may leave campus (barring staff meetings, parent/teacher conferences, IEP meetings, mandated chaperone sessions like dances or games or detention duty) at 3:30.  Because he no longer has a planning period at school, due to cutbacks, he must grade papers for over 100 students at home.  At a rate of 1 minute per test or homework assignment, this will take almost 2 hours.  Time for class!  His continuing education is taught at the local university in the evening (lucky him!)  2 hours, 2 nights per week.  On his dime.  Using his fuel to drive there.  So our guy Joe, if he makes the median income for a HS teacher, of  $43,355 per year, is making about 14 bucks an hour, before taxes.  BEFORE taxes.  And these people bitching are going to say ol’ Joe shouldn’t get his health care paid for?  His vacations?  Are you KIDDING me?!  He’s supposed to make your children ready to take on a global employment atmosphere, and help them learn enough to function in the world, and he can’t go to the doctor on occasion on your dime?  Screw you.

Third:  And this brings me to my FAVORITE rant.  Taxation, and it’s conjoined twin, corporate greed.  Here is MY issue:

 Who do you think really want the unions gone?  Who do you think wants us so freaked out by the idea of imagined terrorist enemies coming to the fore half a world away that we aren’t paying attention to our own back yard? I’ll give you a hint , it ain’t the middle class.  Who benefits?  Poor people?  Nope.  Their jobs will continue to disappear, as middle class people work their way down the pay scale, in search of anything they can get.  The middle class themselves ARE the union workers.  No, folks it’s the corporate giants who make bigger profits, obviously, when the little guy gets squeezed.  Not just in wage payments saved, but in larger, more nefarious ways.  Did you know, when a big box store, say, Walmart, or Home Depot,  comes looking to build in a community, that generally the community pays for the infrastructure to support the store?  So those fancy new 4 lane roads, leading to the parking lot.  Local taxes.  The street lights, traffic redirection, etc?  Local taxes.  BUT, you say… that will be recouped, once the store opens!  Not really.  In an effort to win their area as a store location, many local governments offer incredible tax incentives to big box stores.  In some cases, property taxes are lowered to a level only a couple hundred dollars more than the average household in the area.  In some cases, sales tax skimming, to the tune of  millions, nationally.  In short, if you shop at a big box store, instead of a local business, you are causing your taxes to go up.  Not the Teacher’s Union, not oil from the Middle East,  it’s you, when you go to Walmart, or Kmart.  YOU, at the Safeway, and the Home Depot. 

So.  I am a hypocrite. A middle class hypocrite. Because I KNOW all these things, but I don’t radically change my behavior. I do not always shop at the local hardware store   although I’d like to. I drive a big truck.  I go to the Savemart rather than the local butcher, sometimes.  But I do at least try to shop local, if I can.  I went to 3 local fabric stores, just the other day, even though I could have gone to Walmart or Hancock’s in the same amount of time.  On the rare occasion my friends and I have the time, we try to go for breakfast at Shingle Springs Coffee , rather than Starbucks or McDonalds.  As we go into a time of higher gas prices, again, and higher food costs, I look to growing my garden, and getting more hens.

 And I wonder… if you lead a hypocrite to reality, can you make them think?  I know I have at least started to.  Have you?

Urban Homesteading!

I Am A Time Traveling Thought Zombie, Mining Intellectual Property Before It’s Even Conceived.  

No, wait… I mean I Am An Urban Homesteader!!!! 

So… have you ever heard of Jules Dervaes?  The Dervaes Institute?  No?  Not exactly a household name, right?  Well, maybe not for the average American household, but within the urban homesteading community, he was sort of well known.  He and his weirdo kids adult offspring took a pretty small suburban yard, and, starting around the turn of the millennium, turned it into a sort of mini-farm, complete with chickens, crops and compost.  They’ve tried to minimize their electrical usage, through a variety of means.  He read a lot of information on urban homesteading, and they established a pretty popular self-aggrandizement rant website.  He even participated in a VH1 show, which was trying to humiliate selfish hoebags  better Young Americans.

And then he decided that, not only had he accomplished all these admirable things, he had INVENTED them.  Yep, he is now the self-styled “Founder of the Urban Homestead Movement”.  Last fall, Dervaes and his family, under the name The Dervaes Institute (a non-profit, listed as a church) filed for and received a trademark for the terms ‘urban homestead’ and ‘urban homesteading’. (Please note, I refuse to put the little R in a circle after these terms, or a TM, or whatever the hell they want.)  This, despite a not-trifling number of publications which use the term, either in their title or in the meat of the writing.  Despite the enormous number of blogs and businesses which use the term.  Clearly someone in the US trademark department was brain dead,  asleep at the wheel, certifiably deficient… oh hell, they were brain dead, asleep at the wheel, and certifiably deficient. But this isn’t even the worst part!  Last week, the Dervaes family successfully petitioned Facebook to take down every page that didn’t credit the Dervaeses with ownership of the term.  (Many of these were business pages, used to communicate with customers.  Check out http://www.denverurbanhomesteading.com/ )  Further, they sent a letter to Google, complaining that an Amazon listing, which advertised a book PUBLISHED MORE THAN TWO YEARS PRIOR TO THE TRADEMARK AWARD, was infringing upon their intellectual property, and should be stopped.  

I can hear your thoughts:  “Hahaha!  That’s a funny corporate joke you made there, Elizabeth! Wait… what? You’re SERIOUS?!?” 

 Again, according to his own published timeline, he didn’t start his urban homestead until around the time of the Y2K scare.  While the Dervaes family may have been pioneers in PROMOTING urban homesteading through NEW MEDIA, (they do have a very successful self-promotion website) they are not pioneers in the urban homestead field. In fact, based on their own timeline, they are quite late to the game. In 1975, the mayor of Boston, Kevin White, used the term in his Section 810 Urban Homesteading Proposal. Jules Dervaes himself, in his biography, says he took the first dozen issues of Mother Earth News with him to New Zealand in the mid 70′s, and that publication has been using the term since they began publishing in 1970. In a recent letter the family published, trying to explain their actions, the Dervaes family likens their trademark to Nike and Apple trademarking their names. However, Nike did not trademark “tennis shoe”. THAT is the true equivalent to what the Dervaes family has done. Had they trademarked the name “Dervaes Method of Urban Homesteading”, no one would be upset.  (We’d actually get a giggle out of it.  It sounds really self-helpy, and not in a good way, but in an infomercial for birth control way.) Instead, they have practiced an arrogant revisionist history, declared Jules Dervaes the “Father of Urban Homesteading” (seriously, read his bio) and pretended that all the books. articles, and how-to treatises that came before, when they were still blissfully ignoring the idea, and eating Taco Bell (again, read their self-authored bio) simply never existed, or somehow plagarized a thought process they hadn’t even come to yet. Patently, TRADEMARKEDLY ridiculous.

   I’m an urban homesteader.  Many of my friends and acquaintances are urban homesteaders.  In fact, I personally was growing food and preserving it, sewing clothing for my children, bartering garden labor for services and making soap, years before he had his epiphany. (An epiphany, seriously, that came on an ingredients list for a Taco Bell Taco.  No lie.  On a lunch break from picketing the church that kicked him out.  I couldn’t make this crap up if I tried.)

 So… should a common term be the fodder for trademark?  If so, I trademark ‘Mom’.  After all, I bring something different to the term.  Using the logic followed by Dervaes and his family, I can trademark ‘Mom’ because I have a unique spin on motherhood.  I do ‘Mom’ like no one else has ever done ‘Mom’.  As a matter of fact, those who filled a maternal role before me were obviously not quite there, know what I mean? They were ALMOST ‘Mom’, but really, were they as good as me?  Ugh… that’s exactly how stupid this is.

Jules Dervaes is NOT the father of MY Urban Homestead.  His seed ain’t anywhere around here.  I refuse to recognize this trademark.  And I am an Urban Homesteader.

Donkey, Ass

On its best days, Hollywood makes no sense. Look at Tom Cruise. If he makes any sense to you, you may need more help than modern pharmacology can offer.

Hollywood is filled with artistes. People who brim with creative vision, their own ideas and takes on any given topic. All this percolating genius builds up on the inside of the artiste like calcium stains in a coffee pot. Eventually, all you have left are white deposits in funny patterns and a really strange taste left in anything you brew there.

All this coffee talk came from an article I read last night. Gore Verbinski, it seems, has taken on the task of remaking the Lone Ranger. With Johnny Depp cast as Tonto. Now, I grew up on the Lone Ranger. I haven’t seen an episode in years and years, but the last time I checked, Tonto was Native American. Johnny Depp – isn’t.

He is, however, a very large star, and popular like pre-sliced white bread. If you want an actor to draw in audiences, he’s one of them. We’ll gloss right over all the insulting and racially insensitive overtones of this choice. You know them, I know them, and really, since this all gets weirder, we don’t need to stop there.

Weirder, you say? I did, yes. Because…

Director Gore Verbinski is taking inspiration for the central relationship not from the dusty reels of the TV show, but from literary classic Don Quixote. In the new version, the Lone Ranger turns out to be a misguided fool and Tonto the voice of sanity, akin to Quixote’s companion, Sancho Panza.

“The only version of The Lone Ranger I’m interested in doing is Don Quixote told from Sancho Panza’s point of view,” Verbinski told the Los Angeles Times’s “Hero Complex” film blog last week. Suddenly it becomes a lot easier to see why Depp would take the role. “I was honest early on with Johnny that Tonto is the part. We’re not going to do it [straight]; everyone knows that story. I don’t want to tell that story,” the director said.

Wait, wait, wait.

Let me see if I understand this right. The only version of the Lone Ranger story Verbinski wants to do is…Don Quixote. He doesn’t want to tell the Lone Ranger story because everyone knows that story. So he wants to tell the Don Quixote story instead, because no one knows that story.

This is a little like saying you want to direct the A-Team movie. But you don’t want to tell the A-Team’s story. Instead, you want to tell the story of Henry V. Just before the Battle of Agincourt, there’s going to be a brilliant build sequence where they weld a bunch of armor into a creation which will tip the improbable battle into their favor. Then Hannibal will give a speech about Saint Crispin’s day.

And also, the part of B.A. Baracus will be played by George Clooney. He’s sure to fill the seats…

Where’s that old camera?

Recently, I was shocked—shocked!—when a friend looking over my shoulder at work asked me what the hell I was looking at. And not because it wasn’t work related. No, sadly, it would have been more remarkable if he’d caught me working.

What amazed me was that this guy had clearly never heard of Channel 101. Begun somewhere around 2004, the premise is, you make a TV show pilot and send it in. The trick is, it has to be a whole episode in 5 minutes or less.

Once your pilot is received and passes an initial “obvious crap” screening, a bunch of the best looking shows are selected for a screening in front of a live audience. (Which really stands for, play them in a theater while a bunch of people get smashed and make fun of them.) The audience votes on their favorites, and the top 5 become “prime time series.” [see diagram]

Congratulations, because now you have to submit a new 5 minute episode for every month’s screening until you get knocked off by a new pilot.

Mostly, this is done by amateurs in their spare time, but occasionally a pro from the industry will drop in. It tends to run to the silly (Could they be any more baked?) but production quality can be surprisingly high. Channel 101 has spawned a meme referenced on Family Guy and at least one series that gained mainstream attention for its gimmick of being shot surreptitiously entirely inside an Ikea store.

Current Prime Timers. Everything—on a 13-episode winning streak—is actually quite good.

My
Top
Four
Favorites.

For more browsing goodness, see also the spinoff, Channel 101:NY. Go ahead, stay up watching all night. It’s not like you do anything at work anyway. Oh wait, that’s me.

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I’m Cool…

I’m cool, like Dave Navarro in a striped rugby and garden clogs is cool. Which is to say, I am not cool. (However, I can eyeline the crap out of stuff.)

So when someone compliments me about my perceived cooliosity, I often seem like a complete ass. I start with “Hahaha… wait, what?” and it devolves quickly into me trying really hard to live up to their (rather poorly placed) faith that I am, indeed, cool. Which I do, of course, by saying “Watch this!”

“And THIS!”

“Hey, look at me!!!”

Actually, it solves the whole conundrum rather quickly, as they generally realize how wrong they were, and they TAKE. IT. BACK. Slowly. Without actually turning and running, because that would be foolish. And Dave Navarro might be gaining on ya. Or he would be, if it weren’t for the garden clogs. They slow a fella down.

So anyway, I was being told the other day, that I was cool, and I was trying mightily to prove the person wrong, when a halftime report came on, and it included a “news” story, about that guy on American Idol, who sang a song he wrote to his brain damaged fiancée. Hey, he’s probably a very talented nice guy, but the person I was talking to actually stopped watching my antics abruptly, and became engrossed. Engrossed, I tell you. And said this…

I did this.

Then I did this!

Then, even Dave Navarro did this

He was relieved, though, because he wasn’t gonna have to run in his clogs. I gave up, and went to eyeline something. I have been cured of trying to live up to this particular compliment.

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Moar!

When I started Undermoderated, I had a vision of a place where the smartest and funniest people I knew could gather and share themselves with all of you and that it would become popular enough for us all to sell out and retire to our own private islands (please email undermoderated@gmail.com with offers).

I’m very excited to say that almost everyone I initially invited to join me on this ridiculous project has agreed to become a regular contributing author.  The strange thing about this is that even though I know all of these people (and have known some of them for years), they have no idea who the other authors are.  Almost all of them are total strangers to each other and they all come from a wide variety of backgrounds.  Things that they do have in common: a sense of  what is funny, intelligence and strong opinions.

It’s my hope that with such diverse people that we will have some awsome fights great discussions and something funny and interesting to read for pretty much anyone who visits here.  Come and join us, won’t you?  Click that big button on the side there to be emailed whenever there’s a new post or subscribe to the RSS feed and leave us your comments to tell us how great we are or just how lonely you are.

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Here I Am!

A blog, huh? Odd that I’m writing on one, really, as I spend a lot of time railing against the 24 hour information cycle, and how it has corrupted the news. And I completely blame the blogoshere.

Not the cool, attractive, fancy-worded, ERUDITE blogoshere, of course,

but the fat, ugly, Neanderthal blogosphere

It is obvious which side of that equation I fall on, so I will not embarrass you by belaboring the point. More on that another day…

Suffice to say, I will probably find a conspiracy or two to write about. I am currently engrossed by the one that is being perpetrated by the Hershey Company, in which they buy advertisement that is so bent on me NOT eating Kit Kat bars, and that they are willing to have the product shown being eaten by trolls at high volume to ensure it. Jokes on you guys… I know where the mute button is on the remote, AND, failing that, have become adept at sticking my fingers in my ears and humming really loudly, while squinching my eyes shut, to avoid any hint of the ad reaching my brain. So, basically, I look like this, whenever the commercial comes on:

You may say “But, isn’t this easily solvable? Couldn’t you just get off your butt, and move away from the television?” Well, yeah, but that would involve moving the candy bowl, and the wrappers, finding the remote so I can turn off the television, getting up without overstressing my Pajama Jeans, and doing… something.

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