A Story: Johnny Letdown

There once was a boy named Johnny. He was an artist of every caliber. He painted, he danced, he sang, played the trumpet, he acted in plays, and he made sculpture. And Johnny was mediocre at all of these because he never could focus his passion. But he spread it to all of the people he knew. He tried to make them happy. He lived for happiness.

Johnny at the church.

Johnny was making a play. He wrote his play and found a nice old man who owned a coffee shop.


"May I do my play here?" Johnny asked.


"What will you give me?" The old man replied. He smelled of coffee and whiskey.


"I will give you happiness." Johnny said.


So the old man let him do his play at the coffeeshop for he said: "Money makes me happy. You can do a play here. But you must make everyone who comes to watch the play buy a coffee."


"Okay." Johnny started making the invitations. He sent them out. He even included a note about seeing the play for the price of only a coffee. He invited all of his friends to the mediocre play that he was doing. They all told him how they were so excited and happy for him. They just couldn't wait to see it, they exclaimed.


"We're soooo happy for you. You're finally doing something with your life!"





The night of the play came and went. No one was in the audience. Johnny was torn up. He wrote this play and it was about to change the world and nobody cared, he thought. Johnny couldn't even say the first line to an empty house. All he could do was cry. The old man came out and started yelling: "You didn't give me happiness. You gave me bills to pay. I didn't sell any coffee and now I am using electricity for these stage lights. Get out of my establishment, sonny!"





Johnny started walking the streets. He was so sad. He was let down. His whole work, this his artist's life was never appreciated. His passion deflated like a blown up balloon that popped in his face. He wanted nothing more to do with art. He was Johnny Letdown.





He went to church. Inside he prayed to God.


"God," he asked. "What did I do to deserve this? Why do none of my friends care about me?"


Suddenly a voice rang back.


"Your friends care about you. But they are too selfish to read anything that anybody else has written, they are too busy to smell the flowers, they are too irresponsible and in between their marriages and babies, they will never ever enjoy life. Maybe they will enjoy it, but not with you. You must move on. Get over it. Go into business." The voice echoed in the hollow chamber walls illuminated only by candlelight.


"Who are you?" Johnny shot to the empty room.


"God, Johnny. And I didn't see your play either. Theater stinks."





Johnny went back to the streets. He found a man near an overturned garbage can. He was playing a harmonica. Johnny stopped to listen. He found a quarter and put it in the man's hat.


"Got any talents?" The man asked him suddenly.


"I guess not."


"It's not really if anybody thinks you're good," the man replied. "It's just if you think you are good. Are you happy?"


"I don't know."


"What are your talents? What do you like?"


"I like art, but I don't think I'm any good."


"Why?"


"I made a play and no one came to see it even though they said they would."


"Nobody ever comes to see me," the man replied. "I don't mind. I'd rather have no friends, than friends who lie."


"Me too," Johnny said.


"Why don't we be friends?"


"Okay." Johnny shot back. "You must show me how to play that thing."


"Only if you show me how to make a play."





So Johnny and the man did artistic things. And the work they created was life shattering, earth moving stories and music and art and life. And nobody ever saw it. Because nobody cared. But they were happy, homeless, and cold. And Johnny Letdown grew happily and artistically old. But no one knew because no one listens to stories anymore.

An Ailment and an Excuse: Crazy Mania!

Mental Illness in all its forms is a relatively new discovery within the last century. Before the APA and other such organizations, Mental Illness was the way to describe a "crazy" person who had no other way to describe their behavior and their mental capacity. What started out as locking people up for insanity transitioned into more pleasing, medical ways to deal with the troubles of the now defined psychological disorders. But even with list of psychological ailments, plethoras of different drugs for different cranial problems, and a therapy center on every street corner, we as the American people have catalogued a lot about what we really don't know about our own minds. I think we are playing with fire. I do not refute that people do have mental illness, but now I believe it has become a fad to be mentally ill. I mean this by way of depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, and psychizophrenia to name a few. Everyone I know takes some sort of pill and just about everyone has been to a therapist or a psychologist. But this just in. . .which we have known about even before all those diseases. . .LIFE IS HARD. I know it's a big shocker, but just because you have an abnormal thought doesn't mean you are crazy, just because you feel sad once in awhile doesn't mean you have depression. Depression is a chemical imbalance AND a mindset. I firmly believe that Depression and other such disorders exist, but I also think they become excuses for people not to fully live out their lives. The invention (and indeed it was that because someone put the label on at some point) of Depression is a loophole for really lazy people to get out of working. Feigning "crazy" with psychizophrenia is a reason to claim unemployment from the government. It's a reason to live in fear everyday and it's a reason to give yourself to stay in bed. It's a way to claim life when really you feel dead. Maybe you are depressed, but how do we pump you back up full of gumption? How do we weed out these imposters? We study the brain and its processes more. Eventually heat imbalances and brain waves will scientifically prove the depression of a person or maybe not, but in the mean time before you pop one of those happy pills prescribed because you filled out a questionaire about your happiness levels, maybe you'll want to try exercise, eating right, not doing other recreational forms of drugs, and setting some goals for yourself. Happiness means some form of movement in ones own life. Say no to crazy mania and being lazy. . .I fight it everyday. . .I don't always win, but I think you need more than just the thought you have depression. Don't find excuses. . .find answers. OR maybe I'm crazy.

Check your stub! Payroll Errors Abound!

I have not trusted my employer since I started working there. Neither should you. The employer -whether it be a private owner or a corporation- is out to make money. As a responsible person, you should keep track of your hours worked, your salaries, and all of the withholdings in your check. Humans work on these things and errors do abound. Today I discovered that I am perhaps being screwed on my paycheck and that my employer is taking away half of my wages. Don't let it happen to you!

Here are some helpful links:
Paycheck Article
Free Paycheck Calculator!

Culture of Bitterness

I am a firm believer if you draw smiley faces on everything, it makes everyone in the surrounding environment more happy. If not for the actual niceness of the gesture for the absurd factor. Please don't puke. It's true.

Are you bitter? If the answer to that is yes, what made you that way? Do you say harsh and cruel things that hurt other peoples feelings? -that slander other people's reputations?Subconsciously or Consciously? Think deep about it. I have met so many people in this world that are bitter to the core. I make a daily and concerted effort to ward off the bitterness disease. I know people talk about people. Gossip is natural and I don't condemn it, but when that gossip or talk directly affects someones personal life whether it be their job or their survival in a social setting, ask yourself why do you do it? What do you lack in your own life? Do you hate the person you are trash talking? If so, why? What makes you not like them? Is their lifestyle different than yours? I think just as love, hate is natural. We are not meant to like everyone, but in this day and age, why do you let yourself be absorbed by so much hatred, when there is so much to love. Where has all your motive for living gone? Is bitterness just as natural as old age?

Most of these are rhetorical questions, but the anger I have seen come out of some people in my life is quite frightening. They could be so much happier, if they just made an effort. But trying is too hard for some people. Maybe it's a brain thing. Maybe some people are born with it. Well when they find pleasure in hurting others, I hope something else makes them happier and eventually they will turn to it OR realize how impossible they are to others. I have been bitter before, I am not perfect, I think a little bit of bitterness is natural, but sometimes we have to find other things to find the harder emotions to obtain -like happiness. Search. Plan. Goal set. Match. Please.

Riding your bike pays off!

I have started riding my bike to work in these first months of summer. I realized a few simple things about this when I started. One you are more aware of the world in general when you ride your bike. You are experiencing the world first hand: the wind, the ground, the rain, the dust, the dirt. I don't mean to sound poetic, but riding your bike is a poetic experience. Second you are more aware of yourself. Your body reacts to certain conditions: your wet skin in the rain, your taught muscles as your legs work the pedals, and the sound of your breathing. This is what life is all about, I think -building endurance and working toward something simpler, perhaps more healthy while enjoying the planet. Lastly the bike is a simple machine that makes us conscious and responsible for our world and it does little damage to everything else. Think about all the money I save on gas, all the exhaust I do not leave behind polluting the atmosphere, and the workout I get in the process. It's not always easy riding your bike given the weather conditions or how we feel. Our bodies and minds are prone to get lazy, but we must keep pedaling towards something. Here is a story that might make you want to purchase a bike, if not for the health reasons, maybe for the greedy.

Pedaling Pays Off

After a long day at work, I began my trek from St. Paul into Minneapolis as the sun was setting. I ride my bike home on Franklin Ave. this long mountainous street that descends into Minneapolis' Seward neighborhood. This particular ride always makes me nervous given the three facts that I have not purchased a light for my bike, the neighborhood is a bit full of homeless people, and the mountain requires little pedaling and as I descend my road bike becomes a bit wobbly with speed and I fear I may go so fast that my body will fly over the handlebars. But the wind in my hair with light pressure on the brakes and all the neat things I get to look at makes up for it. One thing caught my eye. As I began my descent, passing a red car on the street, I noticed something that looked like a twenty dollar bill rolled up. I noticed it because I was watching for cracks in the road which could throw me from my bike. I pulled a U turn, straining the ascent back up the road and I pulled up. Indeed, a rolled up twenty dollar bill on the ground. Without a second thought about the owner of the money, I scooped it up and descended the mountain. I could try to find the owner, I rationalized, but ANYBODY is going to say they lost it -especially the owner of the red car. I decided in good conscience: Finders Keepers, Losers weepers. And I descended the mountain without a second glance or a look at the money clenched in my fist.

I arrived home and put my bike away and went into my room. I unrolled the money and discovered, no, not one, not two, not three, BUT four twenties rolled up. I just made eighty dollars for riding my bike. Nobody in a car would find a treasure that sweet unless a bird shit money into their open window or they were in an accident and got to sue the bastard that hit them. And when is that going to happen? Not likely and Not in good conscience.

It just goes to show that bike riding is affordable, healthy, economic, and makes one much luckier than those in automobiles. I say, if you can ride a bike and want to make a change for yourself, START NOW. Trust me, you'll feel better in the long run.

Uncovering the Strange #2: The Lion and the Banana T-shirt

Hi. I'm on a quest to find a certain T-shirt that was sold by Urban Outfitters either last season or the season before that. I have called the companies 1-800 number and I've been all over the website searching for banana and lion and tee etc. It is a grey shirt with a giant male lion's head on it AND in front of the open lion's mouth a slightly unpeeled banana. It appears that the lion is getting ready to chomp on the banana. I have no idea why I like this t-shirt so much. Maybe it is part of my quest to obtain subconsciously some sort of elite masculinity. I hope not, but I do like the shirt. I didn't buy it originally because it was very expensive and wanted to wait until it went down in price, but now it appears to have disappeared. I will call customer service later today in order to attempt to find it. But if anybody has any leads on where I can get this shirt, please bring it to my attention.

This picture has nothing to do with this post. I just think it's cute. Love, Me.

Fiction Writing: A Dangerous business

Anger. Angst. Bitterness. They built up and they create rage. Some people like a champagne cork must go off. They must release the built up pressure and pop. This April at Virginia Tech, one Seung-Hui Cho did just that. He killed 32 people in one of the largest classroom shootings to date. Afterwards there was the panic of the public. How could this have happened? Why didn't we see this coming? Why would one person do such a thing?

Seung-Hui Cho: Portrait of a Confused, Angry Young Man

Of course there is no easy answer. So many factors -both genetically and environmentally- could have set this young troubled youth off. A lot of people are looking to his writing now in an effort to make sense of Cho's rampage. His two plays "Richard McBeef" and "Mr. Brownstone" which I have just read about, but not actually read seem to be interesting creations. A friend of mine whom I work with stated: 'I read his plays on the internet the other day and they were just horrible.' I also read Stephen King's commentary about the plays on the wikipedia link above. Cho may not have had the best grammar or spelling skills, or have been very educated, but his plays are about situations where the characters are not himself. Whether his plays are realistic or not does not matter to me, but what does seem impressive is that Cho is writing attempting to write about other people. His imagination also stems into violence, but who has not had violent thoughts? My point on the matter is Cho is a true playwright in the sense that he had the sensitivity to try and understand people when nobody would understand him. What Cho did to those 32 people was horrible, but what happened in the mind of Cho to make him agonize and kill that morning, is just as horrible. Every story has two sides, every victim has a villian, and every villain can be made a victim. It is all a matter of perspective and the spin on the story. Cho maybe was a talentless hack, but you cannot judge the moral character of a person by what they write, or can you?

If I write the sentence, "Tomorrow I will kill 40 people." Who would believe me? Who would think I would do it? Who would take my sentence as fact and throw me in jail. Who knew it was the opening line to my first person narrated novel? You can guess and guess and theorize what a person is feeling by their writing and you can be correct, but you also cannot slander a person's character because they have the free will to create freely from their imaginations. I just read an article in the Star Tribune about a person who was rejected from the Marine Corps for writing about nymphomania in the first person in an assignment for a creative fiction class. I believe the person was being fined and may have had to serve jail time. Only his trial will tell the outcome. Tragedies will happen to human beings, it is best to be wary and sensitive at all times to people and their feelings. The following section from Shakespeare sums up my feelings about a "crazy brain":

The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear! (ACT 5, Scene 1: A Midsummer Night's Dream)

So before we go ahead and draw and quarter all of Cho's writing, maybe we should analog it somewhere in the history of humankind as part of a tragic canon. The truth is intelligence is in the eye of the beholder, and talent is immeasurable, but human suffering is easily readable on the page in light of characters, but before you lock up the writer for being crazy, maybe you should explore censuring your own fantasies and imaginations. Characters are creations. They are not us, they are not necessarily real, they portend tragedy and or trouble. Evil exists all around in stories and real life. People are not nice. People who are friends can pose as enemies. Hell, people pose all the time, THAT is what life is truly about. So while the media makes victims and villains, I will be reading and trying to understand people like Cho and the dead from Virginia Tech. And in the wake of tragedies, beware of fanatic militants out to protect everyone and sensationalize. There are those always waiting to capitalize off of tragedy and to stand in the limelight -in many many capacities, from copy-catting to red scare tactics {remember that period of history?} After all, I just wrote my opinion on this subject -maybe I'm just capitalizing too? I wonder if anyone else thinks it's any good. . . or perhaps I'll be arrested later today. Sensational.

Advertisements: Ethereal Poison

"Hello? Poison Control? My son has just had an unhealthy dose of Television and saw all these obnoxious commericials. . .I'm pretty worried. He wants so many things now. He wants video games, action figures, food, green ketchup. . .he wants nonsense. Can you help? . . .Hello? Hello?. . .Figures. Action? Figures."

Of course they hung up on you! We here on mother earth are of the mentality, if it doesn't kill you for at least 10 years, it's safe. . .therefore, it's legal, fun, and most of all enjoyable! Go buy that fatty fast food that'll clog your arteries in no time. Go smoke that cigarette that charms your brain into a nicotine wonderland. Instant Pleasure isn't a race with instant death. . .it just takes death a little while to catch up! Be a dare devil. Consume. . .

The above might be an honest rant about why advertisements (of any kind) are worthwhile. Advertisements are an ethereal poison. They litter our every path. You can't look down the street without seeing something being advertised. They might not kill us directly, but they help us to forget who we are and that is an easy temptation for human beings. Life is strife. Why wouldn't you want to forget? Telemarketers are even serving advertisements directly catered to us over the phone. The phone wires are poisoned with them. They know our first names, they address us directly, they tell us to our faces why this new deal is JUST PERFECT for us. . . and we listen. . .and we take. . .and it wastes our time and makes people bitter and stupider.

But I am not here to totally defame advertising. Advertisements are coercive, manipulating, yet artful. They allow those behind them to be creative in order to convince the public about a new idea or product. So instead of giving into the trend or the latest fad, you should recognize your individuality as the new trend and try to put blinders onto the advertising world. You may say: "Oh advertisements don't affect me! I'm immune to advertising." Resisting the creative impulses of the advertising world, makes you just as original and creative as the creators of the products themselves. Try to resist and your resistor muscles will become stronger and you will be more self-sufficient.

"Oh Poison Control. Just calling back. I think I found the solution to our problem! My son smashed our TV with a baseball bat. . .oh I won't tell you the brand. That would be an advertisement! Anyway it's in a million pieces and now. . .well now my family is just better off! We are out, playing games, exercising. . .figuring out your own solutions is sometimes a lot better than just picking up the phone and calling 911! I tell you. Have a good day! Bye!"

The Savior Syndrome

I'm not anybody. I'm just who I grew up to be. I'm no doctor, psychologist, superhero, or miracle worker. I am a playwright or at least I pose as one. I write what I see and what I see is a strange phenomenon taking over in America. I have seen it more than once and maybe you can relate to what I have seen. Since the Middle Ages, people in the Christian western world have become increasingly focused on individuality instead of being part of the masses and giving it up to God. This trend has been exponentially growing since the Renaissance, and therefore, people are more aware of their needs and wants and careless about spirituality. Humankind has become a bunch of selfish bastards. They waste, they use, they destroy everything in their paths. When will it end? I predict it will end in the self-destruction of our people, unless some serious mental attitudes change and quickly. But I did not want to rant about the self-destructive nature of humans, I wanted to talk about something simpler -known as the Savior Syndrome.

Having always loved word games my whole life, this syndrome is a pun and actually divides into two personal dilemmas as listed below:

The Savior Syndrome

(Two Definitions):

1.) The Egregious Ego Expansion of certain individuals to think they have become the new "Savior." (aka the new Jesus)

2.) People who lack a direction in life and latch onto one they think is their "Savior."

1.)
In this type of individual for whatever reason, they think they are the greatest thing since, well, pardon the cliche, sliced bread. I know one individual who was imprisoned in a psychiatric ward and happens to think that for those 7 months that he was enlightened with -what he calls- creative intelligence. He then had me read a lot of his poetry and although I thought it was good, I did not think that he had the makings of a star-writer. But who am I to judge? I'm not Christ either. He was not the next Walt Whitman who I believe perhaps was the first who suffered from this syndrome. This person who shall remain unnamed did everything short of telling me that he was Jesus Christ himself. In every sentence he uttered, he reinforced how amazing he was. I perceived this person's babbling -although coherent with a string of logic- nothing more than one recovering from a mental disease who was on the brink of psychizophrenia. He had no tact in his discussion of his creative gift. This said individual is a male in his early twenties which is a prime target for this brain disease. We need discipline in order to realize that we do not inhabit this earth alone and that although it's nice that we think we are Jesus reborn, we should probably refrain from saying so in public unless God speaks to us directly. I know I do and will.

2.)
This second dilemma begins when someone has fallen victim to societal indoctrination. They know what they must do in life, but for whatever reason, they fail to do it. They themselves are victims of the instant gratification disease: Do whatever makes you happy and forget about the responsibilities at hand. But the disease sets in when they find someone who is their savior. Person one, who is the victim of this disorder, may not know that they classify someone as their savior, but the behavior shows it. They grow infatuated with person two (the savior), the person who makes them happy. Person one envelopes person two's time and affections. Person two may or may not be in a romantic relationship with person one, but person one is so blinded that their sole goal is to be content with person two and be with them all of the time. I am aware of several people in my own life that this has happened to and I feel that I have been a victim of this disease as well. I think it leads into a deep depression and can be deadly. It's the same mindset that is connected to alcoholism and drug abuse, I think. There is a void in one's life and to fill that void one uses another person. People cannot save other people from their societal duty. I know that when I felt this way that every thought I had was connected to person two. Person two, if a true friend, must help or refer Person one to help. The best thing that Person two can do is to leave person one so one can realize that there is no such thing as an earthly savior. The strongest thing one can do is find what makes them happy on their own. Happiness should stem from the self and then spread. Do not depend on your happiness in other people or you will surely be sad the rest of your days.

So realize who you are and then with moderation share yourself with the world. Figure out what makes you happy on your own and then build yourself a foundation. Once you have that foundation of goals and hobbies, you will not need to become Jesus to prove yourself to other people, you will only need to explore the world with your own tools and interests. I know who I am now. I am certainly not Jesus. No, I am not Jesus Christ at all. At least I will never tell anyone that.

Ode to Life: Will Work to Live.

Homeless people. You litter my street corners. On every exit ramp, I see you with a sign: "Please help. No job. Homeless." OR "$$$, please. God bless." OR "Will work for food." How did you get this way? What made you come to this street corner in my neighborhood? Why are there so many homeless people? Are you really homeless? Where did you get that adidas sweatshirt? How about those brand new Nike tennis shoes? Why is there a different one of your posse on the same corner every day of the week? Is panhandling a profitable business? How much Lysol have you distilled? Are you crazy? What is crazy? Maybe I'm crazy, but I will not give your dirty face even a dollar. There is too much dishonesty in this world. Stay on my corner, but ask me for no dimes. I cannot help you. I am trying to live as well. I'm trying to stay sane in this hustle and bustle world while your honesty and dishonesty run rampant. If I gave a nickel to everyone of your kind that I meet, I would be worse off than you, because I cannot ask for help even when I need it. But I will not be poor. I will be rich in mind and spirit and pray that you find yourself something to do to contribute to the society that made you this way. What a conundrum. Catch this, 22!

Servers: America's Punching Bag

Hi there. I know this post isn't original, but I wanted to talk about the serving industry a little bit. I believe that servers -next to slaves, servants, or sweat-shop workers- are the most mistreated employees on the planet. In America, they live off of tips and this tipping policy isn't public knowledge, but floating hearsay. Foreigners who know nothing about this, leave zero dollars sometimes. Servers work between disgruntled hungry patrons and tyrannical bosses and sometimes for crazy hours. (I used to be a server where a 10 hour shift was every weekend night.) Their hourly wage is in some states below the minimum and because of taxes being taken out of that and their tips being taxed, sometimes their checks are next to zero. I just worked a full two week pay period and my check was only twenty dollars. What if everybody tipped me a little to zero? How would I survive? Not to mention the way that servers are treated. They are bullied by customers, because the server in all of his infinite wisdom can not fight back, because according to restaurant and corporate policy, "the customer is always right."

So I have come up with some rules based off of the Golden Rule about dining out. I think American public schools should teach this common sense in a short health unit or food science class or something. It should be common sense, but it isn't:

Server/ Customer rules:

1. Tip according to the service, but never below 15 percent, unless a server is going out of their way to make sure you have a miserable time dining. DO NOT EAT OUT IF YOU CANNOT AFFORD a 15 percent TIP!

2. A server is not leased to you for unlimited banter. Keep conversations light and try to be aware how much time your server can chat with you. A server is busy.

3. Don't ask your server his/her opinion, unless you want to hear it for real.

I believe this deserves some explanation. The other night I was serving a table of three women who informed me that they "would be a difficult table" and they were "mean." I took this lightly since almost anyone who declares this would be joking. However, I came to decide against this later when one of the woman asked me whether I "preferred" the risotto dish or the salmon. I told her that in customer popularity that they were equally liked, however, I would choose the risotto, because I am not a seafood person. She then decided to rebuke me, in her words for my employer, because I should never give my opinion, because nobody cares. My only job, according to her, is to sell the food. I was quite irate inside and kept my emotions below my reddening cheeks. This is what I wanted to say to her: "Okay Lady, I operate according to the laws of making the customer happy and since you had asked me a question, I decided to be honest with you." I wanted to tell her that there is some finesse that comes with serving and that sometimes it's better to be talking to a human who is looking out for your best interest than a commercialized robot, but I refrained. Wouldn't you rather someone tell you something to make your dining experience more pleasurable or would you rather a pushy server steer you into the most expensive dish? I concluded that this woman had some control issues in her own life and took some needless time to make me some sort of sick example for her friends. The long and the short of it is, your server is probably smarter than you and that leads to rule four:

4. Do not make a person who gives you your food angry.

Those are my only rules. If these are followed, all will be happy. Maybe it results in you not stiffing your server, because you only eat out when you can afford it. Maybe the world will be a happier place if all those that could treat others the way they wanted to be treated would. Think if the whole world of employment operated like the service industry:

"Geez, John, you messed up that fax. I'm cutting your wages today."
"I didn't like how you set that report on my desk, Nancy, no check for you."
"You were late, Betty, you aren't getting paid today."
"Why aren't you a perfect robot, Arnold? How about no lunch, I yell at you for a few hours, and we take 20 dollars off of your check!"

But people aren't perfect. They get angry. And they don't learn. Maybe we could do the world a service and stop breeding before we destroy ourselves. That'd be a hell of a tip, if I could give one to the world. But alas life goes on in all it's wasteful, destructive glory.

RANT: Why are artists always liberal?

Artists are always liberal, because liberals have a certain type of brain. It is a brain of creative thinking and thinking outside of a box. They can view the world in many different types of ways. They think about other kinds of people. They understand and sympathize with others of foreign skins and cultures. They do not promote war.

Artists use what is around them, rather than exploring and destroying. Artists explore and grow. Artists support the current world and they change it. Artists have a duel purpose to expand the way we perceive our world and to make us question the bigger world through conversation. Artists strive for world peace.

President Bush made-up of Dead People. Smile, Georgy.

Yet true artists are not conservative, they use the majority view and play with it. They come up with creative solutions to difficult problems. Through the mediums of TV, theater, and other forms of performance art, artists expose us to ways to love, and ways to live together in harmony. Paradise is never too far from the human mind, yet paradise, as what each of us perceives it as, is different. People are different. Hence Paradise is in the eye of the beholder. Artists capture that. But the majority of the world does not understand art. They see it as frivolous. So the human race in all it's fanatical practicality will probably die out.

U.S. Conservative Agenda:
1. Confuse the masses with sharply controversial, yet secondary problems
2. Serve your own needs- Greed
3. Promote Stasis to the Status quo.

If we are to survive on this planet, humans need to realize a few things:
1. Remember to conserve resources
2. Corporations must follow environmental laws and become the leader in promoting and discovering their own regulations in producing goods and services that work for maintaining a healthy environment for our planet.
3. Go back to a simpler time: Technology in all it's excessive waste, testing, and exploitive exploring will ruin the planet faster than anything before. There should be an international departmental check for all companies including defense departments that test new technologies -nuclear or otherwise.


The Artist as a Bohemian root to salvation when the apocalypse comes.

Uncovering the Strange #1: Who is Daisy Munchkin?

McDonald's. I have been obsessed with you for years. You are a true guilty pleasure. I have one question for the WWW. In your new happy meal toyline for girls, which is the Madame Alexander Doll set featuring the Wizard of Oz characters, why is there a Wicked Witch of the East doll and a yellow-dressed munchkin named Daisy? First of all in the film The Wizard of Oz which the world of Oz is best known, you never see the Wicked Witch of the East except for her feet and then she shrivels under the house beyond recognition. Why would you include a doll of her in the toyline series? What about a flying monkey? Or better yet, why not the Humbug Wizard himself. But no, you chose this hardly-a-supporting-character for kids to play with. Besides this obscurity, I can live with the Wicked Witch of the East. She is an identifiable character in Oz-lore, but who the hell is Daisy Munchkin? Daisy Munchkin is a nobody. I have never ever seen her in any of the Frank L. Baum books, in the Michael Miguare books, or elsewhere. . .nor is she in films The Wizard of Oz or Return to Oz. From where does this munchkin wench originate? I hope someone can answer this burning question. It's either McDonald's heartburn or an unquenchable curiosity flame. . .please somebody put it out.

Check back soon. For more nonexistant posts. Let's see how long I can resist the blog community!