Jinkies!

I realize I'm basing two successive posts on another friend's blog, but what's a guy to do? They were good and provocative.

Swearing, cussing, or being profane, to me, are tools of communication. Each of those words have different literal connotations, just like most curse words. They have evolved over time. Curse words are no longer used to put a curse upon someone, but they have a lingering attitude towards malice or insult. But that depends on context and intent.

I enjoy swearing when appropriate. It's hard to judge and that is why they are an interesting and complex set of linguistics. I think that is also why kids are routinely and (almost) universally told that they are bad to use. Just as children are not considered mature enough to drive, have sex, drink, smoke, gamble or be left to their own devices during school hours, we don't consider them developed enough to understand the linguistic complexities of swearing throughout the various strata of society. [An aside: I once posited that we become adults when we start telling children not to do the things we sometimes do.]

Heck, even adults don't get it a lot of the time. But I'll defend those words as legitimate parts of human language. We use these words for lots of purposes, such as emphasis, frustration, anger, love, amazement, or most any emotion. They are very flexible and malleable, which are actually useful traits when used by the right tongues. Just as anything that is useful in society, it can be used for good or bad, which is where the rub lies.

How many times do we use swear words to describe events or actions negatively? Or perhaps make our anger and spite known? Are those constructive uses of language? Perhaps if they are done to make a point or to get attention. However, lots of other words can do this, as well. I've often thought that swearing simply shows a poor vocabulary, as they are used as crutch words to describe situations or emotions when suitable words aren't known. Their use can be lazy, too.

But the idea that they are only words is true. It is how we use them that matters. Is condescension or sarcasm any less insulting to someone than cussing if the person who utters them is trying to show contempt? How do we use these words? What are our intentions? They are tools of language that evolve over time, and they are the construction and presentation of our thoughts. If we sin and abuse other people with them, then it isn't the word that is to blame but rather ourselves.

The trouble is that society is complex. Many people who overhear a conversation have no context for some of the inflammatory or radical things we sometimes say, which can turn an innocent phrase into something very bad, even criminal. Thus, we must be more aware of ourselves in our environment than with just the people to whom we are speaking. That is hard to do, and not everyone is perfect.

I think swearing, cussing or profanity, however we describe it, is something that can be treated with intelligent analysis, rather than prohibition. It is good to have freedom with the development of our language. It is a representation of how we usefully communicate. If something isn't working, then another word will come along and take its place. This annoys a lot of people, especially purists who like the status quo. But because of the 4th dimension and the interaction of billions of people on this planet, we cannot help but change. It is our responsibility to make sure that change is more good than bad.

And we all have a say, so to speak.

The Good, the Tolerable, and the Worst

My astute friend Clay recently wrote about bad movies and their stranglehold on people who don't want to waste their money by sleeping through them. He rightly pointed out that sleeping through one will provide you with more benefit than submitting yourself to many minutes of torturous tedium. Judging movies good or bad is certainly subjective, and even Clay and I don't agree on which movies are okay to sleep through, cough*Robots*cough. (I'm an unabashed lover of any and all animated movies.) This idea of sleeping through bad movies made me think of two things: how I hate sleeping through movies and how many people I know complain about bad movies.

I'm the type of chap who can't do anything else while watching a movie. Ask anyone who has tried to say something to me when I'm in front of the television. It has a mystical hold over me like one of those spinning hypnosis swirls. I can't look away, and I can't pay attention to anything else in the vicinity. Remember that if you ever need to share an embarrassing tidbit and my ears are not the intended landing zone; just turn on a movie. So, to me, sleeping through a movie is the antithesis of having it on. I could no more sleep through a movie than I could listen to the Beach Boys when I'm really in the mood for the Beatles.

Actually, I did sleep through a part of a movie once. It was Return of the Jedi, and circumstances will exonerate me! It was during the series re-release in 1997. It was on a Friday and I had woken up at 6 a.m. for school, suffered through an entire day of public education and social ridicule, rode the bus to a foreign city, participated in a track meet where I raced in the mile and two-mile races, rode the bus back, then caught the midnight showing of RotJ. At about the last third of the movie, I started to nod off. I caught the very end when all hell breaks loose on Endor and Lando busts ass out of the Death Star 2.0 before it goes up in flames. I was so tired! It wasn't my fault! Okay. It was my fault. On some level, I still feel guilty about that one.

The other idea is about how many people I know who seem to only watch bad movies. Granted, I'm much different about my movie going than almost everyone else. I'll see just about anything. I have my standards, but they are much lower than most. Like Blade II; I actually liked it okay when I saw it. Keep in mind, though, that I judge movies that aren't really that good by their parts rather than their whole. Blade II had a great score by Marco Beltrami, and some good martial arts action, which I always enjoy. Despite my leniency on mediocre movies, it seems that many people are much harder on them and then judge all movies on this.

Now, these people aren't friends of mine, because my friends aren't judgmental. But when I casually talk movies with people at work, acquaintences at school, or strangers on the corner, many times I can tell that they aren't at all into movies. This is obvious because they will say that the only movie they saw in the last year was License to Wed, which they hated, of course. I ask how come they didn't see something better, and their response is usually dismissive, as if there aren't any better movies out there. Or worse yet, the "I'm just not a movie goer normally."

Far be it for me to push my values on other people, but c'mon! If you go to see just one movie per year, then like Clay said, by all means go see The Visitor. It is good. All around. Not only is it interesting throughout and never boring, it is also good for the old synapses up there and makes us think about how we touch people with the littlest of efforts, which can cause the biggest of reactions. It also had a powerful line ("We are not helpless children!") that I won't soon forget. This is a good example of a literate movie that uplifts and entertains, but also stays true to a grounded reality to which we can relate.

Of course other good movies can be fantastical or whimsical or scary or tragic or hilarious. The Fall, a recent opener, is all of these and more. These examples are so-called independent films, but that doesn't mean that all indepenent films are good or that blockbusters can't be just as good. But it pains me to hear people explain that they only watch a movie every few years or so because the last one they saw was so bad. There are many good ones out there they should be watching. Is it right for me to make such a judgemental statement? You bet! How can someone go through life thinking that Catwoman is their fate when it comes to watching movies?

I'm deluding myself in thinking that is their only reason. Sure, these people just don't like movies as much as me. They aren't as important or don't hold as much meaning and power in their lives. Therefore, when they watch something as wonderful as the movies I mentioned, they won't be blown away by the craftsmanship, the quality with all aspects of the assembly and artistry. Instead, they will walk out and say, "I'm glad I spent two hours in air conditioning and I don't regret it." That's better than saying, "There went 100 minutes of my life that I won't get back."

Come in from the cold

I'm sorry! If you can, please forgive me. I have a problem and I don't know what the answer is.

I'm really lazy.

Instead of sitting down, thinking clearly, and writing my thoughts into a coherent, entertaining, and semi-literate post every night, I watch TV episodes or read chapters from awesome books. Sometimes I go to the movies. But a lot of the time I'm actually sitting on my couch, staring at the ceiling, thinking about this and that as thoughts flit through my brain.

It would require some modicum of discipline to get control of one of those thoughts and fill it out, shape it, round it, and smooth it for publication. I admire people who can do this routinely. I thought I had it figured out, with the help of my friend Mark, when I decided to have daily themed posts. This way I already had a perch on which to sit my brain when it came time for the keyboard.

However, this turned out to be another in a line of weak-willed failures. But, as Winston Churchill said, "Never give up. Never surrender." Or was that Sean Connery? I'll try harder. Nothing is more helpful than the motivation of others, especially when they are awesome, too. This post really has nothing to do with anything, other than for me to say, I'm sorry, and will you welcome me back?

This also has nothing to do with anything. It just looks really cool. And makes me proud to be an American.

Afternoon musings

To me, crazy ideas are great ideas. It doesn't matter if they come to fruition or not, just that they're born. Sometimes they are best left unuttered. Sometimes the world desperately needs them. Sometimes they are stupid, and that's just life.

One time at work, in the Golden Age of Spahr, I was talking with Chin and Mark, my two employees at the time, and we were discussing the hot dog stand in downtown L-town. Apparently, there was a go-getter with an awesome idea to sell hot dogs on the street like he was in New York or something. Unfortunately, for him, he wasn't there every day. So I told Chin that he should get a stand and put that guy out of business. That'll show him for not being around all of the time.

Well, like a good employee, Chin was all ears, with a little bit of the exciting loud talking. He waxed enthusiastic about how he could make it swell. One of the magical Chin-isms was the secret Kung-fu sauce. Also, he needed to open the stand at night, after the bars close and drunk people are super hungry for something, anything, even hot dogs at 2:00 a.m. Chin is enthusiastic and friendly, so I couldn't imagine it going awry. I told him that he might need a bodyguard waiting in the shadows, just in case. Chin came up with a name so awesome that I can't repeat it here. It might break your fragile little mind, and I don't want to be responsible for that.

We were all ready for writing up a business plan, detailing the capital to start it up, and spit-balling a list of possible investors. The excitement was building, so I asked, what happens when you put that other dude out of business? Do you keep a stand open during the day? You don't want to get stagnant. You need competition to maintain your stronghold on the downtown hot dog trade. So, I gleefully volunteered to run my own stand. I would directly oppose Chin's tactics. I would offer different exotic sauces, have a snappier catch phrase, and put up my own alliterative stand name. All the while, however, I would be under Chin's employ.

We would get the business from people who want to support the underdog, not the greedy corporate giant that is Chin's hot dog stand. Soon, he would have one on every corner, just like Starbucks. But I would be there, too, to happily serve those who opposed his brutal rock-bottom wages and lack of health insurance. I would be the Target to his Wal-Mart. But the genius would be that we would both be thumbing through the Benjamin's together at Spahr.

Ultimately, we decided to scrap our plans because they were becoming too evil, even though they would most certainly have worked. That hot dog guy, on which ever days he is downtown still, should give thanks for the triumph of good over evil that day. Otherwise his kids would be eating old packets of mustard with their saltines, with college but a distant fantasy and their only consolation being the quiet dignity of their father's silence at the dinner table.

Thus ended our quest for hot dog stand monopoly. I'm sure we went directly to another topic as Mark and I played an important work game of paper football. When I said Golden Age, I meant every damn word.

Delicious!

Fill 'er up!

Forgive me, but my mind turned to dark things just now. I was thinking about a recent shopping experience I had, and I wondered what it would have been like if the store was robbed while I was there. My unfortunate fantasy didn't make it far, because when the would-be thief demanded the money from the drawer, the shop keep had very little. Why not?

So I began to wonder, how much cash is bandied about these days? Personally, I rarely carry cash, and if I do it is less than twenty dollars. Usually less than five, because if I had at least five then you'd better believe I would be on my way to a delicious Pizza Shuttle pizza and a large Cherry Coke. Aside from their pizza, which is easily the best way to spend five bucks, I can't think of anything else for which I would routinely need cash. Most places take a debit card, which is easier than writing a check, and you don't have to feel guilty about only spending 58 cents on a pack of gum and using your card. It eliminates lots of loose change and is easier to keep account of online, rather than writing it all down. Before I sound like a spokesperson, I'd like to say that sometimes I would rather have cash money, because then I wouldn't feel so poor.

I do know people regularly make purchases with cash, but the debit card is becoming more and more common. I don't have any hard evidence, but I'm willing to bet that a majority of people make a majority of their purchases, even trifling amounts, with a little piece of plastic in which is embedded a magnetic strip that holds the numbers to their little fortunes. Therefore, my conclusion would be that the number of robberies must be down because of the lack of a substantial take.

This is a perfect time to show why I will never be an investigative reporter. I'm curious and all, and I do have easy access to lots of probing minds and authoritative reporting sources at work, but I do not have the attentive endurance for such endeavors. The moment something else took my fancy, I would drop this quest like a hot potato. Yet, even without definitive proof, I'm gonna go ahead and rest easy the next time I'm in line at a Macy's.

Give me yer money!

Bibliodilemma

Over the years I have acquired a lot of media. A lot. Books, DVDs, CDs, LPs, and a few cassette tapes. It's like my own version of a public library, admittedly from which I purchased a good many of the books. I mentioned once that my intention in surrounding myself with all of these things was just in case I was ever stranded on a deserted island or in some kind of jungle prison. Well, if one takes that reasoning to its logical conclusion, then under what fantastical circumstances would I be set adrift with all of my belongings, or at least allowed use of them during my incarceration? I'll tell you, I haven't thought of it, yet.

So, in the meantime, I enjoy these things as much as I probably should. Not too much. However, living the life of a bachelor who hasn't put any roots down in a special place, I live with the ever-present possibility of moving to some place new. Maybe not a new city or state, but perhaps just around the corner, in the never-ending chase for the perfect domicile that provides security, comfort, and not too far of a commute. So what? you might wonder. Well, this rootless existence is anathema to someone who has to move all of these items on the occasion.

I am constantly on alert for a new, more efficient means of storing, retrieving and moving my library. Ideally, I wouldn't have to pack them up; I would simply pick up pieces and go. Each medium requires different space concerns, except for books, which are every which way but the same (and that's cool). Anytime I see a bookshelf that has a unique design, my brain begins to glow. How could that work for me? Could I adapt it for my room? On multiple occasions I have drawn up plans for shelves that I would fashion myself. The only problem with that is that I'm not a carpenter, not even with amateur status. I bought some tools when I moved to Texas, but I realized that building furniture might require more than a drill and a saw. Sure, old-timers made do with hand tools - a hammer, saw, and a planer - but I'm way too inept to try and mimic those hard-asses.

My main concern is how to store them with as little open space surrounding the tops of the items, and then how to move these shelves when the horrible time comes to give them the old heave-ho. I've thought about hinges, aluminum, handles, crates, bamboo poles...you name it. I still don't have the perfect solution, all the while time is ticking away. My next move is planned for September. I feel the urgency creeping up behind me whenever I lay eyes upon my wall of books. Maybe I should drape a sheet over them. You know, pretend like the problem doesn't exist.

Or maybe I could read all of them and then donate them to the library, thereby relieving my load. But who has time to read with these looming moves? P.S. If you have a swell idea, then please don't be shy!