The Real World

"If you think it's tough now, just wait until you get in The Real World."

Did you ever hear that one in high school? I sure did. Constantly. It always used to bug me, too. The people who said that never seemed to be too worried about their peers ganging up on them and beating the shit out of them in the restroom, or having their cars vandalized for not going to church, or having someone steal their writing utensils and laugh when they couldn't find them. As such, it always bugged me more when they added this part:

"Wait until you have to start paying bills."

OH MY GOD. PAYING BILLS. What better representation of the treachery and aggression of man? I mean, there's this money in the bank, and then you write a check, and lo and behold, you have less money in the bank and have to wait until next week to get more. IT'S SO COMPLICATED! And if they don't get their money, they might have to reposess your 25 inch color television, and then how could you ever hold your head high and be proud when someone comes to visit and sees that bare spot in your Ikea entertainment center?

Of course, it's because they're successful. Or at least trying to be. This is another thing that's been pounded into all of our heads since when were young. "Grow up and be successful". "Go to college, or you won't be successful". "Strive for good grades, don't just accept Cs. You should try to be successful". And of course, by "be successful", they mean "switch your brain off and dive head first into our wonderful consumer culture". The media helps them all along. We get these wonderful "inspirational" films like Coach Carter, where some crabby old bastard shoves around a bunch of kids and teaches them to fear and never question authority, and wear a suit and tie because then they'll be successful.

You know what success in this capacity means? It means getting a job with an annual salary instead of an hourly one. I mean, it might only be $30,000 a year, but at least you get to (read, have to) wear a suit and tie and carry a briefcase. But you'll get things like health insurance and a 401k to make up for that. And stock options, which are all-important, even though you have no clue how the stock market works. Sure, your boss is a 50 year old dick who has a wife the size of a subcompact automobile and is taking it out on you because he can't get it up for her and she's making him go to a marriage counselor, but that doesn't matter because you'll have a "corner office", which you love because it's in the corner, which apparently is good for some reason. And you'll have your own computer. Golly gee!

And if you finance it for five years, maybe you can get one of those fancy "sports sedans" - so named because they're too slow and boring to be sports cars but ride too harshly and don't look elegant enough to be luxury cars - made by some upscale-sounding manufacturer with a lot of "x"s and "i"s in the name, and is actually a branch of some Japanese corporation that normally makes cars so lame you wouldn't be caught dead near them. Imagine the surprise on the face of your coworkers when you glide into your "Employee of the Month" parking spot in your new Lexifinicura GSXR-487600-2000. They'll marvel at your ability to blend in with traffic with your car's "sleek", lozenge-like exterior, painted some non-offensive color like gold - oh, I'm sorry, I mean Cairo Sand Mica - and your plain tan-colored leather interior that looks just like every single other upscale car interior these days, except yours has that lovely LCD screen in the middle of the dashboard that lets you control everything in one place by navigating a series of menus. Or maybe, better still, you'll have "voice recognition", which will of course never recognize your voice. And you have the manumatic transmission...an automatic that lets you twitch the shifter up and down occasionally because you're too lame to know how to use a clutch.

And then you get the split level ranch house. Never mind that it has as much to do with ranches as Hidden Valley dressing, it's still called "ranch", which makes you all rugged and stuff. And it looks just like every other ranch house in your gated community where everyone tells you how often to cut your grass and what colors your house can be and get all jealous and contact the housing administrators when your new redwood deck is larger than their back patio. But that's okay. It has double-glazed windows! And four bedrooms! And three bathrooms! And a bar in the kitchen, but alcohol is evil, so you'll only serve cereal at this bar. It's a safe bar! Don't forget your plush carpeted family room with the fake fireplace. And screw that 25 inch television...you've got a plasma TV. It's got plasma in it. And that's good, because plasma in an important part of your blood. Even though you're making good money now, you're still in as much debt as that guy you went to high school with who is managing a dine-in restaurant for seven bucks an hour. You just have more stuff to show for it. Most of it you didn't really want, it's just that that big house you have looks SO BARE without lots of potted plants and shelves and doo-dads and what-nots and odds and ends and you don't want anyone coming to your house and seeing all that bare space and thinking that you can't afford to fill it with something, now do you? No. You have to keep up appearances.

Success also includes marriage. Oh yes. Your spouse will have a similar job, only he or she will commute in a minivan - not an SUV, because you're an environmentally conscious citizen who is "in touch with nature", even though you've never left the suburbs in your life - to haul the children around in. That's right, the inevitable children. Because once you get married, it's just a given that you have to stop using birth control and contribute to overpopulation. Maybe you'll do this four or five times, or even more if you're Catholic. Then your wife (or you, if you're female), having fulfilled the goal of most women to procreate, can stop trying to be attractive and fulfill the second goal of most women: Eat a lot of chocolate.

And then maybe 25 years from now, once you become a senior executive and your spouse is insisting on marriage counseling and your kids are taking all of your money to go to college but still insist you're an asshole because you won't let them get their genetalia pierced, you can take out your frustrations on the new guy. That one that's just started coming to work in the dandy new sports sedan, thinking he's hot shit.

Then, yes then, you will know you have been successful. Welcome to the Real World.

The Stupidity of Symbolism

I hate "American Pie". Not the movie, I mean I hate it too, but I'm specifically referring to that old song by Don McLean. Not only is it an irritating tune, but everybody holds it high as a shining example of poetry, what with all its "symbolic meaning" and all that malarkey. It's as if I'm the only person who has noticed that the song is about NOTHING.

The song starts out as an apparent lamentation on the death of Buddy Holly, then suddenly he starts talking about driving his Chevy. Then suddenly he starts on about faith in God. Then he's talking about someone being in love with some guy and dancing in a gym, then suddenly mentions that he likes rhythm and blues. Then he talks about being a "broncing buck" (what the fuck is that, anyway? Since when was "bronc" a verb?), then talks about borrowing a coat from James Dean, makes a fleeting mention of communism, then goes into a lot of non-sequitur shit that just happens to rhyme. Seriously, it's just verse after verse of this tripe, held together with that same tired, pointless chorus.

"But it's symbolic," fans of the song would argue.

No it isn't.

Most people don't understand the meaning of "symbolism". Symbols are supposed to stand for something. When you say one thing to mean something else entirely, that's not symbolism, it's just being pretentiously misleading. When you get a group of ten people together to discuss one piece of art and every single one of them says it means something different, then the artist has just failed to convey the image he wanted to. When you get that obscure, ANYTHING can be symbolic for ANYTHING. And I'll prove it.

The Wham song "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" is about heroin addiction.

Oh yeah. I said it.

Let me break the lyrics down for you:

Jitterbug
Jitterbug
Jitterbug
Jitterbug

This is one of many references to the initial euphoria of shooting up. "Jitterbug" is of course a very old, frantic, happy dance.

You put the boom-boom into my heart

This of course is a reference to the infamous "expanded senses" of a person on downers, being able to clearly hear his/her own heartbeat.

You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts

Again, a reference to the euphoria of first shooting.

Jitterbug into my brain

Heroin's main function is that of a nervous system depressant, or a "downer", which slows the body down and triggers the release of endorphins, causing the afore-mentioned euphoria.

Goes a bang-bang-bang,

"Bang-bang-bang" would of course be the sound that a gun makes when shooting three times. The gun is symbolic, and the key word here is "shooting".

'til my feet do the same

Fidgety feet are of course one of the many side-effect of withdrawal. The songwriter needs his fix.

But something's bugging you
Something ain't right
My best friend told me what you did last night
Left me sleepin' in my bed

Now one thinks of the film Trainspotting. Apparently there is a group of heroin addicts who all get high together and crash in the songwriter's pad.

I was dreaming, but I should have been with you instead.

Spoken to the heroin. The songwriter obviously wishes that he never had to sleep so he could always feel that initial rush.

Wake me up before you go-go

Again, spoken to the heroin. The addict wants to be prepared for the moment the dosage wears off.

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high

He wants time to prepare his next injection before his current one wears off.

Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo

"Going solo" could be a cryptic reference to "going clean".

Wake me up before you go-go
Take me dancing tonight
I wanna hit that high (yeah, yeah)

More dancing, most likely related to the "jitterbug" references throughout the song. Dancing = happiness, once he can "hit that high".

You take the grey skies out of my way
You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day
Turned a bright spark into a flame

The addict has become very psychologically dependent on his fix. It has now become his only source of happiness.

My beats per minute never been the same

Another reference to the slowed heartbeat of one who is "high".

'Cause you're my lady, I'm your fool
It makes me crazy when you act so cruel
Come on, baby, let's not fight
We'll go dancing, everything will be all right

The heroin "being cruel" is probably a reference to the addict's tolerance level building up. He is almost pleading with it to "take him dancing", but it's being "cruel" in not providing him with the high he's always gotten from it.

Refrain

Cuddle up, baby, move in tight
We'll go dancing tomorrow night

Now satisfied with his fix, the addict begins to pass out, already looking forward to doing this again tomorrow night.

It's cold out there, but it's warm in bed
They can dance, we'll stay home instead

"Out there" could mean the world the addict lives in, and "bed" is most likely a coffin. The addict is saying that if he dies of an overdose, the bliss makes it completely worthwhile.

Final Refrain


I wouldn't be surprised if someone actually believes all this shit I just wrote. Face it, it's just a goofy old song about dancing and being in love, and nothing more. And if you at first don't recognize symbolism, it probably isn't there. Or if it is, it's probably at least not worth your time. Be it in a movie, song, book, or whatever...just enjoy the story and leave the pseudo-intellectual analysis to the only people it benefits: dipshit college kids trying to get laid.

The Auto Classifieds Glossary

If you haven't caught on by reading the title, I'm still looking at auto classifieds. And I'm starting to notice common elements in them. Crazy, stupid things. Clues to the buyer's potential screwing hidden behind catchy, smartassed buzzwords and oft-repeated but little-understood terminology. But fear not! In my many (well, around 20) years as a car enthusiast, I have caught on to the true meanings of these terms, and have decided to compile them here. If ever you are in the market for a used car, refer to this handy little glossary to find out exactly what those unscrupulous guys with no scruples are REALLY saying.

Original with only 28k miles

What it's supposed to mean: It's barely been used, and will be in good shape.

What it really means: It's owned by some old lady and has never been driven over 20 miles and never faster than 40 mph, so you can be sure there will be lots of cold-running stress on the mechanical components.

Many new parts

What it's supposed to mean: We've replaced nearly everything, so it's practically a new car.

What it really means: We abuse the hell out of it, which is exactly why we've had to replace everything on it.

Can't replace for this price

What it's supposed to mean: You won't be able to restore a car like this one for the amount of money we're asking for it.

What it really means: We're hoping you don't know that people hardly ever get their money back out of a restoration, so you'll think $20,000 for a car that's had $30,000 invested in it will be a good deal, even if the book value is only $10,000.

Stored since 1975

What it's supposed to mean: It's like a time capsule! Fresh as a the day we put it in storage.

What it really means: We forgot to drain the fluids, so there's been plenty of time for calcium deposits to build up in the cooling system, the oil to gunk up, the engine to seize from lack of use, the gasoline to crystallize, and the battery to leak acid and eat through the inner fender. We also forgot to mention it's been stored outdoors for thirty years.

Valued at $10,000, asking only $8500

What it's supposed to mean: It's a great deal. We're asking far less than it's worth.

What it really means: The fickle market currently isn't interested in this car, and despite what the NADA book says, no one will offer me more than $5,000 for it.

Numbers matching

What it's supposed to mean: Hell if I know. Seriously. Everyone has their own definition for this one. This phrase is really supposed to mean every part is the same that came on the car, but this almost never applies to the car being advertised.

What it really means: The seller saw someone else selling a car that had that phrase in the ad, and it sounds really professional and stuff. And I mean, sure it has aftermarket wheels and a Bosch alternator, but it still has the original engine. I think. I mean, it's the right kind, anyway...so that means it worth like, five grand more than all the others like it.

No joy rides

What it's supposed to mean: I won't let you drive it for a long distance without supervision prior to the purchase.

What it really means: I won't let you test drive it at all, and if I'm lucky, you'll pay me the money and sign the title before you realize the lower control arms are severely bent.

No tire kickers

What it's supposed to mean: Don't stand around idly and pretend to go over the car even though you don't know what you're doing. That's a waste of my time.

What it really means: I won't let you examine the car closely at all, and if I'm lucky, you'll pay me the money and sign the title before you realize there are rust holes in the trunk floor and frame rails.

80% restored

What it's supposed to mean: I've done most of the restoration on this car, now you can finish the final details.

What it really means: I restored the interior and had the car painted, now you just need to rebuild the transmission and replace the floorboards.

My loss, your gain

What it's supposed to mean: I'm selling the car for less than its book value and less than I've invested.

What it really means: I'm losing a money pit, you're gaining one.

Needs TLC

What it's supposed to mean: Basically solid, just needs to minor repairs.

What it really means: If you want to get it home, you'd better bring a flatbed.

Runs and drives

What it's supposed to mean: It's a usable car in its current condition.

What it really means: We didn't say how well it runs and drives. The valves clatter, the pistons slap, it burns oil, and the transmission slips, but yes, technically, it does run and drive.

Nice driver

What it's supposed to mean: It won't win any shows, but it'll look good driving down the road.

What it really means: It looks great from thirty feet away, it's not until you get close that you realize half the chrome is missing.

Complete car

What it's supposed to mean: The car needs work, but no parts are missing.

What it really means: Half the parts need to be replaced, but yes, they are still on the car.

Adult owned

What it's supposed to mean: It's been owned by a responsible individual, not someone who abused it.

What it really means: The seller is 35 and has driven the shit out of the car, but is hoping the buyer will buy the stereotype that only teenagers do that.

Paint your color

What it's supposed to mean: We've primered the car for you, to save you time and money.

What it really means: We've primered the car to cover up the rust, and the fact that we fabricated the right quarter panel out of Liquid Nails, a street sign, and five gallons of Bondo.

Just remember, if you ever think you're being screwed when buying a used car, just check to see if the seller has ever used these terms. Then you'll know for sure what's wrong with it. And you'll probably want to kiss me.

CRAP Alert

I've spent quite a bit of my time lately in a hospital waiting room. It's really amazing the lengths one will go to for entertainment in these things. While you sit in the clinical, brightly lit chamber listening to children screaming and Fox news anchors droning, you start looking for a better pan to fry your brain in. Magazines are deemed unworthy early on, unless you want to read Good Housekeeping or Newsweek. So you just have to sit staring into your lap, sometimes for hours on end. I was in such a situation at about 3:30 AM, when the only other lost souls of the waiting room were asleep and my corner of the room was the only lit one. That's when I discovered the pamphlets.

Every waiting room I've ever been in has had these: Small, colorful pamphlets donated from some local church, in a white box behind the desk lamp marked "Free Spiritual Tracts", or some crap like that. I had always noticed them, but had never picked one up before. But this bleak morning I did just that, and my spirits were immediately lifted by the most marvelous load of horse shit I've ever had the pleasure of stumbling across. I immediately started stuffing them into the inside pocket of my jacket.

I didn't just pick up anything...those with titles like "The Path to Salvation" were overlooked. After all, I make fun of "normal" religion all the time. No, I wanted the outrageous stuff. And I found about four winners, which I've decided to review here.

How To Get Out Of Prison: Is "of" normally capitalized in titles? I'm not really sure, but it is here. Anyway, this is the first title that caught my eye. This yellow pamphlet has below the title a picture of an illuminated cross bursting through a brick wall, and the bible quote "'If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.' - John 8:36". Prison-breaking with Jesus? Faking a relationship with Jesus to prove you're reformed in front of the parole board? Whatever this was, I had to grab it.

Unfortunately it's nothing so spectacular: it turns out "prison" is metaphorical. They're referring to the state of "spiritual bondage" when one has sinned and not accepted Hey-Soose. Still, it has its moments.

Best Moment: "Bondage to sin is universal and everyone is born in sin. The Bible tells us, 'For al have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,' and "Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?' (Romans 3:23, 6:16)"

Everyone is born in sin? Doesn't that contradict 1 John 2:1, which says "My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous"?

The Television Set - The World in Your Home: This one was too good to pass up. Fundies ranting about TV? Darn that diversity! This little green piece of paper is pretty plain looking...the text starts on the front, and apart from the outline of a television surrounding the title, it's totally devoid of decoration. But the material contained is priceless. It turns out television is a "dark force" invading our homes and corrupting children. Why do they think children are so corruptible, anyway? When I was five, if someone tried to corrupt me, I would have told him to go fuck himself. But I digress.

The concept is censoring children from life is stupid enough, but even if they insist on it, where are the parents? If they don't want their kids to see "filth", why don't they get the mop, or if you can't stand my needless metaphor, reach for the remote? Oh, wait, I forgot: Fundamentalists don't just want to control their lives, they want to control yours too.

Best Moment: "Regular TV fare includes bloody scenes of holdups, fights, murder, drinking, smoking, dancing, and scantily clad men and women."

I'm sorry, did they just say dancing? What the hell? And the way it's phrased, it seems like they're saying bloody scenes of drinking, smoking and dancing. And how about those bloody scenes of scantily clad men and women? Yeah!

Alcohol - Have You Counted the Cost?: I love when these morons start ranting about alcohol. Not only is their hatred of it not backed by a single verse of the bible, but almost all of these people drink. So naturally I had to throw this one in with the others. A sparse yellow pamphlet with brown text makes it stand out from the others a bit...it's by the far the ugliest, if only in appearance. The thing basically says turn to Jesus and not to alcohol, because drinking alcohol will automatically turn a man into a drunkard. Funny, I drink nearly every day, but I've never been drunk in my life, nor do I ever plan to be. And I have overcome the "horrors of alcohol" without any help from Jesus. Praise Me!

Best Moment: "Many respectable people have become degraded through the use of alcohol. It has brought about the abusing of their families, stealing, murdering, and unfaithfulness to marriage vows."

Brilliant. Don't take responsibility for your own shit, blame it on drink. And if you do any of the things listed above (we'll except the last one in the case of swingers), drunk or sober, you are not a respectable person.

The Christian's Manner of Dress: The last one I grabbed was just too good to let go. Before even reading it, I could picture in my head rants about "Satan's evil invention of dungarees". The fact that it's by far the plainest looking of the four pamphlets - dark pink text over white, with no decoration - only reinforced this idea. Now that I've read it, it's not really that crazy. Just stupid. It basically says not to wear tight or revealing clothing, because it could make someone cheat on his/her spouse with you. You loose tramp.

Best moment: "The words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 lay a scriptural foundation for humility in dress. 'What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.' Notice the apostle does not say that a Christian may glorify his body. Rather, he is to glorify God in his body and in his spirit."

Okay, whoa. If God created our bodies, wouldn't walking around naked be glorifying God? After all, we're showing off his creation (fuck you, I don't capitalize "his" unless it's the beginning of a sentence). What is it with these uptight assholes thinking that nudity is unnatural?

Well, enough of this contretemps. I think I'm going to walk over to the corner of my spiritual prison in my casual clothing, turn on the TV, and watch some sex and violence while enjoying some vodka. Enjoy your day. I know I will mine.

Pugnacious Kerfuffle Strikes Back

-- So the Sci-Fi channel has some new shows out, one of which is Ghost Hunters, which I've rather enjoyed thus far. I looked forward to it prior to its premiere and for the most part have not been disappointed. However, there was another show I was looking forward to that I have been disappointed with, called Proof Positive. This was supposed to be a show that seriously (and scientifically) investigated claims of the paranormal. Unfortunately, the result is the exact washed-out load of shit I was afraid it would be.

Every episode has three cases, and by the end of the episode one will be judged false, one inconclusive, and one proof positive. This is incredibly goddamn stupid. If you go into an investigation with a pre-conceived notion that it will be one of the three, you aren't being objective. When they're making the show, they know ahead of time that one of the cases has to fit in one of these particular brackets. So suppose they're all inconclusive (as is usually the case with paranormal investigation)? Well, they'll throw in some bullshit evidence at one case and say it's proof positive (He passed a lie-detector test! That's irrefutable proof he's reincarnated!), or use some bullshit way to throw the case out (We spent one night there and didn't see any ghosts, so that's proof that the place isn't haunted). What a load.


-- Next year they're remaking Oh God. Remember that one? George Burns is God, John Denver is a loser (great casting)? Except this time Ellen DeGeneres is going to be playing God. They're obviously only casting her due to the publicity it will receive casting a woman (and doubly, a LESBIAN) as God. I find all media-whoring, especially overt media-whoring like that, to be downright boring. But even more disgusting is the inevitable reaction from uptight people everywhere. Why, in that lovely AFA Monthly Journal that I did an entry on recently, they mentioned this in their news section, saying "Apparently it wasn't enough for actress and comedian Ellen DeGeneres to push the homosexual lifestyle on her sitcom Ellen..." Oh yeah. Naturally if a lesbian plays God, God will be a lesbian. And you gotta love that homosexual "lifestyle". Because gay people "choose" to be gay, right?

I wonder about people who say shit like that. First of all, to have sex, one must be aroused. If these people believe one can choose to be aroused by a member of the same sex, that must mean that they have been aroused by members of the same sex before. Therefore, anyone who calls homosexuality a "lifestyle" is a latent homosexual. At least that's what I think, love it or shove it. Just try not to enjoy the shoving part too much.


-- I hate modern slang. It's so puerile. I'm not going to "peep" anything, but I'll look at it if you ask me to. Likewise, I won't get too worked up over a woman "doing a milkshake", although I might take notice if I see one dancing. A rich man is not a "baller". Calling someone a "pimp" is not a compliment. And although I may become euphoric, I'll never be "crunk". Not to mention any word that can conveivably be modified with the suffix "-izzle".

Another one that bugs me, although it's ridiculously common now, is "my bad". I first heard this phrase used when I was in the 7th grade, and I seriously thought that the person who said it to me was mentally retarded. It sounds like something a fucking toddler would say, sort of like saying "What's her doing" instead of "What's she doing". It's as if the people have never heard the word "mistake" before.

One of my slang pet-peeves is "sick". Since when did "sick" mean anything other than twisted or disgusting? Now suddenly it means "cool"? I think not. Oh yeah, and part of my philosophy is, if someone calls you "dog", they're asking for an ass-kicking.

Now, peace out. Whatever the hell that means.