Monday, December 24, 2012

Bah Humbug! A Very Trippy Christmas


“If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”

Ebeneezer Scrooge, A Christmas Carol





Few literary characters are as unjustly demonized as Ebenezer Scrooge. A Christmas Carol serves as a warning, a threat even, that you better get into the holiday spirit OR ELSE. Failure to comply puts you at risk for psychological torture in the form of intense spectral hauntings where former colleagues come back from the dead and force you to relive other shitty Christmases. This bad acid trip is led by a slew of self-righteous spirits who wait expectantly for you to cop to your wrongdoings and declare your love for the holidays.
 
Failure to get on board with obligatory cheer earns you a one-way ticket to eternal damnation where you literally become a yuletide prisoner, bound my chains and forced spent the afterlife terrorizing other non-believers.
 


 

Christmas is so indoctrinated into our society that it can be difficult to see the forest for the trees, especially if they are covered in tinsel and tacky ornaments. People like poor, misunderstood Ebenezer Scrooge who dare to reject the holiday spirit are shunned, vilified, and shamed into changing their ways.

Let’s celebrate this Christmas with a little dose of reality. Shut your wallet and open your mind for a moment and allow me to show you why Scrooge had it right all along.
 
 

Why Christmas Sucks 
A Bah Humbug Breakdown


Forced Family Fun
 
 
‘“Nephew!”’ returned the uncle sternly, ‘keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.’”

During the holidays, you are expected to spend time with people that you rarely (if ever) see except during this time of year. Chances are, if you don’t see or communicate with someone outside of Christmas, they’re not someone you want to waste your precious days off with. Now don’t get me wrong – I love many of my family members dearly, but there are also some I could take or leave, and others that I would definitely leave. I would rather spend my time with people whose company I actively enjoy – is that such an outlandish idea?
 
 

This nightmare only doubles when you enter a relationship and are expected to assume familial responsibilities with your significant other’s family as well. Depending on the situation, there is a slight chance that this could go your way (if his family is cooler and gives you an excuse to ditch your own relatives) although it is much more likely that it will not (if his family sucks, thus compelling you to pretend to care about a whole slew of other people in addition to your brood).

Bah Humbug Breakdown

Scrooge is made to look like a heel just because he doesn’t want to go to his nephew’s house for Christmas dinner. This is the same nephew that Scrooge was good enough to give a job to, but is that enough? No, of course not. He should clearly go socialize with his nephew’s family on his day off. But why? Has anyone considered that maybe the nephew isn’t Scrooge’s cup of tea? That maybe seeing his nephew’s stupid face day in and day out at the office is more than enough quality time for Scrooge? That maybe he doesn’t want to make mindless small talk with the guy’s boring wife or pretend to give a fuck about his bratty kids. Why does that make Scrooge a dick? He doesn’t refuse to give his nephew the day off; he just wants to be left alone. Why is that such a crime?

 Goodwill or Go Home
 
 

‘“I wish to be left alone,’ said Scrooge. ‘Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don’t make merry myself at Christmas and I can’t afford to make idle people merry.’”
 
 
I’m a woman and therefore I’m biologically wired to put the needs of others before my own. I think about other people all the goddamn time and I find my own ways to give back or show people I care. I don’t need a stupid fucking holiday telling me that if I don’t give to the needy I’m a bad person and I don’t need a season to compel me to be compassionate.

Bah Humbug Breakdown

In A Christmas Carol, two gentlemen show up at Scrooge’s office asking him to give money to the poor. Probably the only thing that most people remember from this scene is that Scrooge refuses. But Scrooge doesn’t automatically tell the guys to fuck off. Perplexed, he questions whether some establishments that he routinely gives to (the prisons, Union workhouses, the Treadmill, and the Poor Law to be specific) are still functioning. When the men reply that yes, they are still running, Scrooge says that he already supports those establishments and the needy should utilize them.

To me, this sounds pretty reasonable. If Scrooge already gives to these other institutions, why do these guys have to harass him to shell out more? Not to mention the fact that these guys are pushy bastards who can’t take a hint. They show up at Scrooge’s place of business unannounced with this air of entitlement and demand that he pony up more money. And he’s the rude one?


Financial Frivolity – Tis the Season to Spend Away Your Savings

At Christmas time, even the thriftiest people lose their heads and with good reason. It doesn’t matter how much debt you’ve accumulated or how late your bills will be. You must go shopping and spend, spend, spend! After all, spending money you don’t have is the only way to tell people that you love them. Duh. After all, caring is quantified and the kind of gift you give signifies how much you value the relationship.

I’m no innocent here. I played into the sham for years. I got my first credit card because of Christmas. I was in graduate school, living at my grandmother’s and student teaching (i.e. working full-time for free) while going to school. I would pick up shifts as often as possible at the Italian restaurant I'd worked at for years, but it was next to impossible with the demands of the schedule and the coursework. Needless to say, I was broke. So when Christmas rolled around I should have said no to the madness and told people that I just couldn’t do it that year. But I didn’t. Instead, I got myself a credit card and spent money I didn’t have on things that my family and friends didn’t need. Brilliant.

If you let yourself go rogue, Christmas can rapidly put you in the poorhouse. Where’s the line? Where does it end? Sure, you have your immediate family, but then there’s also the extended relatives, the significant other’s relatives, friends, co-workers, neighbors, the mailman, your Pilates instructor, etc. We are made to believe that failure to purchase a scented candle or a Best Buy gift card for them is equivalent to spitting in their face and telling them that they are a waste of space.

Further upping the ante is the fact that everyone gets behind this trend. Everyone. Never are people so united except in their willingness to buy meaningless shit under the guise that doing so demonstrates their generosity and “holiday spirit.” Consequently, failure to buy in and shell out renders you a total douche bag.

Bah Humbug Breakdown

One aspect of A Christmas Carol that people miss is the fact that Scrooge lives very simply. He’s a self-made man who came from nothing and though he might be better off than many, his lifestyle is not extravagant. Sure, he keeps his office (and home) cold, but he’s trying to conserve! It’s not like he’s sits by a crackling fire while his employees are freezing to death in the other room. He’s right there in the trenches with them, so I guess he reasons that if it’s warm enough for him, the sissies can suck it up and put on an extra sweater if they’re chilly. One might even argue that Scrooge’s aversion to burning excessive coal marked him as an environmentalist long before going green was trendy.


Be Irresponsible and Be Merry! 
 
 

“It’s only once a year, sir,” pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. “It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir.”


          Bah Humbug Breakdown

You might remember the character Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s clerk with the crippled kid? The Cratchits are supposed to serve as a shining example of family goodness whose sickening, Mormon-like love for one another transcends their poverty.

The truth is that Bob Cratchit is a complete asshole. The Cratchits thoughtlessly procreated their way into poverty; they have like six goddamn kids! I don’t understand why this is Scrooge’s problem? He was smart enough not to sire a bunch of ragamuffins he couldn’t take care of and now he’s expected to foot the bill for gimpy Tiny Tim’s medical problems?

I know what you’re thinking – it’s not their fault, they didn’t have adequate birth control, blah, blah, blah. I had the same thought, so I did a little research and what do you know? By the mid-1800s (when Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol) contraceptive technology had moved beyond the methods that had been used for centuries. People had already been using condoms made out of animal intestines for a long time, but now they also had not rubber condoms, douching syringes, “womb veils” (otherwise known as diaphragms) and IUDs at their disposal. By the 1870s, chemical suppositories and vaginal sponges were also available at pharmacies.

Unfortunately, in 1873, there was a backlash and the Comstock laws were implemented. In 1843, however, there was no good reason for the Cratchits to have six little rug rats they couldn’t afford to take care of. Adding insult to injury, Bob Cratchit is kind of laissez-faire for a guy with like seven people dependents. That shiftless motherfucker has the audacity to show up late the day after Christmas! You’d think he’d be a little more responsible or show some initiative and go above and beyond.

Far from it. On the contrary, Scrooge is the one on trial for the crime of being responsible and self-sufficient. To make amends for his wickedness, Scrooge not only excuses Cratchit’s tardiness, but also doubles his salary. Really people, what message does that send? Go ahead and reproduce your way into poverty – don’t worry, someone else will clean up the mess!
 
 
Good Saint Nick and Other Consumerist Propaganda

Children receive enough messages that reinforce the idea of wanting shit they don’t need. They also live in a distorted reality where they believe the world revolves around them. Christmas capitalizes on both under the guise of seasonal magic. Although Christmas is supposedly intended to bring children joy, the shameless propaganda that accompanies this holiday actually wreaks enduring psychiatric havoc. I would argue that Christmas: (1) Destroys intrinsic motivation by instilling the idea that children should exhibit some human decency only so they can receive presents, (2) Cultivates consumerism and teaches kids to equate “family time” with their parents shelling out money for shit they don't need, (3) Sets them up for disappointment through the Santa fabrication and forever makes them doubt their parents' word.

Bah Humbug Breakdown

Kids today already have it too easy; they can’t even legally work until they’re 16! Since the establishment of child labor laws, every day is Christmas for kids in America.

In addition, Christmas also reinforces the idea that having children innately enriches people’s lives and thus implies that those who are childless are sad. Scrooge was able to build a sustainable lifestyle largely because he didn’t have kids but A Christmas Carol insinuates that because he’s alone he’s an unhappy miser. Maybe Scrooge just enjoys the peace and quiet. Maybe he just doesn’t want to bring children into the shitty world. But instead, the implication is that Scrooge’s life is empty and he should fill it by rewarding the reproductive irresponsibility of others.


The Bottom Line
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Santa is for suckers! Let’s take back bah humbug and make Scrooge synonymous with smart. I urge you to say no to ho ho ho and stop allowing societal pressure to dictate what you do during this so-called holiday season. Make your own holidays and make your own rules. Screw the sanctimonious pricks who try to guilt you into doing otherwise (I’m talking to you, Tiny Tim). In short, have yourself a very Trippy Christmas.



 

 

 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Fuck your Face(book) PART 2.



I swear that if one more person tells me how great Facebook is for “staying in touch,” I will fist them with a pirated copy of The Social Network.

Another favorite? “I use privacy controls, so only my ‘friends’ can see my profile.”

This one sends me into orbit. You do know that your shit is on the World Wide motherfucking Web, right? All these sites reside in the uncharted Wild West that is the Internet. You’re sharing this intangible space with people whose interests include bestiality, torture, and mass murder. So when you merrily post pictures of your newborn child on your Facebook wall for all your “friends” and family to see, don’t forget about your neighbors down the hall.

Who are these neighbors? Just like you, they love using these social media forums to keep in touch and connect with others who share their interests. While they may not be on Facebook, groups like NAMBLA (the North American Man Boy Love Association) enjoy connecting online, as do those who share a common love for killing and eating little boys. Think I’m being dramatic? Check out the story at the link below and read about the recent arrest of the Largo puppeteer, one of the good Christians residing in my neighboring town.  




Feeling sad that no one responded to your Tweet about little Johnny’s first tooth falling out? Fear not - while no one in your real life actually gives a shit, the aforementioned parties and nameless other derelicts that abound online will be absolutely riveted by Johnny’s gap-toothed smile. Your pictures could very well inspire the topic of today’s chat session and lead to a passionate dialogue on the accessorizing possibilities of baby teeth!


        Good morning, Officer! 
Just another Saturday morning!










Bottom line? You might feel invisible/invincible in this online community, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s no gate or fence high enough to keep the ne're-do-wells away from the Internet, so you need to be careful. You must remember that regardless of where you actually are logistically, you enter a bad neighborhood whenever you go online and you need to act accordingly. If you really do live in a less than savory neighborhood, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Perhaps you too have woken up on a Saturday morning, rubbed your eyes, and decided to go greet the day only to be greeted with a blur of cops and attack dogs chasing a fugitive through your backyard. Or maybe you’ve gone out to get the mail and had the misfortune of witnessing your neighbors accuse each other of having dicks in their mouths before they subsequently become so heated over the issue that they take to street fighting to resolve it. Or maybe not.

Regardless of whether you've had the pleasure of dealing with situations like the ones above, I’m sure you would exercise caution and vigilance in such an environment. You wouldn’t post your daily itinerary on your front door because you wouldn't want to get your shit jacked. Remember that when you "check in" somewhere on Facebook, you're also letting people know where you're not - your house. You probably also wouldn’t stuff the mailboxes in your area with pictures of you in a bikini top and provide critical identifying information about where you work or go to school because you don't want to recruit a stalker or a pervert. 

However, it's not just strangers you need to worry about; more likely than not, there's at least a few perverts among your Facebook "friends".  The young man below expresses this message much more eloquently than I ever could in his hit song, "Jackin' Off to Your Facebook Pics." I urge you to visit the link below to hear an awesome song that also serves as a powerful public service announcement. I can only hope that if you won't listen to me, you'll listen to Super Saiyan Jaylen - the self-described Jackoff Bandit - and become more selective about the pictures you post on Facebook.


Thanks for the new Facebook pics!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_PJ3GGSh0g&noredirect=1



Thursday, September 27, 2012

When Your Mac n Cheese Has Needs


Am I the only one who thinks social media has crossed the line into harassment? If a person persisted in trying to be your friend no matter how many times you refused and then began showing up everywhere you went insisting that you had to like them, poke them, or follow them, wouldn't you call the police?


It’s gotten to the point where I can’t do anything anywhere without being subjected to incessant requests to “like” or “follow” everything and everyone in the whole goddamn world. I find it obnoxious that I can’t go online, watch a show, or leave my house without an onslaught of whiny bitches trying to get me to participate in some imaginary popularity contest being held in a the land of make believe.

These requests might not be so terrible if the things I was being asked to like or follow weren't so retarded. Nevertheless, I’ve taken the same approach you would with any obsessed stalker; I’ve been clear and consistent in my rejection and ignored all advances and propositions by the obsessed. I’ve been decisive, blunt to the point of being cruel, and careful to never offer false hope. I've also tried to ignore it, hoping that by not giving social media the attention it craves, it would eventually take the hint or lose interest. On the contrary, this approach only seems to encourage its desire to recruit me.

While I have learned to mask my mounting revulsion for a society where everyone desperately needs validation from complete strangers, it's gone far beyond that. Now people have projected their neediness onto inanimate objects. Products. Things. Does no one else find it odd that every single thing you buy - rubber bands, lampshades, mold remover, cat litter, orange juice – now insists, demands, or pleads that you follow or friend them?

I’m beginning to feel like I need to set these products straight. Like a wildly delusional and insecure girlfriend, they think they’ll eventually wear me down and get me to commit to them and declare my allegiance publically. Ha! I wouldn’t even do that for a HUMAN, so I’ll be damned if I’m going to do it for an item on my grocery list. I think it’s time to have The Talk.

There’s a couple ways to approach this, but I recommend the second option. The first is a punk move that’s likely to send mixed signals and give false hope.

Option #1 - Punk Ass Bitch

Which one do you love enough to like?


Cheese has needs too!














No, I will not “like” you on Facebook, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Don’t get me wrong, you’re cool and all and I do like you, I just don’t Facebook like you. No, you didn't do anything wrong, MC, but my love of squeeze cheese and noodles only goes so far. When did you get so needy? Must I really make a public declaration to validate our relationship? Why ruin a good thing by putting labels on it?

Option #2 – Man Up


No, I will not follow you on Twitter, shampoo-I-bought-on-sale at Dollar General. I bought you because you were cheap and I was in the mood for a deep moisturizer. But next month, it could be a different story depending on how dry my ends are how low you’re willing to go. “Following” you on Twitter would suggest a continuity that’s not in the cards for us and I don’t want to lead you on. Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to use you all up and throw you out (well, recycle you if possible) because after you clean my dirty, dirty hair, I have no use for you, shampoo. Follow you on Twitter? Bitch, please. The only thing following you is conditioner.


If you feel yourself starting to get soft, you can call upon the master of putting trifling hoes in their place, rapper Too Short.  

          “You {insert product} get to ride, get used all the time,
          I ain’t made the situation I just made the rhyme
          Adapt to my surroundings, look around
          Nothin but pimps, tricks, and hookers found.”


Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Trippy vs. The Authorities

Other than having a laptop and an ax to grind, I decided to start a blog in hopes it would encourage me to write more. Over the last couple years, I've been writing short stories for a book (many of which I’m sure will find their way here) that I hope to someday publish. I thought that this forum – this blog – might compel me to keep generating new material and write down my ideas before they dissipate into a cloud of bong smoke.



Recently, I had an epiphany about my professional life. Making it as a writer is no longer optional for me; I really have no other choice. It’s become abundantly clear that I cannot function in the mainstream workplace. This is not an exaggeration; you need only look at my work history to see that I don’t do well with authority figures or rules. Below I’ve summarized some key events from my professional life that reflect a definitive pattern or rebellion. Each really deserves an entry of its own, but I for now I will just give you the highlights.

1)     High School Teacher (Connecticut) 2006-2009
    
 Refused to bow to administrative pressure to lower standards and was non-renewed aka fired. Fought the gym teacher-turned-principal’s verdict and threatened to expose his whole corrupt kingdom. He is forced to rescind his decision in front of four witnesses. At the end of the year, I tender my resignation and move to Florida


2)    High School/Middle School Teacher (Florida) 2009-2010

 Left on my own accord, but almost went down when I was tapped for a random drug screening after a drug-fueled four-day birthday extravaganza. I tender my resignation three months later and decide to leave teaching altogether.

3)    Waitress/”Door Girl” at Strip Club (Florida) 2010-2011 

 












      Fired for reading/doing work. On a slow night, my manager sees me doing some kind of editing/writing work while I’m at the door. The GM comes by and  tells me that he’d “prefer” I not do that work at the door. I take “prefer” to mean optional, so I obligingly put my papers away until he leaves. After leaving the club, he reviewed the security footage and decided that my commitment to professional development was a far more egregious offense than the  rampant drug dealing and prostitution. He returns a few hours later and fires me on the spot for not “respecting his authority.”

4)    Remote Copywriter 2011 – Present

     Despite the fact that this is a telecommuting position and the company is located in California, I manage to get into trouble when a new management team takes over. My supervisor does not appreciate my questions about the policy changes and   subsequently bans me from posting on our virtual forum, claiming that my contributions “incite a crowd” and “lower morale.”

How does one get into trouble at a virtual job? Who gets fired from a strip club for reading? These are all logical questions that I wish I had the answers to. I’m an extremely diligent worker who goes above and beyond. I take my job, whatever it is, seriously and do my best. My shit is always tight; the quality of my work has never been the issue. I just have a teensy problem following rules sometimes, particularly if I don’t agree with them or don’t see any value or purpose in them. I have a tendency to ask why a lot, which can rub some people the wrong away, especially when they don’t have an answer or don’t want to give it.



I wish I could say that things are different now, but it’s only been two months and I’m already struggling to conform to the bullshit at my new job. I’ve never worked in an office, let alone a cubicle, so this is a most unpleasant change of pace. The beige walls, lack of sunlight, direct supervision, and terrible hours are already taking their toll. Unable to shake my work ethic, I do my best, but I find myself committing small acts of deviance. 

For example, last month I wanted to make my boyfriend a card, so I used my work computer to search for and print colored pictures.  We're not supposed to use our computers for anything that's not work-related, even during our lunch break. I can't even check my goddamn email, pay a few bills, nada. This policy really grinds my gears, so I promptly decided I would not abide by it. I didn't see the harm in perusing Google images during my lunch break and printing the pictures at the end of the day.  

Had the pictures consisted of sports team emblems or scenic landscapes, what I did wouldn't have been so bad. However, I did run a bit of a risk finding and printing the following images: 










And those are just a few of my favorites. 


I was able to avoid detection, but I figure my days in cubicle nation are numbered, so I need to get serious about publishing my writing. Since I have difficulty respecting anyone's authority, including local law enforcement, I need to be my own boss. Since I'm not exactly the domesticated type, I also need to make enough money so my man can quit his job and be a full-time househusband. 


It's 6:00, which means it's time to rejoin the rat race and head back to cubicle nation. Hopefully, my days there are numbered.