Friday, September 23, 2005

I Like Porn cont'd...

Still, there are other arguments about why porn is a bad thing, arguments about it's affects on the viewer, that it desensitizes us to the act and creates false expectations and the extreme right-wingers would even suggest that it promotes criminal deviancy and rape. I have my doubts about all of the above. Just like violence in movies and song lyrics, those with a tendency to get so moved by what they are seeing on the TV screen or hearing in a song that they would commit those acts were already predisposed to violence and would have acted out at some point with or without the stimulation of movies or songs. Such is the same for porn. If everyone who popped in a porno tape became a satyriacal rapist the world would be over run by them. The porno industry is a multi-billion-dollar a year business. It is difficult to find a person living today who has never seen one. This being true it is hard to make the case that porn creates rapists. I don't think there are many people who seriously believe that anyway, even the right-wing fascists who espouse this bullshit probably have stashes of porn in their closets.

But what about porn desensitizing you by reducing sex to its bare mechanics minus the emotions? If all you ever watched was porn that could be a problem. But since most of us are flooded with images of love and romance, even in the most violent horror film or novel or the most brutal action film there is always a love interest and some hint of romance, I don't think anyone's perspective will really get that screwed up by watching a woman get double penetrated by genetic freaks with organs the size of vacuum cleaner hoses. I think most people can divorce fantasy from reality and those who can't, as I said before, had problems long before they picked up Debbie Does Dallas.

Okay, but what about these fantasies that porn creates and supports? Does it create an unrealistic standard for men and women to live up to? It creates a high sexual standard but not an unattainable one. Not every woman wants to have sex three or four times a day in as many positions as the human body can contort. But trust me, many do. If that's what you have to have than go find one. If you are trying to turn your wife or girlfriend into one when she is not than you are wrong. You need to either except her as she is or find someone you are more sexually compatible with. If you are a woman who watches porn and is disappointed that your husband isn't big enough to make love to the Holland Tunnel like some of the mutants in the porn business than go find someone who is or get over it. Porn is not the sole source of dissatisfaction. People who are out looking for the "Bigger Better Deal" will find temptation and a reason to be dissatisfied with their mate just walking down the street. There is always someone with a better body than you or a prettier face. Even if you don't see it you will always hear stories of the sexual exploits of your friends and acquaintances that will make your own life appear mundane. If you need more than get more. Don't start resenting your mate because she can't deep throat like Linda Lovelace or because he can't plunge a toilet with his penis. If you do. It ain't the porno's fault. The flaw lies within.

If you watch pornography and start feeling cheated because your wife doesn't have the body or sexual talents of a porn star then if there was no porn you'd be wishing she had the body of a model, a dancer, some other celebrity, a neighbor, a comic book character, or something from your own imagination. The same goes for women. If you wish your man or woman was a sexual perpetual energy machine than you'd have that desire with or without porn. Porn may show you what's possible but it doesn't show what's probable or the least bit likely. Still, if you look hard enough you can find anything. There is someone for everyone. If the porn directors found one so can you. Just remember that old axiom of the game, "You can't turn a whore into a housewife." But if that's the type of lifestyle you want than go for it. I for one would never condemn anyone for wanting a more passionate life. I just don't believe in making others miserable because they can't live up to the standards of porn stars. I also don't believe that these standards or desires would cease to exist if porn did.

There have been many times in my life where I've thought to myself "Wow. This is like something that happens in a bad porno movie or in one of those letters in Hustler Forums. I never thought this would actually be happening to me!" as I dived headfirst into some orgy, or menage' trois, or sex with some woman I'd met only minutes before. Then those type of unbelievable encounters became commonplace. Same attracts same and soon I could not meet a normal respectable girl anywhere. Every woman I came in contact with was a freak. I was putting out that vibe so I was attracting that type of woman, exclusively at one point. If you are looking for it it is out there. There is nothing wrong with wanting a more passionate more sexually fulfilling life. The only harm comes when you hurt the ones you love, or anyone else for that matter, trying to live that fantasy. I have been there and I can tell you that it had nothing to do with porn. It was all me and my own fucked up issues.

I like porn. I watch it for the acts performed not the people performing them since they almost never have the type of women that I prefer. Skinny model types and gargantuan after-market mammaries are not my thing. Porn does feed the immediate gratification mentality, but I don't think men are any more or less inclined to want their spouses to be willing and ready when they are because of porn. Men and women like to have sex when they are in the mood for sex. We want our spouses to be in the mood for it when we are. This didn't start with porn. I am not a night person and my girlfriend is. Porn didn't cause this problem. I like to do it when the mood strikes not after the house is clean, and dinner is made and eaten, and our favorite TV show is over. By then I'm thinking about sleep not sex. Porn didn't create this dilemma. Wanting a woman that will cater to even your most perverse desires didn't start with porn. Porn did not create this desire. If anything, it fulfills it. If you are with a woman or man who does not cater to your sexual wants and needs than you will either leave them, cheat on them, or silently resent them as your relationship sours with or without porn. My girlfriend and I came to a healthy compromise. Sometimes I wake up for her and sometimes she drops whatever she is doing for me. Other times I pop in a porno tape and supplement my sex life the safe and easy way.

I suppose there are some people who look at a porno movie and think that people are out there having more sex than they are. I, on the other hand, am always surprised at how little sex my friends are having. Watching porn makes me think I'm normal and then I talk to real people and realize that I'm a freak. As far as porn creating unrealistic standards by presenting content explicitly designed for my tastes well, if I'm in a serious relationship with a woman then she's probably explicitly designed for my tastes as well, and presumably I am to her tastes too. If we are not physically and sexually compatible than we would soon part with or without porn. I am done staying in unfulfilling relationships. And since I love to cuddle and am sort of a freak when it comes to the scent and feel of a woman's skin, there is never a danger of sex being reduced to the bare mechanics. I can spend twenty minutes just rubbing my face against a woman's stomach. I love the feel of a woman's skin. I love to love and be loved as much as I love having sex. I love the feel of a woman's arms around me. I love cradling a woman in my arms. I love kissing that spot behind a woman's knee or in the hollows of her collarbones as much as I love kissing that spot between her thighs. I love hearing the words "I love you" as much as I love hearing "Come on, Big Daddy. Cum in my face." I love lying beside my woman watching the sunset as much as I love watching her slowly undress. I love watching her smile as much as I love watching her cum. I love women and nothing I see in a porno movie is going to change that. I love romance. I love passion. I love sex and damn it...I love Porn!

I Like Porn

One of my favorite and most revealing "Get to know you" questions from my single days went something like this, "You're watching a porno and you get to that really disgusting scene that makes you hit fast forward and skip right through it. What scene is that for you?" If the answer is, "I never watch those things." The interview is pretty much over and don't expect a call-back. If the answer is, "I don't fast forward through any of the scenes. None of it grosses me out." Then you've got my interest, approval, and admiration. Now I skip to the next question, "Which scenes make you hit the pause or the rewind button?" The answer to that question has often determined the entire course of my relationships.

I watched my first full length porno movie when I was thirteen or fourteen. I believe it was Taboo 2. I played that movie until I popped the tape. When I was fifteen I was a regular customer at the local video store, making trips to the back of the store, behind the curtain, to the section where all the porn was hidden away from the eyes of minors. It never occurred to the store clerks that a minor could be 6'5" tall so I never had a problem renting anything I wanted. I watched movies with my girlfriend every weekend. To me there was nothing nasty or perverse about it. We were sexual beings so why shouldn't we watch movies about sex? Well, now I'm a dad. I have a daughter. This has changed my entire perspective on the porno industry.

I always knew that pornography was a sleazy and exploitative business. That it preyed on naive young women looking for a way to Hollywood stardom or who were starving for cash or drug addicted or the victims of abuse or who suffered from low-self esteem and were looking for something to make them feel sexy and desirable. But, to be honest, I never cared. I never thought a second about the women in those films. They were paid performers and I was paying to watch their performance. Why they were up there doing what they were doing was none of my business and not my concern. The older I get, however, the more I start wondering about those women.

Living in Las Vegas I have met many many strippers, several prostitutes, and a few porn stars. I talk to them at the gym when they are on the treadmill beside me trying not to knock themselves unconscious with their oversized after-market mammaries. I had no choice but to talk to them when they would come to the bars and nightclubs where I worked as a bouncer and poor out their tales of heartbreak and woe to me while drowning their sorrows in alcohol. Working in nightclubs it is expected that you will act as every heartbroken, depressed, down-on-their-luck drunk's psychiatrists and confessor. Back then I heard all of the normal "My boss is an asshole, my ex-wife is a bitch, my boyfriend/husband is lazy, unfaithful, can't keep a job, doesn't appreciate me, etc." stories. I had learned to nod my head non-committal appearing to be sympathetic while ignoring the men and listening to the music and sizing the women up for a one-night-stand. Then I moved to Vegas and the stories changed. They became "My pimp kicked my ass again. I ran into a bad trick today. I got busted by vice while doing a gang bang with five Arabs in a hot tub at Ceasars Palace. My producer wants me to do an anal gang bang scene and I have hemorrhoids what should I do?" I would sit and listen as they talked with unnerving casualness about their latest trick, movie, or photo shoot. I would respectfully decline when they asked me out on a date or for a one night stand, disgusted by the idea of swimming in what was a public pool. Stomach rolling in utter revulsion as I imagined all the cocks they must have sucked that week alone, never understanding why a woman who has sex for a living would want to have sex when she was off the clock. Then I'd go home and pop a porno in the VCR, getting off on watching these same women that revolted me in person. The fantasy was fine but I did not want to know anything about the reality.

I worked security at the AVN awards five years ago at Ceasars Palace here in Vegas. The woman who won best group scene propositioned me rather aggressively and I almost went for it. Not because I really wanted to go where so many had gone before,but because my friends who were working with me would have been jealous. Fucking a porn star was their dream. It wasn't mine. I declined. They looked at me like I was crazy. Then I went to a nightclub and picked up a "regular" girl there. Had casual anonymous sex all night long without a shred of regret. Sometimes the devil you don't know is better than the devil you do.

Now, I no longer work in nightclubs. Haven't for many years, Casual sex isn't really my thing anymore, though the occasional one night stand isn't completely out of the question. But I still love porn. Only now I think about the girls I used to talk to in the nightclubs and their stories about fleeing a molesting father or uncle and running right into the porn industry, being forced into it by their pimps or talked into it by their boyfriends or seduced into it by producers promising fame and fortune and I start to wonder about the girl smiling for the camera while her every orifice is being urgently plundered for the viewer's delight though probably not hers. I think about when I was in Hollywood and would go on casting calls for some martial arts film or action film or something only to have the producer offer me a role in a porno movie instead. This happened nine out of ten times. Seriously, nine out of ten! I'd meet a guy at a nightclub who said he was casting for the new Star Trek movie and then I'd go to his office and he'd ask me how big my cock was and if I was comfortable fucking on camera. And I'm a guy. A big guy. I imagine how much worse it must be for young actresses trying to break into the acting business in that sleazy town. I think about all of these things while I press rewind on Cum Sucking Sluts Volume 9 so that I can get another look at that incredible "snowballing" scene. Because there is also the reality that a great many of the women in these movies are there because they want to be there. They are there because they enjoy fucking on camera. They relish the fame, the attention, the lust and adoration they inspire, and the shitloads of cash they can make if they make it to the top. Some of them are fellow sex addicts like myself having a blast getting paid to do what they love. And God bless 'em everyone of 'em.

I like porn. I like all things sexual. I like strip clubs and sex boutiques and peep shows and swingers clubs and S&M clubs and sexually oriented lyrics in my music. Sex makes me happy, deliriously so. Yes, it is a symptom of my sex addiction, but one I am reluctant to part with. Yes, it is more than a tad hypocritical of me to admit that I have a problem with the exploitation of women by this industry yet continue to patronize it. To that I can only say, "Oh, well. I am human." No one thinks about the murdering and pillaging going on in Africa right now so that we can have diamonds and gold and platinum when they are going out to buy an engagement ring or anniversary present. No one thinks about the exploitation of immigrant laborers when they buy produce. No one thinks about the labor conditions and exploitation of children when they buy clothing and goods manufactured in Third World countries. I try not to think about the ills of the porno industry when I'm jacking-off. I sometimes do feel guilty when I'm done. Then
I pop in another film and get over it by the time I bust another nut.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Dream Of A Ridiculous Man

I am a ridiculous man. I am a dreamer. I have hope. I have lofty goals and ambitions. They are not the ambitions of those around me. I don't dream about getting a promotion. I don't dream about hitting the lottery. I don't dream about buying a bigger house or a nicer car. I don't dream about vacationing in Europe or retiring to a Carribean Island and sitting on the beach sipping tropical cocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. I have desires that it would take a miracle to fulfill. And despite all that is reasonable, all that is probable, all that is normal and sane, I struggle every day to acheive these lofty, insane, improbable goals. I am a ridiculous man.

I have a good job. I have a house. I have two cars and no car notes. I have a kid that's an honor roll student and a damned good athlete, writer, and martial artist. I have a daughter that's more beautiful than anything on earth. I have a woman who loves me. Yet, I am dissatisfied. I have, in fact, never been satisfied.

I was walking down the street yesterday and out of nowhere I remembered the feel of my shin colliding with an opponent's ribcage, meeting the resistance of muscle, sinew, and bone, and breaking right on through. The satisfying sound of cracking bone and air exploding from an opponent's lungs and that delicious look of fear in his eyes. It was like the memory of a loss love that I will never see again. It depressed me all day. Today I had a similar moment of nostalgia about that perfect left hook. The one that ended the fight for me five years ago in a ring here in Las Vegas. It was a beautiful shot that spun my opopnent's head and dropped him like he'd been shocked with a taser. I miss that moment. I wish I could relive it over and over again. But the reality is that I cannot. I am no longer the man that threw that punch.

I had a dream last night that I was in a low-budget cage match against a well-known NHB fighter. I had taken the fight on about an hour's notice and i went into the ring, took the guy down and proceeded to ground and pound, raining punches down on him from every angle. I could not knock him out and my opponent hardly seemed phased. He kept reminding me that the round was almost over and the referee would be standing us back up and once he was on his feet he would knock me out. So I stood up, with twenty seconds left on the clock, just to see what he had. He stood there grinning at me and throwing half-hearted punches like we were in a sparring match or something and not in a real fight. I wanted him to try and hurt me so that I could hurt him but he wouldn't. Then the round ended. I went back to my corner, which was empty. I had no trainer, no cutman, no cornermen at all. He stepped out of the ring and went into the promoter's office. I watched from the ring as he sat down and held a conversation with the promoter. I kept shadowboxing to stay warm because i didn't want to be cold when he came back out and the fight resumed. Then I looked back over and the promoter's office was empty. He and my opponent were gone and the lights had all been shut off. I woke up feeling extremely depressed that morning because i knew what the dream meant. My fighting career was over. My disinterested, unflappable opponent was time, age. I'm okay with that though. I have other goals now.

I still train fighters and I make pretty good money doing so. That keeps me in the game. I also spar with all my fighters, so every once in awhile I get the opportunity to land that perfect left hook or that perfect roundhouse kick to the ribcage. Only now I don't put as much force on it so that I don't hurt them. It's not the same, but it helps.

My new passion is writing, writing horror. I will probably never be ranked sixth in the world as a writer. Never even crack the top ten. No titles are in my future. I will probably never stand in front of fifty-five thousand screaming fans because of a novel I wrote. Groupies won't be waiting outside my dressing room. I won't be able to quit my day job. I will probably work hard my entire life pouring my life's blood onto pages that few will read. But I am okay with that. I have no choice but to be.

I love penning the perfect phrase, writing that perfect line of prose, that bone-chilling description, that remarkably true to life character, every bit as much as I enjoyed throwing that perfect kick or that perfect punch. I enjoy reading that glowing book review every bit as much as I enjoyed scoring a first round knockout. And the bad ones I get over the same way I learned to get over those questionable losses and even the unquestionable ones. I learned to roll with the punches long ago. I have always been hard to knockdown.

Still, I am not satisfied. In truth, I have no desire to be. My perpetual dissatisfaction is what drives me. I want to be as successful as King and Koontz, James Patterson and John Sanford. I don't want to work as hard as I do. I wish I could devote myself to writing 24hours a day. I wish I could quit my day job. I wish I could wake up, make love, write, jog, eat, write, lift weights, eat again, write, make love again, kickbox, eat, write, make love again and sleep. This is the life I dream of. I am a ridiculous man.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Only The Best for Our Country

The best and the brightest should lead. This revolutionary idea was put forth by Plato in his groundbreaking book, The Republic. This book has been praised for over two thousand years as a masterpiece of political philosophy yet in two thousand years this concept has yet to be put into practice. Our leaders are still picked based on popularity rather than skills or qualifications. There are not even any minimum standards of education or experience needed for this position. If you are over thirty-five and a citizen of this country than you can be president. Plato outlined a vigorous program of education and personal development in order to train those who would aspire to what he termed the "Guardian Class". Their job would be to serve the people with very little benefit to themselves. His idea was to make leadership the most undesirable job in the society due to the rigorous requirements that would need to be met and the minimal rewards outside of personal satisfaction. Only those with a true desire to do good for society would want it because it would be impossible for leaders or their friends or families to profit from being in a leadership role.

The way we pick our leaders today is scarcely more effective than Kings and Queens adopting their roles through birthright. It is a beauty pageant. It's like watching an episode of American Idol. Look at the top ten movies in the country, the top ten shows on television, and the top ten albums in the country and tell me if you want the same people that made Jessica Simpson, The Osbournes, and Anna Nicole Smith famous selecting our leadership without some sort of guidelines?

But how would we go about weeding the best and the brightest from the masses of modern America? Would we just go through Mensa's roster, pick the person with the highest IQ and force him into the presidency? In all honesty I do believe that IQ should be a top priority in our choice of a leader but intelligence does not always equal competence. I speak from experience when I say that there are many highly intelligent people who are lazy, dishonest and amoral. The IQ of the average con-man is not far from that of the membership of Mensa. IQ should be one of the criterion but far from the end all be all. There should be educational requirements. A leadership curriculum comprising of political science, sociology, history, economics, law, psychology, and philosophy, would be a mandate. There should also be mandatory humanitarian internships of at least four years. These internships should be diverse and encapsulate a wide demographic of the American people. I would go so far as to say that these internships should be based on population statistics. For instance, since a large majority of the American population are poor whites a candidate should have to spend certain percentage of his time in poor white communities doing some type of social work. This is just a guess but I would assume that the next largest group would be middle-class whites therefore a percentage of this four year community service internship should be spent getting to know the concerns of this community. Then lower income Latino Americans, then Black Americans, then Asian Americans and so on and so forth. Someone more clever than I would even be charged with dividing this time up so that it would be proportionate to the population percentage. The greater the population the more time should be spent getting acquainted with that segment of the population. There would have to be a minimum population percentage necessary to mandate a candidates time in order for he or she to be able to complete these internships in four years. Such as a minimum of ten percent of the American population. This would not prevent candidates from doing "extra-credit" and spending time in smaller segments of the population as well. They just would not be mandated to do so. That would hopefully prevent it from getting too out of hand.

There should also be a minimum job experience requirement. This is practiced for the most part but it is not law. No where does it state that you have to have been governor for four years or have served in Senate, or Congress, or some type of Executive office to be considered for the Presidency. This needs to be added. They ask for your resume when you apply for a job at banana Republic and they're just selling khakis and cardigans. Don't you think we should require our president to have some actual leadership experience, and not just with running a corporation, but in actually serving a constituency and making policy?

Now where would the democratic process enter into all of this? I think that the presidential vote should be broken into three phases. The first would be an almost blind vote in which those who wish to be considered for candidacy must submit their resumes to first confirm that they have met the minimum standards of IQ, education, community service, and leadership experience, and those who qualify would have their resumes sent out to every registered voter in America for consideration.Then there would be a vote based solely on their qualifications. This would just be a vote to see who makes it onto the ballot. This would proceed any campaigning. In fact, there should be a stipulation that anyone caught campaigning during this phase would be immediately disqualified. This first vote should be based solely on merit and not popularity or charisma. This would be the first stage of the vote. This is where all that extra-credit would come in. Those with the most experience, the highest IQs, the most education, and who have done the most good in the various communities would likely hold an edge over those who just barely met the minimum requirements.

Once the candidates have been selected each of them should be given a campaign fund of equal amounts. This money should come from our tax dollars and no outside sources, allowing for all candidates to operate on an equal playing field. If we can spend billions of dollars on military equipment we never use we can spend a few million on selecting competent leadership. None of the candidate's own money could be used in the campaign and no private donations could be accepted. No corporate lobbyists would be allowed to drop millions of dollars into a candidates fund indepting him forever to that corporation. I can't believe we allow this shit to go on now. It is a direct line to corruption. There would also be a standard of ethics that would prevent mudslinging and muckraking. A candidate's record would be fair game but his personal life would be off limits.

Now, after all of this has taken place and we have selected our candidate for the office of the presidency, presumably someone with perhaps a Doctorate in Sociology and Political Science coupled with a Masters in Economics, someone with an IQ in the top 2%, someone who has maybe served as the Mayor of a major city for four years and State Governor for another four to eight years. someone who has demonstrated his moral character by volunteering at women's shelters in East LA, homeless shelters in New York, orphanages in Utah, AIDS wards in Oakland, and Community Centers in Ohio, he would have one year from his inauguration to take action on his campaign promises or risk impeachment for fraud against the American people. His State of The Union Address would include a progress report on where he is at on fulfilling his promises. The last step would be the President's salary. This is the one area in which I disagree with Plato. We live in a capiltalist country and money is the great motivator. A President's salary should be based on his performance just like the head of any major corporation. He should be incentivised for lowering the national debt, crime, unemployment, improving foreign policy, etc. The better he does at his job the more money he has the potential to make. Reward and recognition has long been accepted as the driving forces in the American workplace. We need to adopt this theory in government as well.

The best and the brightest should lead. Even if you don't agree with my ideas on how to determine the best and the brightest I trust you will agree that we deserve only the best in our leadership and that our current system of selection is not geared towards identifying and selecting those individuals. There may be something that you might add to the selection process I've outlined. There may be parts that you would omit. Still, I hope that you would agree that some sort of minimum standards are necessary. Our country is currently being run by a "C" student. How do you like the results so far?

Friday, September 09, 2005

Can He Be Impeached For Incompetence?

I am shaking my head right now as I contemplate our idiot president. What a fuck up this guy is. How did we get fooled by this clown twice? What is wrong with the American people that we re-elected someone so obviously incompetent and deceitful? I can't even blame him because we elected and then re-elected him despite one bad decision after another.

Right after 9/11 the world waited with baited breath to see how America would respond. Americans waited to see how Bush would respond. We identified Bin Laden as the perpetrator of this terrible attack and then set out to bring him to justice. Troops went into Afghanistan and after several months of searching they came out empty-handed. Bush continued making fiery speeches predicting swift retribution but they were beginning to wear thin. The man who'd orchestrated the worst attack on American soil since Pearl Harbor was not only still free but still freely preaching anti-American propaganda via videotapes and radio broadcasts. Bush was starting to look bad. So what did he do? He turned his sights towards an easier more accessible target, the once defeated Saddam Hussein. He demanded that Iraq get rid of all of their weapons of mass-destruction. They claimed that they had none. So Bush demanded that they allow UN observers to see for themselves. After much threatening and posturing Saddam finally relented and allowed UN observers in to poke around. They were no more successful at finding chemical/biological weaponry than our troops were at finding Bin Laden, which was unfortunate for Bush because he needed his sacrificial lamb to appease the American people who were still hungry for revenge after 9/11. Bush knew that it wouldn't matter to us that Saddam had nothing to do with the trade center bombing. Americans wanted blood and one Arab was as good as the next and once his spin-doctors got a hold of the story they'd have everyone believing that Saddam was Bin Laden's alter ego. So he changed his speeches to include Saddam's name almost every time he mentioned Bin Laden. It was a small subliminal trick but it worked. With no physical evidence linking the two of them, not so much as a grainy photograph of them passing each other in the street, Bush had managed to link the two names in the minds of the American people. Then he began inferring that Saddam harbored terrorists and that this allowed for 9/11 to happen and that those weapon's of mass-destruction that nobody could seem to find would be heading our way next if he wasn't stopped. He might even have nuclear capabilities. The UN didn't buy it and refused to participate in Bush's charade. The American people, perhaps blinded by their rage, perhaps just blindly patriot and willing to believe whatever bullshit Bush told them out of some misguided sense of duty, bought the whole thing lock, stock, and barrel. If you disagreed with the president's decision at this time in the eyes of most American's you as good as supported terrorism.

I was on a mailing list discussing all of this right when Bush declared war on Iraq. I pointed out that there was not a single shred of evidence supporting the idea that Iraq had any weapon's of mass-destruction or that they had anything to do with 9/11 and I suggested that it was all just a way to divert America's attention away from Bin Laden who was proving difficult to locate. I also suggested another reason for the war. No president in history has ever failed to be re-elected when the country was at war. Reagan knew this and so did George Sr. Now his son was following in the same footsteps. Find some nearly defenseless country and bomb the hell out of it and soon every American will be waving the flag and singing your praises. It was a tried and true formula. I was shouted down then by the blindly patrioted who insisted that there was evidence of bio-chemical weapons and that I just had not been paying attention. So, I watched the news, read the news, and web-searched the news everyday. Still, no word of any empirical evidence, just rumor and innuendo and our young soldiers who had joined the armed forces to get jobs and paid college tuition being sent to their deaths on foreign soil.

Am I being cynical? Perhaps. But here are the facts. There was not a single satellite photo of a bio-chemical or nuclear weapons plant, no wire-tapped conversations of Saddam discussing the building of any weapons of mass destruction, no witnesses claiming to have seen them, and even the UN thought that there was not enough evidence to warrant military action. Meanwhile North Korea was openly building bombs and refusing to stop. But of course North Korea had already kicked our asses once and losing a war is bad politics. Bush needed a war he could win and we had already proven that we could kick Iraq's ass. Americans don't like big wars. They like nice neat little wars. Give us Granada or Libya or Iraq, a country we can defeat with a few strategic bombing missions and as few American casualties as possible. Give us some minor despot like Mommar Khadaffi (remember him?) or Saddam Hussein, build him up into the next anti-christ, and then bomb him to hell and America will love you. Another nice tidy war like The Gulf War and Bush would be the darling of the media once again and everyone would forget about all that unfortunate 9/11 business. But it didn't go that way. This was no easy war.

Our troops stormed in. They kicked a lot of ass and killed a lot of innocent citizens of Iraq and found no secret weapons base, no "Weapons of Mass Destruction", and no terrorists hidden in Saddam's basement. American soldiers started dying and kept dying months after the war was reported to have been won. We watched on the news as body bags and coffins draped with American flags were shipped home to America by the dozens and we still had no clear idea of what the hell we were doing over there in the first place. So then they had to re-spin the whole thing. "We bombed the shit out of that country because there were human rights injustices taking place and we had to make it safe for Democracy. Fuck Rwanda though. Those niggers can fend for themselves. Let's help those poor Arabs since we've already destroyed their country." So now we had to stay to make sure Democracy reigned or else this new rationalization would be revealed as just that, a weak justification for another presidential fuck-up. Now we have been over there for more than three years and the body count keeps rising and Bin Laden keeps making his video tapes and no one sees anything wrong with this.

Then there's a hurricane. Bush keeps staring overseas wondering how the hell he's going to get himself out of Iraq while meanwhile people are drowning and starving to death here in America. A day goes by. Nothing from Bush. Two days go by. Nothing. Three days. Nothing. Four days go by. America starts screaming for him to do something and so Bush takes his eyes off of Iraq long enough to realize that his own people are dying here in America. But Whew! Luckily it's only a bunch of poor Black folks. He'll just mosey on down there, make a speech with his shirt-sleeves rolled up like he's really doing something, kiss a few babies and be back to Washington in time for dinner. That'll fix everything. Only this time America wasn't buying it. Kanye West said that Bush didn't care about Black people. I don't think Bush cares about any of us. I don't think he knows what the fuck he's doing. I don't think he cares how many American lives are lost while he tries to figure it out. In my opinion he is dangerously incompetent and needs to be removed from office before he gets any more Americans killed.

In my opinion, Bush has one chance to turn all of this around. It is too late to save face on any of this. He needs to pull all of our troops out of Iraq before this idiotic war kills another soul. He needs to rebuild Mississippi and Louisiana and offer aid, of the same economic magnitude as that he commited to first destroy and then rebuild Iraq, to his own people right here in America and he needs to apologize. If he can be man enough to apologize for all of his idiotic decisions then perhaps history would be kind to him. Right now only the most cowardly misguided delusionary historians will paint Bush as anything but the biggest fuck up in American history.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

My Own Darwin Award

I'm sure that most of you have heard of the Darwin Awards. It's the award given each year to those idiots who have done the world a favor by removing themselves from the gene pool. I would like to name every idiot who has gotten hooked on crack, heroine, methamphetamines, or any hard drugs in the last ten years. With all the information available on how harmful, addictive, and potentially fatal these narcotics are, if you were dumb enough to try them anyway than the gene pool can do without you.

After the way Heroine ravaged the ghettoes and then finally even mainstream america in the fifties, sixties and seventies, if you were dumb enough to try it in the eighties and nineties then you are an idiot. If you tried crack cocaine in the late eighties you could almost be forgiven the way the media was almost running a promotional campaign for it. I remember hearing about crack for the first time on the radio. The broadcast went something like this: "There's a new drug hitting the streets, a type of freebase cocaine called Crack that is said to be six times stronger than regular cocaine and twice as addictive. It's also much cheaper." I heard the same thing on the six o'clock news that evening. The next day I was walking down Germantown avenue in Philadelphia, which at the time was sort of an open air drug market, and everyone up there was clamoring for Crack. The day before it was caps of cocaine, then the media hype machine steps in and overnight it had become the hottest drug on the street thanks to those wonderful crack commercials. So millions of people all over America tried it and got hopelessly addicted. But this was in '86. By the end of '88 everyone was well acquainted with crackheads. Everyone in the ghetto had seen the prettiest girl and school reduced to sucking cocks for a hit of rock. Everyone had seen the toughest guy on the block reduced to sucking cocks for a hit of rock. So, if you lived in the ghetto after '88 and you tried cocaine for the first time in the nineties, you are an idiot.

I have often excused those people who grew up in the suburbs or in small towns who got hooked on crack in the early nineties when it first expanded from the ghettoes into middle-america. It's possible that you just didn't know that you were messing with something dangerously addictive, life-threatening, and stupid. It's possible that you hadn't heard about kids dropping dead after just one hit, athletes dropping dead on the basketball court because of smoking it, and people getting so helplessly addicted that they lost their jobs and had to sell all of their possessions, the possessions of all their friends, family, and neighbors, and then finally their own bodies to support their habits. If you lived in a town with a population of less than a million and you got hooked on crack before 1995 than ignorance can almost be your excuse. After '95 if you got hooked on crack then you are an idiot, because by then the news media had reported the devastation caused by crack so heavily that you would have had to have been living under a rock not to know how terrible the drug was. Even hollywood had picked up on it and there were crack heads on the silver screen. There were movie stars getting hooked on it and even the mayor of DC. There was nowhere you could go in America and not see or hear about crack. So, if you still tried it, guess what? You are an idiot.

And anyone who has tried any illegal narcotic whatsoever in the new millenium is a waste of human intellect best shed from the gene pool. Here is where I show my one conservative leaning. I agreed with the LA Police Chief back in the early nineties when he said, "Casual drug users should be taken out and shot." I agree. They are all idiots. There's nothing casual about illegal drugs. Nothing fun and safe and harmless. Methamphetamines, Exstasy, Ketamine, painkillers, all of the crutches of the intellectual and emotional lowest common denominator. I don't care if you are poor and oppressed or abused or neglected or bored, you should be smart enough to know that drugs only make it worse. If you live anywhere in America today then you know that drug use has never improved anyone's standard of living.

There are some of you agreeing with me right now and some of you who think I'm being too harsh, too judgemental, unsympathetic, blah, blah, blah. I could give a fuck. My blog. My opinion. Look at how fucked up the inner city is and if it doesn't make you angry, if it doesn't make you question the intelligence of those who keep the drug trade running profitably year after year, than you are perhaps not judgemental enough.

I lost my very best friend to drugs. When we lived on the streets of Philly together I once threatened to kill him because he was drinking beer everyday after school. I told him that I would rather see him dead than a drunk. Then one day he tried crack. While in the middle of telling me how great it felt, I kicked his ass. I beat him like I owned him. No, I beat him like I loved him because I did. He was the closest thing I'd ever had to a brother. While I was holding him down on the sidewalk and choking the life out of him I told him to let me know if he wanted to die because I would oblige him right then and there, but I wouldn't let him kill himself with drugs. Then we grew up and I moved to California and he moved to England. And he called me one day and told me he was in serious trouble, federal trouble, and needed my help. I naturally assumed it was drug-related though I didn't ask. I bought him a ticket from England to San Francisco and the minute he stepped off the plane I knew he was hooked on something, something he would have never touched if I had been around to kick his ass again. I know, I can't take responsibility for other people's fucked up decisions but I can't help it. I was happy, healthy, and successful and he was fleeing prosecution and hopelessly addicted. I should have taken him to Cali with me in the first place. We were twenty-one years old and should have both been enjoying our lives to the fullest not running from international drug enforcement with a monkey on his back the size of King Kong. The day after he arrived in California he dissapeared and I have never seen him since. I can only assume that he is dead. I get pissed off every time I think about it. I don't understand how someone so smart could be so stupid. He grew up seeing the same shit everyday that I saw. He saw kids shot in driveby shootings. He saw crackheads selling pussy for five dollars on the street. He saw kids we grew up with utterly destroyed by drugs and his stupid ass still tried it. Now every time I think about the times we laughed together while we were growing up, every time I think about all the fun we had and all the trouble we got into, I have to think about the very real probability that he is either dead or in jail or some homeless drug addict somewhere mumbling to himself in an alley, or shouting at shadows beneath a freeway underpass. Fuck him for being so weak. Fuck him for being so damned stupid. Fuck him straight to hell.

Truth be told I feel the same way about alcohol and nicotine too. How many more studies do we have to have showing how dangerous these substances are to your health? How higher do they have to raise the price of beer and cigarettes before people decide that this money would be better spent on their families? Trips to Disney World, a college fund for your kids, a romantic dinner for your wife. You don't smoke and drink that much? One beer and a pack of cigarettes a day and you are spending two hundred dollars a month or more. Two beers and you are almost up to three hundred. My kid's college fund costs one hundred and eighty-five a month. Add cocktails on the weekends and a little weed and you could have put a down payment on a house in a year. Which is more important? If you answered getting drunk and smoking you can pick up your Darwin award from me at the next convention.