Could You Just Grunt, Or Something?

 

You know, I’m usually pretty easy going about things. I realize that people have lives and everybody has their own style – but I do have a little pet peeve I want to air.

I just don’t understand it when bloggers don’t even bother to acknowledge a comment you’ve made. How much trouble could it be to just say, ‘thanks,’ or ‘okay’ or ‘good point’? Or something?

I realize that not all bloggers are like me and get into the back and forth with their readers. Maybe some feel uncomfortable doing it or don’t really know what to say. But heck, the whole idea of blogging is to put out an idea and get people to engage in that idea with you, isn’t it? Is it really too much to expect at least a grunt or something? You know, I’ve come to your blog and I’ve read your post and I made a comment, I didn’t lurk, I didn’t stop in mid-read, I didn’t click away – I stayed, I read, I commented. But you can’t say, boo?

Another thing – that in my mind, is even worse –  is selective response to comments. I don’t quite understand this approach. What is it, some commenters are better than others or deserve your acknowledgement while others don’t? Sorry, but to me that’s just wrong.

 If a writer/blogger expects to get someone to respond to their words, what makes them think that they shouldn’t respond in kind? I’m just wondering. Does anybody have any thoughts on this?

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a pitied plea for comments or sympathy.I don’t need either or to have my ego soothed. It’s not about ego, it’s about manners. In this day and age, manners have rapidly dwindled to near-extinction. People don’t think they have to say thank you or please or excuse me anymore. I don’t know why, but they don’t. It’s no wonder to me that there is so much road rage and people going postal. Treating people as if they are invisible is never a good habit to develop.

Anyway, no big deal – just a mini-rant. Feel free to add to the rant or offer some opinion about it. I’m curious to know what other bloggers think.

WC

 PS: On another note – one of our own needs a little help – all prayers accepted. Thanks!

Are We The World?

Is it me, or is this Idol Gives Back campaign just, plain icky?

I find it ironic that a bunch of bagillionaire rock stars and celebrities were begging us regular folk for money in their quest to accomplish their latest cause. And on top of that they were hawking mosquito nets, malaria pills and I suppose porridge(?) for the starving children of the world.

Let’s put aside the fact that the United States and the rest of the Western world have given billions, maybe even trillions of dollars to AIDS relief and foreign aid of every type and description – and still the world is full of starving, dying, sick children. We apparently have gotten nowhere. Because you see, the problem still exists. And each new campaign is determined to wipe out these horrible conditions – but never seems to. This is not including the private donations of again, billions, possibly trillions of dollars by regular folk like you and me, for these causes. Again, still they exist. Don’t you have to ask  yourself, why?

Isn’t it the ultimate irony that if we took those dollars and enabled these countries, particularly Africa, to modernize – to have proper plumbing, power, sanitizing plants, recycling plants, (in other words, have all the things we have as a matter of everyday life) and showed them how to industrialize so they could compete on the open market, that they wouldnt need our charity? Because you see, they’d be self sufficient. They’d be able to take care of their children, diseases, hunger. The disease, hunger and abject poverty would quickly become a thing of the past, wouldn’t it?

We wouldn’t need Bono, American Idol or any vacuous celebrities to hawk the cause, nor lecture us about giving back. Would we?

The truth is that we have decided (I use the collective we, because I by no means made this decision) that these folks have to stay in the dark ages. Lest they destroy the planet with something as evil as progress, industry, commerce, clean power sources and dare I say it, motor vehicles.  No, we mustn’t do anything that logical or survival for these folks. It’s much better that we make them totally and utterly dependent upon our charity. And force them to live in the dark ages for the rest of their existence.

So we do crap like this to make ourselves feel better about ‘giving back.’ Or at least it makes some people feel that way.

If we’re going to give, why not give what we have? A decent, liveable world and all the opportunities that comes with it?

Perhaps that would be too easy or make too much sense. It’s much better to give food and decide what food to give than to actually teach them how to grow, catch or make food. Better to give medical supplies than to train doctors and build hospitals. Better to make them live the green life and deal with the balance of nature, yes?

Personally, I find this reprehensible. Don’t you ever wonder why all the bagillions already given don’t result in a change in these conditions? I do. I really do. I mean where is all that money going? Don’t you have to wonder? With all that money, we could have modernized Africa 20 times by now, don’t you think? I do.

Don’t get me wrong. I want to help as much as the next person. I don’t want to see other human beings suffer. I don’t want children to go to bed hungry. I don’t want mothers having to bury their children because they couldn’t get what would be in our country, ordinary medical care. I don’t want to see anyone suffer. I feel for my fellow human beings.

I just want to give them real help. Help them to make better lives for themselves. Help them to fulfill their potential. Not just feed them for a few months. I mean, really does that help them in the long run? I don’t think so.

So, excuse me if I view this and every other ‘star-studded extravaganza’ with a cynical eye. Forgive me if I see vested interest in these deeds. I can’t help it. Because in my mind, real help actually solves the problem it doesn’t perpetuate it.

What do you think?

WC

Disconnected

So, yesterday started out as a usual Saturday. Errands. Take the car in for an oil change and smog check. Peruse the local bargain shops for bargains. Go home, write, blog, answer emails. You know the drill…

Nothing was really happening, mind wise, couldn’t think of anything to post, tried several ideas and they all sucked. Then just as I was starting to get a good idea, my phone rang. Ah, good it’s the doc, she wants to talk shop. On my day off? Damn! Okay. So we talk and talk and talk and talk. Finally, the conversation comes to an end. Phew – still have some of the afternoon left. But…I have to call Zelda to ask her about something. And we talk and talk and talk.

Back to the post. I started writing it out by hand until I was on a roll and then it was time to fire up the computer and get going. No problem, right?

Okay, so now loading wordpress is taking forever. When I log in it just pops me back to the homepage. I try again. Same thing. Again, same thing. Again (am I a glutton for rejection, ah, yes) same thing. Shit!

I click on my homepage. Nope, that just doesn’t even want to load. Gmail? Maybe, let’s try. Well Google was willing to come up and I even managed to log in but it refused to give me my mail. Tell me something, what is it about a computer connection not cooperating that will make a person sit there for hours and hours and continue to try? I mean, I’m a relatively intelligent person…according to the experts I have a pretty high IQ – yet when it is obvious the ISP is messed up – their servers are down or they are screwing with you somehow – I just keep rebooting and trying again.

I guess it’s like when you tell someone, no – they are just compelled to get you to say, yes. Is that it? It sure must be something like that because I just couldn’t let it go. I had visions of never blogging again because I couldn’t get a connection. I blamed my computer, although Roomie and Zelda were both having the same problems. I checked the news to see if some hideous world event had happened that would cause enormous traffic on the Net.

I turned it off, finally realizing that it wasn’t going to work itself out, at least for the time being. I watched a movie with Roomie, had some dinner, played with the dog. And yet…at 11:30 I just had to check it again. What am I, so sort of masochist? Apparently so, as sadly I discovered it was still a no-go. Hell, I even dreamed about trying and trying and trying.

Some may say I have a problem and they’d be right. Like millions of others I am totally and utterly addicted to the Internet. It is a co-dependency unlike any other because there is no reason on Earth that humans should be so dependent on a thing, an electronic siren that tempts with more time-wasting features ever known to man. Nor should they wear their grumpy pants when it won’t cooperate. And yet….

Happily, my addiction is cooperating today (for now) – the grumpy pants are off and the happy feet are doing their thing. Okay, okay, I know…can anybody say, Get a life?

WC

Bastard!

 

Okay, so this weekend was kind of odd and surreal. The weather was like something out of an Emily Bronte novel – in fact, I could almost hear Cathy and Heathcliff whispering to each other – so I immediately went into a sort of hibernation-stasis mode.

To my delight, my friend J was in town and we had dinner and some great conversation and were up til all hours. I caught up on some posts and reading and things seemed, well…okay.

Then I decided to drag my sorry ass out to put gas in the car because of course, I didn’t want to try that on Monday morning. What did my eyes see? Broken tail light glass shattered in the middle of the street. I thought, I better pick that up because I don’t want to drive over that. Which I did…and then some little voice said, oh-oh. I didn’t want to, no, I really didn’t but I walked back to look at the back of my car. There is was – a big gash and broken tail light. My beautiful car has been hit and then they ran.

Bastard, bastard, bastard all to hell! Shit, damn, fuck! I cried a little because my beautiful car had been marred. It was perfect and now it isn’t. No note. No, I’m sorry. No, nothing. Sonofagun!

Roomie helped me retrieve as many of the pieces as we could and is as we speak out there with handyman-guy trying to put the pieces back together. It could be worse, yah, it certainly could be worse – but damn!

Because I didn’t see anything the only thing the police would do is take a phone report for the insurance company. Yeah, like I’m going to tell them about it. Sigh. It’s always something. Crap! Please God, let the tail light still work and just have the cover need replacing. And please God, let my mechanic know some body shop guy who can fix it without it being too painfully expensive. And thank you God, for letting the auto parts place be open so I could buy that stupid red tape to cover it up for now.

I guess that $200 filling is going to have to wait, eh?

Like I said, it could have been worse and I’m thankful it wasn’t too bad. Now, I guess my car is like me – kind of pretty but definitely flawed.

WC

Really Stupid Shit Part Deux

I know you’ve all been out there waiting with baited breath for a sequel to this really popular post because when you get right down to it, you just can’t get enough stupid shit. But I like to change things up lest I end up in a rut, so rather than favorite stupid shit – I think we’ll go with annoying stupid shit this time out.

Ready? Good. Here we go

Stupidest remaining Idol Contestant: Tie. Sanjaya the bad singer with the good hair and blindingly white smile – who couldn’t sing if his life truly depended on it. He is only still on the show because weeping pre-teens can’t tell the difference between love and their impending hormones. It’s sweet in a real icky kind of way. But I hate to break it to you folks, he is one of the Top Ten. Any arguments that maybe they should have stopped at season 5?

The other ‘idol’ vying for the title is Chris Sligh (Sly? Are you kidding?) who is the self-appointed “Taylor” contestant for this year. He acts like a dark horse (he thinks), sings the same songs/material as Taylor (tries to Christ-i-cize it?) and just goes off key and nasal, does the fro thang, strolls through the crowd but looks like he wants to slap them out of his way rather than interact. Oh and his fans are calling themselves the Fro-Patrol. Excuse me while I puke. This kid is about as sincere as Paris Hilton while she is hanging out with her girlfriends’ boyfriends unchaperoned. He is the biggest phoniest jackass of a contestant I’ve seen on the show. I’ll bet the voice isn’t really his – he probably pipes it in through his ass from some high tech Ipod mike accessory. Pass the barfbag.

Stupidest Title for a movie – Mimzy or some shit. I don’t CARE if it is good. You just don’t call a movie Mimzy if you expect anyone over the age of three to go see it. Hey Joe, see any good movies lately? Oh yah Marge and I saw Mimsy – it was really fabulous. Jeez – come on!

Stupidest Talk Show Host: Rosie O’Donnell. What her producers seem to be missing is that talk show hosts are supposed to encourage the guests to talk. Not to slap them, gag them and force feed them their personal, commie, leftie, eco-whacko, insane-o views. Or am I missing something?

Stupidest TV Show: Oh there are soooooooo many but let me pick one from the new batch of shows. Now, mind you I am not going after any reality shows since in my mind they really aren’t tv shows but more like amatuer contests that are televised. No, I’m going after real, shows that are supposed to be real. Okay – Studio Sixty. I mean, hello? What the frick are they thinking here? First of all is Amanda Peet really going to go for Bradley Whitford? The guy has a huge head, it’s even a little scary. Imagine that coming at you ladies for a little good night smooch. Oh yeah. And then Matthew Perry is so schizoid he needs at least 10 offices for all his personalities and the girl he is supposed to be in love with is just too normal to ever really be attracted to a malignant narccissist like him and all his self-righteous spewing crapola. And remember folks, this is supposed to be a comedy, which means funny, right? While really all they are doing is tripping over themselves to spout whatever political ‘message’ is cool and p.c. and see who can talk the fastest. In a phrase it SUCKS!

Stupidest Rock Star: Hands down Bono: Where oh where do I begin? Okay, first of all is he really even that good of a singer? He is ugly as sin – so ugly in fact, he has to wear sunglasses everywhere he goes so the ugly rays do eat the flesh from his face and that of his fans. But what really makes him suck is this pompous, sanctimonious world peace faux world leader act of his. Does he really think anybody (who doesn’t want to get free tickets to rocks concerts populated by other pompous egotistical rock stars) is even remotely interested in his world plan? Sorry bub, but you actually have to get elected by people who know they are electing you, in order to have a say in what my country is going to do about anything. And by the way champ, get the hell out of the U.S. and U.S. affairs, who the hell asked you? How do you get off even hinting at what my tax dollars should be spent on? How dare you take my tax dollars and take credit for what they buy. Kiss my grits, dude. Big time.

Stupidest shit people do to their kids: A picture                             

is worth a thousand words. It’s not bad enought that this child is probably going to be raised by some doped up biker dude and biker chick, they have to turn him into some sort of mini me before he can even learn the words to protest. This mirror image approach to child rearing is just another disease of the yuppified self-absorbed. They don’t want to have children for the joy of having them and raising them to be their own man or woman – but rather they want to raise little clones of themselves so that they will be immortal.

Stupidest phrase: Politically Correct. What in the hell is correct about talking gibberish. I mean under what set of rules, grammar or otherwise does any of this doubletalk even begin to be correct? As for politics – we all know politics are lies and run by the lying liars who lie to get into office. So if something is politically correct isn’t the translation something like perfect lying?

Stupidest Shoes: Those sneakers that are really skates, no they are sneakers no they are skates, no they are sneakers that are skates – they are two, two, two shoes in one. What they are is an accident waiting to happen. It’s bad enough some fool came up with the idea but people are putting them on 6 year old who barely have enough sense not to play in the street much less navigate skating shoes down shopping market aisles . Which of course they don’t and they run smack into you and glare as though you are the cause of all their unhappiness. Between junk food, computers, Ipods and the fact that poor little Johnny shouldn’t have to actually walk to anyplace in the world (not even bed) this ain’t helping in the fight against adolescent obesity.

Stupidest Disease: Again, sooooooooooooooooo many to choose from but let’s go after restless leg syndrome. I mean, come on is this really a disease? From what I’ve read it’s just a magnesium deficiency, which I’d guess you could fix by taking magnesium. Why does every little thing that happens have to be a disease or a genetic defect? Why in the hell isn’t there one damn thing that people are supposed to be responsible for?

Stupidest News Story: The paternity of Ana-Nicole’s daughter. Come on folks, is this really news? I mean are things out there in the big, wide world, so easy going and calm and uneventful that who fathered an aging sex symbol’s daughter gets the headline banner. Not just once but for weeks? Really? So, like world hunger, world peace, tornados, beheadings, none of that takes precedence? Just what I thought all journalists are pussies and idiots who didn’t get their parents’ moneys worth on those fancy prep schools they all attended.

Other things that are just plain stupid pisser offers:

1. People who are too afraid to drive their cars. These are the folks who cause accidents and claim to be in them.

2. Claiming the price of gas is all because of the evil oil companies, with no mention of the taxes, initiatives, regulatory fees and every other little piece of garbage that is added to the price of gasoline which is hidden. No…let’s not tell the truth, let’s blame the guy that provides the goods.

3. Property taxes. Explain something to me, if you own something why would you pay someone else a tax for owning it? What Einstein thought this one up and why the hell does anyone pay it?

4. Giving anyone too young to pay for one on their own, a cell phone. What is the matter with parents today? They give 8 year olds cell phones and Ipods and then wonder how they get hit by cars. Aren’t kids absent-minded enough, you really have to give them things that will completely blot out the world around them? Why not just invest in that Matrix Condo Development now?

5. That cashiers can’t count. You know a bagillion years ago I worked as a waitress and often had to take money at the cash register. So if the bill was $2.26 and they gave you a five so you would count their change back to them like this: 27,28,29,30, 40,50,75, $3, $4, and $5. These days, they take the receipt and pile the bills and the change on top of that and jam it into your hand while peeking at the register to see how much they gave you. Not to mention the fact that they expect you to get the hell out of the way because the guy behind you is about ready to explode because you want to put your change back in your wallet before you grab your bags.

6. Restaurant workers who don’t speak english or have such a difficult time speaking it you cannot understand a word they say – especially at the drive through window. Sorry, but if you’re in America I believe you must speak English well enough to be understood – because if you can’t speak my language do you really think I’m going to trust in the fact that you’ll get my order right or my change? Get real.

7. The cigarette police, the fat police, the second hand smoke police (take your pick) they are the self-appointed assholes who must save society from itself while getting a whole of power for themselves too. Personally, I’m holding out for the bullshit police. I’d love to have some yahoo come along and save all of us from the bullshit that we’ve had shoveled on us from day one. I mean, have you ever asked yourself why it is that despite the trillions of dollars that have been donated and funded into heart disease, cancer, AIDS and so on that there is still no cure for any of it? Don’t you wonder why? Seriously? I’ll tell you why – it’s because they are now cottage industries that hire tons of people who would actually have to find work if cures were found. Most of that money never gets to the level of those who honestly want to find cures or solutions – it gets stuck at the administrative level. Please go save someone who needs saving and leave me alone. I am willing to accept responsibility for my actions.

8. Social Security and Medicare: Is there anyone of my generation out there who has any dillusions that they will collect one cent of the social security and medicare we have funded over our working careers? Anybody? Cuz if so, I have a bridge in Brooklyn you might want to take a look at.

Alrighty then, that’s about all my wee brain can come up with today. Feel free to add to the list.

WC

The Yeah-Whatevers

Lately, it seems I’ve gotten myself a bad case of the ‘yeah-whatevers’ know what I mean? It’s that space you have to get yourself into to protect yourself from the insults and injuries of modern living.

You know like you spend hours over a post and finally get it up and nobody comments. You shrug – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your readers feel like pimping their posts in your comments section – ‘yeah, whatever.’

You spend $1300 to fix your car only to have it blow a valve 3 weeks later – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your family decides it’s your turn to get dumped on and criticisms fly across all modes of communication – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Sanjaya makes it to the top 12 on Idol – ‘yeah, whatever.’

You work your ass off for your company all year only to be given sea sickness for  your Christmas bonus – ‘yeah, whatever.’

The old lady next door sells her house to a flip-em dude who is doing round the clock cosmetic changes on the house so he can sell it in a month – forget about any peace and quiet on the weekend – ‘yeah, whatever.’

No matter what you do or don’t eat, your ass just keeps getting bigger and bigger – ‘yeah, whatever.’

Your dog has become some neurotic old lady of a dog who barks non-stop at some invisible interloper, ‘yeah, whatever.’

The only filling you need to get re-done will cost you $189, ‘yeah, whatever.’

Gas is over $3 a gallon just as your commute to work has tripled, ‘yeah, whatever.’

Heroes is on hiatus again, ‘yeah, whatever.’

You basically just have so many nifty things to be depressed about you can’t even pick a favorite, ‘yeah, whatever.’

I’m trying though – I really am trying to get out of this funk. And no I am not bringing in the dah noise with dah funk. I’m trying to find things to be cheerful about. Like my birthday (oh boy now I’m even older) and the prospect of a new car (can’t wait to have yet another monthly payment and more insurance) my new wardrobe (cuz now I’m fatter than I was) but it’s not easy.

Pray for me. Or join in the fun of your own ‘yeah, whatevers’ At least the weekend is upon us. That’s good right?

WC

American I-Dull

 

Boy does that say it or what? Now, I’ll admit I was an AI virgin last year and I suppose I got swept away with it all. But this year sucks so bad already I’m pretty sure I won’t be watching it anymore. It’s too painful to watch the slow slaughter of popular music that way. And frankly watching paint dry has more twists and turns.

Clearly, there are only 3-4 people who can actually sing. The best singer has absolutely no personality. In fact, when she isn’t singing it’s as if she doesn’t actually exist. Which is kind of spooky and makes me wonder if she is a virtual contestant or something. They can do everything else, why not that? And wouldn’t that, after all, be the epitome of the perfect contestant according to Simon Scowell?

I really am bummed though. When I watched last year I had so much fun being a fan. All of them had some talent and they were all interesting and had their own personalities to project. Even when the bad ones (like chicken little) were voted off I was a little teary-eyed. They were all so easy to love or ….hate. It was a thrill a minute and no one looked forward to Tuesday and Wednesday nights like I did. What’s happened?

Was last year a fluke? Pretty much all the losers from last year could beat the contestants of this year. Will anyone actually stay awake long enough to see who wins this snoozer? I can’t even remember any of their names. Or what they look like. Or even sound like. The guys are pretty much clones of one another. The most original one – the asian guy in bare feet (and sadly it was the bare feet that made him stand out) is gone. And I’m alarmed that it will take weeks and weeks to eliminate all the other bad ones, which by my calculations is about 20 of them.

Maybe the thrill is gone and Idol is now just more bad reality t.v. like all the others. There is a season for all things and a time for all things to come to an end. Could this be Idol’s time? Is that why they are starting that lame camp thing? To distract from the fact that out of hundreds of thousands of people who auditioned they came up with this crap as the best of the best? Are they fucking kidding me?

Dull, dull, dull, dull. I may give it another couple of weeks on the off chance someone with a pulse will actually end up on camera – but I’m pretty sure none of us will be jonesing for Idol this year.

What a waste!

WC

Boomer Truths

 

I am one of the annointed ones. You may know my demographic as baby boomer. Yep, I’m a boomer. When you say it like that it sounds kind of like a skateboard champion or something, doesn’t it? Or something equally arrogant?

I have to tell you I am sick of us. I am sick of the boomers. I sick of the generation who thinks it rules the universe from now until eternity. The mantra of never getting old, never passing the torch is pretty irritating.

I remember when I was a kid I was barely in the demograhic, just managed to squeak in there. By the time I was a teen, I was pert near in the middle of the range, now I imagine I’m somewhere in the subgenre of silver or maybe bronze baby boomers since the ‘goldens’ are about to retire and single-handedly destroy social security by sucking it dry. (Funny, I thought Congress had done that 20 years ago. They must be boomers too. )

It’s like the generation that will not die. The generation of generations. The one time in human history that super humans were born. I mean think about it. Look what us boomers have actually contributed to society. The Anti-War Industry; Global Warming/Cooling industry; Catalytic Converters; Economy Cars; An entire economy for Japan and subsequently all Asian nations; Anti-Smoking laws; Anti-Honesty (political correctness); Illiteracy among high school graduates; Institutional Anarchy; Mind Control drugs (psychotropics which alter the chemistry in the brain, all in the name of controlling mental illnesses which by and large are invented); the U.N. (which is supposed to stand for United Nations but really stands for Unbelievable Ninkompoops); they helped us lose a war we actually won (Vietnam) and therefore sentenced millions of people to the killing fields(don’t know what I’m talking about, look it up); they killed class and sense; were able to turn a white trash president into the first black president; botox; plastic surgery; liposuction; cloning; stem cell research; abortion on demand and many other things. Feeling proud? I know I sure am.

To be fair there have been other contributions which were good – and I don’t think all baby boomers are bad – but the bad ones are so bad, so arrogant I want to scream and the good ones no one seems to listen to. But the thing that is so funny to me and maybe is a secret that I’m not supposed to tell is this: Their real thing and what really motivates them is that they don’t want to get old. They will do and say anything rather than get old. Their whole lives revolve around looking and acting young. Ponce de Leon has nothing on these folks – cuz they are never, never, never, never, ever going to get old.

They will build hearing aids into their Ipods, sew Depends into their designer capris, wear their hair extensions to their caskets; laser out their wrinkles; dye what hair they have left; liposuction their fat bellies and asses and drive Corvettes forever. Just so you don’t know how old they really are.

Me? Personally I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to look good or feel good, or have healthy habits – but I am getting older. So what? That is a mantle passed from generation to generation, it is a medal from life that is earned. The joy of getting older is that you find you don’t have nearly as much to prove as you once thought; you have experience; you gain wisdom and can determine really what is important. I find it very freeing and delightful. I wear my wrinkles proudly and the sun damage and the silver (ultra blonde) hairs and all the rest. Maybe if a lot of my fellow boomers would relax and accept who they really are, the world wouldn’t be such a bizarre place. Or maybe it would. Hard to say.

WC

Bad Art!

Call me crazy but isn’t art supposed to be good? Isn’t the idea of art that it is supposed to uplift us, provoke us, make us think, make us respond, make us rethink? If so, I ask you, what does the above portrait make you think? Me? I think it kind of reminds me of Hillary & Chelsea without their makeup and good lighting. But for sure, this is not really improving my life in any way.

Now, I’m not talking about taste. People like and respond to different art forms and different forms of those forms of art. (Don’t worry Michael, we won’t be discussing (c)Rap today.) And while there are certain types of art that really don’t speak to me personally, I can still see it is art. That’s fine and well. It can be far out or whacky or like nothing you’ve ever seen – but if the artist really knows their stuff, like it or not, you’ll know it’s art. Right? To me, if the piece has a high quality of communication and the artistic skill & expertise is there it works.

But what about crap like, Andy Warhole’s campbell soup can? This is art? Huh? Or the famous piece of Jesus’ head in a jar of urine (real urine, mind you) – sorry I forget the name or the museum it’s in. Another of my favorites is a big blue box in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, called Big Blue Box. Now, what message am I to get from that? That boxes are big and blue? Eh? In my day I’ve seen plenty, whether in real life or in photographs, on the internet, etc. There’s a lot of bad art going around.

In fact, there is a Museum of Bad Art if you find  you simply can’t get enough bad art, or want an afternoon of bad art, this is your place. My particular favorite is called “Haircut” pictured below:

Hey now, how’s about you trim just a little off the top and please don’t stab my eyes.

Then there are these green monstrosities:

 

I’m not sure but I think they are in the nominations lane for entry into the Museum of Bad Art. Or maybe they are just bad and are floating around the universe with all the other really bad art. Like this one:

Spooky huh?

I’m wondering, is really bad art a result of really bad books, really bad television shows, really bad movies and really low standards that is now the American pop culture? Is do we have really bad television shows, really bad movies, really bad books and really low standards because of the the really bad art out there? It’s something to think about.

What do you think?

WC

Oh For a Scotch and a Pack of Cigarettes

 

Okay folks, so you want a story about my new job? Let me just tell you about my glorious day.

I got up early and got ready – determined to get there ahead of everyone else. New schedule, new commute still trying to hit it just right. And yesterday I was broiling in the office because I wore a sweater, so today just a cotton turtleneck and trousers.

Out the door and the air is like ice – 39 degrees – in California mind you. That’s really cold for us out here. Already I’m rethinking the cotton turtleneck but there’s no time so I jump in my little Chevy. But wait, what’s this? Why did it practically take two hands to turn the ignition? No radio, no heater, no lights, my ABS light is stuck on and there’s this funny smell….

Okay, clearly not getting in ahead of anyone. Drive straight to the mechanic (who I only just saw last week for one of those delux tune-up jobby-do’s) – but only the non-english speaking mechanic guy is there. The manager will be back in an hour – the owner who I’ve known for a bagillion years had just left. Nice big cold wind coming up. Hmmm…who can I call at 8:15 in the morning who won’t want to kill me? Why Zelda of course. Call home phone. No answer. Call cell. No answer. Decide to call work to tell them I will be late. No answer.

Yay, Zelda calls back. Yes she will take me to work. Be there in a few. Now with Zelda a few minutes can mean anything from 5 minutes to an hour. More standing in cold office and cold parking lot at mechanic’s. Finally Zelda arrives, I get in the car, which isn’t quite as cold as outside but not doing much to thaw me out. See Zelda doesn’t like heaters – in fact, she runs the A/C pretty much year round. So I keep my shivers to myself since she is doing me a favor.

Now I’m dreading how many bagillions of dollars it’s going to cost me to fix the car. I have visions of redoing the entire electrical system and various other stomach-churning possibilities. Enough. I throw myself into work. The place is a mess. There is stuffed crammed in every nook and cranny. Old papers, old envelopes, parts of equipment that no longer exists. Magazines, notepads, broken clipboards, Halloween decorations – pretty much everything but the fricking kitchen sink. So I spent most of the day going through all that crap. It did warm me up though – so I suppose that’s the upside.

Then I needed to talk to the bookeeper which took forever because she had to do this or that or whatever – long story short, I finally got a few minutes with her and got her on Quick Books tutorials. During which I discovered she doesnt’ know much about Quick Books and really pretty much computers. Cool, so it’s going to be a long road there.

Then the soon to be ex office manager had a fit because she didn’t get her overtime and she’s going to walk out and ooh, it’s such a drama. I mean we’re talking about $20. Right? So I told her I’d talk to Zelda cuz she was the one who put the kabosh on that – don’t even ask. So I just got off the phone with Zelda and she’s all pissed. And the other one is all pissed and it’s all on my plate anyway cuz well, it just is.

The good news is my car only needed a $50 part – a relay? And it works just fine now. I’m still alive, that’s good news. And there are only two more days left to the work week. Also good news. But Friday we’re having a little party for the ex office manager whom everyone hates and can’t wait to have go – but any reason to have cake and coffee, right?

Right now, a scotch and a pack of cigarettes would do a lot to improve my mood. I gotta tell you I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of crap. It’s all stupid and petty to me. I’d rather be writing. I’d rather being reading. I must be out of my mind. Oh well, maybe it will be better next week.

Though the 2nd night of American Idol tryouts is on tonight. I think I’m having a bad day? I’ll betcha there will be others who have a way worse one than me after all is said and done.

Later.

WC