Posts Tagged ‘pressure

16
Aug
25

There Is Only So Much Torture One Man Can Take

***

Where to begin?  After all…my last post said this was or may be the end…of me.

I fear the end is near.  And, the past few days have been utter torture.  Every day a new batch of caustic solution is cast upon my emotional and financial wounds…if not also my mental and physical health.

Let me count the ways:

@ My home gets flooded, moldy and all occupants are forced to evacuate the biohazard.

@ My basement collections, including valuables and artwork….let’s just say a ton was ruined by the flood.

@ My family hirers movers to help move stuff to a truck to ship to a storage facility.  And, they spend more time putting stuff in garbage bags than loading anything.  As far as I recall, my sis, brother-in-law and I did most if not all of the loading.  And, my helpers were not the least bit concerned about what happened to what we loaded.  They had no emotional attachment.  All they saw was a clock and wanted to get done fast.  So, they threw stuff in the truck.  And, some fell out…getting damaged.  Why am I paying for storage if you’re going to damage what goes into it?

@ Weather is the worst.  Hot.  Muggy.  Every step you take draws another bucket of sweat from your face.  So lifting one box is a pain.  Lifting three is murder.  But, more rain is on the way; so you’d better get moving.

@ Brother helps by working with the movers.  He throws $800 of valuables on the ground, claiming it was in a wet box.  I highly doubt that.  But, I don’t doubt the collection is now worth about $600 or less.  His assistants fail to bring up stuff I am sure was safe and dry and worth a small fortune.  I suspect that went into garbage bags before going with the movers.  Thieves with cellphones who can look up the value of what they are moving and walk past stupid family members.

@ Brother offers to help move stuff as I myself move stuff upstairs, struggling with the poor air quality.  He drops my most precious handful in the sewage.

@ When I convince myself I need to just walk away and trash a bunch, family tries telling me to wash it off and salvage it, even if mint condition boxes are lost.  If I stop to wash things, they tell me I need to move quicker and load a truck, instead.  If I load the truck, they tell me to take care of the wet stuff coating the lawn.  There is no win.  And, everyone is clashing with each other.  It’s an ugly scene.

@ Sisters say they are on my side and supporting me, but their patience quickly thin, and I am feeling threatened with ultimatums…fearing they will put me in a group home when I totally lose my mind from this disaster.

@ I thoroughly regret ever getting involved with collecting and will surely never collect so foolishly again.  Nor will I be able to ever truly love my family.  They have earned my hate.

17
Apr
25

Beware the Game Show Network…Fools

***

Beware the Game Show Network. It is full of fools.

***

Hi. I’m one member of a friend threesome. We have been good friends for numerous years. We have traveled the world and have many favorites we share. You would think our life is bliss. [You might also suspect we are sleeping together…like one brainy threesome with no standard other than similar levels of intelligence.] But, we cannot resist being part of a game show that is sure to make us look stupid. Even if we fail to win anything, we go home just as perfect as we were before we arrived on TV. Enjoy watching us waste your time and remember how perfect our life is while your life is not.

***

Listen. I, too, am part of a trio of friends who has to give ourselves a witty group name before competing against another team in one of the many, many trivia game shows that, if watched together, will likely drive your already mashed potato brain completely mad. We each have a lame story to justify our life’s purpose and intelligence. The least attractive of my group stands at the far end, with her back turned to the cameras, ensuring she will get the least TV exposure.

Anyone at home could tell this was done on purpose. But, we just went along with it because we all wanted to prove we were smart. Everyone watching game shows wants to prove they are just as smart. You sit at home, seeing what people are doing to win prize money, and you say, “I can do that!” Right?

We play a game similar to Password, trying to get our teammates to guess words given to us on a screen. We are failing miserably, but the youthful host is determined to make us feel good about ourselves. The show ends somewhat abruptly, and we go home feeling dumber and physically exhausted, which seem strange for a show that’s supposed to be a verbal and mental challenge.

***

I buckle under pressure, too; which is why it seems stupid for me to be part of a game show that intentionally seeks to peg someone as stupid by giving them very little time to solve wacky puzzles on a touch screen. Many of the puzzles are actually rather witty, themselves. So, it’s not all bad being a genuine fool. I think the audience, at home, gets something out of watching.

***

I hosted said game show with visual puzzles that make you think outside the box to avoid me calling you stupid. I exposed my relationship status many times and often flirted with the female guests, even the lesbian ones. Obviously, that did not change my relationship status, because I came back, day after day, with the same story.

I am not a fool because I call myself a FOL. See? I took out one letter to change the spelling of the word. That takes intelligence…I think. Stop staring at my unusually large hands and odd outfit combinations.

[Actually, I think the host was/is rather amusing. And, most of the puzzles are amusing and/or decent tests of observation…not all of the tests, though. So, ‘no offense intended. But, you do place yourself among many other fools. And, damn, those two lesbians were very attractive.]

***

I was on a trivia game show that put three supposedly average people up against three “celebrities,” noted for their televised prowess on other trivia-related game shows. I helped viewers at home sit through an hour of failure laced with little supposed factoids supplied by the know-it-alls. In the final round, when it was just me versus the “expert” with the highest individual score from their group, I missed more than one question and didn’t go home with much.

Later, at home, I watched some other episodes and noticed a pattern. I think the “experts” knew which of them was going to be in the final round and answered accordingly. And, in the final round, I think the final know-it-all also intentionally answered in a way that gave me minimal hope of surviving until the final question, when they politely kicked me out the exit door.

***

I strongly disagree with the above testimony. I was on the same trivia game show and not only defeated the three experts but came back two more times and achieved the same feat to become one of the experts. Earning the right to appear on other trivia-related game shows, I now can speak freely about whatever someone else fails to know as true and annoy countless TV viewers with my big brain and not-so-big mouth. I enjoy dry cereal made of dictionaries and the New York Times. I literally eat books and newspapers. But, I can’t seem to make as much money as the other brainiacs who seem to always be on TV. I guess emulating or trying to compete with someone already deemed famously smart isn’t very smart.

***

I was on a similar trivia game show, with one expert at the top of some flashy mountain just to boost his ego. I was among three people who were all convinced we were very smart by people we know. I guess I let my support system influence me too much; I turned out to be a big dummy, utterly squashed by the big mouth in charge. The lovely hostess tried to make light of the situation but failed. I know now not to be so trusting of others’ opinions about myself, which will probably erode my self-esteem as I get older and dumber.

***

I am the (gorgeous) host of the forementioned trivia game show…well, actually, I hosted a few, and they featured some of the same know-it-alls. On one of my shows, which went on to appear on another channel and feature a variety of experts at the top of the mountain, put on rotation, I was forced to repeatedly address the know-it-all by his nickname. [I don’t host that other version.] I said his nickname so many times; I think my powerful jaws became stuck in perpetual motion. I go home, many nights, just repeating that name to no one. Sometimes, it just pops up in conversation.

It’s a beastly bad habit. I know. But, hey, I’m keeping busier and looking better than I probably did on that old joke about being a lifeguard. And, I didn’t have to radically change my appearance to put that behind me, like some Aquaman I know.

When I’m not bowing down to a British giant, I like to deliver questions to contestants at such an alarming rate, I fear, one day, my head will just fly off into the studio audience anyone rarely sees…because there are not many big winners on the shows I host. It’s a good thing I like to eat and never gain a pound.

[And, I don’t mind that last bit, either. That is one dreamy game-show hostess.]

***

Hey. I was on a dating game show that didn’t last long, probably because it smelled too much like the host’s other famous show, which ran too long for the sleazy crap it was, as did its cheap spin-off. As a contestant, I was required to describe three faults or quirks I have, in a few words, and put each answer in a silly piece of silvery luggage.

The lone woman, who had to pick one of us three guys for a date, not a commitment, just a date (planned by the makers of the show), did not like at least one of my “secrets.” Like many other people in my shoes, I told her I would burn my past and change my ways for her. [You might say it was a bold-faced lie to get the girl.] She seemed remotely pleased by that offer. [I’ll take that as a maybe.]

Unfortunately, my choice of words was more scandalous than accurate. I went home looking and feeling worse than when I arrived. Now, I’m marked for life as the loser I was on TV (thanks to reruns used as filler on a faulty broadcast TV system).

***

Yo. I was on that same dating show, but I was the star who had to put one answer in a single red piece of luggage. I had less chance of being rejected than the other three players in the room. I had a choice of three fine women. Being a rather superficial, immature (though mature in physique, which I pumped and sprayed at the gym) and selfish guy, I quickly eliminated the one gal who was the most nerdy because she freaked me out. Some other artsy loser can pick her up outside the studio; I’m sure. So, that left me with a nutcase and a hooker. I chose the hooker. But, when she saw my “big secret,” she rejected me. I think she misunderstood what I said. ‘Live and learn I guess.

***

Hi. I was a woman on that same dating show and in the previous speaker’s position, with the choice of three possible dates. I quickly rejected the one guy who still valued his mother and lived with his parents, because that’s the standard with this gig. I mean, who accepts an adult man who lives with his parents?

This left me with a scrawny nerd in debt and a hunk who barely fit in a suit. I couldn’t pick the nerd because that would just give other nerds false hope of landing someone as hot as me. And, I cannot process being with someone who houses a huge toy collection, even if it includes sex toys.

I chose the hunk, who, thankfully, did not mind me being a stripper, though I did not use that particular word to describe myself. We went on the show’s pre-packaged date and had lousy sex before looking for other cheap and lousy game shows to expose ourselves and build a crappy TV resume. If you see me, again, anywhere, I’ve surely had my brain removed and am now just a cyborg.

***

I also was a gorgeous woman who had to pick one of three guys on that same quasi-dating game show. However, I ultimately picked the most ethnic, immature and dorky of the guys, who had to accept that I was both a lawyer and a stripper, exclusively for some wealthy guys linked to the game show, itself, which I could not admit on TV (even though the host giving me a peck on the cheek might have given a clue). I gave false hope to other fools like my date to boost the show’s audience and round up other fools.

The date was just a formality to make the show appear like a success. I ditched the dork with a clause in my contract and never saw him, again. Actually, we did cross paths, but a restraining order set him straight…or gay. I can’t remember, anymore. I handle a lot of men. Ha.

***

Hey, folks. I was the host of that dating show, when Match.com was still hip and televised. It wasn’t just a dating show; it also advertised a talent-seeking agency for which any of the contestants could apply to do something other than humiliate themselves in a strangely limited social environment. [So, it’s possible some if not all contestants were staged and grouped for a preset result.]

I am a very witty guy with dentures, who can make countless jokes about himself and speak rather intelligently when pressed. But, instead of hosting something that puts my assets to good use, I am pegged as a “shock jock,” bent to getting scandalous noises out of the audience.

Unlike the other fools who appear on shows like mine, I had plenty of time to entertain viewers. Unfortunately, the nature of the shows I host eventually lose their charm almost as fast as viewers lose brain cells. But, when one show bombs, another is sure to rise from its ashes. So, don’t worry about me. I’ll keep cracking wise until my head falls to the floor.

***

Hey, America (and whoever else may be reading this remote blog). I hosted a game show that was supposed to be hip, trendy and modern…because it involved something I know we all love to use…EMOJIS! Yes, and it required contestants to see things in emoji codes which few if any people actually could do, because the selection of emojis and time on the clock were rather limited. Try playing Charades with only fifteen possible hand gestures. How DO you get someone to guess “Raiders of the Lost Ark” by using a hand, a box, a pirate and a puzzled face? I have no idea. But, I’m glad I was making money while the contestants went home with corporate swag and subscriptions to things no one needs.

***

I was a contestant on the forementioned emoji-laden game show. I was at a mall (in some part of Southern California) when I saw someone offering applications. A friend of mine, who likes to text with me, thought we would be good contestants, and, buckling under a fair amount of peer pressure, I agreed. I thought a show about texting was far easier than one that required you to use knowledge I failed to grasp in school; and I don’t read much, anyway.

On the show, I got nothing right and ultimately decided to never use emojis in my daily life; nor will I ever likely play a similar game, like Charades. When that emoji movie came out, I freaked and cut off all of my hair. If anyone tries to use emojis with me, I will probably break my own phone in a fit of uncontrollable rage. I shouldn’t even use the damn word…emoji! Ugh!

***

It’s been over twenty years since I hosted my game show, with a very sexy blonde assistant who had a strange name and little to say…because I swallowed up eighty percent of the air time with my non-stop rambling. Together, with a third person whose job was to put contestant pairs to sleep by whispering random factoids, we tested the physical and mental limits of red-eyed fools and offered little reward to compensate for the madness and therapy that would likely follow. The show was a play on what many students go through to pass the big tests they take in school.

So, you see; I’m no fool, even if my hairdo looked dated…like really far out, if you dig what I’m saying. I made money for my effort and didn’t lose any sleep. I just ran a sweat shop that bent others like slaves for my own amusement. I also had one of the most attractive assistants who just wasn’t getting enough better roles, anywhere. Those are the perks of being in charge of my destiny and not the pawn.

***

I was part of a reboot for newly married couples, hosted by some woman who I did not recognize because I don’t watch many movies or TV shows and don’t listen to music made before 2001. My new husband and I had a not-so-crazy story to tell about how we met, which gave viewers the impression we were close. But, as it turned out, we knew very little about each other and were terrible at reading minds. Instead, we just answered like the other couples, which didn’t do us any favors. Many of the questions were innuendoes, which I did not understand. [Why is this show so lewd?] I didn’t know there would be a kiss camera, either. In the end, we went home with a certificate for the loser-steak-of-the-month club and plenty to discuss in couple’s therapy. I’d say the experience was a waste of time, but, of course, my soon-to-be ex-husband disagrees.

***

I was also on that game show for newly married couples, and my lovely wife and I actually won! We were VERY in tune with each other and matched on nearly every question. We took the big prize trip to Antigua and met several other game-show winners. It seems Antigua is the pit where seventy-five percent of game show winners go to die like lemmings. I thought it was supposed to be a tropical paradise. There were so many people trying to sell me something. I came home covered in business cards and coupons I’ll likely never use.

30
Nov
22

How to Make Soccer More Entertaining and Worldly

*****

So, it’s on…the World Cup (of Soccer/Futbol/Football…the non-American variety). And, I’m not a big fan…but interest has been sparked by some clever advertising and an Olympics-like spirit. I enjoy the cosmopolitan clash of nations. Yet, my desire to watch, at all, remains surprising.

If I had to rank my enjoyment of televised sports, it would probably put American football on top (as best), then baseball, then beach volleyball, then Olympic indoor volleyball…zip down the long list…and, at the bottom, you’ll find international soccer, then golf and, lastly, NASCAR/INDY car racing. That’s right, all of you who’d expect something like curling to appear at the bottom of the list; curling isn’t as bad. [Apologies to the more attractive members of the LPGA and few female racecar drivers; your sports just don’t have audience appeal…they’re designed for gambling and the enjoyment/challenge/risk of the participants. You’re pawns in a much larger game.]

Typically, soccer games are too long, too slow, too dull and, essentially, annoying. You can wait almost two hours before something remotely exciting happens…like scoring a goal, which is why you’re there…not showing how well you can pass the ball around a field the size of a Qatar. [See what I did there?] Commentators are annoying in American football because they seem to be spitting out words just to fill air space, as if they’re afraid of silence. But, if you are not a multi-tasker–and many commentators are not–and engrossed in any sort of physical activity, whether you are using your brain and eyes or your actual body, putting words into a logical shape for all who hear to understand…is not likely. Instead, you spit out junk which is distracting, when viewers could simply be enjoying the action as if they were in the stadium.

Is that some sort of secret penalty/punishment for watching at home? Is that like cable TV bullying broadcast–free–viewers into paying for talk-free sports action? It wouldn’t surprise me one bit…and just adds to my anger.

If it’s not already obvious, here are my solutions to improving the game and audience appreciation of professional soccer:

1) INCREASE THE PRESSURE (DECREASE THE SLACK OF THE CLOCK).

I think there is one key element that impacts a soccer game, one aspect which fuels the best of the game and makes it worth watching…pressure. Professional soccer is a giant water balloon, and we need to reduce the volume.

[American football games can run for roughly three hours, though they are divided into quarters of fifteen minutes. Yet, the pace and pressure feels more intense. Teams progress or fail…and then give up the ball. The ball isn’t bouncing around the field between both teams, like some game of keep-away.

The one downside (of American football) is the risky physical contact. It’s an excessively hostile sport fueled by unrestrained, aggressive messaging. Teams are riled to the point of being gladiators on the field; they don’t control their aggression, resulting in some serious injuries…unlike soccer, in which injuries seem more staged than serious.]

Do you have any idea how annoying, as a viewer, it is to hear someone say a soccer game will go a bit longer as they put more time on the clock? If any game doesn’t need more time, it’s probably Soccer. I’ve seen soccer games end with a draw…sometimes tied at zero. What am I supposed to think or feel, after coming to cheer on my team and going home with nothing but “stubborn defense” to show for it? Imagine a NASCAR race going an extra hour, a few more laps, just to see the same waste of time and risk to competitors linger…BAH! ‘Insane.

The best moments in soccer seem to happen in the final ten minutes, if not less. Players get serious…sometimes too serious, like American football players, submitting to sweat, frustration, anger and panic. A lousy recipe for any sport. But, the pressure stimulates gameplay. With thirty minutes or more to kill (per game segment), players think they’re running a marathon; they think about enduring the length, not making quick, decisive moves to decide the game. And, who really watches every minute of a marathon?

[In the recent game between Wales and the USA, the impatient coffee-not-tea-time-driven USA couldn’t endure the length of the game (and probably failed at making adequate substitutions). My suggestion for the USA team, in the next game(s), is to draw out the first half with deflection/defense and focus on scoring in the second half…conserve your energy and avoid penalties. In a sport which sparks a penalty every time two feet or calves cross paths, I’d say it’s wise to avoid contact and fire the ball before another player reaches your leg. In my brief “career” as a soccer player, in my youth, I don’t think I got anything when a taller player (and a girl) drove the metal pins of her shoe into my foot…except the freedom to leave the game and never return.]

If you want Soccer to look more productive and electrify the crowd, cut the time on the clock. Or…

2) REDUCE THE FIELD SIZE AND PLAYER TALLY.

[This is inspired by my experience with a little faux-soccer video game called Rocket League. The field isn’t nearly as big, and there are far fewer players on the field. There is also the obnoxious struggle to steer, pass and fire a soccer ball with a car/truck that is not able to benefit from your own natural sense of direction nor be kept in your grasp/control as you would achieve with a real soccer ball on real turf.]

Soccer games water down the action by having such a big field and the equivalent of a Black-Friday shopping mob scattered across it.

Why do I want to watch a department store spectacle unfold from an overhead view and instant replays? I don’t.

If professional soccer games had fewer players on the field at one time (and, if necessary to keep the whole mob employed, more player rotations) and a shorter distance to cover between goals, the game would certainly be more swift and exciting. Defense would be more crucial, not vague and feel like a delay. Fewer players turns the typical, yawn-worthy juggling of the ball into enough of a bore to motivate players to get serious sooner than later. It’s also easier to align a few minds than a mob, unless that mob is being mindless and charging into battle like a human battering ram.

[In Rocket League, teams of four are the maximum and considered “chaos” because it’s a challenge, it seems, for four minds to work together without stepping on toes and bumping heads. Perhaps the field is too small? Or, perhaps, teamwork and team arrangements need improvement. That’s a human problem (and a technological problem), not one for the sport.

On that note…this is an opportunity for a new league of the sport. I’d like to see a live-action, Rocket-League-like, human-driven soccer sport. ‘Fewer players…smaller field…shorter playtime…more decisive action. And, possibly, having players play more than one position if needed/rotated. Maybe a goalie gets a chance to step away from the goal to play striker, for a change. Imagine the glory of being not just a good goalie but a good scorer, too.]

[In American (NFL) football games, action takes place between closely meshed teams, not players scattered across the 300-yard field, waiting for the ball to come into their permitted range, as if they were glued to a foosball stick. If an adept NFL player gets past the cluster, they get a chance to run for the goal, which gets the crowd going. And, you need every player on one side to cover every player on the other side. In soccer, you have so much room to move and far less concern about what every player can/will do every minute. There are no interceptions or blitzes in soccer. It’s all breezy pinball until someone attempts to score.

Other sports, like basketball, work like soccer but take place on a smaller field with fewer players, often keeping the audience gripped by the tension/pace. In basketball games, point tallies can change quickly and go far beyond 1-0.

If your sport is so slow and dull that a viewer can walk away for a half-hour, get something to eat, mingle with other people and then, eventually, return to see what’s happening (or what recently happened), it’s too slack. In just about any other sport (other than the bottom three on my list of sports worth watching), if you step away to get something to eat, you miss something. Is soccer meant to be something you simply bet on like a lottery ticket? Or, is it a sport to keep fans gripped by the tops of their socks (if you wear socks)?

Also, players will get more recognition for how they play, not just scoring or defending, if there are fewer on the field and less back-and-forth passing. It’s kind of hard to support a player who just…passes…all afternoon…into evening, maybe. [Like other sports, it’s easy for the ones doing the actual scoring or blocking to get a spotlight. For the rest, it’s a huge waste of time and energy…and you feel like a nobody, standing next to the “celebrity.”]

I…think I’ll just go grab lunch with some friends and check back on you, later, game. Let me know who won.

3) PENALIZE PLAYERS FOR FAKING INJURIES.

You know who you are, you fakers who fall on the field and cry foul just to get a free kick or swap places with another player…which should be a player substitution, not a foul. Probably my biggest peeve with soccer comes from seeing players cry foul, look injured and then get back in the game a few minutes later. It makes soccer players look like such…(expletive).

I’m going to sound a bit racist, but there seems to be a trend with those who cry foul. The teams with a majority of dark-skinned players will cry foul more often than teams with a majority of pale, pasty blokes. And, dark-haired man-boys will cry foul more often than blond guys. Blond, pasty guys, like me, tend to put up with more crap and just keep going. It takes a lot for us to cry foul; and, from my own experience, crying foul doesn’t always get the results I desire. But, I will certainly kick up a fuss if you intentionally get in my face or step on me. I rarely watch soccer, but, when I do, I expect teams like Mexico, Spain, the Middle East and just about anyone from Africa to throw themselves to the field and play wounded possum. If a pasty white guy falls on the field, I want to, at least, review the play that led to the fall.

[I recently saw one play in which a guy got hit in the face by a poorly aimed ball. That was a legitimate injury; and–man–I’d be crying more than foul if I got hit like that.]

If you want off the field (or your coach wants you off), call a time-out and make the substitution. Don’t tell the audience someone is hurt when they’re just stunned or not hurt, at all. In soccer, it’s a mean tease, more often than not. And, that’s really agitating.

[In American football, when there’s a foul which hurts someone…they are really hurt. And, you worry about that player’s health.]

You wouldn’t need to be bothered by as many substitutions (and cry babies rolling on the field just to get off it) if players were not exhausting themselves, covering such a distance, if…well, go back down the short list. Clock. Field size. Player count.

4) GIVE PLAYERS BETTER PROTECTION.

If any of these injuries are legitimate…and if counts of injuries are going to be on the rise…maybe it’s long overdue for the game to consider more protection worn by players? I wouldn’t think of soccer as a contact sport, not like American football. But, if it is, why are the people involved with the sport so stupid that they don’t push for more player protection? Do you like grabbing your calves and rolling on the ground as you cry like a baby? I don’t. And, when a tall girl stabbed my toes with her shoe, I didn’t hit the ground and cry; I limped off the field and told the coach I was quitting. [Heh.]

I suggest some sort of headgear, like sparring boxers wear. Those padded frames that let your hair stick up and expose most (not all) of the face would probably be helpful (and make “headers” easier on the head). And, shin guards (like those I used to wear in elementary school). Is it infantile, childish to protect your calves? Especially when players are consistently tripping and sweeping into each other.

5) DON’T END ON A TIE OR REFEREE DECISION TO END THE GAME.

What did I just hear? The referee will/can decide if the game ends in a tie or runs longer? So, I can blame the referee for the tie/draw? What kind of a finish is that? That’s so dumb and annoying. That decides nothing. You might as well play a five-minute game like a warm-up exercise and say, “Good game, everybody.” It would go quicker and loosen everyone up before doing something more productive.

The World Cup is a short-term tournament. It’s not a season. The only way a tie serves any purpose is if you decide the victor based upon the total number of points or fewest penalties scored. If a regular season game ends in a tie…what do you do or say? How do you declare a team the best of the season? If tournament games end in a tie, there is no victor; there is no decision (unless someone makes one).

[And, who is going to make that fair decision? Sometimes, in American football games, referees seem to favor one team over another and/or call too many or too few penalties. In the soccer game (that just took place) between Wales and the USA, Wales seemed favored for being able to point fingers at the USA (and the Welsh “star” got the team’s solo point…from a penalty/free kick…yay). I’d say the USA got “fugged” by foul cries, by faulty ref calls and delays. If the game was shorter and more focused, with fewer drags and penalties/substitutions (and unfair denials of those), the teams would have to either bring it or lose it.]

…….That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. ‘Simple enough for you soccer pansies in overly tight socks, short shorts and man-buns. Right? Increase the pressure. Reduce the volume. Instantly better game. It’s like reducing the water in coffee and mass-produced fruit juices to improve flavor or potency. If you’re going to spend as much as you do on a sport, don’t water it down to milk spectators.

Oh. One other thing, regarding the World Cup.

I’m not a regular viewer; this is my first year for attempting to watch. But, is the logo the same every year? That upside-down figure eight is interesting…but also very nauseating and hypnotic when the TV crews spin it every time they cut to a different camera or in and out of replays. Horrible choice for a cutaway. Can we fix that? Or…just don’t spin the damn thing every thirty seconds.

The worst might be seeing that thing spin a few times…then cut to a shot of a player spitting on the field. Thanks. There goes my lunch…and my breakfast…and last night’s dinner.

07
Feb
22

The Masked Price of the Olympics

***

This year, 2022, there is sufficient buzz about the unpleasant politics and inhumane behavior under the snowy surface of the Beijing winter Olympics. Some people are particularly agitated and claiming this will be a stain on Olympic history. They say the IOC has been corrupted and bent to the sway of profits and commercialism, as if this is something new. With so much focus on the global economy, why WOULDN’T handing the reins to China happen? That’s like asking why the USA gets to call the shots when it comes to who has use and ownership of nuclear weapons.

The USA has plenty of history in inhumane behavior; so now that porcelain China shows some rotting ivories, it’s the enemy of all humanity? It’s Nazi Germany? The IOC, however that works, took the easy road and let the biggest financial source on the east side run the show for two years out of the past twenty-two. Big deal. [Well, if China has any sort of military/financial merger in the works with presently hostile-looking Russia and Mr. Putin, it could be a big deal…for everyone. Yet, that’s just the regular cup of coffee in global news; two nations reaching an agreement that scares the rest of the world like birds on a wire.] And, what happens when the USA or Canada gets the reins, again? What if someone digs up dirt on the west side? Ooh. I’m shaking in wonder.

Certain nations refused to send political figures to Beijing as a sort of boycott, trying to make a statement. China supposedly responded by attempting to appear innocent of any crime in the public eye…and re-using a song from the previous Olympics for one of their world-unification displays. [I thought that was rather tacky.] And, regardless of what people in suits and ties fail to agree upon, the games go on with so many highly (and some poorly) trained athletes risking their lives in more ways than one to get a slice of fame, income and glory, branded with logos and sponsorships, stalked by cameras. Is it any wonder any one of them crumbles under the pressure?

Under the clouds of racial and political discontent, there are the same athletic struggles and stumbles seen year after year; athletes, sometimes, just failing from lousy weather/course conditions. If I go back and look at every Olympics season, I’m sure to see someone suffer some sort of emotional, psychological fracture. One “perfect” athlete, in particular, chose to make a spectacle of herself by driving drunk. Another turned to violence against a competitor. Others suffer some sort of shocking health crisis which I doubt any sponsor wants to advertise and/or fund; it reminds me of those ads for the “wounded warriors.” The “racehorses,” who get pumped up to the highest level of pressure for the entertainment and gambling of others, go from the spotlight to rehab and misery; and we just keep moving on from season to season, sending more “warriors” to the slaughter. Fun!

Just as I am writing this piece, I am watching the national news representative(s) repeatedly stab a particularly dazzling, beautiful, fiery blonde starlet with icy shards of doubt and discouragement for making one mistake in one race of one event in which she is eligible to compete. Who, other than myself, thinks she will have a psychological breakdown, especially after being spotlighted for coping with the grief of losing a parent? Come on, humanity! Show your shining star some compassion!

Idiots, with your stupid repetitive questions about her one lackluster performance! Shut the freak up and let her ski! I’m giving you a 98% deduction for being near-complete morons. You’re not even worthy of being complete morons; you’re still imperfect. What separates you from complete morons? No one knows. Live with that. Or, better yet, get yourselves involved in some stupid cancel-culture scandal and just go away.

Most of the time, most seasons, the real disasters faced by “star” athletes get washed out by the talk of technical errors, medal counts and the general push for tourism, advertising the host nation and other vacation venues around the world…because, it seems, whenever it’s Olympics season, it’s also vacation/travel season. Everyone is pushing everyone to get out there, explore the world and fuel the global economy, including those sponsors who are placing bids on all the young (and a few not-so-young) racehorses otherwise known as Olympic competitors. So, what’s the big deal with one host nation having poor ethics and making faulty promises in the big scheme of commercialized competition?

Personally, if I wanted to boycott an Olympics, I’d refuse to send my nation’s athletes as well as my political elite. Just skip the games, completely. Sorry, athletes, your insane amount of rehearsing, physical training, rehab, building up the hopes of sponsors and promotional efforts were in vain. You have to understand that politics got in the way of you enjoying the spirit of global peace and friendly competition. That is…if the Olympics ARE a source of global peace and friendly competition.

How friendly is competition so strongly operated by commercial sponsors? How friendly is competition in which athletes run the risk of ruining their bodies for life just to get a tenth-of-a-point edge above their competitors? And, how are athletes from every nation that can send them supposed to feel the unifying spirit of the Olympics when their every move and breath is under scrutiny and threatened by questionable leadership?

If I was a competitor in the Beijing winter games, and someone filled my head with all of the political unrest circling the host nation, not to mention the prevailing concerns over general health and the whole COVID-19 scare, I’d be sufficiently afraid to even set foot in China. One wonders what gives so many the courage to compete, considering the circumstances. Is it all concern over finances? Is an athlete’s paycheck from temporary, fleeting stardom worth the risk, better than getting a regular job? [And, if that last bit is true, what does that say about the global economy? It sucks? Jobs, in general…suck?] Is it like a $100 gift card to get a not-very-effective vaccine shot? Are fears for safety and security washed away by financial promises from gambling sponsors? And, how is the competition still fun when so much is “riding on the line” and a tiny mistake can separate stardom from “nothing?”

Once upon a time, the Olympics were a truce between warring factions of the world, a break from the usual conflict over land ownership with the hope of dissolving animosity with fair and non-lethal competition, a little amusement to break up the quarrels over who makes a better king or emperor and who gets to enslave the people of a land that looks like easy prey. They were not the deadly contests of Roman gladiators. No one was being thrown to the lions. And, no one mistreated the lions for sport or commercial gain.

If you look at recent Olympics, you might see a few casualties who are essentially lion food when they leave the host nation. Of course, there are also those rare champion, legend stories of athletes who suffer horribly one year and then pick themselves back up to win some sort of medal or prize in another Olympics. But, those are truly rare cases. And, the media like to make everyone watching think anyone who breaks their body into a million pieces or suffers the big bad “C” can recover and be the next shining star, be that next contender to wear a suit covered in the logos of financial backers who all want a piece of the glory achieved by one fragile human being.

So, you see, while some are so furiously concerned with politics and inhumane treatment THIS year, we are neglecting the racehorses who often enough suffer just as badly. Some might be kept in prisons and/or forced to work under unpleasant conditions. But, even the most prized athletes are coming out of the shadows of their training spaces to expose equally troubling secrets, sometimes years after they were shining so brightly in the spotlight. And, it wasn’t a high-ranking political figure who deserved the blame; it was someone on the training staff.

The Beijing 2022 Winter Olympics are nothing special; they certainly are not as shiny as the 2008 edition. But, I have yet to see a single Olympics in which everything went perfectly or was completely innocent and entertaining. Every year there is something that leaves me a little sour. On that note, I don’t aspire to appear in any Olympics competition…but I’d sure love to be in that stadium at the opening and closing ceremonies, befriending people from around the world who share my passions, ideally initiating friendships that I can carry with me the rest of my life.

The best of every Olympics comes in the little moments you see happen between athletes from competing nations, when two individuals, working so hard to earn the most coveted medal, share friendly words and affectionate gestures. Differences fold under the emotional weight of relief. The temporary rivals know the fight is over, and friendship is free to begin. And, that is the true medal, the real prize of every Olympics games. You can’t capture it with a drone or cellphone camera. You can’t wear it around your neck or on a nylon jacket; you wear it in your heart. No sponsor can claim credit or take any money from that. It’s the best of humanity; it’s eternal hope for our future. And, that is what I prefer to be the focus of my Olympics experience. It’s not gold, silver or bronze. It’s priceless.

16
Sep
19

Who Was Forced Into This World at Birth?

*****

Just a quick/simple question…

Who here was a forced birth? When you were born, did your mother go into labor?…or was labor induced before you were plucked from the womb? And, did you suffer in any way from the forced birth?

[Okay; maybe not very simple.]

I ask because I was a forced birth. And, I was subject to some “birth defect” as a result. And, looking at how my life has unfolded and continues to unfold, I keep getting this rippling, echoing feeling like I should never have entered this world, or this dimension. [Yet, another part of me pulls me in a different direction and tells me I am here for some special purpose that is written in the numbers and stars. It’s an on-going game of tug-of-war inside me.]

Now, after you answer that question, if you care to walk with me, be warned. It gets a bit “heavy.” And, you may feel the ground crumble from under your feet.

As I touched on in a previous post, I see so much in this world/dimension that is wrong and conflicts with my spirit. I’ve endured so much “crap” and see plenty of others suffering even more, at least, in ways I don’t even want to imagine much less see. I see plenty of people living in delusional ways at great expense while plenty more unseen or badly rendered faces get dragged through messes with authorities and militaristic policing forces. And, I start to wonder if the stories we write, so many that have been “dystopian,” aren’t unfolding as we write them…or if certain stories written long ago, perhaps predicted by ancient people, aren’t weaving into existence.

I am divided between the world around me which lacks friendship, self-esteem, cooperation and a little discipline, which settles for and offers little for slavery, lacks glamor/style and divides people like cold fish in a processing plant…and the world I see on TV which is either on the verge of destruction, even total annihilation, or “living the high life” of risk, wealth, drugs, marriage and lust. I see dreamy possibilities but no real and/or pleasant path to achieving them…nor do I comprehend what I would do once I reached that dreamy plateau…which makes all creative efforts fairly worthless, like building a house of cards just to see it fall. If there is a way to reach the “golden city,” it seems paved with traps, deception and torture; is it any different than being lured into biting an apple from a tree you were warned to avoid?

And, while all of this–and more–passes through my mind, I am sure some may breeze by my words and shake their heads or laugh at their foolish nature. You may tell me all I have said makes no sense or isn’t true. But, maybe, that’s just how you perceive this world/life. And, maybe, we each experience it differently. Maybe, no matter how we connect, we are each experiencing this existence separately and only seeing virtual reactions from the bodies/minds around us…isn’t that a terrifying thought?

So far, my only “saving grace” has been to be mindful of the good stories from long ago, of figures like Jesus being of service to others. I tell myself to help others when and where I can; so even if the rest of this life sucks and the world goes up (or down) in flames tomorrow, I can die knowing I did some good.

But, even that feels somewhat sad and empty…or, rather, I feel sad and empty when my thoughts shift to what seems to be missing in this life…love and friendship…comfort and acceptance…being in tune with the natural world as nature intended and feeling the fullness of my spirit as it was created, not simply repeating the words of some fabricated religion, telling myself it will get better. Talk is cheap, as some say. And, I am growing tired of talking. My spirit burns and yearns for something greater. It wants to sink my toes in warm, wet sand and let the symphonies of crashing tides and whispering woods fill it to the brim of zen/blissful completion. But, if this world is so crappy…if everything is polluted and some risk to my being…why? Why do I burn this way inside? Is it a mad trick to torture me?…like dangling a carrot in front of a hungry horse?

06
Nov
18

Voting Is a U.S. Right, Not an Obligation!

*****

If you live in the not-so-United States, there’s a lot of hub-bub about VOTING. Oh.  Hey.  Is that today?  Yes, it may be happening right now!  Wait.  Read this.

It goes into all sorts of heated debates about rights which nip and peck at matters like race, gender and religion. It teases about aspirations for taxes, schools, jobs and the big ol’ dinosaur of a “snake-in-the-grass” known as insurance. It starts to sound like a chariot race at some Roman coliseum or an NFL football crowd. It’s like war without most of the bloodshed. I guess…that’s…a good thing?

And, unless you pay no attention to TV or…apparently…any screen receiving “feeds” of some “newsworthy” kind, you are sure to see and/or hear something about the push to vote. It might be worse than the push for pumpkin-spice everything, the obnoxious internet service monopoly commercials and…well, no, none of those is as annoying as the lawyer who can’t stop flashing his face and talking in his annoying voice every half hour because he decided to invest in every branch of life as he knows it, thinking that gives him a right to be a broadcast nag. On that matter, I vote NO.

Now, back to the bigger voting matter(s). Oh wait, we interrupt this blog for a commercial endorsement by some celebrity…yep, I think it’s none other than Mr. Technology Rapper, Common. Okay. Uh-huh. Got it, smooth talker.

So, as I was saying…

What? Wait 8 seconds to bypass this ad for candidate Dingleberry? *sigh* Oookayyy…

Ya see what’s happening here?

Now, if you have the patience and don’t suffer from one of those “attention-deficient disorders,” I have a few things to say. And, I might get winded. But, that’s just part of the misery of being a citizen in “the greatest country in the world.” [Nobody’s perfect here. Okay, Earthlings? If you seriously cannot read all I have to say, you may kindly skip down to the lower portion that begins with “Let me just make this short and bittersweet.”]

Americans?…and all who occupy the country even if you are not “legally settled in” the place. Voting is a citizen’s right. Yet, from all the noise going around, it sounds more like an obligation pending. And, on the sides, you have all the talk about interference and other reasons to be concerned.

This time, the red guys win. Next time, the blue guys win with the adolation of most “celebrities,” those members of some “academy” or “foreign press” association. [It all sounds like secret society talk, like some Luminati or Nazi nod or stroke of the nose. We got ya, boss. Wink.] Nothing good can really be achieved if every day is spent battling Joes and Cobras, or if one “side” paints the town red just for the other to paint it blue when they dominate “seats.” It’s just a waste of time and energy (life).

If recent years haven’t made it abundantly clear, the whole U.S. voting system is a joke and a mess. [Remember the “chad” fiasco from a previous election? That thing that made the cryp-to-spo-rid-i-um scare seem trivial.] But, like other U.S. messes, it goes around and around, and no one really makes an improvement. Is that stability or insanity? [And, if anyone in Russia is laughing at this, take a look in the mirror, once in a while. Are you really any better off? Is any country truly happy with itself? I’d like to know, and I might like to live there.]

And, when the voting is supposedly done, the winners get a mixed bag of quiet time (in which they can do whatever they want) and time in the spotlight when they either get mention for some kind of achievement or pestered for what they did wrong. The latest gladiator to enter this arena has been grilled and then grilled some more for being an all-around fool. Yet, all the noise hasn’t made him even flinch.

Does that mean he’s just that secure in himself or is all the noise just noise and an illusion of unrest? And, if it’s an illusion of unrest, what is going on here? What are “they” protecting at the risk of several minds, not to mention lives?

I begin to question the whole security and essence of my existence. Don’t you? Are we all just cattle being scared into bumping into each other, dropping money we supposedly earn to secure our “status” in this world and our futures, dropping it on the grate that filters into some system we have no control over though we are pressed to vote it into existence year after year? Are we just batteries in some grand machine, handed illusions of better lives until we are broken and replaced? Or, are we truly valued individuals who have a right to live on the same planet and, at least, not assault each other as we find balance with the environment?

I know the concept of everyone living content and having kids as they will is beyond my comprehension of population control. It’s some idyllic fantasy of a science-fiction show about some people and aliens in spandex costumes breaking apart the universe in pursuit of other worlds to occupy and systems of order to upset. [Yeah. Let’s upset some other race. Not ours. Whatever. I guess it’s all learning from experience. Right? Even if it takes an eternity for the light bulb to glow.] I can but choose not to imagine what life would be like if we were no different than deer and lions chasing around in the wilderness, risking the chance of being slain and eaten. But, such is “domesticated” life, conditioned in our minds for such a long time. Right?

And now, back to our voting program……still in progress.

—–

If voting is a gauntlet of fear and anger with a roaring crowd occupying some sort of stadium, arguing over which “side” will rule the land, I really don’t want any part of it. I mean, I am not sure I fit into that sort of medieval mentality, that clash of kingdoms and warlords where you paint your faces to represent a side and then unleash all kinds of confetti-infused mayhem on the land. You’d think the country would have evolved beyond the WW2 days of war bonds and collecting materials for vehicles, rations and weapons. Is this Game of Thrones or Fantasy Island?

If you are pressed to vote and looked down upon for not voting, isn’t that sort of…bullying? Isn’t that as bad as sexism and racism?

Is the “system” so desperate to keep everyone “involved” just to appear as if they care and can work together rather than actually learning to work together?

Has life on this planet become all about the “clicks” and “likes” rather than actually putting our hands together to make some good happen?

Are the “powers that be” so concerned about order crumbling into chaos that their only reassurance is to pressure everyone to partake in this mad scene called a vote?

If we all quarrel and fuss, are our voices reassuring anyone?

Is this like a game of Marco Polo in which being heard confirms we’re still alive and not up to no good?

If a tree in the forest makes a sound, does that mean it’s not plotting to end you?

And, if you must vote with only what you get from ads and debates and those colorful not-so-little flyers passed around until they litter the streets like some 1940s war-era movie disaster, isn’t your vote a bit mis-educated? Misguided? How many candidates make the same promises and then bend differently once in office? Does it really matter who gets in the offices? Does any side really win forever? Does anything good last? Is everyone ever happy?

[Now, I am sure it’s worse in other countries. I know no Americans are getting beheaded, killed for going against the flow and/or voicing opinions that don’t agree with the ruling force. Women aren’t as “repressed” in the U.S….though one could argue the conditioned mindsets of makeup and fashion are a bit like shackles. Is that comforting to know or just a different color of the same crap?]

I cannot honestly say I have any grand knowledge of or trust in any candidate. Sure, I could “research.” But, if all I get is the “resume” of aspirations, am I not still taking a gamble on a person’s character? I cannot be guaranteed one person put in a government job slot will improve anything. And, whether or not my vote does some good cannot be proven. It’s no better than me offering up a prayer unanswered or tossing a coin in a fountain and making a wish. Yet, both of those are not NEARLY as costly to “air time,” taxes and the environment.

[I have voted in previous elections. And, did it make me feel good? Not really. I get that voting, as a right, gives people a chance to decide who gets some sort of job which is supposed to improve the way everyone lives. But, there’s just as much chance my choice will get slammed for some crime he or she did not previously admit and turn out to be something I did not want, at all. I trusted a man’s calm face only to then question is motives and worry about the environment not only threatening job security but the resources that sustain life. If my vote contributes to making my life miserable or ending it sooner than it should be…what the frick am I achieving?!]

When George Washington became the first president of the “United States,” I doubt everyone who could vote voted. People were present and denied the chance and/or right to vote. Some couldn’t make it to wherever it was decided to have their say. Yet, some consensus pushed him up the red-white-and-blue pipe to the top and convinced him to lead the people as he had led some faction through war. And, somehow, this was better than the old taxing ways of the “red coats” and the even older conquering broods that stormed lands, slaying and enslaving natives. Well, it got his face stamped on a few things; that’s for sure. But, is that such a great thing, considering what other places have been stamped with and/or the names they’ve been given? [Boy, I sure enjoyed my weekend at Screw-Your-Soul Lake! I got the chance to climb Mt. Sisyphus and ride the It-Doesn’t-Matter-Horn.]

SEGWAY ALERT! [And, I don’t mean one of those semi-trendy electric scooters.]

And, let’s stop making memorials for every damn wrong humans committed! Aren’t movie remakes enough to let people know they aren’t learning from past mistakes? We’re not making new good; we’re just remodeling the old bad. A statue that represents a racist attrocity isn’t going to stop people from being racist. It’s just as likely to remind people how and/or why to commit one. [What did that guy do? Oh…now that I think of it, maybe I should do that.]

Ever heard of a killer that mimicked a past one? That’s kind of what history does. It’s a sneaky reminder of all the good and bad deeds done in the past, and that filters through our minds like panning for gold. Some will get the virtues while others collect the vices.

Just because there is a Mecca, pope or Buddha doesn’t mean everyone is going to pray to it, him or her and get the benefit. But, at least, those three are hopeful options versus big, glaring reminders of some horror that took place. I’d personally rather walk down a street to find some positive inspiration rather than a reason to feel depressed and/or unreasonable guilt, thank you very much. Yes, many, many people died here. But, you don’t see nearly as many memorials for all the natives trampled and slaughtered under the cover of Thanksgiving! No. Just plenty of casinos and “reservations.” Did we learn anything, class?

And, breathe.

Voting is not something you hand out on the street, not knowing where it has been and where it is going. You don’t smuggle foreigners into voting booths to sway your preference. You should not have to even worry about another country tampering with the ads and/or results. [I won’t name names because that’s like the old school ritual of gossip about “germs.” And, that’s…kinda like bullying. But, thanks a bunch, electronic “conveniences.” Is it so hard to print paper forms or take a vote in person? Why not just have every voter stand in front of a video (or “phone”) camera and voice their choice like the kooks who participate in those “reality TV game shows” who send someone packing every week? Wait. Can that be tampered with, too?] You don’t quibble about ID proof or pester your citizens about anything that they are or do other than being a registered citizen and their choice of candidates. You should not be fed similar mud-slinging stories from all of the candidates and then forced to make a choice with poor education.

If voting is no better than a “Catholic school” permitting some questionable–to say the least–practices or drilling old scripture into your heads that isn’t being respected, it’s as useless as making a complaint to the boss at work who brushes it off for whatever reason and works under the thumb of another guy who works under the thumb of another guy who… Can’t we come up with a better system, already? Or, just do our best to respect the decisions of some person or persons that want to make such decisions so badly so as to keep our heads and liberties, if we still have any.

Let’s not trade dictatorship for democracy or shuffle the cards and pick one of the already disfunctional systems.

And, god or gods help us, let’s not hand over the planet to the alien robots some aspire to replace our humanity, as flawed as it may be. As cool as some might think it is to meet a Transformer, do you really want to be replaced by one or be denied the chance to have real children of your own who go on to have their own children, and so on? Do you really want humankind, your kind, to end its historic tale in a blaze of disaster and failure? Do you think all monkeys want to be known for flinging poo?

I’ve personally heard enough about the origins of democracy to make me give up my fascination with ancient Greece. But, I’d really like such negative and worrisome feelings to just go away so I can wander in daydreams of the old exquisite architecture and happier toga parties…or kimono parties in the Far East, surrounded by cherry trees in full bloom.

Making televised ceremony of some “heir” taking a throne before making baby heirs to ensure the future of one family keeping the old kingdom’s balls rolling isn’t better. It’s like “reality TV” government. And, I really don’t see how probing into the lives of your leaders is allowing anyone to think clearly enough to run any nation. It may be “transparency,” but I don’t want someone watching me poop just to know I am not up to no good. Are the concepts of trust and faith so dead and gone from this world? Are we all so criminal that no one can be trusted with doing GOOD? [And, if you’re booking a flight to Mars just to get away from it all, send me a letter, telling how much better you have it there, provided you don’t repeat these mistakes we humans haven’t learned to correct, yet. Bomb-shelter scare, anyone?]

Ideally, you should have a chance to speak with the candidates and get a feel for what you really like and dislike about the people. After all, this is all “for the people, by the people.” Right? Well, how close is “by the people” if the candidates are just images on a screen and some audio clip endorsing the ad? And, how much do we really get out of debates other than who slammed the opposition best and who stood up for him or her self? Are debates just a wrestling match and test of social stability?

—–

Let me just make this short and bittersweet. [I just like to say that in hopes of preventing myself from foaming at the mouth and exhausting all of my resources, resources like those considered so abundant that they can be wasted on everything “WiFi,” cable-fed and campaign-related when there are people and other animals struggling to live in a world that can’t come to terms with population control and balance with nature. And, maybe, if you DO suffer from a drifting mind, you’ll float down here and get the consensus of my thoughts.]

If voting is not simply a right of United States citizens (and should be a right in other countries, as well), if, instead, it is some sort of obligation like taxes, attending certain schools and obeying certain laws, then it should be an educated decision people make as comfortably as depositing waste in their toilets. Yes, I am saying voting should be as pleasurable as pooping and peeing. And, right now, it’s not even close.

If you made voting available online–as I am sure many are considering even now–that is not the solution! A swipe right or left on some mobile device might be easier than going to a foreign building to fill out a ballot, but it’s as or even more likely to be corrupted and, thus, futile, just because you cater to lazy whims and, again, consider resources like electricity and all of these invisible rays passing through our bodies and everything else on the planet just to transmit “decisions” we should be making face-to-face, with each other, considering such resources so abundant that they can be wasted when so many go without and fall to the wayside.

Let’s really work together to find a “system” that works as well as or better than those supposed globally peaceful “federations” you hear about in some show about “space explorers” who…end up going to war with other worlds and fighting over who is right and wrong, anyway. There has to be a better way! Let’s find it! Not just Americans. Not just celebrity-sales-pitch slaves. Every human on Earth.

Oh, now don’t get any pushy ideas about me as some candidate. I have little to no concrete wisdom about running a house, much less a country or planet. Just noble aspirations and a weakening heart crumbling under so many social pressures and failures. And, I don’t have a clue who I could work with to make things actually better for everyone.

Don’t vote for me. Vote for your city, state and/or country’s security. Vote responsibly or not at all (just like using drugs, including alcohol, pills and all things weed-y). If you cannot meet with the candidates and feel confident in what they could do (because we cannot expect anyone entering a sea of mysterious operators from warring factions to be some kind of Moses parting the Red–Red? Hmm.–Sea), then your vote is dangerous and likely futile.

If no one votes…well, that’s not likely to happen anytime soon. But, if you don’t vote, does it really matter? Someone’s going to step up to make decisions, in pursuit of establishing noble order, domination of territory or just a place in history books. Some folks will follow that person while others will resist. And, if you do vote only to complain later about and/or suffer from the results, did you achieve anything good? And, isn’t that a shame?

I’m Writingbolt, a currently faceless (because I honestly fear for my life, sometimes) identity on a cash cow farm…er, blog site, and I support this statement, even if it fills enough pages to quality for a whatever Times bestseller. If nothing else, I’ve stated my opinion, for what that’s worth. I’m told it’s good to write down one’s thoughts. I hope that’s true. And, I hope I haven’t wasted any precious resources with this output.

28
Feb
17

My Response to “An Ace in a Hole” (Dear Abby)

*****

You can find my response to this and other letters on the designated page. But, while you’re here, have a read.

Ace is a… Well, let’s be clear about this. Ace doesn’t exactly say if they are a boy/man or girl/woman. So, the mere fact that Abby decides to address the person as a young woman may be in error. While some details might suggest Ace is female, it is not certain from my perspective.

Ace is struggling with an “asexual” identity. He/She is being pestered by friend and family alike to do what is “normal,” including sex and having kids while Ace shows no interest. As with others who feel abnormal or exceptionally unique, he/she is distraught and seeking a means of maintaining friendship with those who bother him/her.

I myself never questioned my sexuality other than how I appear to others (which has been a source of concern and annoying conflict). I have been labeled and scrutinized most of my life and had to accept some battles as defeats or stalemates, which ultimately weakened or even tore ties to certain people. Thus, I will speak from experience.

————-

Ace, you might help me out by making your gender clear. What I have to say might slip into applying to one gender or another. But, I will do by best to keep this asexual.

One quick question: Why do you call yourself “an ace in a hole?” The term “ace in the hole” is defined as an advantage waiting to be revealed. I’d say being openly asexual while enduring punishment from those closest to you does not match that definition.

[If you have no interest in my personal experience/opinion outside the realm of advice geared specifically to your problem, you can skip the following portion and start with the separate question.]

———–

While a mother pushing the idea of marrying a gay man at you tells Abby you are a woman turned off by sexual intercourse, I am wondering if your mother didn’t have another motive, if you are an asexual man, and she thought a gay man would eventually awaken the gay manhood in you or make you comfortable with someone who didn’t look at sex the same way heterosexual couples do. I could be way off base here. But, hopefully, you can see how/why I’d make such a statement.

Some might bring up the matter of having children. Well, would you really be more likely to have children as an asexual woman with a gay man than with a straight one? No. You’d likely adopt or be in a situation like James Corden who is apparently married to a heterosexual woman AND gay (or bisexual) with kids.

At an early age, I was “informed” having children was “normal” and to be expected. And, as early as maybe twelve, I thought about having two kids of m own. But, once I learned about sexual intercourse and all that came with it, over many years and from meeting many people, I kinda lost interest in bringing kids into this world. [I’m not ruling kids out completely; but they seem unlikely in my future. Still, I might help others with their kids and consider that my “parenting time.”]

No discomfort intended, but I am surprised you have ANY supportive friends (unless the friendships are very “cool” and “casual,” not people you spend extensive time with outside of work and/or have heavily personal talks with, for example). Being as you are cannot be common in your area. Can it? If your supportive circle consists of other asexual individuals, well, aren’t you lucky. I’m more likely to believe the people you know are quite comfortable discussing and seeking sexual intercourse while just patting you on the back as they bite their tongues in your presence (if they are that respectful).

From as far back as the age of five, I can recall kids being quite mean to me. I’ve had my share of bullies picking on me for everything from the shape of my head to how I walk or dress. I could have curled up in a closet and decided years later I was gay because I couldn’t connect with girls the way other boys did. But, that’s just not me. I knew early on I liked girls; I just didn’t know how to convey my feelings without embarrassment or social conflict. And, as I learned about sexual intercourse, I was turned off, much like you. The new knowledge only made socializing more difficult.

There was one girl in particular I befriended for whom I had strong feelings. And, as these feelings became apparent to our peers, we were harassed until we–or she–made a decision to separate. It was painful to lose touch with her. Meanwhile, a few of the hecklers were having their first sexual experiences with foreign exchange students; and I don’t recall them being harassed for attempting this.

There was also one boy who I’d call asexual because he never expressed any interest in a boy or girl other than as an ally or enemy. Everything seemed to be about war with him. You were either his “right-hand man” or on a list of people he had no problem talking about wiping off the planet (though he never followed through with his threats). I thought he was a Nazi leader. It was hard for even me to understand how he could be so robotic and, in his own way, juvenile.

In my late teens, I was viewed by some of my peers as the equivalent of a “gay priest.” I was, like you, repulsed by the realities of sexual intercourse, especially the common practice of “casual sex” (including “oral” which I refuse to try or accept others doing). I was also serious about respecting religion which seemed to be a foreign concept to my peers though we were attending a Catholic school. [Had I not been given such a steady diet of religion growing up, I might have had no qualms about casual sex.]

I could admit to liking or even lusting for a girl. But, the truth came out under pressure and, usually, with unpleasant results. I consistently hoped I’d have a quiet moment alone with whoever interested me so I could express my feelings without heckling or judgment and cope with the rejection I might yet receive if the feelings were not mutual. I was a passer of notes who had little to no luck doing so. My unique mindset made me an outcast. And, a few bold souls pressured me to try things with which I was not only uncomfortable but also opposed.

On occasion, the suggestions/dares were made in jest, just to see how badly I’d make a fool of myself following orders. Suffice to say, high school put a big dent in my ability to socialize. I went from a “plus one” (in terms of social aptitude, on a scale of 1 to 10) to somewhere in the negative digits. I might as well have been dead. That would have made everything easier. But, in my heart, I still longed for companionship and hid those strong sexual feelings most of my peers had and discussed freely.

Ultimately, I had to accept being an outcast and cutting ties with people who seemed unable to respect my choices. [And, though I didn’t always see it at that age, I was not the most respectful of choices made by my peers, either. If I didn’t like something they did, I’d complain when they were in my company. But, I didn’t nag, tease or challenge anyone. I just bluntly said, “I don’t like ___.” Or, “___ are stupid.” And, often enough, I’d give reasons no one really wanted to hear. I thought I was being social and honest, having an opinion.]

————

How do you maintain contact with these people who are becoming increasingly bothersome/suffocating?

Right off the top of my head, I’d say you don’t (maintain contact). You set yourself apart from them and regroup. Why continue to stand in their line of fire and take that “abuse?”

Give yourself a place and time to shake their pressured intentions from your mind (and soul) like a plane shaking the fire from one of its engines. Maybe there’s a coffee shop or fast food restaurant/cafe you can visit to unwind and entertain yourself with some tabletop hobby (IE reading, crossword puzzles or doodling). And, if they continue to seek you out and push their views, you give them one last warning before cutting ties completely. If they ignore your warning, there’s your answer; they are not going to change.

It may hurt to lose a friend or warm relationship with a parent, but crap happens. If your mother won’t accept you as a person and family member because you don’t get married and/or have kids, you tell her she has only so much time to change her way of thinking because you are going to be who you choose to be until that changes, if it changes, which will not happen because of her pressuring you.

Abby says this is an opportunity to educate. Well, who says you have to be the spokesperson for “asexual America” and go on talk shows to start a movement for supporting people like you? If that sounds good to you, go for it. If not, defend yourself. At the very least, you tell these nags that you will consider other options when and if your feelings change. And, if that’s not enough to shut them up, again, set boundaries, make ultimatums and follow through. Accept the fact that you may not always have the best of relations with your parents and/or that one person you call a friend.

But, let’s do our best to be polite about these matters. Right? Because it wouldn’t be “prudent” to lose our tempers. No. It would just be natural. If you value yourself and what you believe/feel, you do what is necessary and may not be able to sort out–at the time–what is excessively hostile. Still, there are things we can say and/or do via impulse that might be worse than necessary. And, we should avoid doing more harm than good.

24
Aug
15

Hit the FU@& THIS Button!

********

hittheFThisbutton_ap-4-2J

Have you ever just felt that way?  You can’t make something work.  Or, you don’t feel like summoning the motivation to do more than what comes easily?  Maybe you get lazy or depressed.  But, whatever the case, you just get tired of trying and want to break that fire alarm glass to smack the one button that will wipe everything away and give you a clean slate…or time to regroup.

***********

No, sometimes, you just want something gone and out of your way.  And, when that happens, you hit that button…or kick some ass, eat some trash and get on with your “life.”

***********

[Which version of the poster looks better?]

************

hittheFThisbutton_ap-5-2JhittheFThisbutton_ap-3-2J

***********




Unknown's avatar

Archives


Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started