Powerthirst

Thanks, April!

Absolute Beauty

There is a measure of beauty, a standard if you will, to which all other art is compared. I call this standard "Absolute Beauty." If you remember back to 7th Grade science class, Absolute Zero is the temperature at which all molecular movement stops. Similarly, Absolute Beauty is the measure of a piece so profound that no other work will ever be able to compare. The experience of Absolute Beauty is marked by a loss of time, as though everything were standing still, and a deep sense of connectedness and oneness with the universe. So far, science has failed in achieving the modest task of reaching Absolute Zero, but art has not. Art has found its Absolute and words cannot do justice to what you will surely agree is the most stunning display of artistic genius ever in the history of time. As with all great discoveries, these great works of art were found unexpectedly and in an unlikely place - Jerry's Home Improvement Center. Eat your heart out, Louvre:

Plagiarism!

The recent mud-bombs originating from the Clinton camp have been targeting Obama's plagiarist tendencies. It is quite evident that his speeches are the exact same as Deval Patrick's. It is also quite evident that the same speech writer who worked for Patrick now works for Obama. During last night's CNN Debate, Clinton said, "I just think that if you're going to make your campaign about words, they need to be your words." ZING! But let's face it, Clinton has her own speech writers. And sorry Mrs. Clinton, but there are several instances in which you've plagiarized John Edwards and your own husband.

Which brings me laboriously to my point. Plagiarism has existed for like, billions of years. Back when the universe was forming (7,000 years ago) dwarf stars were saying to developing stars, "Whatever! I was totally fusing atomic particles before you were even a blip in the molecular cloud. COPY CAT!" The same can be said and has been said by many old people to us, the younger generation. You see, life in general is just one huge cycle of plagiarism. Had my daddy's sperm hit mommy's egg and a squirrel popped out, then something original would have happened. Instead, I was born with the same boring features as any other human being: two eyes, two arms, two ears, two legs and two tails.

So if plagiarism exists on a level as fundamental as DNA, how can we even begin to deal with the written word? All the words in this blog and all the words I have ever used weren't invented by me. They were invented by someone else long ago. It's just fortunate that the creator of English didn't have the good sense to copyright all their words. Otherwise we wouldn't speak at all for fear of being sued for copyright infringement. Even though I sat for countless hours at my computer typing paper after paper in college, each one was plagiarized. I borrowed words, used thesauruses, even copied whole sections of a draft and moved them to where they would fit more appropriately!

Given all my astounding logic, surely you must see that plagiarism is just unavoidable. It's going to happen. It's happening all around us, all the time. The next time you think you have something truly original on your hands, in actuality you don't. You don't because the words you used in your head while thinking of your invention were plagiarized from the originator of English. So when you get all super stoked because you invented something "new," you have to plagiarize even more to write about it and talk about it at your boring conferences. So there you have it. The meaning of life is to plagiarize. That is our purpose, that is our plight. You can take it or leave it, but even then you're plagiarizing the "do" or "not do" dichotomy from history. I rest my case.

Proxy Fight!!

I'm sure most of you are all up on Microsoft's attempted takeover of Yahoo. If you're not, allow me to briefly sum up: Microsoft tried to bid something like $45 billion and Yahoo told them politely to go fuck their greedyass selves.

So check it: Microsoft is not having this. After getting bitch slapped by Yahoo, Microsoft went home and was all pissed and shit. They were sitting around all like, "Dudes, that was so not cool. Don't they know how much money $45 billion is? Don't they know they are just delaying the inevitable?" After whining about it for a few days, Chairman Bill Gates sent a nice little letter saying, "That deal was so totally fair so we're not going to raise it because your stock just went down and stuff. Take it or leave it."

Yahoo left it. In fact, those hot bitches at Yahoo are squatting on their company like a fat kid on a toilet after an all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet. They're like, "I DARE you to come in here and take me off this toilet. You'll DIE from the stench." Perhaps my imagery is a bit grotesque, but it illustrates a point. You see, most of the aforementioned hot bitches wouldn't stand to be Microsoft employees. They'd jump ship so fast that the wreckage left would be similar to that of the fat kid's bowel movements. The growing hostility between the two companies is deep and penetrating; Mostly penetrating. Yahoo doesn't want to sell and Microsoft is totally pissed. You know what that means! AHHH YEEEA! IT'S TIME FOR A PROXY FIGHT!!!

I already know about proxy fights because my dissertation was totally about how awesome proxy fights are. In my dissertation, I quoted Wikipedia and will do so again for your edumucation: A proxy fight or proxy battle is an event that may occur when a corporation's stockholders develop opposition to some aspect of the corporate governance, often focusing on directorial and management positions. Basically what Microsoft is going to do is try and put a more compliant board of directors in the place of the current board of directors; Puppets, if you will, of Microsoft's, um, will. Microsoft will try and lure Yahoo shareholders to use their proxy votes so they can ever-so-kindly overturn their current ruling class in order that they would be replaced by... another ruling class. This sounds like about the stupidest thing a shareholder can do, especially considering the potentially-incoming managerial team is Microsoft, but there's another aspect to this proxy battle thing....

SEXY PARTIES! Oh dudes, you just know that Yahoo has some rich ass hos on their board of directors. You think a little pressure on the shareholders is going to make them step down or get voted out? Hell no! Microsoft is going to have to lick butt (and I mean LICK BUTT) to get those Yahoo suits to relent. Those shareholders are so stoked!! If I were a big Yahoo shareholder, I would be sitting in the finest 5-star French restaurant with Microsoft execs being all, "Yeah, I'm sure I could be persuaded if you buy me a Gucci suit." But then they'd buy me that gorgeous expensive suit and I'd be like, "Ooh. It sure is nice but I could really use a new yacht," and it would continue on like that until I had tons of free shit and then I still wouldn't use my proxy vote because they're MICROSOFT? HELLO?

Of course, the above fantasy is not at all how this will shake down (crazy, I know!); It'll be much nastier. Because you see, a proxy fight just isn't a proxy fight without some blood-thirsty, $600/hour attorneys on your side. It just isn't! How sexy is this going to be?! Microsoft attorneys will be like, "Yeah. Yeah we wanna take you over. You like that don't ya?" and the Yahoo sluts will be all, "Ooh, but you're so big Microsoft! We don't think we can take it!" Then Microsoft will flex and be like, "You like my buyout options don't ya? You like it when I give you stock options, don't ya?", and Yahoo will bend over and be all, "Oh yeah! Buy me out! BUY IT ALL OUT!"

And this is the point where I realize that my post has devolved into some kind of twisted, crappy porn. OK then. Might as well stop while I'm ahead.

An Open Letter

Dear Hippies,

We have lived here for quite some time now. Over the years, much has changed in the environment, technology and culture. In the 1980s, your efforts successfully halted the rampant harvesting of our native forests. For many of you, this task will never be completed, but you have made significant headway in keeping our lands green and fertile. You have raised our awareness about whole, organic foods. I can go to practically any part of the city and have fresh, locally-raised foodstuffs available for my consumption. Your dedication to equality has also not gone unnoticed. Though you do not necessarily identify yourselves as "hippies," I can smell the patchouli at civil rights gatherings and take comfort in the fact that you are there.

That said, it is time to address a couple of issues which I find contradictory to your aims for a cleaner, greener, happier city:

Your choice of vehicles is positively, absolutely, hopelessly ironic given your values. Those of you who preach of gaseous poisons clogging our atmosphere have made a gross error in judgment when the vehicle you drive is a 60s era VW Bus. My family had one of those when I was little. It was by far the most environmentally unfriendly vehicle I have ever been in. Just this morning, I was walking to the bus stop when such a vehicle passed me. Black smoke billowed from the back end and brazenly displayed on the rear were bumper stickers reading "Mother Earth", "Nature Conservatory" and "Kill your TV."

I always enjoy when irony finds its way into my life, particularly if said irony has nothing to do with me but I can experience it from a distance. This kind of irony, however, I do not enjoy. You see, it is with a very smug sense of self-satisfaction that these kind of hippies roam about town. They would simultaneously espouse their borderline sexual love for nature while smoking their "natural" cigarette and throwing the butt on the ground. These kind of dirty hippies are absolutely disgusting as smokers in the first place. To be throwing that cancerous butt on the ground while at a rally for better salmon habitat protection is... well frankly it's terrible.

You, my co-habitants, need to check it. You are not conscientious protectors of nature, rather, you are an amalgamation of guilt, selfishness and disregard. You would accuse others of being insensitive when in fact your actions contradict what you claim to hold most dear.

And by the way, I will gladly kill my TV when you kill your festering hypocrisy.


Yours,

Infused Confusion

And Then There Was A House

I feel like the Wicked Witch of the East. I was just minding my own business, lording over hoards of frightened munchkins, contemplating how many I would eat for lunch, when KA-BAM!!! A giant, 1300+ square foot house off 50th and Donald surrounded by gorgeous oak trees and located in the most perfect neighborhood ever fell on top of me.

No really, it happened just like that. Or at least, it feels like that. No longer trapped under the house, I am free to roam about and feel good about our purchase. My home-owning friends all told me how fast the home buying process is once it happens. Or I should say, how fast all the wheels of the Home Buying Machine are put into motion. We toured the house on Saturday and offered the same day. We low balled them pretty good and WHOOSH, they accepted. They didn't fight, nit pick, bitch, moan, yell or otherwise go back and forth with us. They just dropped the house squarely in our laps. It was over within 22 hours. We finalized the acceptance papers the following evening and just like that, it was time to get some inspections scheduled.

Many of you know this, but the house is actually an estate left from the previous owner who died in and now haunts the place as a murderous ghost. The family who is now responsible is in one of two (or both) situations: 1) They are well-off enough and don't need to squabble over minutiae regarding the price and/or 2) They just want the whole thing over with. We know this because they aren't even dealing with the property themselves; their lawyer is. They're listing it as "sight unseen" and "as is". Typically, I think of clothing when I see the words "as is". Moreover, I am highly skeptical of said clothing and take the time (if I'm interested at all) to examine every small detail to find out what went horribly wrong to make it "as is". In the housing market, if then inspection turns up something bad, the "as is" clause doesn't exempt the family from fixing it before we take possession. In fact, depending on the repair (which hopefully there will be none), they will be obligated to take care of it before we proceed to live there.

We found out that our Realtor is indeed savvy to the implications of selling a house "sight unseen" and as such, negotiated a warranty on the house with the sellers (basically: You don't want to come and check off things on your own? Fine. Then you're willing to pay for them should they break, right? Right). So far, I know of nobody who had a warranty on their house when they first moved in, especially one purchased by the sellers. There is a long list of things that if they break within the first year of our ownership, the warranty company has to pay for it. This includes the roof, plumbing, electrical system, heating, structural integrity, and on and on. Basically, Robin and I are very much covered for the first year. After that, we can continue the policy if we so choose.

We're in a very happy place right now. We were preparing for a long process of searching and debating. We were braced for negotiations and going back and forth over the price and what the inspection turns up. Not to get all mushy, but it feels as though a wave of good karma is washing over us, making this first time home buying process exciting and joyous.

Crazy

For those of you who still keep up with my ramblings, you may have noticed a newcomer in the comments section. Rest assured that April does indeed exist and is in no way a desperate fabrication of mine created to make you think more people read this blog. April is a delicate flower of poise and grace but I wouldn't get into a fight with her because of a certain "colored" history.

Anyway, April and I have been exchanging emails and she ordered me to blog about something. I have never been given a directive regarding the content of my blog. However, I was excited at the opportunity to bend over backwards for the sake of someone else's amusement. Dance, monkey!! I referred to someone as "bat shit crazy" in one of these emails to April. She then responded, "could you describe and differentiate the different levels of crazy?"

Well, I have no idea what "differentiate" is but if you shout it and point an imaginary wand, it sounds like a spell from the Harry Potter novels so I'm going with that. I do know what the rest of her sentence means so hopefully the following will do it some justice.

According to dictionary.com, "crazy" means a lot of things. Depending on the context and nuance of one's voice, "crazy" can range in meaning from "totally mental" to "totally awesome". The variance between what is intended and the literal definition of the word is further complicated by the phrase surrounding it. "That's crazy, man" could be translated as, "radical, dude", whereas "shut the fuck up you crazy bitch" would most likely mean, "I no longer wish to continue this dialogue".

The problem with a word like crazy is that the speaker is really the ultimate context from which the word gains its meaning; When I say "crazy" is not the same as when, say, your mom says "crazy". Ergo, I cannot hope to give an exhaustive account that will be applicable to all people in all situations. Thusly, the following will be examples of what I mean when I use the following phrases with "crazy":

"You're crazy"
(With chuckle): You're fun! I enjoy the zaniness of whatever it is you're stimulating me with.
(Without chuckle, eyebrows raised): Perhaps you haven't thought this through...
(Searching for closest exit): Please, let's not make this more awkward than it has to be.

"That's crazy"
(Regarding object): It is complicated and amuses me!
(Regarding self): I need to get that checked out
(Regarding other): How are you bending your legs like that??

"Crazy like a fox!"
(Same in every instance): I'm/You're/That's completely insane and it just might work!

"Crazy, dude"
(To person directly): Your predicament befuddles me.
(To person indirectly): Our predicament befuddles me.

"S/he/you/they is/are Bat. Shit. Crazy."
(Same in every instance): They have lost all sense of reality such that their brain has literally been reduced to a pile of bat shit. Frankly, nothing else would make sense given the severe level of craziness erupting from their mouth. No seriously, it is a wonder that they can remember to breathe or clothe and feed themselves.

And there you have it. I have failed in the modest task that was my charge and for that, I apologize. I tried to give "levels" to the above situations but no matter how I defined or designated (differentiated?) them, the levels seems completely random and subject to the whims of my fancy. Then again, they are levels in so far as the final expression is the ultimate embodiment of the traditional definition of crazy. If you hear me call you "bat shit crazy", I probably mean that we won't be hanging out if I can help it. You wouldn't hear me say that to your face, however, because I'm only confrontational behind people's backs. I wait for the gossip train to hit them full speed. Am I rambling? Eh, probably. This whole post is pretty strange now that I proof read it, but I assume your task (April) was just that. You wanted me to touch a bit of madness, to brush up against an impossible task? Well done.

Apply THIS

I am proud to say that my Facebook page is very clean. I can't call it clean in the biblical sense because of the rampant gayness, but it is clean in the comparative sense. If you take a stroll down Facebook lane, you'll find dozens, nay, THOUSANDS (!) of Facebook pages absolutely riddled with junk. There are people who pretend to be vampires biting "chumps" thereby sending the bitee an electronic Facebook invitation to become a vampire and join their electronic vampire army that gets points and is supposedly really cool. I'm sorry, but I have far too much respect for the real vampires who work tirelessly at creating their REAL vampire army to degrade them with such trivial games. I was also recruited to be a pirate with the same kind of invitation, only rather than gnaw at my flesh like the vampire, the pirate recruiter simply asked if I would like to be on their ship in the manner real pirates do; by blasting a cannon ball at me.

Then there was this Never-Ending movie quiz thing. It is a collection of questions written by obsessive compulsive Facebookers who have apparently whittled their taste in cinema down to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and other supremely notable 90s flicks. Your ranking appears in the upper right hand corner when you play this ridiculous thing and it just goes on forever; a testament to its moniker. I was so bored one day that I answered over 800 questions in a row and I was still only ranked 94,035. I don't even want to know what it would take to become Number 1, but I bet there are some hardcore 90s film genre fans right now sitting with blood shot eyes, dry mouths and robust social lives.

The lust for competition only continues when you look at another application; Rank Me. This is an arbitrary ranking system that pits two of your friends against each other and asks a thought-provoking question like, "Who's Cuter?", and demands that you choose between the two. It is particularly difficult when the ranking question pertains to neither of your friends. Who's Cuter? Meh, neither of you is cuter so how about you just kill yourselves for my amusement?

I was partial to the Dirty Gifts application, until the Dirty Gifts started to include things like vomit and poo. You know how I feel about poo and getting the electronic version flung at me doesn't change my opinion on the subject. It was kind of funny at first, but after you receive several piles of dung, putrid toe jam or bacterial infestations, the honeymoon is over.

The barrage of invitations overwhelms me every day. Each morning, my mailbox is absolutely quivering with a slew of new pointless Facebook activities I could add. Every time one of my "friends" adds something super life-changing, the application demands that they invite their "friends" which means me. I repeatedly and seziurously* click "ignore" like a blind man searching for the meaning in his life, but they just keep coming. Eager programmers with far too much time on their hands and a thirst for money are cranking out the applications every day. What's next? The Hunter S. Thompson application where subscribers recruit unsuspecting victims with swarms of bats and ether? The Gravedigger application where new members are tasked with routine cemetery maintenance? The Captain Planet application where subscribers win points for empowering others with the five elements (yes I said five; Heart is totally an element). I'm over this. If I keep going on, no doubt one of you is going to put on your filthy programmer hat and make serious money off one of these suggestions**.



*Word I think should exist but doesn't due to the constraints of syntax and the demise of our society brought on by alcoholism and hot gay sex.

**I get 20% if you do.

Check Out My Soapbox!

For those of you laboring under the delusion that the United States is the greatest country on earth without having been to very many other countries, I give you Germany. Remember Germany? The country that only 65 years ago was a hotbed of Nazi activity? Germany, the country united only recently by the fall of the Berlin wall? That Germany?

It turns out that Germans are pretty freakin' cool towards the gays. Keep in mind that this article is in addition to their Life Partnership law passed in 2000 which includes:

• May take the same surname
• Share household insurance
• Hospital visitation
• Act as the next of kin in key medical decisions
• Requirement of a court decision for divorce
• Resident status to foreign partners in binational couples
• Some parental rights regarding a partners’ biological children
• Status identical to married couples in tenancy, inheritance (excluding inheritance taxes), pensions, and health insurance
• Provision for one partner to collect support, after a divorce
• Pension inheritance
• Originally, couples did not have the right to adopt children, however, this has since been corrected to allow a partner’s already existing children to be adopted
• Key financial provisions which would have ended discrimination in income and inheritance tax laws (Some of these have now been addressed)
• Requirement to support an unemployed partner

Please realize that Robin and I are not guaranteed any of the above by law. Not one. If Robin were ill, it would be from the kindness and love of his family that they would allow me to make decisions on his behalf. As it stands right now, I wouldn't have any legal precedence if they wanted it otherwise.

It's encouraging to me that Germany would now include the atrocities committed against homosexuals living in Germany during the Nazi occupation at the Holocaust memorial. On a fundamental level, it means that Germany acknowledges the humanity of homosexuals and views them as equal. The movement towards acceptance of all cultures and lifestyles is something that Germany (and most of Europe in general, including the Czech Republic) is at least a decade ahead of us on.

Just what makes a country great? And a stretch further, what makes one the greatest? In my opinion, it is not economic might or the powerful war machine. It is that country's ability to uphold each of its citizens' rights and encourage individual freedom. It is that country's ability to adhere to founding principles of justice and equality, regardless of differences in race or culture. I think that in times such as these, when all a minority group wants is equal treatment under the law, the problem doesn't lie with their request. The problem lies in the fact that their basic request exposes the blatant and abhorrent discrimination people take for granted. It is much easier to fight for the way something "has always been" than to open oneself to change. A country stagnated by popular opinion and bloated on a false sense of security is not a great one, it is a deluded one.