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September 2001

Technostress

To whomever keeps searching for “mummification” over on Planet SOMA: please stop. You’re giving me the willies…

This may be a quick posting, since my internet connection has been all but useless for the better part of five days now. It’s been ugly, I’m not sure if it’s an ISP or a phone company issue, and I’m tremendously frustrated. But I’m working on it…

I’m also working on a migration of sorts, and this one is ISP-related. Most of my sites will be moving to a new server on Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. I’ll try to keep it as transparent as possible, but things don’t always work the way they’re supposed to. One word of warning: those of you who have been accessing any of my sites through long-outdated “best.com” addresses will no loner be able to do so in a few days…

Now I’m going to bed, so I can get up and get the hell out of the neighborhood early tomorrow morning, thus avoiding the annoying spectacle on Folsom Street…

Rude and Entitled Assholes

As much as I rant and talk about idiots, there are some things I would never do, mainly because I have a decent upbringing, which instilled in me a basic respect for other people’s feelings.

One of the things I would never do is to go into someone’s personal website and send him a message that his site (or he) is boring and useless and bland. The idea of intentionally hurting the feelings of someone just because he runs his own website and I don’t like the content (or his life) is just completely foreign to me. What right do I have to criticize someone’s free content, which I was not forced to read, particularly when the whole point of the site is to be a journal or expresssion of his thoughts?

It would be different if I were arguing about an issue. But unless the website in question has a message so repulsive that it’s designed to provoke a response (a Klansman’s personal site, for example), I usually respond either with praise or not at all. I limit my personal attacks to people with really offensive messages and to public figures.

I would never include a link which said “look at this stupid guy’s web journal” despite all the inane material availble online. Why bother? That person is saying what he wants to say, and no one’s forcing me to read it. He probably isn’t aiming his content at me anyway. To write him and say “your life sucks” or “write about someting interesting” is just plain rude; it shows ill-breeding and a complete lack of respect for other people in general.

And then there are the sorts who write to me, say about this site, and offer comments like “I can’t believe you didn’t include Joe’s Market in Passaic. How could you do such sloppy work?” I sometimes invite these people to go fuck themselves with the neon from Joe’s sign. More frequently, I ask them to provide the URL of THEIR great, well-researched body of work and I also offer a gentle reminder that I have a life, and that only a certain portion of it is actually dedicated to providing them with free entertainment. Funny, but they rarely respond.

These things roll off me pretty easily; I’ve been dealing with idiots and assholes for years, my all-time favorite being the one who informed me somewhat forcefully that I needed to stop including pictures of myself where I happened to be smoking. Imagine my response. But I’m always amazed at the sheer audacity of someone trying to tell me what I ought or oughtn’t say in my own web journal, particularly since they’re often too chickenshit to include a valid return address.

End of Irony?

End of irony my ass. There are plenty of irritants around who deserve ridicule on a daily basis. A tragedy of epic proportions has occurred, but just because it happens to be a completely inappropriate target doesn’t mean we have to ignore all the unrelated, lesser idiots of the world and move en masse to the freakin’ little house on the prarie…

A sense of humor, when appropriately focused, is a very useful thing to have in times of crisis. And I don’t own a damned thing in gingham…

Chris Matthews Must Shut Up

Cool. We’ve got a good old-fashioned storm going on here. It’s rare enough to get thunder and lightning in San Francisco, but to get it with a rare September rain is just sort of making my night.

It’s making me forget all about having met Windoze 2000 face to face for the first time this afternoon. After throwing things around the office and uttering (screaming?) profanities I’d forgotten I knew, it was nice to come home and hug my Mac.

It’s also diverting my attention from Chris Matthews on MSNBC. Does anyone else think he just needs to shut the hell up? He’s loud and obnoxious, but I could almost stand that if he weren’t such a miserably rude interviewer. He’s the sort who asks a question and, as soon as the interviewee opens his mouth to answer, asks another one on a completely unrelated topic. And then he complains about not getting an answer.

He’s just awful, and it’s even sadder that he’s usually hosting an interview/panel show. In an hour-long show, you can be assured of at least 45 minutes of his annoying voice. Chris really needs to move past journalistic masturbation and actually listen to someone else once in a while.

Class

Interesting documentary on class in America on KQED tonight. You know. America’s dirty little secret? That our classless society really isn’t? It was actually well-done and presented some valid arguments from both sides of this war we’re not officially having.

I was drawn to the guy who mentioned that, every time he sees a $60,000 car drive by, he wonders “what was that about?” Hit it right on the head for me. Is a $60,000 car really three times better than a $20,000 car or four times better than a $15,000 car? How much of that purchase price is primarily about the driver making a statement that says “Look at me. I can afford a $60,000 car!”

I don’t think it’s necessarily prejudice against the wealthy to look at this guy and his car and determine that we probably wouldn’t get along. It’s not that the guy is rich that bothers me. It’s the fact that his priorities and values suggest that blowing that much money on a car is a good idea. This says to me that we probably wouldn’t have that much in common.

I realize that very few wealthy people wake up in the morning wondering “how can I trample the working class today?” I also realize that too few wealthy people (and poor people, as it happens) walk around thinking how they can show respect for other people.

Also mentioned, though, was the idea of “getting above your raising”. This one, like flaunting your wealth and questionable priorities, is a disturbing class affectation, but one exhibited by the poorer classes. It’s sort of a disincentive for anyone who strives for something better, or even different. I’ve seen this one at work too, although not dramatically, and more from a geographic standpoint than an economic one.

The idea is that if you dare “abandon your roots” and try to move on to something (or someplace) which might be more suitable to your personality, you may find that family (and even some friends) back home don’t know or care how to react to you anymore. It’s not that they don’t understand your new life so much as they don’t even acknowledge that you might actually HAVE one. They don’t want to know about it, and they don’t really want to have much to do with you because you’re some sort of traitor for leaving a place which is so obviously perfect for you (because it’s perfect for them).

I’ve gotten some of this attitude from a few family members, it’s strange because I think I’m considerably less snobbish about my southern roots and surroundings now than I was when I actually lived there.

Another interesting, if a bit obvious, subject was the way class identity is largely established in high school, but that’s a subject for another time. I’m babbling and it’s time to go to bed…

The Revenge of the Ideal Personal Ad

You can also read older versions going back to 1989, if you like…

If, on the other hand, you’d like to complain about something I’ve said, why not just skip it? An email appeal is not likely to make me change my mind and suddenly decide that I’m just crazy about speed freaks nor make me a Republican, now is it?

What I Am:

  • 37 years old, both younger and older in spirit and appearance, depending on the time of day, with weight increasingly less proportionate to height.
  • Plaid-acting and appearing.
  • Pretty far left politically, but with a significant lack of tolerance for pseudo-intellectual warm and fuzzy liberal bullshit.
  • Bitter and cynical, but generally a nice guy unless I’m given reason not to be.
  • Somehwat lethargic and sometimes even inert.
  • Sometimes self-centered and often self-indulgent.
  • Fond of my car and of road trips.
  • Fond of transit and urban walks.
  • More likely to shop at Target than at Macy’s.
  • An avid reader of non-fiction and student of urban history, sociology, and architecture and commercial archaeology.
  • A half-assed writer.
  • Moderately profane.
  • Independent and fetishistic about privacy and having abundant time alone.
  • Convinced that Fresno, Baltimore, and Detroit may well be (or should be) the actual cultural centers of the US.
  • Both intrigued and repulsed by the generic; an often-bemused observer of the everyday banalities of life.
  • The kind of person who should probably be a career graduate student.
  • Currently fighting hyperthyroidism and nicotine addiction.
  • A veritable font of useless information and trivia.
  • Very much into bullet points lately, for some reason.

What I’m Not:

  • Obsessed with my sexual orientation or with “being gay“, “gay movies”, “gay websites”, “the gay community” or any other such claptrap.
  • A closet case.
  • Into leather, drugs, or dance clubs.
  • Vegetarian.
  • Patient with assholes, bad drivers, and other idiots, nor with spoiled children and the parents who made them that way.
  • A workaholic, upscale yuppie drone.
  • The inhabitant of a particularly stylish abode.
  • On the cutting edge of technology.
  • Inclined to pay 60 grand for a car just because I can. By the way, I can’t.
  • An athlete or customer of any gym.
  • Fond of nature, hiking, camping, or the “great outdoors”.
  • Religious or spiritual.
  • A Republican or Libertarian.
  • Convinced that all intelligent life ends at the San Francisco city line.
  • Particularly moved by poetry.
  • A wine connoisseur nor a consumer of coffee which costs more per cup than lunch at Burger King.
  • Sad to see San Francisco’s economy collapsing nor the yuppies fleeing.
  • Comfortable in crowds or at parties.
  • Amused by conspiracy theories.
  • Likely to become any of the above.

What You Are:

  • Unpretentious.
  • Close to my age, maybe a bit younger, definitely not too much older. Call me shallow. I don’t care.
  • Maybe a little geeky or dorky, probably somewhat shy and soft-spoken, and a bit of a loner.
  • Probably more “east coast” in attitude and outlook.
  • Intellectually healthy but still inclined toward more lowbrow cultural pursuits.
  • A diner freak, and I don’t mean Mel’s or Johnny Rocket’s.
  • A Simpsons fan who can recite dialogue from memory on a regular basis.
  • Someone who values the written word.
  • A little disshevelled-looking and not impeccably groomed.
  • More likely to use MacOS or even Unix than that other, inferior Microsloth product.
  • Able to love a tape which might include the Buzzcocks and Ella Fitzgerald, back to back.
  • Comfortable with the idea of agreeing to go to lunch one day and ending up at some dive 150 miles away because I “felt like driving”.

What You Aren’t:

  • A snob who never admits to watching TV, eating junk food, or watching porn.
  • A professional homosexual who has substituted a sexual orientation for an actual personality.
  • A speed freak, pothead, practicing alcoholic, or any other variant who relies on chemicals to have a good time.
  • A gym rat, a disco bunny, or a sweater queen.
  • A touchy-feely granola who uses the term “negative energy” without irony.
  • Someone who has a shrill, politically-programmed response to every utterance including “it’s a nice day today”.
  • Cocky, arrogant, loud, or inclined to describe yourself as “masculine” or (spare me) “straight-acting”.
  • A workaholic, upscale yuppie drone.
  • Unnaturally muscled or into that whole cologne thing.
  • Morbidly obese or so into “natural” scents that you never bathe.
  • A Republican or Libertarian.
  • An “entourage” type who must always be surrounded by lots of other people.
  • Someone who would ever make me listen to techno, “new country”, or Mariah Carey around the house.
  • A fan of “Friends”.
  • Annoyed by an individual who is a veritable font of useless information and trivia.
  • Annoyed by bullet points.

Nationalists, Bigots, and Other Idiots

The thing which scares me almost as much as the potential for more terrorist attacks possible economic collapse, etc: the yahoos who are walking around acting so gleeful and excited about the possibility of a major war. These people are positively giddy at the prospect of “going over there and kicking some butt”, as if they were headed for a fucking football game. The testosterone flows freely.

We’ve been through a terrible tragedy and there will (and should) be a response, one both dramatic AND well-considered. But we’re not talking about a video game or a miniseries here. It’s not going to be exciting, entertaining, nor particularly fun to watch. It is not, under any circumstances, something to look forward to. And it’s not going to be over in a week.

Repeat after me: real life is not a war movie and the hero does not always survive to look sexy and get the girl in the final scene.

Patriotism and unity are one thing. Displaying an American flag while calling everyone who disagrees with you a “traitor” or “un-American” is another. It’s certainly not patriotism. Pride in one’s country is a little empty without pride in the ideals on which it was founded. It’s a little like the flag-burning debate; to many, the actual piece of cloth is more sacred than the freedom it represents. Priorities and perspective be damned.

Similarly, lashing out at anyone who looks like he just might have Islamic tendencies or Middle Eastern roots is a sign not of heroism but of plain bigotry and ignorance. Remember that big backlash against people who looked like survivalist white guys after the Oklahoma City bombing? Nope, neither do I.

OK, enough preaching for one day. Some things I love today:

  • There are now “King of the Hill” reruns five nights a week.
  • Pork chops are on sale at Safeway.
  • I got two long overdue checks in the mail today and may be able to continue eating for another few weeks.
  • The front of my building is no longer Pepto-Bismol pink.

We’re all still sad and frightened and generally anxious, but life goes on. Tomorrow, it’s back to the cynicism and saracsm you’ve come to expect in this space. Unless I change my mind…

Sunday Night

Sunday night. My apologies to anyone who’s been under the impression that I’d fallen off the edge of the planet this weekend. I had a fairly big project to complete in a fairly short period of time over the past couple of days. Actually, I was grateful for something to occupy my mind so I didn’t concentrate on less pleasant things…

More tomorrow. I’m tired and I’m going to bed…

Two Days After

Thursday afternoon. I’ve taken one of my increasingly-frequent breaks to watch Miss Lucy and The Simpsons.

The disaster coverage was bad enough, but the victim and survivor stories are too much. I just can’t watch them without starting to tear up, especially the ones about people who went back to their offices based on an “all clear” announcement from the World Trade Center security staff. What the hell were they thinking? And when they played the Bay Area man’s last answering machine message from his wife on the 93rd floor, I’d had all I could stand.

 

There were bomb threats in the Financial District and at the airport today, although only the cops seemed to be taking them very seriously. There were idiot fratboys walking around trying to be funny by yelling “boom”. There were sirens everywhere, and people were looking up at the slightest noise.

Even in “tolerant” San Francisco, I watched people suspiciously eyeing a woman of apparently Middle Eastern descent as she walked out of the cell phone store. No one said anything, but you knew what they were thinking, and it didn’t have much to do with her tight skirt.

Tonight for me, it’s back to pushing the new fall season on The WB and UPN. Tomorrow I get to go have some more blood drawn. Oddly enough, I’ve been feeling much stronger and healthier the past few days and sleeping much better. I guess other people’s suffering has managed in some way to divert my mind from my own comparatively insignificant maladies.