Potty Mouth

I am become more and more convinced that the driving force in all societies pretty much boils down to who cleans the toilets and why. And as far as I can see most of modern culture has been a concerted effort by white men to yell “not it!” I used to think social order was pretty much driven by access to pussy but this theory has a correlation in that prime pussy is rarely found in the company of janitors.

Since it has been increasingly difficult to force minorities, women and subjugated cultures to do the deed I’ve noticed a new trend, which is to train “the mentally deficient” into this position. While on the one hand I think it’s great to provide job training for the developmentally disabled or persons with severe mental illnesses, I have issues with assuming that the scut work of society is the perfect niche from which they can can contribute. It’s a bit too “Brave New World” to feel really comfortable.

No one wants to be the “it” in this situation. So in the vein of “if they can put a man on the moon...”
If they can invent a self cleaning oven, why can’t they invent a self cleaning toilet?

BOONDOCKS!!!

Is probably my very favourite cartoon and comic. One of the only lights I have in my life at the moment is that season three of the cartoon is going to start one week from today. That makes life bearable when it is all so very crazy. Here’s hoping, that by next Sunday night I’ll be sitting here all alone, with Oliver chillin’ upstairs, noone squatting in my basement, and just a couple of cool cats wandering about taking care of their important cat business.

I wish Aaron McGruder would be our next house-mate...

“and after all, we’re all just ordinary men”

I am normally a person who is very much caught up in an “us and them” struggle. I come quite easily to hate and “despision”. Even when I was much, much, younger and really committed to changing my paradigms I was only able to sublimate my fear and hatred, not cut it by much, and certainly not eliminate or to use the more fitting terminology, cure, it. I am so, still, not cured. However, this new job, has provided me with an un-looked for, surprising, opportunity, at a time when us and them rhetoric is so bitter and pervasive, to get a better understanding of where that dichotomy falls flat in my own psyche.

You see, the gentleman that I work for is a dyed-in-the-wool, old school, white, southern, (possibly Baptist), racist. He’s a Mason and a misogynist. In short, a possessor of oh, so many, of the qualities that exemplifies “them” to me. He barely reads, he’s crabby, picky, demanding, and so very all knowing, with no hesitation in saying whatever shitty, peckerwood thing pops into his head.

But here’s the weird, crazy, and I guess I have to think, great, teaching to me. Not only do I find him lovable but I want to make sure he feels loved and cared for. He is old, he is sick, and life is slipping away from him, while he is simultaneously watching his wife of about sixty five years disappear as she keeps wandering farther and farther down dementia highway.

I now have the perspective that most of “them” is just a whole bunch more of these folks. Life is hard, and they are scared, tired, and baffled that they did just what they were told to, yet things just didn’t turn out at all peachy, or rosy. They did, and do, the best they are/were able, or else they would do/have done better.

I suppose that feeling so threatened by the “thems” is a feeling of looming, oppression by the weight of their historical dominance. The childhood hurt of always being the other. The anger at being churched against my will. Being stared at, talked about, ostracized, it all builds up like keloids. I will keep (at least) trying to calm and cut that hatred.

I will though, reserve the right to feel completely alienated from, angry with, and diametrically opposed to the other them. That cabal of black magicians whose God is the actual mammon, and who have clearly shown that they will throw anyone or anything into the pit to remain our owners.

Fuck you guys. You are the aliens. And I will always fight you in some form, as someone very much wiser than me says, “just because you’re a Buddhist doesn’t mean you have to be a doormat”.

6 ways from Sunday

Yesterday I went to a consortium/forum, whatever you want to call it, on the Jena 6. It was cosponsored by two clubs I’m in at school so I felt like I should go and represent. This despite the fact that that meant I was on the feckin’ nonsmoking campus until 5:30.
I was my usual, not so impressed, self. This faction thing is so 20th century. Every side is just so full of defensive, reactionary, rhetorical, hyperbole. How does anyone expect to solve real problems with fake platitudes?
The biases are everywhere and it feels like people just want to be on a recognized team. We’re this, they’re that. I call shenanigans.
Every freakin’ body is racist. Because we have each and every one of us been carefully groomed to be by our overlords. In the final analysis it really doesn’t matter that it is virtually impossible to root it out of our subconscious, it is really about whether we consciously chose to hit the override button in favour of reason and critical analysis.
Damn I wish they started teaching critical thinking in the third grade.