The Money Machine

All my life, I've dreamed of being in a money wind machine (do they have a proper name?). I'm not particularly greedy, but I've just always known in my heart I'd be exceptionally good at grabbing dollars as they blow around me in an enclosed booth.

Walking down an LA street last month, an opportunity presented itself to make my dream come true. Granted, it was a T Mobile promotional booth and not a real money machine, but sometimes you have to modify your expectations to make dreams a reality.

Sometimes, however, dreams are just that… it turns out, I'm rubbish at this game. My friends just stood outside the booth, laughing and mocking my pitiful effort to grab fake crumpled up money as it whirled around me.

In my defense, T Mobile implemented a whole lot of unnecessary rules that killed any kind of reasonable strategy to do well:

• I could only grab the money that blew above my waist (most of it remained toward the floor.)
• I could not bend my knees or reach down.
• I could not push money against the wall to collect it easier, or touch the wall at all for that matter.
• I could not stuff money in my shirt or anywhere else on my person.
• The only money that would count is what was in my hands.

That's not how they do it on TV! I filled all I could fit in my hands pretty quickly and then I was kind of stuck… I had plenty of time left but only so many crumpled papers can fit between your fingers. Considering these were just T Mobile bucks and not real dollars, you'd think they'd just let me have at it. Part of me wanted to ask them, "Look, I'm not actually going to try to cash in the bucks for a T Mobile accessory ASTERISK YOU MUST ENROLL IN A NEW T MOBILE CELLULAR PLAN TO QUALIFY, which is a pretty big caveat if you ask me, so can you just let me play like real people do since I'm just using this as practice in case I ever make it on a gameshow?"

Oh well. Let me bend my knees and shove money down my shirt though, and I'm going to take you for thousands of dollars. Mark my words!

My Presence Is Charity

"I’m offended by that because first of all, and this is going to sound arrogant, but my presence is charity. Just who I am. Just like Obama’s is. Obama provides hope. Whether he does anything, the hope that he provides for a nation, and outside of America is enough. Just being who he is. You’re the first black president. If he speaks on any issue or anything he should be left alone." 

 - Jay Z responds to Harry Belafonte's criticism that he has turned his back on social responsibility



Oh, JAYunhyphenatedZ. This was not a smart thing to say.

First of all, if I were Harry Belafonte, I could quickly think of 100 celebrities who deserve to be called out for not being socially responsible before Jay Z and Beyonce, so I did wonder about his initial criticism. But when Jay Z has the gall to retort, "My presence is charity," he's not refuting anything, just substantiating Belafonte's point.

Belafonte is a prime example of a man who uses his celebrity to promote his activism and positive social change; who can blame him for wishing more A-listers would use their fame for communal good?

Jay Z is of the belief that being a successful black man is doing America a service. You can trace that thought all the way back to "Izzo" when he raps "I do this for my culture/To let them know what a nigga look like when a nigga in a Roadster." Granted, it is progress for this country to have a millionaire African American who is publicly adored. However, that in itself is not being "socially responsible"; being an exception to the rule doesn't really do much to combat wealth inequality at large.

His comments on Obama are even more telling. Providing hope is certainly not "enough." The president is in a position to effect more change than anyone in the entire world. The problem with Obama is that it is all lip service - he talks the perfect progressive game, but his actions are far more regressive.

Offering hope is not social responsibility. It's naive to say "Well, I became a successful rapper and this dude became President, so we're all good." The American dream needs to be better than one-in-a-million of us can achieve our dreams. It may have worked out for Jay Z, but by pretending these opportunities are available to everyone, he's just bolstering the same hierarchical system that oppresses the many.

I still don't know that Jay Z deserves more criticism than the rest of top celebrities who focus the influence they wield on attaining more wealth rather than positively impacting society. But if he thinks living a life with unparalleled luxuries and privileges is in any way an act of charity, that shows just how out of touch he's become.

On Justice

I wrote two articles this past week that I'd like to share here:

Behind the Police and Media Lies: Black Protests Are "Riots"

Make no mistake, the government has been trying to criminalize protesting for a while now, it's just been easier to call it "rioting" when darker skinned people are participating. All of this fabricated hysteria over supposed rioting is nothing more than the same fear and prejudice that led to Trayvon Martin's death… and the fact that a jury would always have "reasonable doubt" about whether a black man was posing a threat.

I don't even think it's accidental fear-mongering. Read the part about the LAPD and media reporting $15,000 of damage done to a hotel by Martin rally participants. Next time they want to make up shit like that they should probably tell the hotel first, since the hotel representatives were like, "What? No, there was no riot here." HMMMMMM.

6 Reasons the U.S. "Justice" System Is Anything But Just

Oh, and the justice system is bogus. Bogus for so many reasons, but particularly because it doesn't seek justice. It seems some predetermined order and to suck money away from people who don't have it.

So I have this "friend" who was arrested for something. Probably guilty of the crime thanks to the letter of the law, but not guilty to anyone who heard the story and weighed the extenuating circumstances. A jury probably wouldn't have convicted BUT… getting to a jury was near impossible. Not only would that amount to roughly $10,000 in legal fees, but the punishment would be made way more severe as soon as it went to trial. By not taking the plea, it meant higher fines and extended jail time. It's a risk that people can't afford to make, so they're forced to say they're guilty even if they're not.

In other countries, it is illegal for the prosecution to threaten you with much higher charges for going to trial because it amounts to extortion. In the U.S., that's common practice. We're all supposed to have our day in court, but the system is set up to make it nearly impossible for anyone to actually get there. We'd rather take someone's money and label him a felon rather than give him an honest shot at proving his innocence. It's all so messed up, I can barely stand it.

Hi, I'm Calling about Your Boobs

My friend "Tiffany" got a call from "Roger", one of her best friend's father. Since they don't generally have any contact, naturally Tiffany assumed something awful had happened. In a sense, something awful had happened, but it had nothing to do with Roger's daughter.

For context, Tiffany has a history of breast cancer in her family. In fact, her sister was diagnosed at an early age, well before the age of recommended mammogram screenings. As a result, Tiffany's doctor thought it would be a good idea for Tiffany to get screened.

That's where Roger comes in. He works for a health insurance company. Coincidentally, he was assigned to Tiffany's request for a breast cancer screening. And then he called her up! Gee, must be nice to know someone who can approve your procedure and give you some personal service for once!

Except that, actually, Roger was calling Tiffany to tell her that he had denied her claim. After all, his job is to reject paying for most medical care… that's how a health insurance company operates! Normally a customer wouldn't receive a call, but once he recognized her name, Roger wanted to call Tiffany personally to tell her her doctor requested mammogram would not be covered by insurance and that he felt really bad about it.

Aww, poor Roger. It's nice to know he cares. Not enough to, like, ensure Tiffany is healthy, mind you, but there's just enough of a guilty conscious for him to admit he dicked her over. It's not like early detection could save her life or anything! He found some excuse for rejecting the claim and went with it!

For fuck's sake, if you can't even get someone who knows you and your personal history which validates this particular medical exam to cover the costs, how can you expect the health insurance industry to ever take care of you?

Anytime your friend's dad calls you up to discuss your boobs, it's bound to be an awful conversation, but this might be one of the worst cases.

Happy Mothers' Day, especially to UR MOM!

I couldn't resist purchasing this airbrushed hat for today's holiday. It just seems like a nice gesture to indicate that I not only appreciate my own mother, but ur mom, as well.

It was a great thrift store find. As was this t-shirt.

Weird kid, but I didn't buy it.

My mother will be pleased to learn that I decided against buying a shirt featuring an elephant's butt, too. I think it's a sign of maturity that I realize not every article of clothing can't be a joke?

But if the UR MOM hat wasn't enough of an indication, I'm still not that mature. For example, I couldn't resist buying this bejeweled BINGO WINNER shirt. Not sure when I'd ever wear it, but perhaps I can coax one of my friends into it.

In the parking lot, a homeless guy (not the one who peed in my car) asked if he could wash my headlights for a small donation. I gave him a few bucks and he told me that my "mama must have raised me right." There, Mom, you have something to be proud of… other than that fashion sense that clearly never developed.

Oh, and I also found this shirt: 

On the one hand, it's pretty stupid to put a greeting card message on a t-shirt, because on what occasion could a dad actually wear this? On the other hand, AT LEAST MY FATHERS' DAY SHOPPING IS ALREADY DONE. Plus, it was cheap and easy. Almost as cheap and easy as UR MOM.

Master of Disguise

"Is that Christopher Dorner in a wig?"

That might have been the funniest, most offensive comment made at our State of the Union party tonight. But the very idea that Dorner was eluding police capture by masquerading as a 102-year-old woman who waited hours to vote is too absurd to deny. I also find it funny that the old lady with involuntary muscle spasms was the only "special guest" of the President that didn't get to sit next to the First Lady.

But speaking of Dorner, he almost deprived us of the State of the Union. At least a couple major networks in Los Angeles decided to preempt the President's annual speech with live coverage of a mountaintop cabin on fire. KTLA said they would stream the State of the Union online instead. Excuse me, but I don't want to see just any man with a kill list… I want to see the man with a kill list that this country elected its leader.

Yet again, Obama said most of the right things. I rarely disagree with anything the man says (aside from tonight's calls for internet regulation - that is the best tool we have to fight corruption and fascism, so of course they're going to try to take that power away from us) in speeches: environment, mortgage adjustments, raising minimum wage, and preschool! It's the contrary actions I have a problem with. Thus far I've seen a wolf in sheep's clothing who rallies the majority's support by spouting progressive ideals, while in actuality enacting laws that support corporatocracy . I mean, last year his State of the Union called for holding Wall Street responsible for their illegal actions. Then his own administration failed to even attempt to prosecute even one Wall Street exec and he made no mention of it tonight. Here's hoping that his second term proves me wrong.

Anyhoo, my friends and I made a word list and drank every time the President said "jobs" and "families" and "guns", so needless to say, things got pretty tipsy. We also drank anytime Joe Biden made us laugh. That alone would have been enough. Is there a tally on how many times he removed and later replaced his glasses? How about the number of times he attacked his face with his hand?

We weren't sure what the green ribbons the politicians were wearing signified. My roommate suggested "illness" - you know, just general illness. Why does everyone have to choose a side when it comes to AIDS or cancer awareness? When another attendee noted that it was many of the Republicans who weren't wearing the green ribbons, I suggested that they might signify an opposition to rape.

Oh, and if you think the funniest part of Mark Rubio's response speech was when he took a sip of water (??), you weren't listening to the ludicrous things he was actually saying.

The Queen of Versailles and the American Dream

IMPORTANT NETFLIX INSTANT (or DVD rental) RECOMMENDATION: The Queen of Versailles

The Queen of Versailles is a documentary about the Siegels, the family that is constructing the largest, most expensive (~$100 million) home in America. I like laughing at dumb 1%-ers, so I figured it'd be right up my alley. Indeed, I found those laughs when the protagonist fails to realize that it's demeaning to dress her nanny up in a full Rudolph costume to entertain Christmas party guests, when she gives a tour of her lavish home and says seemingly negligent things like, "This is the staircase I would come up if I was going to visit the children," and when she goes to an average car rental business (think Enterprise) and is surprised to learn the vehicle doesn't come with a chauffeur. In addition to the laughs, though, I was surprised to discover how much depth the film has.

Yup, there's depth to be found even in the shallowest of subjects, namely Jackie Siegel. She survived a childhood of poverty and an abusive first marriage and later became a beauty queen and trophy wife to a time-share tycoon. Jackie's new lifestyle has made her a pretty ridiculous person. You can't help but judge her dress, decor, priorities, and interactions. Jackie's so clueless, however, that she fails to realize anyone would judge her for such things… or feel anything but admiration for her wealth, for that matter.

It all plays out sort of like an episode of Bravo's The Real Housewives, although you need not be a fan of the franchise to enjoy this film. That's because it's not just about superficiality - it's about the American dream. It's a critique of how we idolize wealth and material possessions and assume our lives would be so much better if we could literally have it all. The Siegels have accomplished what most Americans aspire to… and they are no happier for it. If anything, they seem pretty unhappy.

This is evidenced by the Siegels' niece, who the family takes in after learning she's been living in squalor. The way she changes in the transition from filthy poor to filthy rich are mostly discernible through subtext, but she does a decent job of explaining it herself: She was initially appreciative to have a more secure life, but then she "got used to" getting everything she wanted so now she just finds new reasons to be miserable.

The niece is one of nine kids, by the way. The other eight all came out of Jackie's own (well, plastic surgery-enhanced) body. She said she initially only wanted one kid, but when she was able to hire a slew of nannies, there was no incentive to stop reproducing. In that sense, her breeding practices mimic her shopping habits: she just keeps buying anything and everything (even duplicates - how many Operation board games does one family need?) because she doesn't have to take on any responsibility. Meanwhile, the kids are adopting similar tendencies - collecting dozens of pets and killing some due to neglect. 

Partway through the film, the economy crashes and the time-share business takes a major dive. Even (near?-)billionaires like the Siegels are suddenly put under financial constraints and their pricy mansion goes into foreclosure. While selling their dream home would be the best option, as you might expect, the market for $100 million homes is non-existent.

Suddenly, the Siegels are just like us. The movie even helps draw the parallels for you: one of Jackie's childhood friends needs just a few thousand dollars to save her home from foreclosure, but even when she gets the funds, the bank decides to repossess the home anyway. And then there's one of the Siegel's domestic workers whose lifelong dream is to be a homeowner. By her own suggestion, she settles for taking over a cramped kids' playhouse in the backyard and could not be happier to have a place to call her own. 

One thing I appreciate about the documentary is that they don't make Jackie look like an asshole. It'd be easy - probably even tempting - to have done that, but you can still tell that she's well-intentioned even if she's too out-of-touch to be of much help to anyone. She's just a victim of her circumstances. Yeah, I know it's funny to call someone who is insanely wealthy a "victim", but in Jackie's case, I believe it to be true. I also believe her when she says she would be just as happy to scale back and live with her whole family in a one-bedroom apartment. Or well, I believe that she really believes that anyway. Old habits die hard. Understanding that she must now live on a limited budget, Jackie starts shopping at Walmart… yet still drops thousands of dollars on frivolous items.

Even though her ideals are drastically different from my own, I couldn't help but root for Jackie - maybe not to become super rich again, but to figure it out and pursue genuine contentment. I can't say the same about Jackie's husband, David. He does come across as an asshole, but I wouldn't blame the edit for that. It's hard to like a guy who refuses to spend time with his family, sexually harasses the Miss America contestants he invites to his home, tells his wife that he's going to trade her in for two 20 year-olds when she turns 40, and boasts that he illegally rigged the presidential election for George W. Bush.

Though we see less of David, he may be even more fascinating than Jackie. The man is corporate America. Due to his own humble beginnings, David was motivated to succeed later in life, assuming it would bring him the joy he was missing. When that didn't happen, rather than trying to find a different route, he figured he just needed to succeed even more, despite the fact that he already financially accomplished more than 99.99999% of people ever would. Alas, in pushing for even greater profits, David winds up gambling it all away.

Although David feels superior to his loyal wife and openly shows contempt for her, he's really not that much different than Jackie in that he is also entirely about appearances. He builds a gigantic house not to live in, but to impress others. He amasses a big family not to love, but to show off. He expands his business not because it's strategic, but so he can put his name on more buildings. Undoubtedly, David initially invited the film crew into his home because he knew he could convey an enviable life even if he didn't really have one. By the end, however, David is openly miserable, in large part because the narrative has evolved to that of a family that was formerly successful. When a man focuses on establishing a legacy rather than living a life that brings him actual joy, he is bound to become hostile when that legacy is exposed as a mirage. What good is being elite if people realize they wouldn't want to trade places with you after all?

What an accurate representation of the current, misguided American dream. And what a compelling argument for why we need to finally wake up from it. 

Claus Flaws

Why does Santa never finish his cookies? Every time I see photos of "Santa was here!" it shows a couple of bites taken out of the cookies with a bunch of leftovers. Surely in all of his travels, he knows that there are kids around the world who are starving and would love to finish those cookies. Fair enough if he thinks he's already too fat to eat them, but couldn't he at least bring the cookies with him and leave them at one of the homes with less fortunate children?

Of course not. This is the same man who gives gifts to children that are proportional to their parents' income levels. Ever notice how it's only the richest kids who Santa gives things like trampolines and ponies while impoverished kids are lucky to get a second-hand doll or ball? And we're supposed to believe that somehow it's a meritocracy based on kids behavior, as if the wealthiest kids are always the nicest and poorest kids are the naughtiest?

Fuck a Santa, he's in cahoots with the 1%.

Occupy Lives

When I’ve talked about Occupy with friends lately, I often receive a variation on one of these reactions: “Oh, you still do that?” “That’s still happening?” “I haven’t heard anything about Occupy in ages.”

It’s still a thing, y’all. Rumors of its demise have been exaggerated. If anything, Occupy has just been quietly brainstorming and, as a result, is now better than ever.

There are three big things that Occupy has been doing that I am so proud of. And you should be proud of, too.

1. Defending foreclosure-threatened homes. The banks are despicable; the majority of foreclosures happen with either faulty or outright fraudulent paperwork. As Occupy LA has found, even when homeowners have court documents showing they are permitted to stay in the homes, the police still side with the banks to boot them anyway. Occupiers are now occupying such homes and fighting these illegal practices.
2. Occupy Sandy. Occupy, with all of its community organizing skills, is killing it on the hurricane relief front. FEMA who? I wrote an article about how awesome these efforts are.
3. And most recently, the Rolling Jubilee, a plan to buy up and forgive individuals’ outstanding debt. When you default on a debt, companies don’t generally fight you for it. Instead, they sell it for pennies on the dollar to debt collecting businesses who then hound the individuals for the money. Do they give the debtors the opportunity to pay off their debt for pennies on the dollar? That would make sense and show kindness, so of course not! So Occupy’s plan is to buy up this drastically reduced-price debt and just forgive it. It’s flipping genius and exposes what a sham this system is.

Go ahead, try to demonize that. These are good, intelligent people trying to do what they can to make the world a better place. It’s a movement everyone should want to be a part of.

No, YOU'RE Wasting Your Vote

I'm voting for a third party candidate tomorrow, despite all the lectures people throw at me. My fellow Californians and non-swing staters (in other words, just about everyone), we are ALL wasting our votes. The electoral college renders our votes for president fairly pointless.

In my state, a vote not cast for Obama is not, as you assert, a vote for Romney. Maybe that'd have some validity in Ohio, but there is no chance California will go anything but blue, so why wouldn't I take the opportunity to vote my conscience?

The reason my vote for a third party candidate is less wasted than others' votes for Obama or Romney is because at least it symbolizes a want for real change. While I wouldn't argue that there are no differences between Democrats and Republicans, I would contend that they are frighteningly similar in the ways that should alarm us most. My vote for a third party is a rejection of the two-party system that uses its power to shut out alternative voices. It's a vote for someone who is not bought and controlled by corporations. It's a vote for a candidate who does not feel that constant war should be a foregone conclusion. It's a vote for someone who will actually acknowledge and substantially address global warming.

Will a third party candidate win tomorrow? No. But there needs to be a momentum shift. Some people need to take the leap initially before others will feel comfortable to follow suit. In a sense, my vote is one for a movement that will (hopefully) happen years down the road. How is that a waste?

If you're a non-swing stater and vote for one of the two major candidates, then you're buying into the myth that we need one of them. Ignore the rhetoric. "This is the most important election ever." Yeah, they said that last time. And the time before. And I kept ignoring my values and have little to show for it. Which election will be "important" enough to vote the way I want rather than the way I'm told I have to? At any given point, it may seem like a good time to choose the lesser of two evils, but at what point does it stop? Who wants to look back at their life and say, "I always voted for evil"?

This election, there are actually multiple third party candidates I wish I could cast my vote for. I wrote profiles up for 7 of the most prominent choices for Care2. Check them out, maybe you'll become smitten, too. Together, we can start the process of defeating a corrupt system by using one of that system's flaws - the electoral college - to confidently cast our votes for someone other than the two preordained choices with no fear of consequences. 

Or, you know, you could just waste your vote.

Sandy's His Name If You Please

I wonder if a whole song went into naming this hurricane Sandy?

I've never been part of naming a hurricane, but I have been part of naming a hurricane-focused essay. When Heather needed a title for her undergraduate thesis on the gender politics of Hurricane Katrina, I suggested, "Why Don't They Call It a Him-icane?" I don't know whether she went with that title, but let's assume she did, and let's also assume it's the sole reason she was given an honors distinction. You're welcome, Heather.

Watching all of the Hurricane Sandy footage on television, it's easy to forget that I'm not actually hiding inside from a hurricane. Then when I go outside it's like, "Oh, yeah, I'm in sunny Arizona."

I'm here visiting with a couple of people who have business jobs on the east coast, emphasis on the coast. They are NOT happy about how Hurricane Sandy is disrupting their jobs. "They better not close Wall Street, we have important trades that need to happen!" One wanted to make sure his office stayed open anyway, because no flooding would affect the employees on the thirty-somethingth floor anyway. Easy call for you to make on the behalf of other people when you're thousands of miles away from the problem.  It seems to me that - every once in a while - it may be useful to indicate to your employees that you value their safety over additional profits, even if it winds up just being a symbolic gesture.

Whether Hurricane Sandy winds up being as destructive as predicted is yet to be seen. But if the storm is over-hyped, it's at the hands of the corporate bankrolled politicians and corporate owned media. If Wall Street is upset at how it is being impeded for no reason, it only has itself to blame. Sometimes, it's okay for rich people to not make additional money. Sometimes.

Unless you're US Weekly, in which case, by all means, reference a tragedy flippantly, then carry on with business as usual.  

How I Received a Job Offer to Be a Life Coach

My former landlady hired me to help her son on the computer. I didn't want to do it, but I have trouble saying no, plus she offered me a good rate for it, so I finally agreed. Evidently, her 31-year-old son is a collector of expensive sneakers - $1,000 to $4000 pairs of shoes. Not to wear, even, but to store in his closet as collector's items that he hopes will increase in value over the years. (Talk to my sister about how that worked out with her Beanie Baby collection.) And since he doesn't know how to use a computer, he needs someone to go on eBay to help him buy his shoes.

An hour before our first appointment, she cancelled because her son "wasn't ready." Okay, fine. She wanted to reschedule the next appointment to be before 6 in the morning this past weekend, and before I could find a polite way to tell her to shove it, she promised to pay more, and I accepted. 

I show up, and the kid - he's older than me, but still very much a kid - still isn't ready. Instead, I sit with his mother in the kitchen while she bitches about how worthless he is. Here's the gist: he has no education, no friends, no driver's license, no work experience ever, no real ambitions, and has never moved out of the house. So how, then, does he afford the sneakers? Mommy pays for them. "Maybe I spoil him," she said. You think? Maybe he does nothing with his life because he's never had to? Plus gets treated to pointlessly expensive sneakers for being a lazy lump? 

After nearly an hour, I'm still just sitting and waiting, and his mother goes to buy me breakfast as a nice gesture. It was from McDonald's. I've never had McDonald's for breakfast before, and given how it resulted in almost instantaneous diarrhea, I can't say that I ever would eat it again. As I pick at the food, the son is finally ready. It takes me all of five minutes to click on "buy instantly" to purchase a $1000+ pair of sneakers, and then we're done. I ask him what other pairs he wants to look at, and he says he needs a break. A break from what? Spending his mom's money? 

I go back to the kitchen where his mom chats me up again. She says his one real ambition is to go to a special school to learn how to be a certified Mercedes mechanic. That's a very technical, skills-based job for someone who can't work a computer. It turns out that his real passion is to own a Mercedes. (Again, he can't even drive.) He apparently throws tantrums at his mom for not buying him this expensive car because once he has one he can learn how they work, he claims.  

But that's when things get really interesting. My landlady says she wants to hire me on a regular basis to tutor him. Tutor him at the computer? I ask. "Teach him how to be a real man," she says. I nearly laugh, because I don't know that I even consider myself to be a real man, how am I going to tutor someone to do that? "Show him how to make friends and get a job." It's clear that what she's asking me to be is her son's life coach, which is absurd. I could probably use a life coach of my own, there's no way I'm qualified to get this man-child into working order. I swear, only in comparison to this guy does it seem like I have my shit together. 

Finally, the son, who is close enough to hear everything his mom is telling me, announces that it's time to send me home. "I thought we were buying more sneakers?" I ask. "I don't want to do it today," he says. "We'll reschedule for you to come back another time." He is so lazy that he can't even agree to sit down for another hour to buy $10,000 worth of shoes (that was the amount his mom said I was permitted to spend) he wants with his mom's credit card. I indicate that I might not be available in the future, and he says, "We'll pay you more than, you'll come back, it's cool." This leads to a fight with his mom. "You're wasting his time and my money! I do this to make you happy! You say, 'Mommy, I need someone to buy me sneakers' and then I hire someone nice, and you send him away! What am I supposed to do?" I accept my money for my 2 hours of service (which amounted to five minutes of actual work, and much longer than that of listening to their family drama and having to eat a McDonald's breakfast, which, in fairness, were much harder tasks) and exit as they continue to bicker.

I just wonder - if he doesn't know how to use a computer, what is he wasting all of his time doing, then? When I have time to kill, I futz on the internet, so what the hell is he doing? At least I can safely blog this story without fear of him discovering it.

In the meantime, I'm going to have to learn how to say "No" really fast before the landlady poses the life coach question again. That guy is a hopeless case who could sooner benefit from euthanasia. If anything, I should be the one hiring him. Even when I think my life is going nowhere, it's a real self-esteem boost to see someone like him and be like, "Well, at least I've got a lot more going on than him." 

But I Need a Second Chance

OMG. I put all my $ into a reincarnation-themed t-shirt line but this POS "YOLO" fad made my business DOA. FML. 

A Gump Cut

Two awkward things that happened at the bar tonight:

1. I came in with a new haircut, and a guy - named Guy, incidentally - told me I look like Forrest Gump now. I was instinctively insulted, but Guy insisted that it was a good thing because Forrest is nice and everybody loves him. I tried to rationalize in my head that, despite his disabilities, Forrest accomplished way more than I ever will in life, so maybe it really is a style to aspire to, but then Guy's wife said, "You can't tell someone they look like Forrest Gump because he's retarded." Guy promptly left the bar for home and I'm not sure what to make of the incident.

2. After explaining what a bad day she was having, a drunk woman found a dollar bill on the floor. She tried to give it to everyone nearby, but I told her "finders keepers" and that it was a sign her luck was turning around. This made her happy, and I started singing, "The sun'll come out tomorrow!" to keep the optimistic vibes going. She thanked me for singing to her and I joked that I was only doing it in the hopes of being tipped her dollar. And that's when she took the dollar and shoved it down my pants. No, not just the pants, but down my underwear, too -- there was quick penis contact, even. I was speechless, as were my friends, but I finally reached in and fished the dollar out to return to her. "You need to keep your luck," I said. She accepted the dollar back, put it up to her nose and sniffed it with all of her might. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, she then crumpled the dollar - which had just been on my crotch, mind you - and put it in her mouth. And that's precisely when I decided it was time to take my Forrest Gump haircut home.

My New Uni-Form

Anthony Davis is my new style icon.

You think I'm joking, but I'm not. This dude's look is captivating. It's not always about being attractive, and Davis is certainly not. It's about having a signature look that others can't help but stop and stare at. As I watched him lead Kentucky to a national championship, I couldn't avert my eyes from this strange dude. Everything about him is so wrong it's right.

Those thick, villainous eyebrows! Or should I say eyebrow, because that is a unibrow if I've ever seen one. Those insanely janky teeth. It also doesn't hurt that he's the tallest guy on the court - which is saying something when you're talking about basketball players.

He may have only just turned 19, but Davis has it figured out. It's not like he has to worry about attracting ladies, his inevitable NBA millions will take care of that. If you can't be the handsomest man in basketball, why not be the funniest looking guy? What Davis has going is a brand identity. And he's going to show you just how smart his appearance is once he's no longer a student athlete and able to cash in on those tweezer/Invisalign endorsement deals.

(Okay, but for real, I was kind of inspired to grow out a unibrow, but then I realized that since I don't pluck as is, one is not about to magically show up. Does anyone know whether you can Rogaine your forehead?)

I Think I Won $10,000

I didn't play the lottery like everyone else did this weekend (I get too much anxiety), but due to lottery fever and today's April Fool's Day holiday, I find myself recalling a time my mom played a prank on me.

Many years ago on Christmas morning, my family and I were unwrapping the gifts in our stockings. Every year, we each get a couple of scratch-off lottery tickets and someone will win $10 or so, which works out to be a net loss. On this occasion, I scratched at a ticket with a penny, and found myself staring at three $10,000s, which if I read the instructions correctly, meant that I won that prize amount.

Normally, I double check a losing ticket before discarding it, but this time I had to double, triple, and even quadruple check that I had in fact won. Still unable to comprehend a prize of this size, I finally said to my family very plainly, "I think I won $10,000." My mom acted excited and tried to prod a bigger reaction from me, but I never changed my name. I just sat there, not sure what else to do.

Disappointed by my lackluster response, my mom admit that the ticket wasn't real. She had bought a phony winning ticket and was hoping to get a real rise from me. It's not that I didn't fall for the trick, just that I'm not excited enough about money to care one way or the other. My mom realized she should have tried to play this prank on someone a bit more materialistic. Heck, my sister probably would have spent half the cash before anyone could tell her it was a joke. Perhaps my mom's mistake was not giving me a few spiked eggnogs first. You'd be surprised how much I clap and cheer each time I win $5 at a Vegas blackjack table.

Fortunately for my mom, she had bought a second phony ticket, and decided to try again on my cousin. When he arrived a few hours later, he was unaware of the previous prank, and immediately screamed when scratching his "winning" ticket. "I won $10,000! I won 10,000!" My aunt didn't hesitate to verify his claims by looking at his ticket before screeching with glee. Meanwhile, my cousin's sister, who isn't normally affectionate with her brother, sprinted across the room to give him a hug and said "I love you, I love you!" Someone wanted a piece of that money…

It was quite a show. This time, the prank went a little too well, and it made for an awkward moment when my mom had to confess the ticket was fake. My aunt still refers to that incident as a "sick joke", but I think it was a perfectly great way to add tension to a family holiday.

Joseph Kony: An Update

I'm hearing that the specific charity the video I posted last night promotes is a dubious one. Can't say I'm surprised. As I pointed out before, the video lacks concrete facts and relies mainly on an emotional appeal. When I went to the website last night, I was like, damnnnn, that's a lot of money for "supplies" - I'm going to need to know where this money goes before I do anything like that. Reports say that they give only 31% of proceeds to the actual efforts, meaning that some people are profiting big-time off this cause. That's reprehensible. Maybe not Kony-level reprehensible, but come on.

We've got to beware wolves in charitable clothing. Have you seen those Bank of America ads that portray itself as a philanthropic organization? Never mind that their charitable giving is a piddly amount compared to what they take from us. Never mind that its reckless practices are largely responsible for this country's financial woes, that it regularly takes homes from people through illegal foreclosures, that it nickels and dimes the poor with bogus fees. Ultimately, people want to believe that BoA is good when it tells us it's good, so we don't bother to question it.

I, too, should have explored this Kony video more before sharing the video. I got caught up in my passion for mobilizing the masses via viral video rather than bothering to give a sniff test to this particular cause. Mea culpa. But that doesn't mean we need to give up on the Kony cause altogether. All of those methods the video outlines are still relevant, minus the giving money to a branded Kony 2012 campaign. Tell your friends, make your own posters, and tweet it out. I stand entirely behind my previous post, but it deserves a disclaimer to be wary of the Invisible Children "non-profit" itself.

I just hope a bitch glitch like this one doesn't in any way derail people from new media activism in the future.

How Michael Jackson Perpetuates Pedophilia from the Grave by Having a Hot Daughter

Yo, we have a problem. Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris Jackson, is a total fox. It's not that I'd do anything illegal with her (because gross!), but it's obvious that she's going to grow up to be a stunner. The fact that she's already objectively one of the most attractive people I've seen in a while at only 13-years-old is definitely disconcerting.

Do you suppose that this is Michael's punishment for (allegedly) touching little kids? Having a daughter so attractive that he's got to be paranoid about other ChiMos (allegedly) like him?

In addition to the whole Whitney Houston fiasco in Las Vegas the other week, I played blackjack with a Michael Jackson impersonator for a while. He was a fun dealer because he'd make us sing MJ's iconic high-pitched "Hee Hee" when we got 21 and he enjoyed punning back and forth with me with song titles.

While I played, some guy came behind me and contemplated sitting down next to me, but couldn't decide. "Play with me!" Michael said in a child-like voice. Trying to help, I added, "You can't pass up an opportunity like this, usually Michael Jackson only wants to play with children." Upset, Michael slapped my hand hard. "That's not what I meant by 'Hit me.'" I told him.

Surprisingly, the man opted not to sit down with us.

Soon after, Michael dealt me four twelves in a row, which is not a good blackjack hand.
"Why do you keep giving me twelves?" I asked.
"It's 'cause you think that's what I like," he snapped back.
Touche.

Overall, though, I was winning a lot of hands and more than doubled my money. It was almost as if I was a real child - play with Michael Jackson for a while, and you're bound to walk away with a lot of dough as settlement. Unfortunately, my friend Matt lost a bunch of money at Jackson's table. His girlfriend, Jessica, noticed his depleted collection of chips and expressed concern. That's when Michael, in a squeaky evil voice, informed her, "I fucked your boyfriend."

I cracked up, but Jessica was not pleased with Michael's statement. I thought it was pretty obvious that he meant he fucked Matt by taking his money, but Jessica took it as some sort of threat to her relationship. It seems to me that a pasty, cosmetically-butchered Michael Jackson lookalike would only be a threat if Matt had some unlikely history of being attracted to Jacko impersonators.

Oh wait, you mean to say that Jessica has impersonated Michael Jackson before? Innnnteresting. Well in that case, we can only hope that if Dealer Michael were to have "fucked" Matt, it would result in a kid half as beautiful as Paris.

Republican Candidates: The Froth and the Hope

The circus of the GOP primaries (as well as Obama “reluctantly” signing the Constitution-defying NDAA, just so you know it’s not an issue of partisanship), is enough to put me off politics forever. As much as I want to ignore it, unfortunately political matters don’t work the same as say… what’s something else that’s awful… Two and a Half Men in that while Jon Cryer doesn’t have to be a part of my life if I don’t want him to be, politicians will impact my life on a daily basis even if I try to mute them.

Therefore, to my own agitation, last night I followed the caucus results in Iowa, and I was shocked to see Rick Santorum in a dead heat with John Kerry I’m sorry, Mitt Romney. Yes, somehow the man whose top Google listing is one that defines his name as a crass anal sex “by-product” (which I will happily link to in order to contribute to the magical Google algorithm that keeps it at #1) is a contender? The only enjoyable think about Santorum popping up in the news is that Wonkette always publishes that hilarious picture of his daughter crying. Yeah, I’d sob, too, if he were my dad.

I forget whose blog I was reading yesterday (remind me! I’ll link you) that introduced me to the part of Santorum’s wikipedia page that explains how he brought his son who died a couple of hours after being born so prematurely home to meet and “cuddle” with his siblings. Moreover, Santorum then slept with the dead infant in his bed that night. When I read that, I was like, “That sounds like some Duggar shit” thinking of the recent photo shoot the family did with their miscarried baby.

Then Andrew told me about how the Duggers are campaigning for Santorum, even lending their bus (my favorite detail is that the Duggar kids managed to “badly misspell” Santorum’s name when painting it on the side of the bus), and now it all makes sense.

But if Weekend at Baby Bernie’s (or the anal sex froth) isn’t enough to make you question Santorum, how about his racism, his extreme homophobia, or his eagerness to start a war? Can’t we do better than this, America? BLAH.

I was thinking about how sad it is not to have a candidate to even root for in the GOP primaries, but I think I finally discovered one today: Buddy Roemer. I can’t pretend to know too much about him, but he’s running – as a Republican - on a platform of taking corporate money out of politics and instituting campaign finance reform. In a way, I don’t even care what his other stances are (although he is passing my initial sniff test), because until we make changes in this facet of politics, it’s just going to be more politics as usual.

Roemer needs to get 5% of the vote in New Hampshire in order to be included in the next debate. Even if he doesn’t stand a chance to win, I hope Roemer gets that much so his viewpoint can become a part of the larger conversation. He’ll need more luck and support considering, as he himself pointed out, that he received only five more votes than “Lizard People” in Iowa. (See? He’s funny, too!)

What Grown-Ass Women Do

My college's snack shop stocked a small selection of movies available for loan. One momentous day, someone introduced a couple of porn DVDs to the collection, which sent my dorm-mates in a tizzy. Everyone wanted to see the porn, but no one wanted to actually check it out. Watching a bunch of college students get nervous at the thought of renting porn, our then acquaintance Joan told us we were all ridiculous and left. Five minutes later, she returned with one of the porn films. "You weren't too embarrassed to do that?" we asked. "I'm a grown-ass woman, and I can get porn if I want," Joan said.

We put the DVD on in my room and about a dozen people awkwardly watched and tried to cut the weirdness with humorous observations. Joan tried to enjoy it at surface level despite our interruptions, but ultimately dismissed it entirely. "It's not hot! It's porn, it should turn me on. This isn't hot! I'm taking it back!" She promptly returned the movie and told the snack shop employee what she didn't like about it, as if the guy were the director or something. Needless to say, Joan soon went from an acquaintance to a friend.

A year later, we went to a record expo together where various vendors were selling music and movies. After separating from me briefly, Joan returned with an armful of porn flicks. "Where'd you get all that?" I asked. "That guy sold it all to me for just $10," Joan said. Feeling uncomfortable looking at what "interested" her, I again turned to humor to cover up my embarrassment. "That's a lot of fuck for your buck!" I exclaimed. 100% earnestly, Joan then gave me a disgusted look and said, "You have a crass mouth." Granted, she had an image of a woman gnawing on a penis in her hand, but it was my mouth that was crass. We all have lines we don't like having crossed, and I love how unpredictable Joan's lines are.