Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Dumb Facts

So this little time waster seems to have made for a pretty wild day over in the Loaded Gun Theory blogs, where I actually still have an account but never update cuz I always just update here and the thought of having to update not one but TWO blogs is just too much responsibility for poor ole me to handle. Which is why my last entry from that site is like two years old.

Check back soon for another Holmes adventure translated into play-script.

Bold = True
Unbold = False


I am shorter than 5'4.

I am taller than 5'11".

I have many scars.

I tan easily.

I don't shave my legs.

I wish my hair was a different color.

I have a tattoo, or more.

I am self-conscious about my appearance.

I have/had braces.

I wear glasses just to read.

I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.

I've been told I'm attractive by a complete stranger - oh my god, I felt SO objectified

I have/had more than 2 piercings.

I have/had piercings in places besides my ears.

I have freckles.


I've sworn at my parents.

I've run away from home.

I've been kicked out of the house.

My biological parents are together.

I have a sibling less than one year old.

I want to have kids someday.

I have children.

I've lost a child.


I'm in school.

I have a job.

I've fallen asleep at work/school.

I almost always did my homework.

I've missed a week or more of school.

I've been on the Honor Roll within the last 2 years (of school)

I failed more than 1 class last year.

I've stolen something from my job.

I've been fired.

I've skipped school - though not til college, which everybody does


I've slipped out a "lol" in a spoken conversation.

Disney movies still make me cry.

I've peed from laughing.

I've snorted while laughing.

I've laughed so hard I've cried.

I've glued my hand to something - that'll make you feel smart

I've laughed till some kind of beverage came out of my nose.

I've had my pants rip in public.


I was born with a disease/impairment.

I've gotten stitches.

I've broken a bone.

I've had my tonsils removed.

I've sat in a doctor's office with a friend.

I've had my wisdom teeth removed.

I've had serious surgery.

I've had chicken pox.

My vision is better than 20/20.


I've driven over 200 miles in one day.

I've been on a plane.

I've been to Canada, eh?

I've been to Mexico.

I've been to Niagara Falls.

I've been to Japan

I've been down under.

I've Celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

I've been to Europe .

I've been to Africa.

I've been to Hell.


I've gotten lost in my city.

I've seen a shooting star.

I've wished on a shooting star.

I've seen a meteor shower.

I've gone out in public in my pajamas.

I've pushed all the buttons on an elevator.

I've kicked a guy where it hurts.

I've been to a casino.

I've been skydiving.

I've gone skinny dipping.

I've played spin the bottle.

I've drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.

I've crashed a car.

I've been skiing.

I've been in a play.

I've met someone in person from the internet.

I've caught a snowflake on my tongue.

I've seen the Northern Lights.

I've sat on a roof top at night.

I've played chicken.

I've played a prank on someone.

I've ridden in a taxi.

I've seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I've eaten Sushi.

I've been snowboarding.


I've had a crush on more than one person.

I've had a crush on someone of the same sex.

I've kissed someone of the same sex - there was this summer I spent as a sheepherder...

I've had a crush on a teacher.

I am a cuddler.

I love to flirt.

I've been kissed in the rain.

I've hugged a stranger.

I've kissed a stranger.


I am a terrible liar.

I've done something I promised someone else I wouldn't.

I've done something I promised myself I wouldn't.

I've snuck out of my house.

I have lied to my parents about where I am.

I am keeping a secret from the world.

I've cheated while playing a game.

I've cheated on a test.

I've run a red light.

I've been suspended from school.

I've been in a fist fight

I've witnessed a crime

I've been arrested

I've shoplifted


I'm afraid of dying.

I've fantasized about my own death.

I hate funerals.

I've seen someone dying.

Someone close to me has attempted suicide.

Someone close to me has commited suicide.

I've planned my own suicide.

I've written a eulogy for myself.


I own over 5 rap CDs. - why rap CD's for this category? Is owning more than 5 CD's of any other genre somehow less materialistic? Fuck this white man's list.

I own an iPod or MP3 player.

I have an unhealthy obsession with anime/manga.

I own multiple designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.

I own something from Hot Topic - rebel-wear at retail prices

I own something from Pac Sun.

I collect comic books.

I own something from The Gap.

I own something I got on e-bay.

I own something from Abercrombie.


In general, I don't like people.

I'm a feminist.

I'm very outgoing.

I listen to political music

I'm Democratic

I'm Republican.

I'm liberal.

I don't like Bush because he is dumb.

I don't like Bush with my own reasons to back it up.

I am for Bush.

I'm religious.

I dress fairly modestly.


I can sing well.

I've stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.

I open up to others easily.

I watch the news.

I don't kill bugs.

I hate hearing songs that sacrifice meaning for the sake of being able to rhyme - what I REALLY hate is when two consecutive lines rhyme using the SAME WORD.

I curse regularly.

I sing in the shower.

I am a morning person.

I paid for my cell phone ring tone.

I'm a snob about grammar.

I am a sports fanatic.

I twirl my hair.

I have "x"s in my screen name.

I love being neat.

I've had Spam.

I've copied more than 30 CDs in a day.

I bake well.

My favorite color is blue.

I would wear pajamas to school.

I like Martha Stewart.

I know how to shoot a gun.

I am in love with love.

I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS.

I laugh at my own jokes.

I eat fast food weekly.

I am online 24/7, even as an away message.

I've not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.

I can't sleep if there is a spider in the room.

I am really ticklish.

I love white chocolate.

I bite my nails.

I play video games.

I'm good at remembering faces.

I'm good at remembering names.

I'm good at remembering dates.

I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.

My answers are totally honest.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Robots in Disguise

So Ash and I have the esteemed honor of housing an electrical transformer in a corner of our back yard, a large green box which provides power to our house and several neighboring huts. It's an ugly little thing, but the previous owners of this place built a little mini-fence around it to make it less of an eyesore. Fine.

That is, until the other day when the Ash was outside with a fencing guy who was giving us an estimate on a new fence, and they noticed strange fluids oozing out of it. A call to the city later, and a massive crew has raced to our house like they're the goddamn S.W.A.T. team. I came home from work to find all these huge trucks parked up and down our street and in the neighboring cul-de-sac. It looked like Optimus Prime and the rest of the fucking Autobots had swooped in to fix our transformer.

So everything's all fixed and cleaned up now. These guys had to come in through the neighbor's yard with some gargantuan pieces of machinery to work on this thing and to clean up its mess. Thing is, along with getting our fence replaced, we'd also talked about putting a real fence around this little transformer doohickey to keep Henry away from it when he gets old enough to be getting himself into that kind of trouble. However, a cute little factoid we learned from the Austin Energy dudes is that they are authorized to take apart any such structures in order to get to the city's transformers.

The city's transformers. That's some decepticon bullshit.

So the fence idea is out, which leaves us wondering what we can do once Henry gets big enough to be playing in the back yard. How to keep him away from the transformer? The way my mind works, I had one initial idea that I immediately had to shelve because it pretty much violates every parenting principle I believe in, would result in years of expensive therapy and medication for all involved, and was basically just too fucked. Not to mention the technical expertise that would be required, which I simply do not possess. What follows is a dramatic textual interpretation of exactly how my idea would have played out.


by T. Holmes

The Holmes backyard. Cement patio, dead grass, lawn chairs with dirt where asses are supposed to go, all bordered by a rickety fence that's just waiting for a nice strong draft to put it out of its misery. A statue of St. Francis presides over brown foliage. In one corner hidden behind brush and a small lattice fence sits a large green metal box with various markings all over it that indicate it has something to do with electricity. This is the Transformer.

Papa Holmes and little Henry Holmes sit out on the patio. Henry has a magnifying glass which, along with the sun, he is using to try to set fire to ants.

PAPA: How's it goin' over there?

HENRY: Okay I guess. They keep moving.

PAPA: Pretty tough to get an ant to sit still. Keep at it though, you'll get one.

Mama Holmes enters with little Vladimir, who appears to be about Henry's age.

PAPA: Who the hell is that?

MAMA: Hush, this is Henry's new best friend.

HENRY: I thought Elliott was my best friend.

MAMA: Elliott's a dog, sweetie.


PAPA: Yeah, so? Dog's man's best friend.

MAMA: (stressing this to dad) Well this is his other best friend. You know?

PAPA: What?

MAMA: His best friend?

PAPA: Oh. OOOH. Right, Henry's best friend. That's today?

MAMA: I told you last night.

PAPA: You did?

MAMA: Right before bed.

PAPA: Well there you go, you can't tell me things right after sex and expect me to remember them. I mean, after sex, I'm friggin' worthless.

MAMA: Well it's today. Henry, meet Vladimir. His family just moved in down the street.

The little boys look at each other shyly.

PAPA: Say hello Henry.

HENRY: Hello.

VLAD: Hello.

PAPA: Wow, listen to that. No accent or nuthin.

VLAD: My parents were born here.

PAPA: Cool.

MAMA: Right on. Well you boys play and have fun. Henry, you be nice to Vlad. He's your new best friend.

HENRY: Sure.

PAPA: And remember, stay away from the transformer. You got that?

HENRY: Yes dad.

PAPA: Damn straight.

Mama smacks Papa on the arm and gives him a "stop that shit" look. Parents exit, leaving the boys to play.

Henry goes back to playing with his magnifying glass, somewhat ignoring Vlad.

VLAD: So whattcha doin?

HENRY: Frying ants.

VLAD: Cool.

HENRY: It's hard though. They won't be still.

VLAD: Maybe we should get something that would sit still.

HENRY: Like what?

VLAD: I don't know. A piece of wood?

HENRY: Mmm nah, I like ants better.

Henry tries some more, Vlad watches.

VLAD: Ooh, there's a straggler, get that one.

Henry aims the deadly rays at the ant Vlad pointed out.

VLAD: That's it, you got him! Hold it steady!

HENRY: Just a little more...

A plume of smoke rises from the patio. Henry and Vlad cheer. United by their ant-burning efforts, they are now buds.

HENRY: That was awesome.

VLAD: He just burned right up.

HENRY: He's not even there anymore. He's completely gone.

VLAD: That was so cool.

HENRY: You wanna try one?

VLAD: Sure.

Henry hands over the magnifying glass. Vlad makes a few half-hearted attempts, but seems distracted by the Transformer.

VLAD: Say, what's that thing.

HENRY: That's the transformer.

VLAD: The thing your dad said to stay away from?

HENRY: Yeah. He always does that, and I don't know why. I have no interest in going anywhere near it.

VLAD: We should check it out.

HENRY: What for? You heard my dad.

VLAD: Don't you know that when grown-ups say not to do something, it's because it's something really cool that they want to keep from you?

HENRY: But my dad said to leave it alone. And my dad knows everything.

VLAD: Come on, let's just go have a look at it.

HENRY: I don't know.

But Vlad is already on the move. He walks across the yard towards the squat green box. Henry starts to follow, but doesn't go very far.

VLAD: Are you coming?

HENRY: I don't know, I don't think--

VLAD: (now up to the Transformer) Hey, there's a bunch of buttons back here.

HENRY: Maybe we should leave 'em alone. My dad said--

VLAD: Hey, screw your dad, okay? I'm pushing these buttons.

HENRY: I don't think that's such a good--

VLAD: (pushing buttons) Wow, you should really check this out.

HENRY: Vlad, maybe we should stick to burning ants.

VLAD: I wonder what these do.

As if in response, the Transformer suddenly begins shaking and generating a series of mechanical sounds. Robotic legs sprout from its bottom, lifting the box off of the ground. Arms extend from the sides, which in turn sprout hands. Various panels open, lights blip on and off, gears turn, until a headless robot towers above them.

HENRY: Holy fucking shit.

The boys are in terrified awe. All is quiet for a moment until, with a horrible wheeze of hydraulics, the thing's head emerges from the box that previously sat on the ground, which is now the robot's torso.

VLAD: See! I told you! Your dad told you to stay away from it because he didn't want you to know he had his own robot!

HENRY: That asshole!

TRANSFORMER: Scanning vicinity.

The Transformer scans the backyard and spots Vlad close by.

VLAD: I think it sees me. Hi there. My name's Vlad. What's your name?

TRANSFORMER: Target located. Proceed with neutralization.

The Transformer whips out a laser cannon and shoots Vlad dead. Vlad falls to the ground with an agonized scream and lays there twitching, which he continues to do for a long while.


TRANSFORMER: Target neutralized. Continue scanning.

Henry hides behind a stack of lawn chairs. The Transformer walks towards him.

TRANSFORMER: Possible target detected. Proceed with destruction.

The Transformer aims where Henry is hiding just as Mama and Papa step outside. Mama has a toy lightsaber while Papa wields a Lazer Tag gun.

MAMA: Over here motherfucker.

The Transformer turns towards Mama and Papa.

TRANSFORMER: New targets detected.

The Transformer fires repeatedly at Mama, who waves the lightsaber around like she's blocking the laser beams or something.

MAMA: I can't hold him much longer!

PAPA: I got him!

Papa fires at the Transformer.

TRANSFORMER: Trouble a'brewin. Not feeling well.

The robot makes a series of distressed mechanical sounds and falls to its knees.

TRANSFORMER: Night night.

With those final words, the robotic beast crashes to the ground, dead.

PAPA: Jesus.

MAMA: Is Vlad okay?

Papa checks Vlad's pulse. Henry emerges from his hiding place. Vlad is still twitching.

PAPA: He's dead.

MAMA: I thought we told you to leave the Transformer alone.

HENRY: I didn't....Vlad said--

PAPA: Oh sure, blame the dead kid who can't speak up for himself.

HENRY: But I didn't--!

MAMA: We'll talk about this later young man. Suffice it to say, I think we've learned a little lesson today, hmmm?

PAPA: Hmmm?

MAMA: Hmmmmm?

PAPA: Mm-hmmm!

MAMA: Mmm-hmmm!

PAPA: You heard your mother. Go to your room.

The traumatized Henry exits into the house, most likely to sit in a dark corner of his room and rock back and forth.

MAMA: Well I think that might've done the trick.

PAPA: I think so. (to Vlad) Hey, you can get up now.

Vlad lays there, still twitching.

MAMA: Hey, Vladimir. You can get up now.

Vlad lifts his head. He now speaks with a deeper voice.

VLAD: That's it?

MAMA: That's it. You got his money baby?

PAPA: (paying Vlad) There you go. Worth every penny.

VLAD: Thank you very much.

PAPA: Wow, you're really amazing.

MAMA: Your mommy and daddy must be really proud of you.

VLAD: My mommy and--? I'm not a kid lady, I just look young.

MAMA: Oh. Well keep up the acting, you've got a gift.

VLAD: What? I'm older than you for Christ's sakes. I just have this condition where I stay young looking.

PAPA: Oh, so you're a midget?

VLAD: I'm not a fucking midget asshole! I have a condition! A medical condition!

PAPA: Okay! Sorry!

VLAD: I fought in Vietnam bro! I was getting a doughnut when I heard Kennedy was shot! Where were you two? You weren't even thought about yet, that's where!

MAMA: Okay dude! I think we got your point.

VLAD: Sorry, I'm's tough being a fifty-something actor in a four year old's body.

PAPA: I'll bet.

VLAD: Yeah. Well it's been fun, but I gotta boogie. Hope your kid's okay.

PAPA: Aw, he'll be fine.

MAMA: Hey, maybe you could come back next week and pretend to be his ghost?

VLAD: Sure, cost you the same.

MAMA: Hey, it's worth it for our special little guy.

PAPA: That's right.

VLAD: Just give me a call, let me know.

MAMA: Bye Vlad.

Vlad exits.

MAMA: Well I think that worked well.

PAPA: Yep. Now I just gotta get Tim and Sean over here to help me clean this thing up.

MAMA: You do that while I get the boy to therapy. It can't be easy losing your best friend after only knowing him a few minutes.

PAPA: Yeah. (kicks Transformer) Gosh, there was some warning that Sean gave me about this thing. I wish I could remember what it was. Something about self-awareness. What the hell was it?

MAMA: You got me dude.

PAPA: Ah well.

Mama and Papa exit. The Transformer twitches its hands. A few lights blip on. It raises its head and scans the area. Lights black out as we hear it whirring to life.


Sunday, January 15, 2006

The Drive-thru

So here's an amusing story from my SAHD days. I found myself at home in charge of a nearly 3 month old and a timid black dog, and not a spot of coffee in the whole place. This required me to strap little dude into the car seat and head down the road to Seattle's Best to hook it up. Henry's typically okay with the car as long as it's moving at a fairly high rate of speed. It's when you slow and stop that he makes you aware of his displeasure. So we make it down the road fine, but when I'm stopped at the drive-thru, that's when the crying starts. So here's me, sitting at the drive-thru intercom, my window down, waiting to order my coffee:

Me: Hey little fella, hey there, come on.

Drive-Thru: We'll be right with you sir.

Me: Okay, no rush. Hey little fella, it's okay.

Drive-Thru: Uh, can I help you sir?

Me: Hey little guy. Yeah, I'll have a....

You can imagine the look on the guy's face when I rolled up to his window, not to mention his response when I told him I was calling the baby "little fella" and not him.

On another note, this past Thursday the Holmes stepped into 30. I must say, the 20's were some good times, but I'm glad to be here.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

So when ya gonna have a BABY?!?!?!?!?!

So I've been working from home this week, which is no joke. It's basically like working two full-time jobs at the same time. My multi-tasking skills reached a new level yesterday when I changed a diaper during a conference call. Thank God for the mute button.

So since I've had a kid, there's this question that I've been asked by a couple of different people in a sort of indirect but totally obvious way, and it goes something like this: now that you're a parent, do you find yourself more inclined to encourage other adult couples to reproduce? The answer, my friends, is a resounding Hell No. If anything, having a kid has further solidified my belief that people who do not want kids should take all necessary measures to prevent themselves from having them. Before Hank came along, this idea was rooted in concerns about population control and also in my belief that children are not a requirement for two people who love each other to spend their lives together. Now that Hank's here though, and I see just how much time and effort and energy it takes to take care of him, and I think about what it would be like for someone who was having to do all this stuff when they didn't even want the kid in the first place, well, alls I see coming out of that situation is some pissy parents with a grudge against life and a potentially neglected kid. Sure, there are plenty of stories of unplanned pregnancies working out great, but there are millions of other stories of children who suffer just because they weren't planned for and weren't wanted. So folks, if you want to have kids, by all means go for it. But for those who don't see kids fitting into their family plan, don't do it, and feel absolutely free to tell any family or friends or any other meddlers to shut their traps when they try to put the squeeze on.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Wolk Creekin' it up

So last night, me and the Brandon hit up some Wolf Creek action. I knew nothing about this film except for the fact that it's getting rave reviews for being scary as hell and that its style supposedly hearkens back to the slasher flicks of the 70's. I didn't even know it was an Australian film. But it was being touted for its scariness, so off we went.

Any time I watch a movie like Wolf Creek, I find myself wondering the same thing: if I, the Holmes, were to find myself in a situation resembling the leadup to the scary part of a horror movie, would I get my guard up sufficiently, ready to fend off any evil that comes my way? Or would I, like a soon-to-be hacked up teenager, reassure myself and those around me that everything's cool, we're gonna be okay, just chill out?

So afterwards, me and the B. compared notes:

Things we liked:

The style felt really natural, particularly the dialogue. You don't typically notice the dialogue or its delivery in a horror flick except for when it's just atrociously cheesy or downright ridiculous, but in this case it all felt very real and natural. No unnecessary attempts at being overly clever. It was as if the script consisted not of a series of lines, but of a series of scene descriptions giving the actors guidelines about what needed to happen in the scene.

The landscape - Holy shit, that was one of the scariest parts. The characters were stuck in the farthest reaches of the Australian outback, and they showed these amazing shots of barren nothing, not a human soul for miles. If you've ever driven through West Texas at night, you have some idea.

Much tension - As any good horror movie must do, this one succeeded with creating some incredibly tense scenes.

And finally, there were several bits of the unexpected. In this case, I'm not talking about unexpected in terms of just stuff happening that you don't see coming. I mean that they let events occur that you typically don't see in horror films. Horror is steeped in standards and conventions that its viewers are trained like attack dogs to recognize and respond to. It's always nice when those expectations are fucked with a bit.

Things we disliked:

In spite of the natural feel, there were several events that occurred that just seemed really out of place. Brandon picked up on more of these than I did, but I spotted a few. Most of these fell into the "stupid fucking character doesn't even know he's in a horror movie" category, where they do something so dumb you just want to be the jackass who yells at the screen.

At the end, things sort of petered out. I mean, the story had an ending, but it wasn't all that satisfying. I typically chalk this up to the fact that we've been trained to expect certain things out of the end of a story, particularly a movie....a big climax, a nice tie-up, tie-in, all the pieces tied together with a nice pretty bow. Still, it did just kind of....stop. Since the film was "based on actual events" (whatever that means) they may have been trying to stick to a certain set of facts, which maybe hampered them in the end. Dunno.

The preview for the remake of "When A Stranger Calls" - it looked really stupid, and they gave away a ton of great moments. I mean, sure, it's a remake and everybody knows what happens, but that doesn't mean you have to show us how those moments manifest themselves in this new version.

Things we disagreed on:

Mmm, I don't think we got around to discussing that before I realized it was all late and I should get home.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

So this is my, let's see, second and a half week of vacation, my second as a SAHD taking care of little dude whilst Mrs. Wife finishes out her term with St. Hed's. "Good God, Holmes!" you gasp. "Whatever do you do with so much time on your hands?!" Well, my first response is that anyone asking such a question has obviously never been a stay at home parent. Time? What are you, stupid? Between feeding him, changing him, playing with him, trying to get him to nap, picking him back up when he awakens the very instant I set him down, and yelling at the dogs to shut the fuck up, I find that I eat most of my meals one handed and standing up.

Insults aside, I have found time to do a few non baby related things, ie staying up late reading and eating cereal. Going to the gym late at night. Not shaving. Showering infrequently. Reading Chuck Palahniuk and books about software requirements. And then days like today when I find myself delving particularly deep into blogland, specifically into blogs of a socio-political nature. Most of the blogs I visit on a regular basis (that is, those that are by people other than my friends) tend to be those that align somewhere along my field of belief. We all need validation, to know that there are others out there who see things the way we do, lest we begin to think ourselves crazy. Thus, I tend to check out Daily Kos, The Rude Pundit, Wonkette, and James Wolcott, among others, and then the Baldo Lady for a good dose of parenting humor and honesty (btw, her book ROCKS). Today however, after a series of clicks I found myself looking at a post by one Mr. Roger L. Simon, which referenced a blog posting at neo-neocon, which was in response to this article in The American ThinkerBookworm Room. The primary theme of these posts has to do with the difficulties that self-proclaimed (or in some cases unproclaimed) neo-conservatives have with speaking up about their political views due to fears of being ostracized by left-leaning friends and colleagues. The argument goes that most liberals are too closed-minded to accept viewpoints that differ from their own. "Ho ho ho, isn't it ironic? They call themselves liberals, but they have closed minds? Yeah I really do think." Eesh, how many times have we heard that one.
by a contributor to

Now let me just say, I don't typically delve into politics on this blog. I originally started this thing as a place to showcase some of my work as a playwright and to write about what-the-shit ever I pleased, which as of late has been pretty much just my newborn kiddo -- cripes, I don't think I've mentioned theater or playwriting in ages. But anyway, without trying too hard, you can find any number of people writing about politics much better than I can. In fact, one of the other playwrights in Loaded Gun Theory has written several plays that are overtly political because that is his real and true passion. I've wondered in the past if I should take my own theatrical writing in that direction, but I've since decided that doing something just to "be political" is ridiculously juvenile. You can't create based on passion you don't have.

For some reason, however, I feel compelled to respond to these articles. The first thing I'll say is that, in one respect, I actually agree with each of these writers. You're right to say that many liberals are very closed-minded. But the reason for that has less to do with a liberal mindset and more to do with the fact that many people are closed-minded. Just because you've been shunned by liberals does not mean that the left has a monopoly on inflexibility. Me, I live in Austin, Texas, and while this may get labelled a hippie town and this county typically votes blue, I'll remind you that we are surrounded by miles and miles of red (Texas is big, yo). Driving down any given Austin highway or street, you're just as likely to see a "W" sticker affixed to the back of an F-150 as you are a "W" sticker on the back of a Prius. Opinions you'll find in this beautiful city go as far to the right as they do to the left. And yet somehow, we manage not to erupt into a mushroom cloud of spontaneously combusted animosity.

And just to get it out of the way, in case you were wondering, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I do indeed identify with the liberal left. But I say that only out of a sense of fairness, to fill you in a little bit about who's writing the words you're reading here. This is not a left vs. right commentary. This isn't going to devolve into a listing of factoids about the evils of the right wing which will close with a decisive Cypress Hill-esque "BOO-YA!" It's just that, as I read these articles (and I did read them, along with a lot of their comments) I just thought to myself about how both sides of the political spectrum tend to accuse each other of the same exact things again and again.

  • "Liberals/Conservatives are so closed-minded, they can't even handle a civil debate."
  • "Liberals/Conservatives are so stupid."
  • "Liberals/Conservatives are so uninformed. They get their information from biased sources."
  • "Democrats/Republicans can't see the big picture, they only see things in black and white."
  • "That fucking hippie/fascist asshole is only a Democrat/Republican because his/her parents were. I bet he/she has never even thought about what he/she really believes in."

Now assuming that there are more than just robots reading this blog, I know that I'm inviting any number of people to shoot any number of factoids at me that support why any of the above statements are true for one side or the other. And I know, I KNOW that any of them could be argued to be true, but the fact is that they can be applied to members of both sides of the debate. I've seen it myself, uninformed conservatives, liberals with a black and white view, and plenty of stupidity all around. We can go back and forth all day long pointing to examples of members of each side committing any number of indiscretions. "Look at what this Republican did." "Oh yeah, well it's no better than what this Democrat did." "Oh but that was reported inaccurately by that publication which has shown itself to have a bias in that direction." Christ, it's endless.


Right, the point. Yes. Let's back up from politics for just a second and try to wrap our minds around something bigger, and maybe I'll get to something resembling a point. I am not a liberal because I live in Austin or because I was raised in a liberal household or because I like the color blue more than red. It's not because I prefer the Daily Show to the O'Reilly Factor or because I hate Bush or love Clinton or because I think the Democratic party is so much more honorable than the Republicans. Because that type of reasoning would be backwards. Anyone deciding their politics based on items like these is building their house on sand. My decisions, my feelings about the above items and so many more are informed not by the fact that I can be labelled a liberal, but by the values I have come to believe in during my time so far on this earth. I believe that all people deserve to be free, and in the old saying that one person's freedom ends where the next person's begins. I believe in people and the environment over profits and wealth. I believe that families come in many shapes and sizes and that they all have the right to exist without persecution. I believe that violence must always be the absolute last option in resolving conflict, and even then it is an impermanent solution. And simply, I believe that government should serve the people, not the other way around. These points of view and the conclusions they lead to on any number of issues, at least the ones I come to, have come to be labelled "liberal" by whatever societal labelling mechanisms are in place. I think "liberal" and "conservative" are actually pretty inaccurate labels, but we can talk semantics another day.

So to the authors of the aforementioned articles, my response to you is, Tough. We are all of us free to believe as we wish and to express or not express those beliefs, but none of us are guaranteed an ideal response. If it's any consolation, there are liberals all over the red parts of Texas and beyond that know exactly how you feel. The world would undoubtedly be a better place if people could get past the countless labels that we use to separate ourselves from each other, but we've probably a bit more evolving as a society before we get there.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Stand your ass up, dad

I swear to God, my kid can totally tell the difference between when I'm standing and when I'm sitting, and he much prefers me standing. Even in his angelic sleep state, he can tell. I'll be walking around with him, doing the Daddy Wants Baby To Relax Maybe Even Sleep dance, and sure enough he'll relax, even sleep, but then if I bop on over to the couch and sit down, all the while attempting to maintain the motions I was doing while standing, then little dude gets upset again. I stand up, he calms down immediately. I swear, I need a computer desk that will rise to my standing height and lower back to sitting position at the push of a button. The fact that I've been granted enough time to write this entry tells you, dear reader, that little Hank is quite deep in sleep.

Where are they now, indeed

So this is the New Year and all, and I feel a strange compulsion to write something that gently sums up the past year while looking to the next with a note of optimism and humor, but the fact is I got nuthin. Or rather, I just don't feel like writing anything resembling that type of thing.

I will say, however, that I do get the occasional reminder that I am getting older. Por ejemplo, whilst at the gym last night being subjected to the sounds of whiny white boy "why doesn't she like me and my tattoos?!?!" crap rock, I realized that in my head, I was quoting this guy. Jeez, what does it mean when parody becomes your sincerity?