A Bowl of Stupid

(Me - jalan-jalanning in Nembralla)

Continuing with my lazy-ass attempt to reply to the few people who still actually read — or, more likely, inadvertently stumble upon — this blog, I offer the following emails, and my responses:

'Drew' wrote, asking:

"What doe the tattoo on your back mean? Where did you get it from??"

The tattoo is written in Tibetian Sanscrit, and it means "Oh Mani Padme Hum' — you can go check out this website for a more complete description/meaning (cuz frankly, as has been previously established, I'm just too lazy). I got the tattoo in a shop in South Miami Beach (I think on the corner of Washington and 7th street).

Rhonda from the blog 'Smashed Ham Sandwiches' (whatever the hell that means) wrote, in part:

Funny thing, I have a "Bowl of Stupid" on my page. Not nearly as interesting as yours. I ran across the saying on a t-shirt somewhere a few years back and it has stuck with me as one of my favorites ever since. …I have to admit I can admire a man that is so adventurous, such as yourself.

Actually, I just wrote the good part, she kinda tore me a new asshole — something about my plagerizing from T.V. shows or something… Nah, I'm kidding, Rhonda was quite nice — go check out her blog when you get the chance. And thanks Phonda, I'm sure you'll make it out of Michigan some day. If you choose to head out this way and have any questions, feel free to ask me.

And finally (for now), I got this email several weeks ago from Kevin in Australia (with my answers to his 'several' questions in bold):

How's things? I found your blog when looking for information about krui. Some good reading there. Very jealous of your travels. I've thrown in the job a couple of times myself but only made it a year a time… but then the need for stabilty kicks in and I find myself back in normal life. Anyway, I'm off to krui on Friday. Have got my flight booked to Jakarta but that's about all. Would appreciate your help with some questions if you have the time.

Did you prebook your flight to bandar lampung? No, I bought a ticket from the Merpati office in the Jakarta airport. It's about the same price as pre-booking, and you don't have to worry about missing connecting flight, etc. which airline did you go with? Merpati Airlines — unless Adam Air is back up and running, they're the only gig in town. Any recommendation for an airport hotel for the Jakarta stopover? Yeah, the airport hotel — granted, it's US$100/night, but after board storage, taxi rides, the 45-60 minutes in and back to town, the cost of hotels in town themselves, and other general shit, it's really worth the money not to deal with the hastle. You walk 30 meters from one gate to the hotel, then another 40 meters to the Merpati counter.

How much cash would you recommend changing for a week in Krui? Actually, don't recommend changing ANY cash. I would reccomend getting around 3 million rupiah from an ATM in Bandar Lampung (not including cost of transport to/back from Krui itself). figure I will head to a main town once a week to stock up on supplies and cash. Do it right afte rflight, since Bandar Lampung is the only town with a working ATM, western-style markets, etc. for 4-5 hour in any direction from Krui — so there you go.

What were your favourite breaks? Karang Nymbor ad Drew's Right. I'm a bit worried about hitting the reef… is it generally deep enough to avoid injury if one gumbies the takeoff? Dude, I can't answer that — if you're surfing a reef break, you ALWAYS need to watch out. It's not Desert Point, G-Land, or Pipe … but it's a big clumps of living rock .. and hitting that pretty much always hurts (from what I've heard - I obviously am way to skilled to ever have gotten scraped up on a reef … ahem).

Kev, I'm sorry about the late response, I was in Rote with no internet for a month, and then when I got back home to Bangkok, I had to deal with some personal stuff (including wrestling my new surfboard back from the airlines), then I had a friend visiting from out of town, and finally, I had some prior appointments with a 'relaxation therepist' that I needed to attend to.

I'm guessing you're already IN Krui area by now, so my answers my not be of any help. Sorry. But if you are there, and you happen to run in to some Scottish guy named Malcolm (he's not actually Scottish, I just like messing with him), tell him I said 'hey.' Hope you're getting some tasty waves. Cheers, mate.

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There's an interesting subtext — a conundrum — underlying this whole 'blogging' business.

For me, blogging began as an attempt to capitalize on my interest in the Internet (read: 'computer geek') — through the use of online advertising and retail. That idea went the way of the dodo when I made the decision to abandon the capitalistic American existence for a few years, in favor of a more simplistic life in the tropics of Southeast Asia.

At that point, blogging essentially morphed into nothing more than an easy way to memorialize my trip — physically and emotionally — and maybe make available some information about the places I'm visiting, mainly for myself, my friends and family, and anyone else with an Internet connection and a shit-load of free time on their hands.

Unknowingly (and unintentionally), this blog has also become useful in another way. When meeting people abroad, rather than handling out my phone number, email address, or other typical contact information, it's infinitely easier to write or tell people to look up my website.

In my case, I'm not sure if they feel it's an accurate description of me (the most likely scenario) or what, but the name of this blog tends to stick in peoples heads like a dull butter knife.

This is obviously a good thing. It's easily allowed me to maintain contact with people I've met from all around the globe (most of them Swedish, for some god-forsaken reason). However, it also allows a greater, albeit not complete, view of my persona to people who may not otherwise get an unfettered glimpse of my full persona until later on into a friendship.

It is for that reason more than any other that I've changed how I write this blog.

Before I revealed my true identity (yes, I am a fuckin' superhero - so shaddap) and started using this site as my own 'Universal Business Card' ("Call me!"), I tended to write bitter and scathing posts about politics, pop culture, celebrities, and a number of other divisive issues.

But I've since tried to tone down the content of this blog, so as not to offend any of the people I've met, or may meet, either with different views than mine or otherwise infected by the 'politically correctness' dictating the terms of conversations with people from the States and Europe.

Indeed, I've already had one acquaintance ask me, upon reading this site, why I hated India (and Indians) so much. After pointing out the dirty hippy's and the innumerable burning trash heaps, as well as the debilitating viral infection I picked up there, I found myself apologizing (and feeling guilty for appearing as yet another Eurocentric racist). The same goes for many other issues, as well — even music.

In trying to tone down my vacuously sardonic sense of humour (admittedly, a humour that quickly wears thin and most persons with an IQ greater than 70 don't understand to begin with), I've wound up unintentionally offending, and being overly-apologetic towards, more people than I otherwise would, because I've unknowingly disregarded their political sensitivities — both online and in the real world.

Who knows, maybe I've just been hanging out with too many Ozzies. Whatever.

While talking the other night with a friend (coincidentally, yet another Swede — I swear, they're everywhere), we got to the whole topic of maintaining a blog. Somewhere during the course of the conversation, I remembered how the word 'blog' is the shortened version of the term 'web log' — as in a personal log … about your personal ideas, experiences, and relations.

In that regard, unless they're selling something (ahem), if someone feels comfortable enough to post all their personal shit online anyway, what's the point in censoring material to possibly placate the sensibilities of people who won't understand the verse, or the underlying motivations. Admittedly, we do not live in a vacuum, and it's simply good manners not to knowingly offend people — 'do unto others' and all that.

I agree with that sentiment entirely, and I sincerely try to live my life in that manner. But there are limits — especially in the context of writing your personal thoughts vis a vis a semi-private forum on the Internet.

With that said, I will say this one more time for anyone paying attention — I've got some fucked up personal views, I live a different kind of life than most, and I have some brash and (often times unfunny) humour. I know I'm not a racist, a misogynist, or an evil vapid soul (most nobody is, really). But I will apologize up front if anything I say may come across as offensive or insensitive.

I'm writing this shit for me as much as for you. So I will write how, when, and about, whatever-the-fuck I want. Just as I really don't know you, you really can't know me simply by reading the stupid, random shit I may throw up on some website from time to time.

I know I've raised this issue before in the past, whenever I lose track of why I'm even writing this shit. But once again, it's my fucking website, and I thought it was about time for another reminder.

P.S. This is the maid speaking.

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I finally made it!! After weeks of abusive viral infections and neo-hippie hombres, I'm finally out of India!

And probably not a moment too soon. I swear, I thought that place was trying to kill me — dengue fever, food poisoning, the constant smoke from all the burning garbage (and people). I really do feel about 1000% better now that I'm back in Sri Lanka.

Not that THAT process itself wasn't a bit of a ball-buster. First, I had to spend about 4-5 hours on a train from Cochin to Thiruvananthapuram (affectionately called 'Trivandrum'), seemingly stopping at every backwater hole-in-the-wall en route. I tried to eat and drink as little as possible during that time, which made me kinda weak, too. That may seem a bit much, but my stomach was still 'bothering me' [ahem], and if you see the hole in the bottom of the train they euphemistically call a 'toilet', you'll understand my aversion.

I couldn't sleep in a hotel in town, because thanks to the local Kerala Communist leadership, the next day — the actual day of my flight — the locals were staging a 'fuel strike' protesting the fuel cost hike, so no taxis, tuk-tuks, or anything motorized would be able to take me to the airport. When I asked someone about catching a random taxi working outside the strike, I was told I didn't want to do that just in case it got stopped by an angry mob. Nice.

So instead, I went to the airport the early morning beforehand and I was able to get a nice 1-2 hour nap in the front lobby of the Trivandrum airport. Then, when it was finally time to check it, I had to wait another 8 hours in the airport while my flight was delayed. Shit, at that point, I honestly felt like the country was trying to keep me there - just to finish off the job.

The good news is that we eventually made it onto the 45 minute flight to Colombo, Sri Lanka. The bad news is that we arrived at 1:30 a.m. I somehow finagled my way into getting a free ride from the airport to Colombo (about 1 hour away), at which time I slept on the front steps of the Colombo train station for another couple hours until the station opened at 5:30 a.m.

Yes, I know this is the same train station that was bombed by Tamil Tiger separatists — killing dozens — just weeks ago. Yes, I know it probably wasn't the smartest of ideas sleeping on the front steps of a public train station in downtown Colombo. But fuck it, I made it out of India alive — at that point, I felt absolutely invincible. Exhausted, but invincible.

I caught the 6:30 a.m. train down to Mirissa, where I am again — at Dinu's Resort. I'm still a bit too 'blech' to eat anything, but it's nice to be back in a place where the only things actively trying to kill you are the terrorists.

I got a couple surfs in yesterday before crashing for about 13 hours. I hope to have at least one more before I have to begin the 5 hour trek back up to the Colombo/Negombo airport for my 5:00 a.m. flight to Bangkok tomorrow morning.

I'm already really happy to be back in Sri Lanka. But I REALLY can't wait to get back to Thailand. Sawadee kap, bitches!

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Motherfucker.

I had a 'doctor' dig out a vast majority of the heel of my right foor, and he STILL didn't get the last two 2.0-2.5 centimenter long sea urchin spikes residing in my foot for the better part of a week now. It was only after hitting the surf and then treating the wounds with a lime that Paul was able to extract them.

The infection is pretty well gone, as are all the spikes (I think/hope). Thanks for the well wishes, all.

And YES, I was bloody well wearing booties! They mean nothing to sea urchins. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some surfing to do…

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'The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.'
-Bob Harris

I know who I am, … And I know what I want, …

And it was called yellow.

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I'm back in the States, and although I'm keeping good company (well, mostly, that is*), I am having a particularly tough time reconciling my travels over the past several months with what's going on around me here in my 'home country.'

There are a variety of issues flying around my head right now, many of which I staunchly refuse to discuss on a public forum such as this. However, there are some peripheral matters I do think necessary to address — if only to raise with the 4-5 people still reading this blog, my ongoing exercise in rhetorical masturbation.

The first issue I am really having problems with is the overwhelming sense of arrogance, entitlement, and just plain fucking gluttony that absolutely RULES the American psyche. Indeed, this view permeates every single aspect of the American culture - most of which I personally never saw before I left.

I have been made aware that my complaints and disillusionment with that culture may also be the simple byproduct of my own unjustified arrogance over everyone else here in the States grumbling about their everyday lives, yet who still resign themselves to such simple '9 to 5′ existences.

Shit, if I weren't better than them, then everyone I've met would themselves be doing what I'm doing instead of simply congratulating me for doing it myself … right? (That was a rhetorical question, please no need for comments).

Regardless of the cause (or the effect, for that matter), the results are the same — my seemingly endless supply of disgust at how far Americans have seemingly let themselves slip into the comfortable glove of self-entitlement and gluttony, no matter in what shape or form I find that view being presented:

• Whether it be the flippant willingness to pay more for a bottle of distilled tap water as does a family of 4 to live on for weeks in various third-world countries (most of which I obviously haven't even scratched the surface) — this, despite the fact that potable water sources are available at their fingertips, quite literally.
• Whether it be in the form of arguing, fighting, or losing patience with minor issues or items that, in said third world countries, would be considered luxuries of unfathomable depths (the idea of 'road rage' or other matters relating to waiting in cue, to me now seems absolutely idiotic).
• Whether it be in the form of suburbanites, businesspersons, housewives or students spending (again) thousands of dollars just to learn how to relax more and work less, and live their lives better — the same way as many I've met in Indonesia, Thailand, and elsewhere do just as a matter of course, although they get ridiculed by many of those same Westerners for being seemingly slow and unproductive.
• Whether it be in the form of an entire (Western) civilization trying to lose weight, eat better, exercise more, and simply be healthier — all the while ignoring the underlying problems that have led to the problem. Indeed, I find it particularly ironic seeing people working themselves into a frenzy about work, or school, or whatever, and then thinking a 45 minute yoga class will relax them. (Shit, I find it even more comical to see people sitting in an office for 8-10 hours/day, and then driving to a gym 2 blocks away that they've paid US$50.00/month to attend, just so they can go ride the stationary bike or treadmill).
• Whether it be pseudo-environmentalists — regardless of how good their intentions may be — trying to recycle bottles and paper, to reduce water usage, and to refrain from disposing of litter on the street, all the while unthinkingly contributing more to the global environmental issues than they could ever possibly rectify without seriously altering their entire lives (but that would mean they would have to be cold, or hot, or dirty, or with bugs, or … something).

  Shit, I sometimes think that the bigger SUV they've got, the more angry they get about seeing someone throw a biodegradable paper cup to the side of the road rather than in a litter bin. I wonder just how enraged some of those people would get at seeing the Indonesian (and Thais, and Cambodians, and so on and so on …) simply burning their refuse on the side of the road, since those Americans conveniently forgot those people produce billions of tons LESS rubbish than they do.

Again, I am not unaware that much of my disgust in regard stems from my own pretension. But it's still there, and it doesn't really seem to be getting better. In fact, the longer I'm here (again, despite how beautiful my immediate company), it seems to be getting worse, and my desire to get back to Asia is growing stronger (indeed, it's been pointed out to me that I am saying 'hi' to all the Asians we pass on the street, but not the Caucasians — yes, apparently I'm a racist).

The only good news in all of this is the fact that, for the first time in a long while, I've got something helping me to temper my disgust. Hopefully, that temperament will continue, and round off some of the rough edges that have taken shape over the past few years.

–

*C'mon TK, did you really think that just cuz we had nice time over a few beers that I'd stop trying to piss you off?

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All of you goddamn parasites — just keep yer damn hands off!!! (Cough, cough, gollum, gollum … Gollum, gollum, cough).

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We will bring the world of normals to its knees! We will build an empire so brilliant, so glorious, we will be the envy of the whole planet!

He has returned! The Anti-Christ has returned! (via Best Week Ever)

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(Yours truly, with a portion of my new tattoo showing — it's a big triangular doohickey, with 10 smaller individual triangles, each representing the countries I've been to so far. Given the design, it leaves room for additional countries as I continue to travel. The necklace I'm wearing I got from a guy on Lombok who makes them out of clams — he puts a kernel of sand on the inside of the shell and comes back for it in a year or so, after which he cuts and polishes the shell containing the "half-pearl." I got it for about US$10.00.)

I’ll continue about my Indo trip in the next posts, but something that happened during my trip made me decide to write this entry – despite the possible repercussions.

As I mentioned elsewhere, after surfing and“camping” at Desert Point with a couple of Aussies for a number of days, I’ve taken up traveling with them for as long as we all see fit. However, it was only well after we made the decision to travel together that we (well, Mick more than I) realized that we had not even been introduced and did not even know each others’ names.

Given the circumstances, it seemed somewhat silly.

Such is also the case with this blog. While I’ve been writing, and a number of people have (presumably) been reading it for some time now, but for a select few fellow bloggers, I’ve never properly introduced myself. Early on in the blog, I even had people write and ask me if I was a man or women (aww yeah, I’m all man, baby!).

Initially, I chose to maintain my anonymity for fear of potential repercussions to my legal (or other potential) career.

After that ship sailed (and subsequently sank), I chose to maintain relative anonymity because it allows me to write with a certain forcefulness I may not have otherwise had the ability to use for fear of offending friends, family, stalkers, etc.

But given the direction taken by my life, and correspondingly, this blog, all of those reasons seem somewhat superfluous. Indeed, I’ve even started publishing pictures of myself in Singapore and elsewhere. So anonymity is probably not an issue anymore.

With that, allow me to introduce myself:

My name is Matthew Kish. I am a 37 year old male American citizen. I have brown hair, brown eyes, a terminally broken nose, and a terminally crooked smile. Overall, I am terminally “average.”

I like to beleive, however, that I am gifted with an above average intellect and insight into the human condition. As such, I made the decision to rebuke at least a portion of such normality (including my house, car and the majority of my earthly possessions), and I am currently living abroad in Southeast Asia and Oceania, with what I like to think of as a “home-base” in Singapore.

I was born and raised in Philadelphia by two loving parents who are still together after almost 45 years of marriage (personally, I think it’s only because my Dad’s hearing is gone … but I kid, I kid). I have one sister that used to be a broadcast journalist and now lives in Florida with her husband and their two little girls.

I left Philly in 1987 for Arizona, where I attended Arizona State for 4 years (or so) and graduated in 1991. After I graduated, I held several jobs in Arizona, Seattle, Portland, and Alaska – working on, among other things, various fishing and crabbing boats – before starting law school in San Diego in August 1993. I graduated law school in December 1995 (I did law school in 2.5 years, rather than the normal 3, as I thought it would help my prospects in the job market … yah, not so much).

I then worked at several small law firms in the San Diego area until moving to California’s Central Valley following the tailstrings of a then-serious girlfriend (cough, cough, bitch, cough). And while that move was a mistake on a variety on levels, it allowed me the opportunity to hone my legal skills at what I now know is a fairly decent law firm (it also allowed me to meet a variety of other people of whom I will always think fondly).

I eventually got tired of the very rural Central Valley and chose to move to South Florida, ostensibly to be closer to my sister and her then-new family (the main reason, however, was because I had lived in the other "3 corners" of the United States and I wanted to finish out the series). While there were issues with the ostensible purposes of that move as well, that also led me to meet friends in Miami for whom I also care deeply, and now consider family.

I lived in South Florida for 7 years practicing law and living an altogether over-indulgent lifestyle until last June, when I left my job and decided I did not want to practice law anymore and started, among other things, an over-indulgent personal blog — before I left the States to live abroad.

And I think that pretty much brings us up to speed. If you're interested in anything else, may I suggest you start at the beginning of this particular work of crap, and work your way back to this present post.

Sorry if I’ve bored you, but I just thought I should introduce myself before we move onward.

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After resting and taking a few laps in the pool on Monday, I woke up today by visiting some of my regular online sources for news and entertainment — at which time, I was treated to even more good news.

First and foremost, I saw that finally, FINALLY, saner heads are prevailing down at Gitmo, where on Monday, military judges dismissed charges Monday against 2 Guantanamo detainees. In particular, the courts ruled that, in direct contradiction to the ever illogical position of the Bush Administration, the detainees are "not subject to this commission" under legislation passed by Congress and signed by Bush last year. Thank fucking god. Maybe this signals the first of many steps for the U.S. government to regain whats left of its dignity.

Second, I saw that there is indeed still hope that the upcoming Transformers live action movie may indeed be worth seeing (shit, I knew there was a reason I put them at the top of my MySpace friends list). If the rest of the movie has effects like this stuff, I may even be able to cleanse my mind of the crappy-CGI cryfest that was Spiderman 3.

And finally, there seems to be hope — finally — that we can all live longer, healthier lives with this great new "skin" tightening product (if the advert itself doesn't completely offend you).

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I left Miami today, en route to Phoenix, Las Vegas and L.A. before leaving for Singapore and Indonesia.

I made the (now-questionable) decision of renting a trailer to haul all of my remaining possessions to Phoenix attached to the back of my Jeep Wrangler.

The majority of these possessions include my living room furniture, which I will be giving to my friend in Phoenix, ostensibly as payment for him storing my Jeep and the 8 or so milk crates that now hold the remainder of my personal possessions — mainly books, clothes, surf-wax, and assorted water-pipes.

My Jeep is of the open-air kind. I have removable doors, removable soft-canvas "windows," as well as canvas "bikini-tops" for the roof and the rear seats. As a result, I am always a victim of the weather, to some extent or another, depending on how many of those items I choose to install on any given day.

Today, I started my trip with only the bikini tops — which were fine until I got the the middle of the State, around Orlando. That's when the swarm of mutant mosquitoes were released from the Military Weapons Research Facility.

I swear to fucking god, I was driving 60 MPH in an open air Jeep Wrangler towing a 2000 pound trailer and, in a matter of less than a minute, the air outside (which obviously also included the air inside) got so thick with huge swarming mosquitoes that, for a split second, I literally thought they were a CGI production from the guys at Industrial Light & Magic (yes, I know I need to stay away from Sci-FI films for a bit).

Upon regaining my tenuous grasp on reality, I was forced to get off at the nearest exit and put on the doors and the remaining canvas tops in a vain attempt to stay the mutant insect horde, all to no avail.

Indeed, right now, I'm in a hotel room outside Pensacola, and I still have bugs emerging from various bags, pockets and crevices (not a word, Manny, I know what you're thinking, sicko). In fact, I'd never considered the need for fumigating my hair until now.

Moreover, as I mentioned previously, most of the State of Florida is - quite literally - on fire. The smoke has dissipated, for the most part, in South Florida. Not so much elsewhere (everywhere) in the State. In fact, the visibility in the upper panhandle was anywhere from 30 to 100 feet in most areas, where I could actually see the glow of the fires from the highway.

This extensive fire and smoke also made for particularly fun driving conditions in an open air vehicle. Everything I was wearing - hell, everything I own - now smells like I was hanging out at a bonfire making s'mores all day. Plus, after breathing that thick, nasty, gunky smoke for several hours today, I now have a newfound respect for firefighters … and people who smoke Marlboro Reds.

Last, but not least, were the hail storms. Yes, you read right — it's Florida in the middle of May, and in those parts of the state not otherwise enveloped by fire, smoke, or swarms of mutant insects, there were instead terrible storms raining down golf-ball sized hail (which, although disconcerting, admittedly did lead to inadvertently comical driving of all the elderly tourists trying to get out of the state before Lucifer himself shows up).

Yes, I've said it before and I'll say it again — Florida really is starting to resemble something from The Divine Comedy or the Garden of Earthy Delights.

Given today's events, I'm pretty sure I saw the Suwannee River running red with blood.

Can you say "happy to get out alive?"

Oh shit, I'm not out yet. Let's hold off on those types of comments until I hit Mississippi tomorrow.

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"This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man" (Hamlet, act 1, sc. 3, lines 78­80).

Considering all the horrors with which I've been inundated over the past couple days since my return to the States — the VT massacre and the associated NBC videotape debacle ranking among the top of these (both of which have left me nauseous and hastening my desire to leave for other surroundings) — I now feel a bit shallow writing a rather probing, existential post about my own personal situation.

But this is, as I have often reminded myself and others, my fucking blog and I can write anything I god-damn well please, thank you very much.

That being said, I am growing increasingly hostile towards the views I've been confronting of late by many of my friends, both here in Miami and elsewhere, about my recent life choices, as well as the effect of the lifestyle choices I have made over the past year.

• Why don't you want to practice law?
• Why would you waste a perfectly good degree you spent many years and many tens of thousands of dollars acquiring?
• Why did you get rid of your Saab?
• Why would you ever want to sell your condo on the beach?
• Why do you want to leave the paradise of Miami?

Why, why, why …

Fucking because … that's why.

As I've said before, I am tired of living for the "American Dream" (especially the coked-up, frenzied Miami version), a lifestyle that I do not now, and frankly, don't think I ever did, fully comprehend.

Moreover, somewhere down the line, that American Dream got perverted from the classic, and perfectly acceptable, dream of having "a small house with a white picket fence, 2 kids, a dog in the yard, a car in the driveway, and surrounded by nice neighbors."

As anyone living in the western world is quite aware, at this point, that classic dream of perfection no longer exists.

Rather, that dream is instead one of making as much money as possible, whatever the moral or spiritual costs, so as to acquire a huge "McMansion" that you would be proud to show off on MTV Cribs, and would allow you to showcase your wares for the purpose of impressing as many of your neighbors as possible with such rapturous pleasures that they will instantly want to become your lifelong best friends (or at least help carry your overstuffed Neiman Marcus bags).

Once again, for any of my personal friends that may eventually wind up reading this blog, in response to your continued questions and theories as to my motives (including my good friend JB, who may indeed be correct on a blatantly Freudian level that I am "deserting society before it has a chance to desert me"):

I am tired of playing that game, BECAUSE IT IS NOT WHAT I WANT.

If my closest friends either do not understand this, or simply choose to interpret my conduct and explanations in any way other than as expressly given, I honestly don't give a shit anymore — regardless of how much I love them, which I truly do.

Moreover, at this point, I also feel the need to extend this mantra into another, even more important area of my life to which my friends have recently voiced their opposition — my personality.

I have been told that on my sunniest of days, I'm not that fun to be around. I have been told that my biting sarcasm is exceeded only by the seemingly bottomless depths of my cynicism. I have been told that I am "dark."

I have also been told that all of these traits, most of which I admit are the prime elements of my personality, are bad things:

• "You will never succeed in life by being a cynical jackass."
• "you will never find a loving mate by being dark and biting."
• "You shouldn't act that way if you want to make friends (and/or get laid)."

Once again, I do not doubt that such things have been told to me out of love, and I love my friends in return with a depth I doubt any of them fully comprehend, but I tell them this too:

I am tired of playing that game as well, BECAUSE IT IS NOT WHAT I AM.

I like those aspects of my personality.

I like being dark. I like being cynical. I like being moody. And yes I like the fact that everything seems stupid to me and it is difficult for me to find anything that entertains me. And yes, although I admittedly do not like some of the repercussions that come from my dark and cynical nature, on a visceral level I also like the feeling of moral superiority that comes with sometimes acting a jackass.

So my friends and I can continue to play our cute little games — like charging me a quid whenever I say something negative — but understand this: I like being this way and I've frankly grown weary of trying to explain myself in this regard, especially to those I love and respect.

So there it is written out in bitter black-and-white, should any of my friends chose to read it (which I hope they do, but truly doubt they will).

And finally now, in keeping with my "mocha-dark" nature, I leave with this aptly stated passage from a favorite song:

I don't think I'll be staying around here anymore. There's no question that I love you, but I'm living in my own time. And here I am, debating whether I'm wrong or right. Who are you to make a judgment of my life? You're only passing by.

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I really don't know where to begin with this one. I really don't.

While driving home the other night with a friend, we were listening to the preeminent hp-hop/rap song of all time — Rapper's Delight by the "Sugerhill Gang." I hadn't listened to it in a while, and I had forgotten just how damn good that song is.

That got me thinking about about why, for all the other music I've discussed on this site, I haven't posted about any good hip-hop/rap music that's been released lately. Not just decent hip-hop, but that same amazing, driving hip-hop that started the industry.

The thought slipped my mind until today, when I saw this article over at The Seminal about how "Hip Hop Isn’t Dying, It Just Sucks."

The author of that article makes some very good points, many of which I unconsciously have been thinking since about …. oh, June 1992.

He pointed out how the rap scene right now is chaotic, without any unity or artistic purpose; it’s just people trying to get rich.

He pointed out how hip hop, as a musical art-form, just isn’t living up to musical standards; how it’s just plain bad.

I agree with him on those, and many of his other points. However, the author also notes:

It takes a lot to “kill” a genre of music. People have been writing about the end of rock and rap since the day they were created. I’m not saying hip hop is dying or dead.

With this I disagree. Rap and hip-hop music is dead. Period. End of story.

And do you want to know just how I know this? Just watch this clip. It's one of the most disturbing videos you'll ever see next to Hayden Christensen's zombie-like portrayal of Darth Vader in Star Wars, or a commercial for fat-free mayonnaise.

Oh. My. God. Yes, rap is dead. As a doornail.

If you know someone who doesn't already hate the Bush Administration, show them this video. That should do the trick.

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I know exactly what you mean. I've been saying the same thing for years about American Idol.

(Image courtesy Modal Minority)

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They've really gotta be shitting me. I mean, really.

First, during Sean Hannity’s March 23 radio show, former New York Mayor (and New York U.S. Attorney) Rudolph Giuliani fielded phone calls from listeners. One caller asked Giuliani to clarify his stance on gun control, to which he replied, “I support the First Amendment right to carry and bear arms.”

Okay, for any others also not paying attention during "Con Law I" class, the two Constitutional Amendments at issue are as follows:

Amendment I: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Amendment II: A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Riiight. Thanks Rudy, and you're running for President of just what, exactly?

As if that wasn't comical enough, U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales's senior counselor yesterday refused to testify in the Senate about her involvement in the firings of eight U.S. attorneys, invoking her Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination. As aptly noted by the Washington Post:

The decision means a senior aide to the nation's top law enforcement official is in the remarkable position of refusing to testify for fear of implicating herself in a crime.

At least she cited the correct Amendment. It could have been worse - she could have sought refuge under the Eighteenth Amendment, but then she wouldn't have the luxury of getting liquored-up after being granted immunity.

Finally, as if the above stories weren't sufficient justification for lobotomizing all lawyers (myself included), there's this story of the Justice Department's continued efforts to mangle the U.S. justice system. In addition to the now well-publicized political firings of said U.S. attorneys, the Justice Department sought to insert a provision into the reauthorization of the USA Patriot Act that would allow the AG the power to appoint interim U.S. attorneys without Senate confirmation.

Thankfully, Congress passed a bill yesterday stripping the Justice Department and the AG of that power, which would effectively have given the President and his legal lackeys the power to hire and fire, at will, the highest law enforcement officials in the country - depending on which of Congresses laws they seek to enforce.

Well, I guess it could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you're sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.

N.B. As you can see, for some reason I'm stuck on a Fight Club/Super Friends theme this week. Sorry about that. I'm hoping it passes before I develop a taste for lobster bisque and crime-fighting.

(Via The Daily Dish)

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