New Robocop actually looks...good?!?

When first I heard of a new Robocop movie I was not excited. Another fuckin remake I thought, but this trailer changed my mind. 

Most of the concerns I had were addressed; the suit color change, laziness of script, poor acting. The trailer shows enough, without showing too much. The reworking of the plot looks intriguing.  Michael Keaton, Samuel L. muthafuckin Jackson, and Gary Oldman give me hope that they are taking this seriously, but not too seriously. As it should be. I'm sure we will get 12 more trailers before the movie comes out, but for now I'm definitely stoked.

"The worst part is I lost."

That was John McCain's response to his getting caught playing online poker during the Senate hearing on going to war against Syria.

This is unacceptable, what a worthless piece of shit. You are in a hearing deciding whether or not to send American soldiers to their deaths, and you can't be bothered to actually pay attention. You're not some college kid in a core curriculum class you don't care about, you are deciding the fate of thousands of people, possibly the world. On top of that you are at work. How many people wouldn't get fired if they were playing online poker on their phone in a meeting. To me that says you don't give a fuck about your job or the people you "represent."

Then when you get caught fucking off instead of paying attention, you crack wise about it like its no big deal. I'd like to think a war veteran and former POW would have a little more respect for his country and the men and women of the armed forces, but I guess their lives aren't as important as your video poker winnings. Were you trying to win a seat in next year's World Series?

This is worse than sexting some floozy. At least Carlos Danger did that shit in his spare time. I want to know who he was playing with. Was there a Senate wide game going on? How many of these assholes were fucking off during the hearing? I'm sure the NSA can tell us.

Fuck you John McCain. Take your job seriously or make way for someone who will.

Our Biggest Threat.

Have I ever told you about how gas stations are killing America? It’s true, the gas station is the single most destructive force to human health in the country. It contains all the necessary ingredients to destroy the American people.

First and foremost there is the gasoline, diesel, or kerosene itself. Which, let’s face it people, burning dinosaurs pollutes the shit out of our planet. From exhaust emissions to oil spills, few things contribute as much pollution to the planet as internal combustion engines. That’s just science, and only idiots argue with science. And I don't want to hear any of that methane from cow shit talk. That can be addressed by switching their diet. 

Now I do love driving, we associate driving with freedom. Freedom to go anywhere you want whenever you want. As long as you can afford the gas and a reliable car that will get you there. But can’t we do better?  I would love to drive a car that got 100MPG or didn’t even use gas. I dream of a day when recharging stations replace gas stations. Instead of filling up with gas we would fill up with water or swap batteries. How awesome would that be?

B. Cigarettes and other tobacco products. Cigarettes/cigars, chew, and snus and their ilk cause cancer. This is not up for debate. It’s fucking science. I say this as an ex-smoker who loved to smoke. But you know what I love more? Breathing and not coughing, hiking to high elevation and not having to stop every four feet to catch my breath.

 Now I don’t want to outlaw cigarettes, this is America, smoke if you want to. Our country has a long tradition of raising tobacco. But sell that shit at the local tobacco store or cigar shop. If you want to keep cigarettes out of the hands of kids, don’t make them available on every corner. Sell them in bars, liquor stores, casinos; you know places where kids can’t go.

I know some of you are saying, but the tobacco products are behind the counter where kids can’t get them. Really, you don’t know any underage kids that look old enough to buy cigarettes? You don’t know any high school kids with full beards? I’m not saying that it would totally prevent underage smoking, but it takes a lot more courage to walk into a liquor store to buy smokes, than it does to walk into the gas station and ask the kid behind the counter to sell you smokes.

That brings us to quite possibly the biggest threat to the American public: the “food” that is sold in gas stations/convenience stores. I put the word food in quotes because; let’s face it, most of that shit is barely edible let alone deserving to be called food. Yeah you can eat it, but it will probably kill you. It’s all made of highfructose corn syrup, fats, starch, glucose, sucrose, fructose, and lots of other chemicals nobody can pronounce except the assholes who invented them.

Yes I know I listed sugar four times, there is a lot of fucking sugar in gas stations. There is the ridiculous selection of candy; both bars and bags. I saw a fucking 5 pound chocolate bar for sale at a gas station during the holiday season one year. Five fucking pounds, who needs a five pound chocolate bar? The almost infinite number of bottled sugar beverages, most of which don’t even contain water anymore. Seriously, have you looked at the ingredients on a can of soda, I challenge you to find the water in it. Go ahead, I’ll wait………..you couldn’t could you unless you buy the expensive, natural or throwback sodas. I don’t think even the slushies have water in them. It’s just frozen chemicals, and forget about your favorite sports drink, it’s just sugar water. 

I don’t know which is worse, all the sugar drinks or the sugar free drinks. Aspartame is what is used in place of sugar in most of your mass marketed diet drinks, unless specified on the label as something else. Aspartame is one atom away from arsenic, molecularly. ONE ATOM! So which would you prefer, super sugar made from corn or what is essentially a poison that can kill a person with a tiny dose. Getting thirsty?

But all of this pales in comparison with the actual “food” products sold in gas stations. The breakfast sandwiches that arrive frozen are assembled, microwaved, and put under a heat lamp, the lunch sandwiches that are the same thing just without “egg,” the frozen pizza, hot dogs, tornados (rolled up tacos placed on the rolling warmer thing like hot dogs). If you look at the ingredients list of anything of these items you would be hard pressed to find anything you would recognize, let alone pronounce.

And the cashiers at these places are required to ask you if you want candy, or sodas, or anything else their corporate task masters are making them push. They know our brains are hard wired to want fat, salt, and sugar because these things occur sparingly in nature. So when our hunter-gatherer ancestors happened upon a source of one of these three, they ate as much as they could not knowing when they would find it’s like again.

Granted a person never has to set foot in a gas station/convenience store, theoretically, with pay at the pump and what not. But, that’s another thing that bothers me about gas stations. Why the fuck do they need to authorize my account for $100 when I purchased $35 worth of gas, and then not charge me for it until almost a week later! Don’t we have significant tech to allow them to charge me for the exact amount I purchased when I fucking purchased it?

I dream of a world, where gas stations are replaced by charging stations, pay at the pump charges you for what you buy when you buy it, poisonous junk “food” is replaced by healthy food, and cigarettes are sold at tobacco shops and liquor stores. Tis a fool’s dream I know, but wouldn’t it be wonderful.

Oh I almost forgot, why the fuck are we still paying nine-tenths of a penny for gas? Maybe you haven’t noticed it, but check next time you get gas. The price will be $3.499 or something close to that. It’s a trick of advertising. So it costs a penny to lift the handle. Can you believe that shit.

Dont text and Drive

Everyone's favorite soul-wrenching filmmaker has been commisioned by the four major cell phone providers to produce this documentary on texting and driving. I'm glad to see that he is using his power for good. Please show this to your children, friends, family, employees; anybody you know with a cell phone. Its not worth killing someone or destroying someone's future just to let whoever know you are on your way. The video is embedded below. Sending this one in from my phone so lets hope it works.

From One Second to the Next

Pizza and a Show

So this happened a few months ago. I forgot I had a blog for a while. I'll start updating more again. 

It was a helluva weekend. Friday night I met Melissa at 816 Pint and Slice for a pint and a slice. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and a Christmas present she ordered me finally came in. I know its four months past Christmas, but the item was sold out and just recently became available again.

She got me Cards Against Humanity, which is a mad libs type game. The black cards have sentences on them and the white cards have the fill in words and you combine them to make the most fucked up sentences possible. It’s hysterically vulgar and not a game for the easily offended or children, unless you want to spend hours explaining to kids what the cards mean. You know actually forget it, do not show this game to kids.

Anyway, so I met up with her around 6:30 and had my first Oberon of the summer. Oh sweet Oberon, how I do love thee. You’re color that of the golden summer sun, your taste of sweet nectar and hints of citrus. It’s fucking summer in a bottle.

So there we are sitting in a window booth, chit chatting about what we’ve been up to in the 4 months since we broke up, did I mention she is my ex? Meanwhile there is a homeless guy (let’s call him H.G.) loitering in front of the store, rambling to himself and the dog tied to a tree in front of the store about fuck if I know, pacing around panhandling and what not.

In the booth I’m facing Melissa with my back to H.G. eating my pizza and savoring my Oberon, if you’re ever in Fort Waste stop and get the White Album and the BBQ Chicken at Pint and Slice it’s tasty pizza, when suddenly a look of disgust and terror takes over her face.

H.G. had vomited all over himself, his luggage, blanket, the sidewalk, and one of the store windows. He then fell to ground and began seizing violently. Melissa and I look at each other, our appetites gone at the sight of the lake of puke five feet away from us on the other side of the glass, trying to decide if we should call the cops or go try to help or just sit there gawking at this human’s suffering like it was some new reality show. I’m a terrible person, I know. But I had plans after this pseudo-date and didn’t want to get puke on me. Plus I think that falls into the store proprietor’s jurisdiction.

Luckily a couple people from the diner next door came out, called the cops, and rolled the guy on his side. He was still seizing so they had to hold him there so he didn’t asphyxiate on his own vomit like some rock star. How they didn’t puke from seeing, standing in, and touching all that vomit I don’t know. It kind of reminded me of the Mr.Creosote sketch from The Meaning of Life, but he wasn’t a giant fat guy eating and puking. He was a scrawny homeless guy, possibly schizophrenic, who was seizing and puking.

So Melissa and I watched, I drank, while they held the guy down and waited for the cops. All the while I’m worried about what’s going to happen to the white and black American Mutt tied to the tree in front of him. If it was his dog and he was hospitalized it would be sent to the pound and probably put to sleep. This, I thought, was the saddest part of the whole deal. Does that make me a terrible person? That I’m more concerned for the dog’s well-being and safety than I was for H.G.’s. The dog is an innocent in this whole situation, it didn't contribute to it's owner's life choices.

At this point, everyone left in the restaurant is watching the drama unfolding right in front of us. Wondering what’s wrong with him, is he on drugs, is he mentally disturbed, is that his dog and finally holy shit is he dead?

About five minutes before the cops got there he stopped moving and the three people attending to him outside got oh shit looks on their faces. You know the face. The, oh shit, something really bad just happened face. Whispers of is he dead start circulating thru the crowd, people asking if he was still breathing, and where the fuck are the police. Mind you, the police station is roughly 4 blocks away and the fire station is about 6.

The EMT’s got there first, but they appeared to be in no hurry as they rolled out of the ambulance and sauntered up to H.G., who was lying motionless on the concrete barely breathing. I was seriously waiting for the EMT to nudge him with his foot and ask if he was dead, the guy looked that incompetent. He was obviously one of those guys who didn’t get out of the ambulance much. He looked to be about 6 feet tall maybe 300 pounds, completely uninterested in helping this guy. I know it’s gross, but that’s your fucking job.

The other guy that got out of the ambulance seemed to be on top of his shit, he was younger, seemed more motivated. He had his gloves on and the stretcher out before I could blink and was checking H.G.’s vitals while the old fat guy just stood and watched.

When they picked H.G. up and put him on the stretcher he was completely limp. Like dead guy in the movies limp, they put his arms across his chest and they promptly fell to his sides when the EMT’s lifted him. Melissa started freaking out when they covered his head with the sheet. They didn’t cover him completely; I think they did it just to keep it out of the way. She, however, was convinced that meant he was dead. I was still worried about his poor dog.

The cops finally showed up as they were putting H.G. into the ambulance. I laughed as the cop almost puked at the sight and smell of all vomit. They picked up H.G.’s puke covered rollie bag and blanket and put them in the back of the ambulance. I got nervous when he headed toward the dog, but a woman stepped in and removed the dog’s leash from the tree and moved him to another tree. I hope this lady was the owner or just decided to adopt the dog right there so it wouldn’t get shipped to the euthanasia clinic pound.

With H.G. on his way to the hospital and the dog safely in the hands of his owner, somebody from the diner came out with water and washed the puke off of the sidewalk. People went back about their business, and I got a to go box for the pizza we couldn’t eat (it made a great breakfast, BTW).

This whole situation struck me as a glimpse of the American psyche, our voyeuristic culture, the system’s lackadaisical attitude toward the nation’s homeless population, and our short term memory loss. Did we all watch wondering if he was dying? Was the response time so slow because he was homeless? I’m sure whoever called mentioned H.G.’s situation during the call. If the same situation had occurred at the ritzy outdoor mall would response time have been faster? Definitely. Did anyone follow up to see if he was ok? I sure didn’t. I told the story to the other people I saw that night, but I couldn’t tell you if he lived or died. More importantly, was the dog ok?

I think we forget that the people we encounter are actually people and not just whatever descriptor we assign them. H.G. was a person, he surely wasn’t homeless his whole life. Maybe he lost his job when the stock market crashed, maybe that threw him into a depression spiral and he lost everything, which pushed him farther down and caused him to try to escape his misery through drug use. Maybe it was the drug use that caused the vomiting and seizures. Maybe we watched him overdose and die right there on the street corner, his misery ended permanently.

Maybe he was schizophrenic and got kicked out of the system when he turned 18 like so many mentally disabled people do now that asylums are a thing of the past. Whatever series of unfortunate events led him to that street corner and caused his vomiting and seizure, it must have been tragic. Should we take solace in the fact that if it was his end, at least we were entertained? In that sick way the mobs of ancient Rome were entertained by slaughter in the Coliseum. Is it right, no, but this is what we’ve become; a society caring only about entertainment, the first thing I heard when it was all over is very telling of our empathy toward our fellow Americans. It was, “well that was interesting.” I may have said it. Man I’m fucked up.

Stereotypes suck

Stereotypes suck

So one of my part-time jobs(I've got a full-time job and two part-time jobs, suck it recession) is hanging out at one of the few remaining Lackluster Video stores across this great land. 

not my store

I'm a movie nerd and pretty much only work there for the free movies, they pay me too but it's not much. Being that said video store is located in the ghetto on the lower income side of town, we don't get too many of the douchey snob types that talk down to us because we're lowly video store clerks. We're damn near pillars of the community. Some of the kids that come in even look up to us and dream of working there some day. It's sad, I know. 

But recently a phenomenon has been occurring that really pisses me off.

Sample dialogue:

"All set?"

"Yes, I'll get these movies."

"Ok, do you have your Lackluster card?"

"No, can you look me up?"

"Yeah, what's your last name?"

"Ruiz, R-U-I-Z."

mother fucker are you serious?!?

If this was an isolated incident it wouldn't bother me. But it's happened more that a few times now, with easy fuckin names to spell i.e. Lopez, Guzman, Alvarez. Basic Hispanic names right. Apparently because I'm a white guy these people think I'm fucking retarded or culturally insensitive or some bullshit that makes them feel they have to spell their name for me. 

Now I realize they aren't trying to stereotype me.  They just have had to deal with lots of ignorant, uncultured swine who can't spell. I get that, people have and continue to misspell and mispronounce my last name all the time, but come the fuck on. Unless you live under a rock in a trailer park in Kentucky next to a NASCAR track you should be able to spell basic Hispanic names. 

Do you people not listen to music? or watch movies? or watch sports? This is America right? Melting pot of the world? Society of immigrants? I guess my rage isn't directed at the people who want me to spell their name correctly. It's directed at all the ignorant mouthbreathers that have caused them to believe that white people can't spell simple fuckin names. 

So fuck you, you rat bastards. Culture the fuck up. I'm sick of catching shit for your ignorance

Adventures in Sobriety

Day 3:

So a few days ago I had the worst anxiety attack of my life. It was brought on, I'm sad to say, by marijuana. For three hours I had an intense fear that the promotion I'm interviewing for at work was actually my boss' way of trying to get rid of me, even though he expressly said he wasn't. But I just couldn't stop the feeling of almost certainty that I was going to soon be fired and all that I have accomplished in the past few years would fall apart and come crashing down. Luckily the girl I'm seeing was over and able to distract me through most of the attack, but it didn't go away. It was still in the back of my mind like a voice screaming at me that I was going to be fired, I'd loose my car, I'd loose my house, I'd have to go back to live with my mother(which scared me most of all) I'd become a loser like my step brother. All of these fears took over the floor of my cerebral senate and would not relinquish it.

So for roughly three hours my subconscious was locked in battle with my conscious mind trying to prevent a total fucking breakdown. I picture it as an epic battle between two samurai masters with my sanity as the prize and it took all of my meditation talent to focus and prevail. It was the worst 3 hours of my life, worse than having to sit through a Nic Cage movie marathon.

But that wasn't the only reason I've decided to quit smoking pot. I've been kicking the idea around for a few weeks now. Mainly because it's just not fun anymore. It's become something I do out of habit, not something I do for recreation. Almost my defining characteristic. I know this from the shock in people's voices and expressions when I tell them I quit. Not that I'm quitting or cutting back or taking a tolerance break. I quit. I'm fucking dunzo.

Back in the day when I would smoke pot with friends it was an event. We got our pot, we got some good tunes to jam to, got some trippy movies to watch, covered the munchie food groups; sweet, salty, chocolate, greasy, got baked and waxed philosophical whilst watching said movies and listening to said tunes. It was great fun. So, naturally, it started happening more and more and then it got to the point that I would do it by myself and when I would do it with friends we would just get stoned and stare at each other or whatever was on the tube.

It started to get really bad when I started selling. I figured if all my friends were smoking pot, they might as well buy it from me. Then other people started buying from me, at my height I had about 30 people that bought pot from me on the regular. It was good money, it kept my bills paid while I was unemployed for a few months. After I got back to work tho I closed up shop except for a few close friends, who had no other sources.

It was a good run, had a lot of fun. Now don't worry, I'm not jumping sides and declaring marijuana an evil drug. I don't even think of it as a drug, it's just a plant. A plant with many wonderful uses. A drug is something man made, not something you grow, pick, dry and smoke. I just used it to the excess of excess. Like all good things, if not used in moderation it can be bad for you. But I still believe it should be legalized, alcohol is legal and it's ill effects are infinitely worse.

So here we are at day three and I don't even miss it. This is way easier than quitting cigarettes (5 months strong). There have been no withdrawal symptoms. I can feel my mind clearing, my vocabulary is expanding, my wit is getting sharper, my appetite is getting smaller and my willpower stronger. I've still got pot at my house, but I just have no desire to smoke it. A wise man once said "when the desire to quit becomes stronger than the desire to use, you will be free." or something to that effect.

Here is what you should be afraid of. Even with my excessively massive amount of pot use I've been able to hold down three jobs in a time when a lot of people are struggling to find and keep one. I've got a newish car and a house on a lake. All of this I've accomplished while staying baked out of my mind. Imagine what I will accomplish now that I'm sober.