Twitter Quip

    Brad Pitt needs to mind his own business: an angry political tirade

    There’s a proposition on the California ballot this fall to change the state constitution and ban same-sex marriages. It’s very much a hot button ticket. I even seem to recall reading that this issue has raised more money than any other proposition in the country–quite an interesting feat considering neither side has anything to gain or lose financially. But it’s all so misguided.

    A neighbor of mine–right across the street–has a sign in her house that reads “Prop 8 = Less Government. Yes on 8.” How is changing the state constitution considered less government? If anything, changing the constitution and making new laws is MORE government.

    The “Yes” people are playing games with the advertising–saying we have to vote yes to save the children. Commercials say that if gay marriages aren’t banned, educators will be forced to teach kids about same-sex marriages in schools. I know it’s been a while since I went to school, but I don’t recall “what is marriage” subject in grade school. I remember history, math, and spelling–but no “a man must marry a woman” classes. The ad is manipulative and lying: it preys off people’s fears (because you have to save the children) simply so . . . . .

     

    Lil’ Princess buys her own gas

    I was listening to the Raider game over the weekend. During the broadcast, I heard a promo encouraging fans to vote. Yeah, that’s what American needs: Raider fans determining how the country is run. Not every uneducated illiterate with a criminal record deserves a voice. It’s this sorta propaganda that pisses me off. I hate voting season.

    I’ve been so busy with other things I haven’t spent much time writing lately. There are so many things I wanted to share. Like last month when I went to get gas for the company Tahoe. Fueling that beast is a concrete reminder why I drive the Almighty Honda: it cost more to fill-up than the gross domestic product of Paraguay. If it wasn’t for the company credit card, I wouldn’t be able to fill it up because no one cares around that much cash.

    I think the worst part of having to fill up a 26-gallon tank is the time it takes to do so. My car has a tiny tank–I’m rarely at a gas station long enough to squeegee off the front windshield. The Tahoe is always below E (’cause no one ever wants to take the time to get gas) . . . . .

     

    Always looking out for Number 1

    When life gets too busy or I have nothing to complain about, I just reach back and find something I wrote earlier but never posted (usually because it was uninteresting or poorly written…or maybe even both). This is one of those stories.

    Over the weekend I had a particularly embarrassing incident. I woke up in the middle of the night to take a tinkle. I’ve been living in this house for three years; peeing in the same bathroom for three years. I haven’t moved any furniture since the day I got here and am pretty capable of wandering around in the dark. I made my way to the bathroom and started to go…only to discover the toilet seat cover was down. Call me unsivilzed if you want, but I live alone so I never bother putting the cover down. That’s why I didn’t bother to check before I went. In retrospect, I probably should’ve–but it was dark, I was tired, and we’re talking about three years of conditioning here. The sound immediately told me something was wrong so I put the brakes on and assessed the situation. The toilet seat cover was down and I missed like no man had . . . . .

     

    The myth behind the media (or Annie Wilkes says ‘Get a life!’)

    As someone who works in the entertainment business, I find it amusing how many fans care more about our media than us–the folks who produce it. When we canceled a program a few months back we were bombard by emails and phone calls from angry viewers who were horrified their show was no longer on the air. You should see some of the letters we received–folks were talking like they lost their only reason to live. The ironic part is no one who works at our station ever bothered even watching the show.

    Employees of the station act like we’re performing some service to the community and publicly emphasizes our quality and importance. But everyone–from the cameramen on the floor to the directors in the booth to the talent we have on screen–we all know it’s kind of a joke. To all of us, it’s just a paycheck; to some viewers, it’s a daily ritual.

    I know this expands far beyond my little podunk television station. I listen to podcasts and radio shows were the host clearly doesn’t know as much about their show as I do. I can think of one podcast in particular. It’s only about 20 minutes . . . . .