Friday, May 27, 2005
Minor fuck up yesterday and today at the Agency. Seeing as how I was off yesterday and was fortunate enough to have enough over time to be able to be late this AM, it's not my ass on the chopping block. Apparently people don't think leaving the gun cage open to be a big concern. I would venture to guess I would feel the same, except I never forget the type of people that are guests of the Agency. All good people mind you, but most would kill you just to watch you die. Anywho, things were rectified right quick and of course there were memorandums to be signed and there will be meetings and trainings in the near future. *Sigh*
A guest decided to test the waters this morning and see if agents were on their toes. Something about a good struggle, mano a mano first thing in the morning that really gets the heart pumping. Fortunately, I was not alone in the main area of J-Unit, and things went down pretty smoothly. I got to go home with all body parts undamaged and another dollar in my pocket. The world is a good place.
Seeing as how it is Friday, and I am not galavanting off to Tahiti, Miami, Cabo or Manhattan, there is little reason to rejoice. However I can take small pleasures in the little things. Little things like spending money on things I shouldn't, things like the first season of Scrubs.
I watched two episodes tonight and managed to already have my fill of laughs, so although it was $38 and change, it seems to be money well spent.
It's way past my bedtime and for all intensive purposes, I am fucked as they say in the business. Not only am I going to work tomorrow but I have a function as soon as I get out of work, that should be about as much fun as an insurance seminar...
Hopefully I will be able to stay awake.
I hope you are all well.
If I am doing what I should be doing with my life? If I have irrevocably fucked things up and this is the best I can hope for. It's not that I feel this impending sense of doom, but the fact I'm surrounded by tons of negative shit, just make it hard for me to focus on the good things in life. That and the fact I can't remember the last time I saw the sun. Not to mention, I am one pasty, celtic boy in need of a burn.
I lay here and debate over diet slice or diet stop & shop orange. While sirens of all types bookmark the night with their vicious lullabyes. I know I spelled that wrong and I like it.
I lay here and debate why I think At The Drive In is so much better than The Mars Volta, as drafts from the outside world fake out and spin manuever my siding, insulation and tickle the bottoms of my exposed toes.
I lay here and think about whether or not I need grad school, whether or not I want grad school, & whether or not I could get into grad school. As voices of teachers past tell me how lazy and stupid I am, with a learning disability that went undiagnosed for the better part of my scholastic life.
I lay here and think that Take This To Your Grave, by Fall Out Boy is one of the best cds to come around in a long time and I don't give a shit what anybody thinks. I can enjoy whatever I want.
I lay here and wonder how long its going to take for the asshole in the essyouvee outside to go deaf from their car stereo, so loud, the base rattles my house.
I worry that once I get my shit together and move from this place where I have grown up, that I will move to where I think I want to be, with those I want to be with and for lack of anything else to do, they will feel the need to exercise the same type of wanderlust I did. I fear being alone. I fear failure. I fear republicans holding office forever.
However, none of these are things a good cd and and afternoon with a puppy couldn't fix.
Tonight when the phone rang at 12:30 in the am, I had been asleep for approximately 14 minutes. My hair still somewhat damp and fruit-scented from my evening shower. My eyes popped open on the second ring, and then 3...4...CUE ANSWERING MACHINE:
ANSWERING MACHINE GO: Hey Jimmy, it's your buddy T. Sex, from college, just calling to see how you are and regale you with some tales and hahas from my recent adventures or lack thereof. Seems to be you are not at home, maybe you're out living that life we always dreamed with $$$, power and gameshow hostesses. If you think of it when you get in, give me a call back or I will try you again next month.
Seriously, that was the message almost verbatim. At this time of the night, on as little sleep as I am running on, I can't even make that shit up.
It lay in bed chuckling to myself, replaying the message in my head, laughing harder cause even though it sounded like T. Sex was suicidal, I know it's just the tone and cadence of his speech that elicits this thought from people. The fact that I know the kid to be a certified genius and yet still have spent time in a drunk tank, makes the story that much better. I debated and then debated more. Five minutes later, I picked up my cell phone and speed dialed one of the only people from college, I still keep in contact with.
Just as I thought, T. was home and picked up the phone like he was surprised it rang. We updated each other on the small and somewhat significant peccadilloes that make our worlds spin and after awhile we decided to drop what we thought would be the bomb to break the camels back. It's a time-tested ritual which usually has both of us in fits of laughter on our respective floors. I thought I had tonight's contest locked up after I spun my yard about drinking 10 Heart Attacks, (Heart Attack ='s stoli razz, splash of cranberry and can of redbull)
and then trying to flirt with anything not nailed down.
I would have been correct in thinking I had victory until T. whipped out a little ditty about Randy Random.
Apparently my good friend, Mr. Sex, had finally finished doing renovation on his first house. After completing the arduous task, he decided to have a rager to celebrate. Friends were invited and people came. There was music, merriment and of course adult beverages. Some mutual college friends came and one friend brought the friend of a friend who shall be know here after as Randy Random or RR for short.
As one might have guessed by this point, RR's social skills were not the best and maybe stopped developing at the age of 15. He was heard to have said things like, "I like that new Star Wars movie, cause I can really identify with it." "I don't think my leg makes a very good guitar." and "beer is like deer...except with a D." Needless to say, most quests found RR's attempt to connect with society somewhat ill-fated, and so without much dialogue with the rest of the world, RR drank...and...drank...and Drank...and..DRANK.
Later on in the evening, when things had quieted down some, people noticed RR was missing. Seeing as how there was no booze left, it was a good thing. Friends shook hands and said their good-byes. Mr. Sex turned off lights & went to bed. Upon beginning his evening washroom routine, Mr. Sex found one RR, passed-out, naked, with head hanging in toilet bowl, and an empty bottle of mouthwash next to the sink.
10 minutes and one 911 call later. Nudie McDrunkenstein was on his way to the hospital, and ultimately detox.
Only if I had fucked a mule and punched a cop out, could I have beaten that story.
Sometimes I really am not as cool as I think I am.
I hope you all are well,
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Yeah so on Monday, I left my really swell job at the Agency, on time even and proceeded to drive away and leave thoughts of getting stabbed, assaulted, raped, struck by urine/excrement & a whole bunch of other nasty shit behind. The F1 was primed and ready to do some serious summer driving. However since the sun has not shown its face since Paleolithic cave paintings were the "in thing" that was not going to happen.
As far as I am concerned, the Sun is fucking fired. I have been talking to friends on both coasts and in that weird place known as the midwest and not a one has seen the sun in what seems like 200 years.
Even though I don't do well in the hotter weather, I would like to remember what hot feels like.
Oh yeah, back to my story. So instead of driving all over God's green Earth, in the hopes of unwinding before going home to pay bills and read jumk mail, I decided to go and get a Vanilla Bean Coffee Coolatta. It's no secret this fat kid is addicted to Dunkin Donuts. I think I was a cop in a former life, that would explain why I am burning off a ton of bad karma in this one. Anywho...the line both inside the store and in the drive through was longer than Wilt Chamberlain's hog.
"What the fuck?!" escaped some severly clenched and grinding teeth. I don't think it too much to ask that when a guy gets out of work, he can go and get a tasty beverage without the hassle of having to wait in historically amazing lines. I passed on the Dunk and kept on driving. I stopped about 50 yards later at the home of the dirtiest/shittiest used cd store ever, Musik Magik.
I know its not supposed to be spelled that way, but the creton that runs the place likes to appeal to all cliques and doesn't want to exclude our goth friends or kids who think they want to be sorcerers or enchantresses when they grow up.
So I walk in and of course there are just 3 foot stacks of shit all over the place: vhs tapes, cassette tapes, original nintendo cartridges and just shit that not even Wilhelmina H. Packrat is going to give a fiddeler's fart about. I cut to the chase and went straight to the shelves on the wall in hopes of finding something to entertain me. I looked through everything at least once and was stunned there were so many bands that I had never heard of. I mean there were fucking row after row of shit I couldn't even dream of. I was starting to feel like I was going to get skunked on the cd scene to until I found, "Take Back the Universe and Give Me Yesterday" by Creeper Lagoon.
I know, I know it's obscure and you have no idea who they are but I dig em and it was a gem of a find for $6.00. I was in the process of searching for maybe one or two other discs but of course my funtime was cut short cause I was hit with an unexpected case of bungsoon. For those not in the know, bungsoon means I had to pay for my disc and leave immediately if not sooner, otherwise there was going to be a huge shitstorm in my pants.
I brought my treasure to the counter and now John Q. Sample, with the huge fucking head, is going to try and small talk the shit right out of me.
I was starting to sweat but a gentleman always keeps his cool even under pressure. I mean what the fuck right? I have people try to kill me on a daily basis, buying a cd from a really nice, stupid guy without shitting my pants should be no problem.
"I've never heard of this band are they any good?" he asks with a glint of the Devil in his eye. "They're a really obscure indie band that never took off but I really dig them" I say having to do a massive ass clench to stop shit-hose #1 from painting the back wall of the store.
I'm losing my patience and Herman's Head looks like he's sad there is a $6.00 sticker on it. He looks like he wants the sticker to read $18.99 like this was Strawberries or Sam Goodie or some other fucking corporate evil. He seems like he is going to pull some fucking asshole move like, "you can only buy this if you also buy Trixter's Greatest Shits."
I am getting a charley horse in my ass cause I have been clenching so hard for so long, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be able to walk out of cat piss central. I give him the, "you are going to let me out of here with this cd for the sticker price or I am going shove that coleco-vision game console so far up your ass, Monty Hall is going to come out of the back room and dance a funny little jig" look.
He knows something is up and that I mean business. We do the goods for money exchange and I hobble out the door like my shoes are connected with an iron bar. He's watching me through the window, like I cheated him out of his prize marble collection. I'm tempted to give him the finger but I fear any quick motions will trigger an eruption of the anal nature.
I fire the engines on the F1 and cruise back up the street. Approaching Dunkin Donuts my stomach makes a noise somewhat akin to a goat yawn and for the time being, the pressure in my ass has been put in check.
With the precision of a nascar champ, I pull into the drive thru, order my coolatta and am back on the road in less than 2 minutes. I arrived home and was able to walk into the house before I was struck with another case of butt clench. What I forgot was when you don't eat anything with fat in it, your ass becomes a salad shooter.....fantastic.
In one matrix-like move, I was able to jump to the bathroom, whip off my droors and have a mass evac with no serious consequences other than sore ass muscles. It's always a good idea to keep some reading material on hand and I was glad I had something. Had I been better prepared, I would have left my cd player in the bathroom and been dropping some science to the sweet sounds of Creeper Lagoon.
I hope you all are well.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
In other news...
Dreams are a bitch. I was sleeping the good sleep, minding my own business, when for once I started having a good dream. I was young(er) and for whatever reason I was a comedian. I was closing out a, "New Comedians or Young Comedians" special for HBO and the crowd was eating my stuff up. I remember being on stage and my jokes were killing like breakfast at McDonald's. It was odd for many reasons. First and foremost, I don't usually remember my dreams and if I do, they're almost never pleasant, and never the NC-17 kind. Second, I was experiencing the same feeling of euphoria I used to get after finishing up a 2 week run of a play. This Jackass has done his fare share of partying but there is nothing that beats a standing ovation. C) Yeah.
So...when I woke up and crashed harder into reality than R. Kelly into a girl scout camp, I was somewhat disappointed to find I was still going to have to report to work at the Agency.
Mornings are rough enough for me without having to deal with the agony of defeat, ie.. having somewhat of a Joe Job.
I woke up, hit the pissatorium, took my meds and vit-a-mins(as those wacky brits say) and had several glasses of water, as dehydration is a constant problem.
You know, you never realize how hungry you truly are until you open your fridge and the only things in there are Arm & Hammer Baking Soda and Danny Bonnaduce. Christ! Now not only did I have to go and get dressed, but go to the corner bodega as well and we all know how much I love that!
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Today, The W and I, went to CompUSA to price out some gear for my new rig. I am retiring this piece of shit as soon as the new kid is up and running. I must confess, the thought of being able to have the internet and another application running at the same time is very exciting. I may even do something nutty, like buy a $400 video card....who knows?
Ken Jennings, the guy who won like eleventy-billion dollars on Jeopardy, looks like a fucking alien. I swear I saw his face on the front of an Alienware computer. I was worried that CompUSA was going to be geekcentral today, but oddly enough...the cupboard was bare. They were probably finishing up their week long pilgrimage to SW III: Revenge of the Sith.
The neighbors are really fucking loud tonight. It's going on 11 and I can hear them partying like it's 1978. Little do they know, they're really fucking evicted.
Time to put the trash on the street and get horizontal. I hope you all are well.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Now, after having several girlfriends, who may or may not have been good for him, after managing to pull himself out of the basement which everyone knew was his sanctuary, his citadel, his rock in whom he trusted, he has migrated from the nether regions of South Providence, to a fairly nice neck o' the woods in Cranston. To be honest, I'm a little jealous as I heard a gun battle going on a few streets over from me this afternoon.
Sampson says his new girlfriend, Delilah, is good for him and that even though he misses the security of the basement, things are better. His dad is moving to VA to start over and for Mr. Sampson to start over at his age, well that's just fucking courageous and , I applaud him. I have to admire a guy who is throwing his hat back in the ring at 60-something, when I have yet to put my hat in the ring and not have it get stomped on....yeah.
We got caught up on old times, even older people, (who may or may not have changed) and of course there was the compulsory video game conversation. As good as the Xbox 360 looks...we're sure the Playstation 3 is going to beat the shit and $4 out of it. Who cares that it's not coming out until 2006? That will give me plenty of time to save up for the $500.00 MSRP. Yeah, I said, "FUCK THAT!!!!" too. For that kind of money, I can build a decent computer and play Yahoo! scrabble.
This weekend I picked up cds by: The Flaming Lips, Porcupine Tree, Interpol and The Music.
I know that comes off like a baller, but seriously I have been eating nothing but tuna....cause it's cheap...like me.
Hope everyone has a great weekend. Today is my Tuesday, and for a Tuesday, it wasn't all that bad. Sorry, BPD no knife-fights or getting balled out by El Capitan. Maybe next week will be better.
P.S. Low carb bread sucks more cock than A-Rod.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
The word for Tuesday night was underestimation. I went to work at the Agency thinking I was going to have a quiet night before my weekend. Of course, my night was anything but quiet. Work bordered on a near riot and I ended up battling with one guest physically and otherwise for the better part of 3 hours. Yeah...that as they say in the business, "is bullshits." That left me with just enough strength left over to finish the required paperwork with 5 minutes to spare. Not a big deal. I figured I would go and catch a midnight movie...except there are no midnight movies, unless it is a weekend or George Lucas is fucking millions of people in the ass.
So I went home, did some yoga, took a recockulously long shower and fell asleep with my imaginary girlfriend.
A mere 7 hours later my cellphone rang...of course it was work...of course I was obligated to pick it up.
El Capitan: Jim, I need you to come in for awhile. We need to talk about what went down last night.
JJ: mmmrmmph grrarh garblefruck "DAYOFF!"
El Capitan: Yeah, I know but there was some problems with protocol and we need to go over it.
JJ: rackinfrackinwhutduhKIDDING ME?!?!?!
El Capitan: See you in 30 minutes.
JJ: *Throwing phone across room* GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHFUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!
I got up, put on last nights boxers and the most fucked up outfit I could find (flip-flops, black jean shorts and a hulk-a-mania t-shirt) which I was planning on ripping off at said meeting. Long story short, everything I did was wrong and would have been so even if Christ Himself had said it was ok. So, I ate my huge bowl of, "shame banquet" and asked if I could enjoy what was left of my weekend. By a power unknown to me, I was able to leave.
These are the things that make me wish I had a normal job, with normal weekends, a normal retirement plan, a normal salary and a normal life. However the days where I go to work and don't have to be a ninja and can actually do some good for my common man, those make it all worth it...I think.
Other then that things I have observed and wonder about:
1. Why is it when I am so hungry I would eat a box of broken assholes or I am late for work or a combination of the aforementioned, my food purchases at the corner bodega are delayed by some jackhole trying to figure out which lottery #'s or scratch ticket is the luckiest. Even better still is the pillar of society who holds me up cause they are debating over what flavor of blunt wrapper would be best for breakfast. *SIGH*
"IT'S DINGLEBERRY ASSHOLE, NOW CAN YOU PLEASE GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY SO THE REST OF THE WORLD CAN BE PRODUCTIVE?"
2. The Deer Hunter: a great film or at least all 7 and a half minutes I have seen of it. Maybe if it was on at some other time besides 2:30am I would be able to see some scenes other than DeNiro and co's last day at the lava factory (or wherever it was they fucking worked) and Christopher Walken getting slapped like a bitch in Southeast Asia. When a movie starts that late and is over 3 hours long, people need to realize unless someone is unemployed, that is a movie no one will finish.
I suppose I could rent or buy it but then I wouldn't have a reason to bitch.
3. Dave Matthew's Magic Brownie Ice Cream: Hi, my name is Dave Matthew's and when I'm not busy dumping shit all over people trying to enjoy a nice boat ride, on their hard-earned vacations, I am donating all of the profits from my over-priced ice cream to prevention of global warming...
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH Boy! That's great Dave, you're the best. Too bad the hole in ozone is bigger than the chip on Dick Cheney's shoulder. I have an idea Dave. Instead of "donating" all of the profit to "the ozone layer" why don't you kick me a few hundred bucks so I can afford an air conditioner and not have to suffer through 4 months of dehydration during the lovely New England Summer. I know it gets hot on stage Dave, but some of us have jobs where we have to do shit other than wiggle our feet and talk about how much we love to smoke weed.
Enjoy your summer Dave, you granola-hottie fuckin' capitalist in disguise. Say, "Hi" to Hootie for me.
Monday, May 16, 2005
After the movie we went to Joe's American Bar & Grill, where the food is over-priced and shitaaay and the wait is rediculous. There were people in Limbo who were seated before us. So yeah substandard philly cheesesteak pizza and who knows what a guy has to do to get a refill on the DC? Paid bill and left negatory comments on slip. Server came back with new slip, sans negative comments and says she was really sorry about the wait. Normally, a bitch move like that would have really pissed me off but in today's economy, I fault only the rich.
Walking back through mall we spotted the lead singer and bass player from Papa Roach. Through the magic of MTV you would never realize they are 5 feet tall and 400 lbs. respectively. I watched as the frontman oggled anything female, regaurdless of age, while bass dude rooted through one of the 40 warehouse-sized bags from Newbury Comics....yeah fuck those guys.
More people watching @ Ben & Jerry's...the Coconut Fudge Chip was an excellent choice! We then cruised over to the East Side to hit up The Liquid Lounge. I actually have pictures from that part of the night but due to the fact I am whiter than a snowball's ass, I am refraining on posting them. As a matter of fact, because of my pasty, Celtic skin, I decided today was go home and read in the sun with your shirt off day. I'll probably wake with a 3rd degree burn but having skin that would make baby powder say, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!!!" is just not high on my list of priorities. The ladies hate that.
Reading the shittiest book ever, more on that later. For now throw on some tunes and rock out with your cock out or for the ladies in the house.....I'm still struggling for something cool here.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Today was one of those days I knew was coming, I was waiting ready for, and once again I learned you can never be to prepared. Things on H-Unit were unstable at best for most of the day. With a half hour left in the shift, the shit hit the fan and of course, yours truly was called upon to drop the hammer.
One of the guests decided he didn’t like his accommodations so he was going to make everyone he lives with, as well as his staff miserable. Which was not a good decision but still he was left to rant and stew until he reached his boiling point. After a hand was broken and most of H-Unit decided they needed back-up, only then do they decide to be proactive. Being point person on J-Unit today, I was not able to be first person in, so I delegated my #2 ( a great agent ) to go. Ten minutes later, I see an agent from H-Unit come through the doors with a broken hand, out of breath, stuttering about my agent being in trouble.
Now I’m not a small guy by any means, but when my people are in trouble, I can move. I was in a full sprint when I burst through the doors of H-Unit and assessed the situation. I saw #2 and an agent I had never worked with before. #2 was correctly isolating the guest from the rest of the living quarters while the unknown soldier, it seemed was preparing for battle. I find it much easier to talk to guests and try and calm than down rather than go mano a mano with them. I hate getting sweaty at work but realize sometimes it’s a necessity. “You can go easy or hard,” #2 said as we prepared to “escort” the unhappy guest to “the hole.” I made my presence known to the guest to make a show of support for #2 & the unknown, and to let him know we we’re not fucking around.
“You can go fuck yourself tough-guy, “ was the response I got to, “Hey man what’s going on, how can I help you out?” When guests are past their boiling point, they shut down and talk is pointless. “I’m gonna ask one more time, man are you gonna go to the hole or are we taking you?” The guest sized up #2, the unknown and myself and knew he was out gunned. “Okay, I’ll walk you fucking asshole.” escaped what I should have know to be a dangerous and telling grin. I walked to open the hole as #2 & unknown escorted him. As I turned my head to open the door, I caught a faint glimmer of metal and tensed like a high-wire. The guest pulled a shiv from his pants and was going to slash #2.
In situations like this…fuck protocol. No one should have to spend their Friday night in the emergency room. Like lightning I threw a kick to the knee, dropping Mr. guest to the floor useless. Immediately I was on top of the shiv and wrestling it from a death grip, #2 & unknown still unaware of what was going on. Guest caught my nose with several quick blows, making my eyes tear up and effectively blinding me. #2 restrained his arms as unknown grabbed his legs and hospital carried his ass into the hole. Needless to say, Mr. Guest was not happy with the outcome of events. Then again neither was I. #2 and unknown escaped with no injury and peace had been restored to the kingdom.
I know I will not be able to escape reprimand for assaulting a guest but the safety of my people comes first…always.
And so ended yet another Sunday at work. It’s days like these when taking the long way home and stopping @ 7-11 for that double gulp of Crystal Light, I really can stop and appreciate my co-workers, friendship and just waking every morning. Ok, enough with the syrupy shit…I know.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Kevin Bacon does a phenomenal job in, "The Woodsman."
So it was brought to my attention I needed to update my blog today. I know I promised great and wondrous things over the weekend, however one can never predict how crazy things are going to be on J-Unit. Work has been busy and because of this, I have not had time to see exactly why my computer is performing like a fat kid doing the mile run. It could be that my computer has been listening to Disturbed and is now, "down with the sickness" or it's probably just a case of, "Hi, I'm old and you ask to much of me....please take me out to pasture and kill me."
Now, I'm sure you all thought that I was going to stop with that lame update of, "hey I haven't been blogging cause my fuckin' computers on the fritz." Good news folks, I actually have something good for yo' asses. I will now give you my thoughts on Kevin Bacon's latest film, "The Woodsman."
Let me start by saying I have never been a particularly big Kevin Bacon fan. I believe a lot of this comes from the fact he often plays the characters that are just so hard to like and in some cases, are impossible to like. The Woodsman, is a story about Walter, a child molester (Bacon) being released back into the community as a registered sex offender and his struggles with reintergreation. Bacon is supported by Kyra Sedgewick, Benjamin Bratt, Eve, David Allan Grier and Mos Def, who plays Bacon's nemesis, Sgt. Lucas. Def does a wonderful job of playing the heavy hand of the law just waiting for Walter to screw up again.
Walter is haunted by his past. He lost all of his friends family and what little life he had before what is alluded to be a rough time in prison. Ironically enough, the only landlord in town that will take Walter's money has a first-floor apartment with a view of the elementary school across the street. Yeah, and the hits just keep on coming.
The Woodsman is a dark and rough ride. Part of me wanted redemption, part of me wanted retribution but in the end I was satisfied by the fact that this was a film that made me think about the many facets of people, problems and perceptions. I would recommend this film however not in the presence of small children or if you are in a bad mood.
Again my hat's off to Bacon for dragging the blood and guts out of me. Not since his portrayal of Sean Nokes in Sleepers have I been in such a love hate relationship with a character.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Why the hell was I up at 4am today?
My review of fruit-flavored Pedialyte Oral Electrolyte Maintanance Solution
The Impossibility of Mother's Day
Gas Stations: What's the point of them closing?
Maybe another review about some fucking movie I may or may not go see.
That's all for right now. I hope you all are well. I am going to work...wish me luck.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Bill O'Reilly is a fucking jerk.
some right-wing blowhard to discredit and demonize a teenager championing women's rights and free speech. Bill O'Reilly is a fucking jerk, plain and simple. I happened to be enjoying dinner with friends last night. After dinner we sat on the floor and played with the chill'uns as parents often do. Ross flipped through the channels while I dodged right hooks and crosses from #1 and tickled the daylights out of #2. Not a fan of right-wing, ignorant, hate-speech or anyone who talks for the sake of hearing themselves, Bill O'Reilly wouldn't have been my first choice of programming.
He was talking about a sleepy, little town in southeastern, MN. A town called Winona. The town where I spent some of the best years of my life. I was interested to find out what could have possibly put Winona, MN in the news, on The O'Reilly Factor no less. Within 30 seconds it was crystal clear to me, someone said, "vagina."
Yes, yes I know you are all gasping in horror but it is true. Not only did someone say, "vagina" but several female students @ Winona Senior High School actually had the audacity to wear buttons stating they, "loved their vagina." Will the evil never cease?!?!
Mr. O'Reilly was trying to impress upon the nation that there needs to be standards for behavior in schools today. I have no problem with this. I am not an anarchist who thinks there should be no homework, rules or check and balances for students who may need discipline. I am someone who does support: free speech, human rights and the right to assemble and protest. Which is exactly what WSHS student Carrie Rethlefsen did.
Rethlefsen wore a button and t-shirt with a logo reading, "I heart my vagina." Not, "I like your vagina." Not, "I like to touch my vagina." Nothing distasteful, out of the ordinary or suggestive was printed on the t-shirts and buttons. Mr O'Reilly felt this was one of those things people could just not stand for. He mentioned his, "many years as a teacher in Florida" to try and give weight to his argument but when it all comes down to it, he was arguing against women's rights.
After recently seeing the play, The Vagina Monologues, Carrie Rethlefsen and some fellow students were sporting the, "I heart my vagina" t's and buttons in protest of violence against women. A group of girls, all wearing the shirts assembled at WSHS and symbolically turned the shirts inside out as a sign of solidarity before entering school. Rethlefsen, was told she could no longer wear her shirt or button to school and she was fine with this edict.
What I find so funny about all of this is that in the article I read from the Winona Daily News, students were holding signs stating, "We respect authority." The school principal also commented on how pleased she was over how smoothly this protest went down. We should be so lucky that some of young America broke the shackles of apathy and took a stand and used their voice for a change. I don't know about anyone else but to protest in such a positive and non-threatening manner, for such an important cause, is a breath of fresh air in my book.
These kids and those all across America could be doing much worse. Leave it to someone as egotistical and self-righteous as Bill O'Reilly to pontificate on what free speech, women's rights and the American way should be. The kids are alright...maybe Bill needs to stick to what he
s good at, sounding like an ass, phone-sex with interns and making those of us who pay attention mad enough to sit down and call him on his bullshit.