Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Thursday, October 30, 2008
******Obama rally update***** A request has been submitted for a permit for 265 porta-potties. Inside the official rally area. If you're anywhere else in Grant Park you're SOL. Literally.
8:10 AM
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
If you’re thinking, “I’m gonna go to that election night rally in Chicago!” Be sure to go to the bathroom before you head over to Grant Park.
Obama gave out 30,000 invites to the rally. Or 65,000. The number varies depending on who you believe. But heck, who cares if you have a ticket or not? Daley says everyone’s invited. Daley says we have a big lakefront. (For those who don't speak Daley I'll translate. It means: "I dunno, just go toward the Lake, we'll figure it out when you get there. We'll have cops on ATVs and in riot gear and it'll look really cool on TV.") The city is estimating one million+ people. Everyone's being urged to close up shop early and businesses have been warned to have extra security on patrol that night. No one's told us where to send the bill for lost business and extra security. Pesky details.
No one, not the democratic party, not Obama, not the city, not Daley, not Grant Park, no one is providing porta potties.
Pardon my hysterical laughing.
I ♥ Chicago.
Pesky details.
I wonder if the $880 or $935 price of admission for media includes use of private porta-potties?
You might think someone would take oh, I dunno, $200,000 of the advertising budget and put it toward sanitation needs for a crowd of 30,000. Or 65,000. Or 1,000,000. Whichever. I guess it’s better to air a $5 million infomercial than provide proper sanitation for a rally. Besides, who knows how long the party's gonna last?! Daley made a special allowance to let the rally continue past 11 PM, the official closing time for events in Grant Park (and other parks in the city). I'm hearing 1 AM, all night, 24 hours... According to this handy table, the longer the event, the more porta-potties required. If this thing goes on for more than a few hours the porta-potty factor becomes staggering. Why waste money on, well, waste, when there's advertising time to be bought?! Forget personal hygiene and public sanitation, man! Marketing baby, marketing.
I see a business opportunity. Makers of adult diapers should print some special election ’08 diapers and sell them to election night rally attendees.
(I promised to remain a non-partisan safe-house during the election, but it's worth the chuckle to note that porta potties and the Obama campaign are a sensitive issue. There was an incident at a Portland, OR rally where campaign event organizers placed a porta potty directly on top of a memorial for police officers killed in the line of duty. Police officers and their families were not amused.) 3:25 PM
Monday, October 27, 2008
After my dad died my mother was advised to cut up any credit cards with his name on them. My mother quickly removed them from his wallet and put the wallet back where he always kept it at night. “Hidden.”
She cut up the credit cards.
It was the first of many tasks required to remove someone from the stuff of life. The calls, the letters, the forms, the inquiries arrive daily. They’re all painful reminders that someone died. But. Life goes on and apparently so does criminal fraud. I can vouch for this. The amount of information given and required is staggering so the opportunities for deception and scamming are huge. But we’re aware and armed with what we hope is enough knowledge to protect my mother from fraud.
My mother is having some issues with the Social Security Administration. Go figure. Letter after contradictory letter arrives. Calls are made. Things are cleared up and then a week later another letter arrives detailing different information than was “cleared up” the week previous. The US Government at work.
Okay. So. In a hopeful effort to get things settled once and for all my mother made an appointment at the Social Security office. I know. I know. I can hear the heavy sighs and see the eyes rolling. And yes. It’s every bit as bad as you’re imagining. And then some. I took a day off work to go to the appointment with her.
The caseworker told my mother to bring proof of ID for my father to the appointment as well as proof of his death. We needed to prove he was alive and prove that he died.
Okay. Fine. We have death certificates. And my mother has his passport, driver’s license and social security card.
But, she was having emotional difficulty retrieving the passport, license and social security card. Don’t judge. Grief is individual and random. Certain things are hotbeds of overwhelming emotion. Those things are as varied as fingerprints. I’m learning you never, ever know what’s going to set off a firestorm of emotions. I found a perfect skipping stone last week and was wracked with sobs for hours because I was overcome with memories of my dad teaching me how to skip stones across water. The memories of skipping contests we had, how my mother would sometimes throw a stone which inevitably led to a dark horse victory in those contests putting my father and I, the assumed champs, to shame played like ultra vivid movies in my head. I could feel how much joy we shared in finding “perfect” skipping stones. We were always on the lookout for “perfect” skipping stones. We’d grab them and save them for outings to the “perfect” calm lake or river. Every car my parents ever owned had a cache of skipping stones in the glove box. “Just in case” a lake or river beckoned while on the road. Yes. It’s just a rock. But right now, for me, coming across a “perfect” skipping stone is too bittersweet to manage without tears.
So. My mother asked me if I could retrieve the passport and social security card from their safe place and the license from my dad’s wallet. A day at the social security office was going to require all the emotional fortitude we could both muster. The task of “getting into” my dad’s wallet would knock her down and blur her focus. My mother wanted clarity for the trip to the Social Security office. So I obliged to retrieve the items.
Okay. A little back story. I was raised to respect other people’s property, especially very personal property like wallets and purses. Any wallet or purse not belonging to me is off limits. Period. End of story. This was drilled into me from day one. When my mother was debilitated and in the emergency room a few years ago we had to get her wallet out of her purse. My dad couldn’t do it. The act was too disrespectful to him. He couldn’t “violate” my mother’s personal purse space. I was there so he didn’t have to lower his integrity in this respect. I saw him struggling with the task of getting into her purse and asked, “Dad, do you want me to handle this?” The relief showed on his face instantly. He didn’t like the idea of anyone other than my mother digging around in her purse. But it had to be done. And because I was there better me, the daughter, another woman, than him. My dad was old school that way. It wasn’t easy for me. I was horribly uncomfortable with it. But it had to be done and there was no point in making my dad feel worse than he already did. So I reached into her purse for the first time in my life. It did feel weird. And uncomfortable. I did feel like I was trespassing and violating personal space. I did feel like I was disrespecting my mother.
When I pulled out the wallet it felt much heavier than its actual weight. Turns out guilt is a tangible burden. It weighs a lot. I quickly pulled out the health insurance card, the driver’s license and gave my dad her credit cards for safe keeping. My hands shook as I handed the ID cards to the hospital administrator. That was the exact moment of impact. That was when the gravity of my mother’s health situation hit home. This is it, this is real, her life is in their hands and I’ve just turned the details over to them.
I confessed and apologized to my mother the first second she regained consciousness. Given the circumstance she was fine with me getting into her purse and wallet. She completely understood and expected that someone would have to retrieve info from her purse and wallet. When we told her about how difficult it was for my dad and I she laughed at us for being so sacred about our respect for her purse.
It had to be done and it was silly that we were so ill at ease with it. But. In the moment it was rough.
So. Here I was again. This time going through my dad’s wallet.
This time I couldn’t apologize. There would be no atonement. This time life was handed over permanently. This time they took a life and gave back only the details.
His wallet is far heavier than my mother’s was. Grief is an even heavier burden than guilt.
I’ve seen my dad’s wallet thousands of times. Every time he pulled it out to pay for something or look up a business card or whatever the other thousands of reasons are for pulling out a wallet. Every time he opened it there, staring out for all to see, was a photo of my mother taken on the day he proposed to her. Awwwwww. I know. That’s my dad all over the place.
As I mentally prepared myself for getting into his wallet I expected to see that photo. I did. And it brought some expected tears.
And then I had to get out the driver’s license. It was stuck. I had to jimmy it out of the compartment sized exactly for it. In doing this I jostled the other side of the wallet and the photo of my mother. Behind the photo of my mother were photos of us kids. A recent shot of my brother with his daughter. A photo of my sister and her three daughters taken a few years ago.
And a photo of me in my Girl Scout uniform.
No. I do not have an adult sized Girl Scout uniform. No, I have not dressed up as a Girl Scout for Halloween. This was a photo of me as a 10-year-old child beaming proudly from under my Girl Scout insignia beret which was perched atop a fresh, neatly combed haircut. My right hand proudly proffering the Girl Scout Sign. The uniform so crisp from a starched ironing you can feel the itchy collar just by looking at it. The heavily adorned badge sash telling the story of a geeky overachiever. A gilt braid edged flag hangs behind my left shoulder.
Cripes. What happened to that kid? Oh yeah. You read the blog. You know what happened to her. Merit badges, like GPAs and SAT scores, do not predict success in life.
I know exactly when that photo was taken. It was at a Fly Up ceremony. I served as Color Guard in the opening procession. But I don’t recall ever seeing that photo. Apparently my dad kept the only copy in his wallet. It's worn, faded, frayed around the edges and at some point an edge was trimmed, apparently to fit into a wallet somewhere along the way of my dad's life since then. Obviously he carried it for a lot of years, probably since the time it was taken.
I’m certain my dad had several wallets in that time span. And for some reason, with each passing wallet, he transferred the photo of my mother the day he proposed to her and a photo of me as a 10-year-old.
I understand the vintage photo of my mother. That was a very special day. A pivotal day. A sentimental day. A big day in his life. And it’s a darling photo of my mother, too. I understand why that photo was so special to him that he carried it with him everywhere, every day.
Obviously he updated the photos of my brother and sister. But he carried me around, frozen in time as a 10-year-old Girl Scout.
One might assume my dad was proud of my pride in Scouting. Okay. Makes sense. But. My brother was an Eagle Scout. That’s a huge deal. Why no photo of him at his Eagle ceremony? That dims the possibility of the pride in Scouting as a reason for the photo.
I’m guessing he probably just liked the photo. It is one of the last “good” photos of me. I was still a kid. I looked like a kid. A goofy, dorky kid, but a kid nonetheless. I was neither cute or ugly. I was just: A kid. Innocent but eager.
Maybe that’s how he liked to think of me.
Throughout his life my dad never lost a sense of innocence. Don’t get me wrong, he was far from innocent in the literal sense. He was a Marine. He did enjoy a drink or two and he liked a bawdy joke as much as the next guy at the poker game. But. There was a sense of innocence about him. The type of innocence associated with wonder and curiosity. “I wonder what this does…” “I wonder what would happen if…” “I wonder where that road goes…” And he was eager to explore and find the answers. And if in searching for the answers he found something interesting or exciting he couldn’t wait to share it. He was eager to experience. Eager for life. Innocent enough to wonder and ask the questions, eager enough to try to find the answers.
I inherited or learned some of that innocence and eagerness from him. Maybe he saw some of himself in that photo of me.
Or it’s just a photo.
Or he kept meaning to update it but never got around to it.
Dunno.
And for all the comedy and weirdness of him carrying that photo all these years, transferring it from wallet to wallet, it does make me sad that I will never have the opportunity to ask him why that photo.
I never knew he carried around that photo. I’m guessing he knew I didn’t know. I’m guessing he thought I’d never “find out.”
If I chose to “go there” I could assign a lot of significance on a lot of levels. The implied secrecy. The fact that he carried me around, forever a child, while next to me in his wallets my siblings grew and matured through the course of their lives. Maybe that photo captured something he liked about me which I began to lose shortly after that photo was taken. My pre-teen years were the dawn of my cynicism and disgust with the injustices of the world. I haven’t been the same since. Maybe he was sad about that and wanted to remember me when I was less aware and more hopeful. Maybe he liked me better as a kid than as an adult. (To this I smirk, cynically, "So if I was the perennial little kid in his eyes why am I the one dealing with the adult responsibilities of his death while my grown-up siblings are nowhere to be found?") Maybe it's because I'm the youngest and he wanted to hang onto us kids, as kids. Maybe he chose me to represent the collective years he spent as a father to young kids. At the time that photo was taken he'd been a father for 20 years. My siblings were legal, voting adults. Maybe it's not the photo of me but what that photo embodies: Kids. All of us kids. Maybe it was then he first felt the pangs of sending kids out into the world as adults and he wanted to hang onto our youth via that photo.
Or maybe there’s some deep Freudian meaning which could unlock the complexities of our relationship and in turn, perhaps solve the mystery as to why I can’t meet the right man for me and what to do to change that. (Because in Freudville it always goes back to the parents.) If I could ask him why he carried that photo all these years maybe I could gain some insight about him I didn’t already know.
...to mention but a few deeper meanings which could be attached to this innocuous seeming photo. I could crumble to my knees and cry, “Why, Dad, why? Why this photo? What does it mean? What did it mean to you?”
That’s assigning a lot of psychology to a small photograph.
Discovering that photo could cause a complete emotional meltdown. It could be the basis of an entire Lifetime mini-series.* It could forever change me or scar me. It could alter my perception of what my dad thought of me. It could alter my perception of my dad. It could call the dynamic of our relationship into question. Discovering that photo could set off all sorts of things, trigger all sorts of emotions and responses. It could cause doubt which could set off a chain reaction of confusion, uncertainty, fear, anger and a host of other issues requiring years of therapy and arguments among my siblings.
But it didn’t. Knowing this “secret” about my dad doesn’t change the relationship we had. It doesn’t alter my memories. It provides a small bit of insight and shines light on one small aspect of my father. But it doesn’t change everything I knew about him. It doesn’t re-phrase everything he ever said to me with a new context. It doesn’t cloud the experiences we shared. (Which include him helping me work on many of those merit badges.) It doesn't add intrigue to my dad's life - or mine.
It doesn’t diminish the bittersweet sting of finding a perfect skipping stone.
I tucked the photos back into their places in the wallet and returned it to its hiding place. Everything back the way my dad always kept it. Everything the way it's supposed to be with me none the wiser apart from learning my dad carried a photo of me in his wallet. Which is a great thing to learn. I never knew he carried any photos other than the one of my mother. It doesn't matter what photo or when it was taken. He kept me and my family with his important every day stuff of life. That's the significance. He wanted photos of us, of me, with him. That's what matters, that's what I take away from this.
Why that old photo of me? There's no point in dwelling on the possibilities.
He just liked it.
*I can see the opening credits, soft but dramatic instrumental music, rain streaming down windows, a woman pulls out a wallet from a dresser drawer, out falls a photo of a little girl in a Girl Scout uniform, the camera zooms in for a soft lens close up of the decades old photo, then cuts to the woman who has one poignant tear on her cheek. "My Father's Secrets" splashes across the screen. She notices a car pulling into the driveway and quickly returns the photo to the wallet and shoves the wallet back into the drawer. 2:45 PM
Friday, October 24, 2008
Free speech = free thought = uncensored writing = books = education = Great American Book Drive.
Freedom of Speech week is the perfect time to celebrate the right of free speech by sharing words with others and helping kids learn to read. Donating your books could help unlock the Universe for children. Give 'em the keys by donating books.
If you're in Chicago this is the weekend to take your books to the Open Books donation drop! Woo hoo!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Delta Dawn is stretching her songwriting wings. Exploring new ideas and styles. Remember when Ween went country? Well, Delta's going hip hop. Takin' it to the street, man. Rappin' 'bout free speech. It's like Schoolhouse Rock for the cool kids. Just a little something from the other side of 8 Mile to tide you over until the new Eminem drops.
Communicate, relate, debate, berate Conjugate, liberate, set the record straight.
The Bill of Rights grants the freedom to write. Words spark the flames passion ignites. Lyrics, books, blogs and even bad poetry We have them all because speech is free.
Repress, oppress, depress, digress Cause distress and force to confess Restrain, refrain, nothing to gain Censor, ban, not allowed to explain
Choose words, use words, We can even abuse words. Say what we want because speech is free But freedom is right and a responsibility
He said, she said, words filled with dread Words said in anger, not using your head. Problems ignite between friends and relations, Could be resolved with good communication.
Accusations, allegations, permutations, sighs Gumption, presumptions, corruption, lies. We say what we want because speech is free But freedom is right and a responsibility.
Say words, spell words, write words, sing words Speech is free, let your words be heard. Learn them, read them, share them, use them, Believe in them, stand behind them, own them.
Freedom of speech grants the right to speak freely No matter your language, even Swahili. There are exceptions, some words aren’t protected Freedom of speech pleas will be rejected.
Words warning of clear and present danger Where no danger exists will provoke anger. Don’t yell fire unless something’s blazing Free speech won’t protect incorrect phrasing.
Words with a tendency to cause illegal activities Will have officials investigating your proclivities. Don’t write words tending to things illegal Free speech won’t prevent a search spread eagle.
When words causing lawlessness are incited Chaos ensues, angry mobs get overexcited. Don’t incite, extol or provoke abandonment of laws Free speech won’t prevent jail time, no matter the cause.
When tempers flare words get defamatory Attacks become personal and accusatory. Mind your manners and words no matter what they screech Dissing people isn’t covered under freedom of speech.
“Them’s fightin’ words” Yosemite Sam yells at Bugs Bunny But provoking violence with words is not funny. When fighting words are said out of anger or a grudge Free speech won’t protect you from the judge.
The government’s a proud and sensitive beast, The Feds don’t take kindly to seditious speech. Complaining is fine, but threats are not Free speech won’t protect a sinister plot.
Speak your mind, write your words, even cuss Say what you want, freedom speaks for all of us. The First Amendment of the Constitution Grants the freedom of speech as a solution.
The two most foul words in the English language Are protected by right but cannot be assuaged. They strike the core of freedom and pack a powerful wallop The most offensive of all, the words are “Shut up.”
We say what we want because speech is free But freedom is right and a responsibility.
Communicate, relate, debate, berate Conjugate, liberate, set the record straight.
Monday, October 20, 2008
You read blogs. Some of you write blogs. So. Freedom of speech isn’t just a patriotic catch-phrase to you. Free speech is integral to your every day life. For better or worse, richer or poorer, good times and bad, blogs are the penultimate manifestation and embodiment of the principles of free speech. Anyone can say anything on a blog.* Which is a really good thing. It’s sad that it took over 200 years to fully realize the maximum potential of freedom of speech. But it is almost fully actualized, now, and that’s what matters. If you can gain access to a computer, you can publish a blog and tell the whole entire world what you think about…anything. You can be brilliant or, well, not so much. Anyone can espouse, pontificate, exclaim, rant, promulgate or even write really bad poetry and the entire world can have access to it.
That's staggering. Really. Every now and then I pause to think about that. Usually it's an email from someone I don’t know that triggers the Overwhelming Magnitude of the Power of Blogging. They stumbled across the blog, found some words that touched them in some way (positive or negative) and sent me an email. The power of words, thanks to freedom of speech, brings us together. Communication. Blogs are so commonplace, now, that I don’t think we give much thought to the big picture very often. They just are.
But blogging is a pretty big deal when you think that until 12 years ago it was difficult to tell your friends a change in plans about where and what time to meet for drinks after work. And now we can tell the entire Universe that Margot is running late because her boss is having a hysterectomy and Margot has to cover for her at a meeting and will be an hour late and Chloe has to pick up the new knobs for the cabinet doors before the place closes at six and she'll be on the other side of town so by the time she and Margot get there Ye Olde Watering Hole will be too crowded for the whole group to get a table so Jen suggested we meet at New Undiscovered Great Place she went on that date with that guy last week so everyone meet there at 6:15. (Though I'm not in favor of censoring blogs this type of communication truly is better suited for texting. Ahem.)
This is official Freedom of Speech week. I know, I know. I’m sick of lame “Official…week/month/days,” too. But. On the other hand, on the plus side, it’s not an entirely bad thing to take a few minutes to give thought to or raise consciousness. Not raising awareness, raising consciousness. That’s one of my pet peeves about “official” weeks/days/months. “We’re raising awareness…” no, actually, you are (or should be) raising consciousness on a topic. Most of us are aware of breast cancer, animal abuse, banned books, freedom of speech, etc. The goal of these “official” weeks is to get people engaged, get them talking, get them active, get the topic out of the passive cobwebby part of their brain and into the active conscious, and conscientious, parts of their brains.
So. I’m on board with Freedom of Speech Week. As a blogger it’s my right, responsibility and obligation to pay homage to that which gives me the right to let the entire Universe read the words I exorcise from my head.
Why do I blog? I have some sort of mental illness relating to words, I’m an incredibly fast typist and the physical act of releasing the words in my head is cathartic for me. I’m more certain than ever that there is something not quite right in my head. Words, words, words, words…so many of them which won’t leave me alone, they plague me, like a telltale heart, beating and beating and beating loud and louder and driving me absolutely nuts until I quash them, exorcise them, release them from my head through my fingers and onto the keyboard.
That’s my excuse. What’s your excuse for reading them?!
Doesn’t matter.
And that’s the beauty of freedom of speech. I’m free to exorcise my word demons to my head’s content and you’re free to read them. My reasons, your reasons, and that guy’s reasons are all very different. But it doesn’t matter. We’re free to write, read and say whatever we want. No fear, no persecution, no harm done.
Power to the people. Right on.
Let’s talk about my profession for a moment, shall we? Marketing. Ugh. I know. Some people think it’s “weird” that I, a creative marketing professional, have no marketing on my blog. There are no sponsors, no AdSense, no pay-per-click links, nothing which “us marketing folks” love to use to hawk all manner of goods and services. People say, “Trillian, heal thyself.” Or, well, that’s paraphrasing. They say things more like, “Trillian, you’re in marketing. Why don’t you use your professional skills and contacts to market yourself?” In real life I do. I brand the heck out of myself. I know my brand really, really well.
But.
This blog is my marketing-free safe zone. Sure. The blog has a certain image and I’m pretty clear on what that image is. At least I think I am. I know enough about it to brand the heck out of it, maybe even capitalize on it. But in doing so I would pimp out my personal safe-place.
The blog is my safe word. Or safe words. It’s my “Stop! I’m not comfortable with this and I need a break!” place. And by “this” I mean life in general – work, family, friends, men, money, you name it.
Marketing space sold on the blog, or marketing the blog, would bring an element of pressure which would squelch me. This is about me exorcising words in my head. I know. I said that already. I’m saying it again for emphasis. Maybe sometimes I make a valid point or write something utterly stupid. Sometimes my words make people mad. Sometimes they make people laugh (at me or with me, either way is fine with me, by the way). Sometimes I make people think, “Man, that woman is a mess, why do I read this stuff?” That’s all coincidental, even accidental.
I’d love to be clever enough to contrive all of these words. That would indicate I have power over them. That would indicate that the words bespeak some genius plan to use words. That would indicate a level of consciousness and organization.
There is no plan. There is no organization. There is no consciousness. There certainly is no genius. There is no control. I’m not consciously contriving thoughts, words, sentences. They’re just there. They just are. And I'm free to release them. Freedom of speech gives me the all-clear to unleash them (in accordance to the the rules below, that is).
In my daily life I have to create, plan, organize through filters. I typically have a lot of ideas but I have to filter them. I have to step outside myself and see, hear and think like other people, sometimes people very, very different from me. I have to filter my thoughts through a marketing funnel. I have to think. I have to manipulate my thoughts and ideas. I have to filter the words and ideas in my head. My speech is not free. There are limits, boundaries and filters.
And it’s not just at work. I try very hard to be respectful of other people. I filter what I say to people. My head is filled with words about people I encounter at Walgreen’s, on the CTA, in the Secretary of State's office. Freedom of speech allows me the right say whatever I want. But respect, common courtesy and fear for my personal safety stifles my tongue. And I'm okay with that. It's a good thing. The woman with the two inch fingernails and imperceptible use of the English language working the checkout at Walgreen’s does not care what I think about her customer service skills and lack of ability to do her job. There’s nothing to be gained by sharing those words with her.
I filter what I say to my family and friends. I don’t want to say anything which would hurt them. I don’t mind offending some of them, but not to the point of hurting them or criticizing them. Being a good friend and being yourself are typically two different things. You can deny it all you want but I know we all hold back, filter ourselves, with friends and relatives. Some of us are lucky enough to have a good friend, someone with whom we confide our thoughts, secrets, longings and fears. But. Even so. There’s a filter. We all have a limit, a point where we know, or want to stop. It varies from friend to friend and subject to subject, but we filter what and how much we share of ourselves. I’m a very open and honest person, but not to the point that my friends and family would worry about me. If my family knew how lonely and scared I am they’d feel horrible. They’d worry even more about me than they already do. There’s no point in that – there’s nothing they can do to fill my long lonely nights with meaningful companionship. And there’s nothing they can do to help me feel less afraid. Heck, they’re scared, too. So I filter the words.
But here on the blog I can say whatever words are in my head.
And yes. If we were to pay true homage to freedom of speech we’d spend the week going around saying exactly what we think. That would be true freedom of speech. Freedom of the confines of respect, convention, retribution and polite society which gag our words. But collectively taking a truth syrum and spending a week freeing our speech of its usual leash would be catastrophic. Though. It would be interesting. And the resulting litigation would provide job security for the legal profession for the next 100 years. And that alone is reason enough to keep our words in polite check.
And it all neatly closes the circle as we go back to blogs.
This is purity of thought. Unfiltered words.
Free speech in it's purest form. From my head to your eyes.
I’m not smart. I’m not stupid. But I’m not smart. I make mistakes. I do stupid stuff. I’ve made some horrible decisions which have negatively impacted my life. I lead a very regular, increasingly boring life. I am perhaps a bit more observant than some other people, a bit more perceptive than some other people, and I have the ability to articulate. But that doesn’t make me smarter, better, wiser, or more profound than anyone else.
The blog merely provides me an outlet, a place for catharsis in exorcising the words. A place for pure freedom of speech.
I’m not going to allow marketing to taint that.** The second I allow AdSense or any other form of sponsorship on the blog is the second a filter goes in place. I’d have to think about what words I use, if only for a second or two. “Will this annoy or anger sponsor X or be incongruent with what’s being sold in the banner ad?” Sure, a blogger can have credible sponsors and ads which don’t sully or taint their words, sure. But I don’t want them here. They taint the purity of thought, they take away the innocence of blog, they take the free out of freedom of speech.
It took us over 200 years for us to evolve societally***, politically and technologically to the point where blogs arrived and empowered people, everyone, with true, pure freedom of speech. I refuse to let marketing sully the long and hard earned purity of freedom of my speech.
Power to the people.
Below are some FAQs about freedom of speech. A little refresher course in the basics.
Q. What is Freedom of Speech? A. In the U.S., the First Amendment prevents the federal government from arbitrarily and unnecessarily interfering with an individual’s speech.
Q. Where does Freedom of Speech come from? A. Freedom of Speech is guaranteed by the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States: 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 to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Through the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, free speech protection is extended to prevent similar actions by state governments.
Q. Is only actual speech protected by the First Amendment? A. No. The Supreme Court has held that certain forms of non-verbal speech, called symbolic speech, can be covered by the First Amendment. To be considered symbolic speech, your non-verbal actions must have some meaning or message. For example, wearing a yellow ribbon in support of a solider would be considered symbolic speech. Another example occurred in 1969, in the case of Tinker v. Des Moines, when the Supreme Court held that actions of students wearing black armbands to protest the Vietnam War counted as speech under the First Amendment, and was therefore protected. In 1989, in Texas v. Johnson, the Court said that burning an American flag is also constitutes symbolic speech and therefore is protected so long as it is done in order to convey a message.
Q. Does freedom of speech mean I can say anything I want? A. No. There are various restrictions that have been placed upon this freedom in the United States. The following types of speech are examples of "unprotected speech" that can be restricted, either by a court or legislature: Clear and Present Danger Speech is not protected if it presents a clear and present danger. The most common example is that the First Amendment would not protect someone who falsely shouted “Fire!” into a crowded theater.
Blogworld translation: “I went to a Godzilla film fest. Mothra rocks, man. You should have seen all those Japanese people running for their lives.” Is perfectly within the confines of freedom of speech protection.
“I was working on some atom experiments in the lab on campus next to the Fermi Nuclear station and I accidentally unleashed an atomic reaction, a monster of Godzilla –like proportions, not even Mothra can save us, run for your lives!” will a) not be taken seriously, b) cause your blog readers to question your mental health and/or c) cause a riot, a stampede endangering lives. If the context of your blog is otherwise non-fictional, and you have not, in fact, unleashed an accidental atomic or nuclear reaction, but a stampede and riot ensued from your "warning," freedom of speech will not protect you when the lawyers come calling you to court.
“Tendency” Speech This is speech that has a “tendency” to lead to illegal action and thus is not protected.
Blogworld translation: “I’m going to the Phish show. There’s a bunch of us meeting up in the parking lot before the show. My cousin’s friend he met in Jamaica will be there, too and he’s bringing party favors. It’s going to be awesome. Look for the rusty ’92 Caravan selling cookies and brownies” will lead to people showing up looking for weed and hash brownies. Drugs are illegal. Consequently your freedom of speech will not be protected.
“I’m going to the Phish show next week. I’ve got my oxygen mask ready so other Phellowshipers and I can avoid a contact high” seems perfectly within the boundaries of free speech. However, there’s gray area here. A good attorney fighting for the family of a concert-goer who died of an overdose or other drug-related cause during or after the concert will argue that by stating that the use of pot was expected to be so prevalent that you publicly stated you had to wear an oxygen mask to avoid a contact high. You admitted and even advertised that going to the Phish concert would be an ideal place to partake in drugs.
Instead, in the case of a Phish concert you probably want to keep it to, “I’m going to a concert” to avoid all possible issues around the “tendency” caveat. You can talk about what you saw for sale in the parking lot before the show and the use of illegal substances at the show after the event when the danger of you losing freedom of speech under the tendency restriction has past.
Incitement Speech Speech that is intended to incite or actually produce immediate lawlessness is also not protected.
Blogging, “I hacked Apple and I’ve got Steve Jobs’ iTunes login and password. Here it is: ______________. Have fun!” will not only find you unprotected under freedom of speech, it will also show how utterly stupid you are and that you deserve all the jail time you get.
Whereas, “I have a file sharing site and you’re welcome to take a look to see if there’s anything you want.” is absolutely within free speech boundaries. Again. Gray area. The actual sentence does not produce immediate lawlessness and the responsibility is passed on to anyone who does anything other than have a look around the file sharing site. Freedom of speech will protect that sentence, but it won’t protect you from a lot of other laws that Metallica and Dr. Dre spent a lot of money litigating.
Defamatory Speech A statement that damages another person’s reputation is considered defamatory and unprotected. The Supreme Court has made certain allowances for statements that could be considered defamatory but are either made in reference to a public person or can be shown to be true.
Blogging: “My friend Chloe Widness**** is an habitual liar. She even lied under oath so her husband wouldn’t find out about the affair she’s having with their neighbor’s 17-year-old son.” is absolutely not protected under freedom of speech. For several reasons. You’re claiming your friend has a history of lying, that she committed perjury and that she’s committing statutory rape. You’re also implicating a child and his parents. Freedom of speech will not protect you. You’re going to need a lawyer. And I suggest you find a team of trained therapists and perhaps an ethics advisor to be on 24/7 call for the rest of your life because there’s clearly something mentally very wrong with you and you obviously have no moral compass. If you know this stuff is going on a blog is not the place for you to alert the proper authorities. You also want to find a good witness protection program, too. Even if you blog defamatory statements which endanger no one but betray a friend, you need to consider counseling. And maybe re-evaluate the people you choose as friends. You have a blog and trouble keeping confidences. You really need to stick to friends who lead lily white lives or find telling their secrets to the world as titillating as you do.
See? Isn’t this fun? Could my statement about your mental acuity and morality be protected under freedom of speech? No. It's defamatory. If you're not a public person freedom of speech will not protect me or my words about you.
This is perhaps the most relevant freedom of speech issue in the blog world. Maybe you don’t read blogs where people dish on their friends and relatives. Yay you!
However, you may read and even post comments on blogs and message boards. Uh huh. Oh yes. Even there you have to be very careful about what you write. Freedom of speech will not protect you if you are defamatory to the author or other commentators. Comment wisely. This is a huge area which is getting a lot of attention due to the unfortunate online bullying issues plaguing kids in school. It’s not just kids whose rights are being protected. Once more with feeling: Comment wisely and respectfully or don’t comment at all. Or, defame at your own risk. CyberBullying is the ugly spawn of blogging and online networking.
However, saying “The Hills is the fakest reality show ever. The actors on The Hills are HORRIBLE! They’re actors who weren’t good enough to get roles on real television shows but because they can’t sing or dance they’re not allowed on American Idol or any of its spawn. Lauren Conrad’s fashion line is a joke and Audrina Partridge should stick to centerfolds” is acceptable. These are public persons. Further, they are public persons who put themselves out there in roles which are intended to cause controversy. The whole point of The Hills is to sell skin care products, cosmetics, fashion products and apparently sunglasses. (I can't stand the show so I don't know if their ad sales reps are tapping into the waterproof mascara market. The show provides a prefect backdrop for cutting to commercials for waterproof mascara. Lauren Conrad all raccoon eyed from crying or Aundrina splashing around a pool then cut to a mascara commercial. Ta dah! Marketing genius.) By arousing “controversy” in the form of fake arguments and alliances The Hills is trying to incite people to form opinions about the characters. The whole point is to create buzz so people watch the show. More viewers means more advertising dollars. So go ahead and blog all the venom you want about The Hills. Freedom of speech protects you. And this is when I sigh and say I’m proud to be an American. My Bill of Rights allows me to publicly trash The Hills. Rock on. There is justice.
Fighting Words Similar to speech that is considered to have a "tendency" to incite illegal action, fighting words are unprotected. In Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire, 1942, fighting words were defined as those having "a direct tendency to cause acts of violence by the persons to whom, individually, the remark is addressed."
So, you went ahead and publicly blogged about your friend Chloe being a perjurous liar engaging in sex acts with a minor. I told you not to do it but you did anyway. Chloe’s sister finds the blog and sends the link to Chloe. Chloe’s going to be really mad. She’s probably going to show up at your house ready to rumble. Her 17-year-old sex partner is probably going to be pretty mad, too. And his parents are going to be furious. And Chloe’s husband is going to be really, really mad.
Especially since you also stated that you couldn’t blame Chloe for finding pleasure outside her marriage because her husband’s penis is really small and he has genital herpes. All these people are going to be so mad they’ll be pushed to their limit of tolerance and resort to violence against you. Freedom of speech will not protect you.
“Fighting Words” should be pretty obvious. I can’t think of a situation where “fighting words” could be mistaken for anything other than fighting words. I think we all know fighting words when we say or hear them. Blogging fighting words is the same as saying them in a barroom or PTA meeting. If you’re stupid and/or insensitive enough to blog anything resembling fighting words you might want to consider anger management counseling. Just a good natured suggestion. Don’t hit me.
Blogging, “Chloe’s dress is ugly” is okay - those aren't fighting words. If it makes her mad enough to resort to violence then the problem lies within her. Freedom of speech will protect your right to state your opinion of her dress, but it won’t protect you from the moves she’s learned at kick-boxing class.
Seditious Speech Seditious speech is that which advocates violently overthrowing the government or resisting lawful authority. This type of speech is unprotected and can be restricted because it endangers national security.
Okay. A smart person will avoid all words which could in any way be construed as seditious. Even as a joke, or in sarcasm, this is just not a good idea. So much so that I’m a little paranoid about typing an example of what not to do. Yes. I am afraid of my government.
“My Michigan Militia brigade buddies and I are finally ready to come out from underground and put our plan into action next weekend. We’re going to show those pinko bastard commie Fed sons of bitches they can’t push us around, we the people won’t stand for it. We got lots of ammo, this time we’re going to employ counter psyops on them, give ‘em a taste of their own ‘intelligence.’” Blogging this is really, really, really bad idea. On a lot of levels. Freedom of speech will not protect you. (Attention FBI and other authorities, this is merely an example. A fictional quote. I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of the Michigan Militia nor do I endorse their actions, behaviors or opinions.)
However, you could say something like, “After what happened in Waco and Ruby Ridge I can see how people might be concerned about how far government agencies will go to make an example out of people who don’t tow the party line. Sure, things at Waco were not good and kids were involved but the Feds showed up and the kids died anyway, I mean, the whole thing was horrible and I can see people getting scared and angry at the government for their lack of planning and accountability. It kind of feels like Martial Law and things that feel like Martial Law don’t sit well with people who already have conspiratorial feelings about the government.” You are not saying that you are going to overthrow the government, you are saying that you can understand the fear and confusion which might provoke people to fight back against their government. Freedom of speech will protect you, but it won’t stop your friendly neighborhood cyberagent from keeping an eye an your blog.
Q. What are my free speech rights in regards to my business? Am I allowed to say anything I want in my advertising? A. No. The Supreme Court has created special rules for "Commercial Speech" – that is speech that is uttered only for the economic interest of a party. Historically, the government was allowed to completely regulate commercial speech. In recent years, the Court has recognized commercial speech as being protected under the First Amendment; however, it is still viewed as having a lower level of protection than other types of speech.
Q. What are my free speech rights in a public school? A. The Court has long held that public school students don't "leave their constitutional rights at the schoolhouse door." This means that a student’s constitutional rights are protected even at school. However, the Court has also recognized a need for school officials to ensure the safety and education of their students. Consequently, as a student, your speech can be regulated and limited within the school-setting. You cannot threaten another student or encourage violence, or promote the illegal use of drugs or alcohol. A 2007 Supreme Court decision, Morse v. Frederick, reiterated this position when the Court stated: "The First Amendment does not require schools to tolerate at school events student expression that contributes to those dangers [of illegal drug use]." The Court has given school officials the ability to restrict student speech that they consider dangerous and harmful to other students.
Q. What happens if I say something that isn’t considered protected? A. You can say whatever you please – however, if your speech is considered unprotected (for example if you create a "clear and present danger" by yelling "Fire!" in a theater), you are responsible for whatever results from your speech, either in regards to endangering others or punishment by lawful authority.
Blogging translation: You have the right to write whatever you want, even on your public blog. The act of writing is not restricted. However, you are responsible for what those words provoke, invoke, imply or respresent. Freedom of speech grants the right to speak your mind. Freedom of speech will protect your words. However, it will only take you so far in a court of law. Your words are protected but your actions, intentions and the results of your words are not protected under Freedom of Speech.
*Blog sites have shut down blogs which are in violation of the site’s rules, which are typically “anything goes except blogs which fall into the above categories of Clear and Present Danger, “Tendency” Speech, Incitement Speech, Defamatory Speech. Fighting Words, Seditious Speech. Which explains the preponderance of porn blogs. Porn, unless it involves kids under 18 years old, is free speech. There have been some instances where porn involving domination/submission photos and essays came under fire and a few have been shut down using the “fighting words” exception as reason to take them offline. I’m not into porn so I really should not sound off on this. I don’t know enough about the industry or the people who enjoy it to have a credible opinion. However, my general opinion is that if a person (over the age of 18) allows someone to tie/shackle them up and whip, spit on or tickle them with feathers, they’re probably okay with it – consenting adults and all that. This could be argued under the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness section of the Constitution. However, blogging about it is another thing entirely, that is, if you want to use freedom of speech as your protection. The dam is broken, though, and there are loads of dom blogs out there. If you have content (porn or otherwise) which someone (anyone) could argue falls into one of the freedom of speech exceptions it’s best to publish your blog independent of public blogging sites. Your site, your domain, your ftp server: Your rules.
**Yes. I have links to the ASPCA and other charities. I have links to bands and artists and sometimes I even offer shopping ideas. Please. Hear these words. No one pays me a cent when I put these on the blog. I’m merely sharing information about something I found or like which you might benefit from, too.
***See? There’s an example. Societally. It’s not a word. But it should be. Says me. The word is in my head. Socially is not the correct term for what I mean. Societal is the correct meaning, but it’s not an adjective and the sentence structure and thought requires an adjective. Societally. Freedom of speech. Hey, if college graduates can enter the workforce saying, “Where’s mines at?” and continue to be professionally employed, I can make up the word societally.)
****Fictional person. Any resemblance to a real life person is unintentional so to all the Chloe Widness' out there, I'm sorry. I had to make up a name and that's the name that came to me. If you happen to also be an adulterous liar with an appetite for underage boys wow, what a coincidence. But don't blame me. Guilt stares back at you from the mirror, not from my blog.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
There are 46 (and counting) songs in a folder titled "Election" on my 4shared. All downloadable. All with full song preview before download. All free, like liberty.
No. New. Taxes. Nothing. Zip. Nada.
Yep. Music socialism (without the huge tax bite). It's a non-partisan bonanza of music. Something for everyone and a lot of stuff for people who are fed up with the campaign and have a dim view of campaigning and what we endure in an election year. (Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one thinking, "Enough already! Enough! You're all a bunch of egomaniacal power hungry loudmouths. Just stop insulting our intelligence. Shut up and let us research your voting records and legislation you've backed. Be gone, campaign, be gone.") There's rare Pixies gem (offering advice to the losing candidates), (My Life with the) Thrill Kill Kult, T-Rex, Flaming Lips, Lemonheads, Animals, Kaiser Chiefs, PIL and many more on the download ballot. Most of you will find it worth taking a look. I mean, when was the last time you heard Stereo MCs or Orange Juice? I know. I know. I pulled that one out of the cobwebs. Never underestimate (or attempt to understand) my music collection. Warning: Nick Lowe's lyrically funny but musically annoying I Made an American Squirm is known to cause severe, chronic ear worm. Ditto Pulp's Common People.
I even threw in a few moving day songs for W. Please, be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton. I have an image of him with a jellyfish net chasing jellyfish with Spongebob on the White House lawn. Best. Day. Ever.
As the election progresses so will the music - more songs added daily. Keep on rockin' in the free world. Peace out.
10:56 PM
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Everyone all hopped up high with excitement about the debate?
I have a confession to make.
It's a dirty secret that I feel a need to share.
I woke up this morning officially sick of the campaign.
Just like that.
I went to bed following the surveys and researching the candidates (all of the candidates) and poof! I woke up officially burned out on the whole thing.
I usually have a longer threshold of election campaign tolerance.
But this year all the zeal and presumptions and passion has taken an early toll on me.
And just like that: election fatigue hits.
In these times of uncertainty and anxiety it's so comforting to know the two lead candidates can come together on one crucial issue: Army Wives.
Maybe it's the early voting options. Time was, a body had one day to cast their vote. Now we get a three week window of opportunity. Kind of deflates the excitement of Election Day. "Eh, whenever." I can avoid the November 4 rush and vote starting next week. Hey. This is Chicago. Vote early, vote often. We've got half the equation legalized. I can't wait until we get to vote often, too.
Maybe it's the endless ridiculous television ads. I think it was Lifetime that pushed me over the edge. During my weekend of enlightenment watching Lifetime I gained some great insight. In these times of uncertainty and anxiety it's so comforting to know the two lead candidates can come together on one crucial issue: Army Wives. McCain's wife apparently pussywhips him into watching it while Obama apparently likes the portrayal of "real" American families. If we're to believe their campaign ads, that is. Somehow I doubt either one actually watches the show. (if they do that's reason enough to vote independent.) I'm concerned that McCain is forced to watch Lifetime (seriously, the man survived a Vietnamese POW torture camp, hasn't he suffered enough?) and I'm concerned that Obama believes the families on Army Wives are a legit "real" representation of military life. How gullible and stupid do these guys think we are? I realize the ads are meant to appeal to women voters and help boost Lifetime's ratings, but c'mon. Pandering to the lowest common denominator and offending female intelligence in the process is sooooo last century.
Maybe it's that the comedic satire has turned predictable and obvious. I love Tina Fey. Really. I do. Love her. Love her. Love her. And she does a great Palin. But. The "Ohmygosh HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!" responses have turned to "heh. That's funny. Any more of that spinach dip in the fridge?" Seriously, did anyone not expect a mock debate on SNL last week? The brilliance of it was the Queen Latifah cameo. (Well, okay, the Biden Scranton bit was unexpected and very funny. Poor old Scranton.) But. Great as Ms. Owens was as Gwen Ifil, let's be honest: It was jumping the shark. SNL brought in not one but two special guest stars. Fey and crowd pleaser Queen Latifah. What's next? The kid who played cousin Oliver on the Brady Bunch making a guest appearance as the most recent McCain adoptee? (Attention SNL writers: I'm willing to negotiate a fair price for that idea.) When even the comedic satire becomes predictable, when all the good jokes have already been written, when the mocking of funny accents and ticks are the expected norm, it's time for the election to end.
Or maybe it's the apparently limitless fervor people have for their candidates. Holy one hyperbole laced rally away from drinking the Kool-Aide, Batman. I'm concerned about some people I know who are so enraptured that their eyes glaze over and they fall into drooling lust when they talk about their candidate of choice. It's a bit, well, it's a bit much. A bit scary. Maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe we actually are electing a new Messiah. I missed that press release. I thought we were just voting for a president who will at most serve eight years.
Case in point: A young woman in my office got a new tattoo. On her boob. There, forever, on her boob as it seduces men, feeds her babies, gets mammograms, ages, sags and wrinkles, entwined in a heart, cross and a flag is the likeness of a famous Illinois senator running for president. No, not Paul Simon. (See, now that would be funny.) Talk about patriotic. I mean, I admire her devotion but um, huh. I dunno. I suppose it's no different than the ubiquitous GNR and Chili Pepper tattoos. But then, I have the same concerns about band name tattoos. Sure, I ♥ the Pixies enough to make a permanent lifetime declaration on my body. Sure. I'm certain of my love for their music. It's safe to assume I ♥ them as much as my co-worker ♥ Obama. But. Um. Call me crazy, call me old fashioned, call me fickle...I have no need or desire to advertise this on my body. Forever.
Guys, weigh in on this. You're dating a new girl. Things are going well and after a few dates things start heating up. You're making out. She leads you seductively, coyly, to the bedroom. She licks her lips and asks you if you want to see her tattoo. You think, "yeah baby!" but stammer out "yes please." She lowers her head, looks up at you, softly brushes her hand across her chest and bites her lip in mock innocence. You're all over the invitation. Off with the top, off with the bra and there, staring back at you perched just above her nipple is Barack Obama. Is this sexy? Is this a turn on? Is this some secret the other girls didn't tell me? Am I just one Obama boob tattoo away from a great sex life? I've always admired George Washington. Would a boob tattoo of him be sexy? What about Jefferson? I like Monticello a lot. How about Jefferson on one boob and Monticello on the other? Would that bring the men back to the bedroom again and again? How about an appropriately placed Clinton tattoo? Would that be a sexy surprise during intimate encounters? Would it be sexy to watch "him" smoke a cigar?
I'm going to use one of my overused slang passes and say: WTF???
And, interestingly (at least to me) the woman in my office with the new tattoo? Yeah. She can't decide what church she wants to attend, what bus or train to take to work, which workout DVD tones her butt best, what coffee flavor she likes, or what color shoes to buy. But boy oh boy, there forever emblazoned on her boob is decision which will last a lifetime. I dunno. It seems a bit, um, much. A bit too much.
There's just so much passion and zeal, so much chanting and getting caught up in rhetoric. So much anger, so much finger pointing. This election has people whipped up into a fervor. Passion is great. Devotion is good. Emotional decisions: Not so good.
Whatever. We're a month away from election day and I'm over it. The mudslinging has begun and all that's left are the defensive taunts and the pouty lipped whining.
In between big, bright, super white "let me assure you" smiles, that is.
I feel alone and tired and fed up with it all. And that can only mean one thing. To the tune of Fever. And in an Ann Margret voice. You know. To set the mood.
Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you say your hyperbole I give you fervor that’s beyond compare
You give me fervor When you promise me Fervor when you make it plain Fervor At the debate Fervor all through the campaign
Media lights up the debate Ink lights my new tattoo I light up when you recriminate And you know I’m gonna vote for you
You give me fervor When you promise me Fervor when you make it plain Fervor At the debate Fervor all through the campaign
Everybody's got the fervor That is somethin' you all know Fervor isn't such a new thing Fervor started long ago
The People loved Kennedy Kennedy, he felt the same When he said Ich bin ein Berliner He soared in popularity and fame
Now give me fervor When we’re votin’ Fervor sparks the game anew Fervor I’ve got fervor Fervor, yeah I’ll vote for you
George Bush and Al Gore Had a campaign without cred When the chads were hanging He said, “I’ll win the Oscar instead”
He gave good fervor With his disses Fervor with a Power Point Fervor He’s delicious Nobel won’t you laud and anoint
Now you listened to my story Here's the point that I have made Candidates were born to give you fervor Be it with humor or a mad tirade
They give you fervor When you vote for them Fervor if you went to a rally Fervor ‘Til you're brainwashed But what a lovely way to vote
But what a lovely way to vote But what a lovely way to vote But what a lovely way to vote
Friday, October 03, 2008 Frozen Pizza Industry Acknowledges Singles Market
California Pizza Kitchen's "Pizza for One" frozen pizzas offer singles a smaller portion size option of the popular frozen pizza varieties.
CHICAGO: Move over family-size deluxe. There’s a new kid demanding space on the shelves in the frozen food aisle. Pizza for One is bucking the trend of jumbo and economy sizes. Offering smaller versions of the traditionally sized frozen pizza varieties, Pizza for One is out to conquer the frozen pizza market.
“I doubt that very much,” Patrick Carson, a programer who goes by PC chortled. “There's no conquering going on in the frozen pizza aisle. It’s just a marketing gimmick. They’re trying to get away with selling less but giving it a name which sounds like a good idea, when in fact they’re just selling less food for more money. Me? I’m sticking with the jumbo deluxe 2 for $10 pizza. More pizza for my buck, a better value. It’s like this (air quote) green movement (air unquote) all these cutbacks, companies eliminating stuff, cutting back, charging more, but they put on the socially acceptable and popular disclaimer of (air quote) going green (air unquote) and everyone's all smug and eager to pay more money for less product. No one's even proved there is a global warming problem but we’re all supposed to be so impressed when someone says a product is now (air quote) going green (air unquote). Going green only means one thing: Cheating the customer. Charging more money for less product. And us consumers pay the price. It might make us feel less guilty to buy a smaller pizza, but it costs more per bite and doesn’t fill you up.”
Tricia McMillian, a creative director and marketing manager, discovered the Pizza for One by accident and sees the marketing perspective differently, “I was picking up a box of Boca Burgers and furtively glanced over at the frozen pizza section. Boy was I surprised to see that someone finally discovered and acknowledged the true frozen pizza demographic: Single people. Yes, it costs more per ounce than the larger sizes, but I'm used to that. Single people traditionally get screwed in the wallet. We pay a higher percentage in income taxes, we pay more for travel - price tours and cruises as a single if you want a black and white example of financial discrimination against singles - it's just a fact of being single. I don't like it, but as a single person I have to accept it. The single serving portion size is at least a step in the right direction. At least we're being acknowledged. Hopefully this will lead to reduced pricing, too. Today frozen pizza. Tomorrow fair income tax rates.”
She does not share PC’s skepticism, “Just because we’re single and happen to partake in frozen pizza doesn’t mean we aren’t self, I mean weight conscious. Less pizza in the box means less pain on the ego, I mean weight on the hips.”
The frozen pizza market is segmented between high school babysitters, college students, football party hosts and single people. There is no concrete evidence that single people comprise the market share of frozen pizza sales, but Kortney Jenkins, a cashier at a local grocery had this to say during her cigarette break, “Single people. Total freaks and losers. No doubt. Single people. Except during football season, a lot of hot guys come in and stock up before football games. I get invited to a lot of their parties. But other than that, yeah, totally single people. I work the 4 to 11 on Fridays a lot. It’s like a freakfest in here. Frozen pizzas fly out of the freezer aisle. All these losers, like, come in on their way home from work. I turned 21 last year so they put me in the express checkout to speed up the line. The guys usually buy a six pack or two and a couple of the meat lovers frozen pizzas. They’re totally not picky, they even buy the store brands. The women are more willing to spend the big bucks. It’s their big treat of the week, their big Friday night celebration so they buy the expensive brands, the gourmet style. La dee dah. I guess they think it’s exotic or something. Ha! Losers. Wanna make a good impression on their cats! Sometimes they’ll buy a bottle of wine, usually they spend more money on the frozen pizza than their wine. The $5.99 on special bottles. What cracks me up is when they buy a pack of diet pop with it. It’s always diet pop. Like that’s gonna take off those pizza hips and butt. Losers. I’d kill myself if I ever ended up sitting home alone with a bunch of cats eating frozen pizza and diet pop on a Friday night. Gawd. Kill me now, you know?”
“Even though it's nice to be recognized and accommodated as a consumer, something us single people rarely see, there is a stigma to it,” Miss McMillian agrees. “I mean, it is frozen pizza. As excited as I was about the new smaller serving size, the ‘Pizza for One’ title blazing across the box does make me feel self conscious. They might as well call it, ‘That’s It, Show’s over Folks, Nothing Left to See Here’ pizza. Or ‘Frozen Pizza for Single People Who’ve Eaten a Few Too Many Regular Sized Frozen Pizzas.’ It’s bad enough to end up eating frozen pizza at all, but to have ‘Pizza for One’ staring back at me…well…it’s just, it’s validation of a single person’s deepest fears. I’m a single woman eating frozen pizza, alone. But, I’m working to get past that. I never meant for my life to turn out this way. I want to date interesting, intelligent, kind, humorous men and one day settle down, you know, get married, have children, eat three nutritious meals a day…I never intended to be eating frozen pizza at my age. I never in a million years thought I’d end up like this. I have a job, you know? A career. I have college degrees! I'm well traveled, I've seen a lot of the world. I have interests and a sense of humor. I’m a good person. I am human and I do need to be loved. This is not what I want for my life, this is not the way it’s supposed to be…” choking a sob and then taking a deep breath to regain composure, McMillian adds, “The smaller portion size is perfect for me.”
No conclusive data is yet available on the impact frozen Pizza for One will have on the traditional pizza market. In this pizza town, deep dish giants dominate the restaurant and take-out scene. Everyone has a favorite pizza place and local pies are elevated to forms of art.
Ronnie Donovan, the owner of a local pizza restaurant with stores and delivery in most of the metropolitan area believes it won’t affect his business. “Apples and oranges. People who eat frozen pizza are usually single and budget conscious. The home delivery market is families or people with friends – a social life – with more discriminating taste.”
Marco Donovan, a delivery boy for Ronnie, and also his nephew, says, “My uncle’s right in some respects. I do deliver to a lot of families and parties. But I deliver to a surprising number of single people, too. The thing is, there’s no way to get an accurate count because a lot of single people who order pizza pretend to be having a party or pretend their significant other is on the way over. I know for a fact a lot of times the only significant other is a cat or dog. Single women have cats, single guys have dogs. We have a two for one deal and I’ve seen guys give the second pizza to their dog. The women, though, hey won’t let the cats near it.”
When asked about the misrepresentation of social involvement, PC scoffed. "Why would I pretend? I don't need to impress a pizza delivery guy. Frozen is just easier, faster, cheaper."
However, Miss McMillian had this to say, “Oh geeze. How embarrassing. Yes. Yes. Okay? Yes. I’ve pretended to be on the phone talking to ‘my boyfriend’ who’s ‘on his way over’ when the pizza delivery guy arrives. I used to turn up the stereo and step out into the hall when the delivery guy arrived. I pretended to be having a party. I know. I know. It’s stupid and embarrassing. I know. But it’s stupid and embarrassing to be a single person ordering pizza, too…” indignity turning to somber solace, “it’s a manifestation of denial. To openly embrace and admit that you’re alone and ordering delivered pizza, especially two for one, you have to accept that you are in fact single, alone and ordering pizza. Two pizzas. Consequently frozen pizza is easier on the single’s psyche. Though, I um, well, I do the fake phone call thing with frozen pizza sometimes, too. When I’m standing line I’ll pretend to call someone and leave a message on ‘their’ voice mail. The script goes like this, “Hi, it’s me. I had a really rough day at work, that client intake meeting was horrible. I’m beat and I’ve got to work all weekend on the budget proposal so I’m just going to grab a pizza and stay in tonight and keep up the momentum of the project. If I get that proposal done maybe we can go out tomorrow night.’ I know it’s ridiculous and who cares what the cashier with the neon purple nail polish and stupid white trash stamp cliché thorny rose in a heart tattoo on her ankle thinks? But it salves the already wounded ego. I mean, let’s face it, no one wants to be eating frozen pizza alone on a Friday night. Those fake phone calls give single people a little dignity.”
But what of pride with the Pizza for One? On a trip to an area grocery on a recent Friday night we found the frozen pizza section to be one of the busier in the store. However many of the patrons buying frozen pizza refused comment. Brock Williams, a shopper in the chilled beer section, had this to say about his fellow shoppers in the frozen pizza aisle, “Yeah, I eat it sometimes. A bunch of us guys will have ‘em if we’re watching a college game. Something about college football makes you hungry for frozen pizza. Guess it reminds you of being in college. Sunday and Monday night games, though, you get the real thing delivered.” When asked about Friday night, Mr. Williams chuckled, “No one but losers eats frozen pizza on a Friday night. Ugly single women. The guys who work with computers and live in their parents’ basement. Those kinds of people. There’s never any hot chicks over there. It’s as bad as the cat food aisle.”
“It does perpetuate the negative stereotype and validate the worst fears of single people,” Dr. Brig Meiers confirmed. “Not only is it frozen pizza, it’s Pizza for One. Whoa boy. No pussyfooting around there. Pizza. For one. Not two. Not family sized. For one. Frozen, no less. Might as well come with a loaded gun or a bonus topping of cyanide. It’s that much of a slap in the face to single peoples’ already wounded pride and low self esteem.”
Dr. Meiers continues, “Though from a physical standpoint, as a doctor I do have to congratulate the frozen pizza industry for offering smaller versions of their popular frozen pizzas. If single people can get past the social stigma and embrace the Pizza for One concept, they’ll ultimately gain in health what they lose in pride. And who knows? Maybe by reducing their portion size they’ll shed a few pounds, lower their cholesterol and blood pressure and be more attractive to members of the opposite sex.” So, Pizza for One could lead to tea for two?
“That would be great, wouldn’t it? But, har har, it is still frozen pizza. We can’t expect miracles.”
The frozen pizza market is as complex as society itself, it seems.
Ms. McMillian concurs. “I hate myself for falling into the cliché of a single person sitting home alone eating frozen pizza. But just because I’m single and occasionally partake in a frozen pizza doesn’t mean I don’t care about my health. With the regular sized frozen pizzas, and especially delivered pizzas, temptation to overindulge is high. It takes a lot of will power to not pick away at it until it’s all gone. So the smaller sizes are better in the long run, even if the name does twist a knife into a painful wound. I long for the day when anyone can hold their head high when they buy a frozen pizza, the day when there’s no barrier, no shame, no social indignity in the freezer aisle. Or until I find a man willing to spend time with me on a Friday night. But until then, there’s Pizza for One.”
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Okay, so, just so we're all clear on this, Life(?) of Trillian is a nonpartisan, election propaganda-free zone.
Consider this your place to turn when the election and politics makes your head ache or your stomach hurt. Or if you just want (or need) a break from the election.
I believe in voting. It's a right, a responsibility, a duty, an obligation and above all a choice. As citizens we're given the freedom of choice. Exercising that choice, even if that choice is not voting is important for all of us - individually and as a whole. Hey, we're a free people. Whatever your opinion, motivation or choice you have the freedom to exercise it.
But. I will say this in a very non-partisan way: Make a conscious decision. Don't be passive about the politics which shape the world in which you live. At the very least, strive to be informed. Credibly informed.
Political campaigns are marketing. The product being hawked is a candidate. Vote for me = buy this product. Put as much research and thought into selecting a candidate as you do choosing a pain reliever. You could just buy whatever's on sale. Or the one which had a discount coupon in the Sunday paper. But it might cause liver damage. Or make you sick to your stomach. Or relieve the inflamation but not the pain. Or interfere with other medications you take. Better to do real research instead of falling victim to marketing. Be an informed, aware consumer.
I also believe if you're reading this you are intelligent, aware, and mature enough to do your own research and make up your own mind about politicians. You're also kind and open minded enough to respect ideas and opinions other than your own.
So we here at Life(?) of Trillian will deliberately avoid the topic of the election.
Oh sure, we might discuss some related situations. But only in a non-partisan, as-they-happen, observing and reporting manner.
For instance, should someone at Life(?) of Trillian experience questionable behavior at a polling place, that person might put it out there for the world to see.
We are a non-partisan safe house on the web. Love all, respect all.
Okay. Now that that's out of the way, a few words on the word of the day: Electioneering.
We've covered this ground in the past.
But.
In the past two weeks I've received numerous forward emails about wearing campaign buttons, t-shirts, jock straps or thongs when you vote.
Electioneering is apparently a little known "rule." I guess they don't teach it in required civics or government classes anymore. So the Henny Penny-esque, "This is an outrage and a violation of my rights!" "We're one vote away from communism!" fear-triggered proliferation of these emails is causing an internet frenzy.
Altogether now. Calmly. Rationally. Hold my hand. It will be okay. I promise.
Electioneering is not allowed within 100 feet of polling places in most states. This is one of those fundamental rules in place to ensure everyone feels free to cast their vote without influence, bribe or threat of persecution. Everyone, regardless of their political beliefs or affiliations, deserves the right to sleep soundly in the knowledge that within 100 feet of their polling place they will be in a marketing-free, judgment-free, persecution-free, peer pressure-free zone.
Polling places are sacred - they are non-partisan sanctuaries of freedom.
Period.
Hence, the rules regarding electioneering.
Period.
This is nothing new. This is not evidence of The Man keeping average citizens down. Freedoms are not being threatened or violated.
This is actually a good thing. It's meant to keep polling places non-partisan and non-threatening to all citizens. Without electioneering laws candidates could use all sorts of persuasive marketing techniques while you're in the polling place casting votes. It's meant to keep, at the very least, the polling places equal. And free of marketing. Electioneering laws give us one last bastion of hope against marketing. Electioneering laws are protecting freedoms. Really. I promise.
The rule (in most states) is: No visible candidate name or likeness can be on your person within 100 feet of the polling place. Straight from a Chicago board of elections rep: Voters in Chicago who turn up to vote wearing campaign buttons or t-shirts are asked to remove the button(s) and t-shirts (or turn them inside out), or completely cover them prior to entering the confines of the polling place. Also, if you get all hopped up high on campaign fever and start screaming out "Vote for (whomever)!" within the confines of the polling place you will be removed from the polling place. You cannot carry a candidate balloon, lollipop or anything with their likeness or name on it into the polling place.
However, as long as you don't wear your campaign jock strap or thong where it's visible you are perfectly welcome to wear it into the polling place as you cast your vote.
There's a ton of gray area - if you are holding an election flyer, for instance, is that electioneering? Well, technically, yes. You may be asked to fold it so the name or image isn't showing. You also may be asked to hand it over to an election official while you are in the polling place.
I am always very, very surprised at the disregard for electioneering in Chicago. I know. I know. I don't know why I'm surprised. Dis is Chicago. But. Still. I mean. The blatant disregard is disturbing to me. It has improved since I moved here. (in one of my first elections I saw an election worker's totebag with a campaign bumper sticker on it - the totebag was over the back of the chair and on display for all voters to see as they stood in line waiting for a booth. I haven't seen anything like that in the past few years.) But compared to other places I've voted, places where polling places are sacred, quiet, non-partisan sanctuaries, Chicago still has a long way to go.
The results were varied. It's a tight vote. There's a strong constiuancy who feel the type of donut is a deciding factor. Powdered sugar and jelly constitute electioneering. Funny, that. I would think cream sticks would be more of a concern. We also heard from the Munchkin delegates. And at least two people presumably from Chicago or in a witness protection program made their opinions known.
Does giving out donuts at a polling place qualify as electioneering?
The poll is still open if you missed it the first time or if you would like to vote again (hey, dis is Chicago, perhaps you have a dead relative who would like to weigh in on the topic).
Be wise, beware, be respectful. Learn the rules of your polling place, understand them and respect them.
You also might want to check your company's policy regarding political campaigning, too. Many companies have policies prohibiting candidate campaign materials in the workplace. Yes. In some cases distributing or even displaying election materials - including but not limited to buttons, bumper stickers, placards, balloons - is grounds for dismissal. Be particularly mindful of your company's policies if you work in a cube. Your cube is "open" space, not private space. What you pin up on your cube wall is deemed to be on public display. Also, check the dress code. Political t-shirts may be expressly prohibited - this is a very common rule in corporate dress codes. You have been reminded. You're welcome.
I'm all for freedom of speech, but, unless you're working at a candidate headquarters, I tend to agree with company policies banning election campaign advertising. No one should be forced to see political campaign materials at work. They're there to do a job which in most cases has nothing to do with their choice of candidate. Sure, it's to be expected, particularly during this year's election. But. Religion, sex and politics are three sacred and very, very personal topics best kept out of the office. If you love your candidate and want to express the depth of your support turn your bedroom into a shrine to the candidate. Cover your car in stickers and magnets and drive around with a megaphone telling the world about your candidate. Start a blog extolling the many wondrous virtues of your candidate. Cool, right? Rock on. Just don't subject your coworkers to your campaign fervor and zeal.
And, one last issue for the new century. Photography in a polling place. Polling places are subject to local election laws. Election judges and workers are the "sheriffs" in polling places. They keep things safe, fair and legal for everyone. They are not, repeat, are not the bad guys. In the days before cameraphones election officials could easily enforce laws regarding photography in their polling place. If it was illegal to take photographs (or video) it was pretty darned easy to uphold the law. Cameras, video and still, were obvious. But not so, now. Cameraphones make it really easy to circumvent those pesky no camera rules. But. Just because you can clandestinely take photos on your mobile phone in a polling place doesn't mean you should. Be aware that snapping a photo in a polling place may be a felony in your state or jurisdiction. Check your state's laws. In Chicago a provision (10 ILCS 5/29-9) makes it a felony to mark a ballot or cast a vote “so that it can be observed by another person.” The same provision also makes it a felony to “observe another person lawfully marking a ballot or lawfully casting his vote . . .” This would prevent a person from photographing or recording someone else voting, but it would not prevent a person from photographing or recording himself/herself voting. In addition, 10 ILCS 5/17-11 requires voters to enter the voting booth alone (or with a child). This would also prevent a person from photographing or recording someone else voting.
