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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Random Task

Yeah, ok, so the title sucks. I know it; you know it. I just wanted to get this blog posted and have about 15 nanoseconds before I have to bounce for my martial arts class, so I came up with the first thing that sounded moderately relevant. I was looking for a play on bush, dick and rove, but nothing came to mind. If anything pops into my head later, I may change it, but this is effortlessly average enough for now.

So I’m up to my old ways: lots to say but don’t write it down. Go figure. This time around as a so-called blogger though, I’ve decided to adopt a different strategy. I’ll save my daily rants for those most closely orbiting the daily life of planet “Me” (mostly because that allows me expression without having to sit down to write), then post here when I’ve stored up enough relevant shit to make it worthwhile to sit through it. Think of it like this: you’ve recently eaten a large pizza, with extra cheese; and now you’re all bound up and despite feeling the need to evacuate, you just can’t seem to muster the muscle strength to get things moving. Only through prolonged buildup does need overwhelm desire and the blockage comes forth all at once. Yeah, it’s like that; only without the need for air freshener.
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As I meandered my way through this last few weeks I came across
this, which made me wonder as it played in my head for two days after: is God really Samuel S. Jackson?
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I also discovered a new blog, written by a woman who’s employed by the Army as a journalist. She’s got a love for wit, writing and tattoos, so I think I fit her target demographic perfectly. Plus, she’s a professional writer and we all know that the professional writer types have things to say; things that stir thoughts and emotions in the reader.


She’s about to be re-deployed to Iraq despite having already completed her one-year tour there, which really sounds f-ed up to me. Something the military doesn’t admit to in their smarmy little ads about honor and integrity and being able to whoop ass single-handedly, a la Schwarzenegger, is that once you do sign on the dotted line, they can keep your ass for as long as they want, provided they classify you as “essential personnel” to some conflict being fought at that moment. So all this shit about performing one, one-year tour in the combat zone and the remainder in a secure post is bull when you’re a journalist employed by the military to provide positive spin to Bush –n– Dick’s quest to make it through the last 1.5 years of this administration without having to admit they royally screwed up. And you know what really jabs my nuts about their actions regarding this war? That those two will retire from the White House truly believing all the propaganda they’ve vomited for the last four years.


Although really I shouldn’t be surprised. I can’t think of one self-proclaimed autocrat who doesn’t ignore reality in favor of his own propaganda. Despite the suffering his regime caused, Saddam truly believed he was the savior of the people of Iraq. Hitler truly believed he was Germany’s savior and akin to divinity. Louis XVI truly believed he was the benevolent father of France. Kim Jong Il; Stalin; Idi Amin; Pol Pot; and the list goes on and on, down to little Equatorial Guinea, whose “president” has turned himself into one of the richest men in the world while decimating the country of over a third of it’s population.


Bush is no different when it comes to ignoring the will of the people in favor of his own misguided principles, be they political or personal. Most of our presidents are the same. Approval ratings low? To him, that’s just the liberal media, so he ignores them (even his champion, Fox News, places his latest approval rating at 34% and falling). His speeches reek of the same kind of empty rhetoric every failing leader employs. He tries to influence public opinion, but rather than do it through rational, logical debate (as, say, Reagan would do), Bush uses deliberately misleading statements and logical inaccuracies which might appear to be emotionally persuasive, but aren’t necessarily valid either (e.g., “you’re either with us or against us”).

His political machine is no different than that of any self-absorbed plutocrat who’s promoted beyond his ability. He uses rampant patriotism (not the kind that makes you teary eyed when hearing the national anthem as those jets fly overhead, though; I’m talking about the kind of rabid flag waving that turns morality malleable), vagueness, unwavering secrecy of his actions, oversimplification of complex issues, rationalization, and the labeling of anyone who disagrees with him as “helping the enemy” as weapons against those who would question his leadership.

Aaannnd… now that I have the NSA’s attention…

--deep breath--

Anyway, this journalist is about to leave and she wanted her last weekend in the States to be kick ass, so she partied hard. This seems a little counter-intuitive to me. I mean, she writes of the loneliness and soul-searing heat in Iraq; of the incomprehensible idiocy of how the Army does things; of having to follow troops into combat zones as part of her job. To me, having a great weekend means what you’re missing is that much more fresh in your mind when you’re finally boots down in Iraq. Seems to me that if you wanted to take the edge off being assigned to such a place, you’d try to make your last weekend before deployment as bad as possible. Then, when you got to Iraq, you could say, “hey this is nothin’. Why last weekend I…”

The question is, what could you do in the U.S. that would make Iraq seem like a vacation? Well, you could watch that Wife Swap marathon on E!. Or was it Trading Spouses? Or you could spend the weekend studying Anna Nichole’s death and the number of men poking her around the time she became pregnant. Who knows, you might find that you were sleeping with her too and might be the real father of her baby. I mean, what is that now, like 15 men who claim to have been boning her around that time?


Or, you could spend the weekend with my extended family, where the drama that is our every day would make Iraq seem tranquil. Or if this is too over the top, you can tone it down by simply jabbing something sharp into your ear for a day. At any rate I hope she survives. Any woman who would get a tattoo on her neck just to test Army regs on the matter is someone I want to know better.

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On the lighter side, I’ve been on a quest lately to discover ways I can spice up my day to day. I think I could use more giggles considering I spend 9-5 crunching numbers for the man and I could use and outlet for my pointless rage. Here’s a short list:

  • The next time I see someone who’s away from his/her desk but has left their email window active, send an email to everyone in the corporate directory in which he/she will proclaim to the entire company his/her intention to resign in order to devote more time to dancing the Macarena competitively.
  • Refer to myself in the third person, only change my name from day to day and keep sending messages to the IT administrators requesting an email name change.
  • The next time I visit the ATM, try to complete a withdrawal in Spanish and hope the machine doesn’t dispense pesos.
  • Start using “true dat!” and "that's whack!" more.
  • Sign all further correspondence using the name “Wankin Hiscox”
  • Start writing “for sexual favors” in the memo line on all the checks I write for my bills, just to see if anyone ever notices.

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Oh, and how do I get one of these?

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