J' rejette

I have no idea, if internet ads are tied to where you visit, why I keep getting ads to find singles - especially single men - in my area. I not only have no interest in meeting single men, I also have no interest in meeting single women in my area. Or in any area, for that matter. And for what, exactly? To give them fatherly advice about their boyfriends? Wtf? I did buy my wife some silk pajamas for Christmas, and continue to get ads from the site I bought them from, for which I am grateful because the gift was such a success it shall be repeated on MrsRW's birthday and again for our anniversary. So I don't want to forget where I got them from. But I surely don't need to find single men and women to help me with that. Sheeesh.

***

In a recent internet dust-up I had with some neanderthals regarding the behavior of some of our boys in Afghanistan my critique was finally met with the comment: "until you've been shot at you have no right to say anything." To which I say - bullshit. I've been told I can't say things about black people because I've never been black. I've been told I can't criticize moves baseball teams make because I've never played the game at the professional level. If you say something negative about Israel's policies you're suddenly an anti-Semite (even if Palestinians are also Semites!). But I don't see where it says, in the First Amendment, where there are all these conditions about the voicing of opinions. And if that kind of personal participation is a prerequisite to opinion, then no one can say anything against what I think unless they've been born in 1953 and saw and thought everything I saw and thought up to this time. Because unless they've seen things from my perspective for all this time they should just STFU or something. That's ridiculous. And I continue to say - even though I now make it a point to pointedly ridicule our over-macho'd sunshine patriots and their chicken hawk fandom - that the American flag itself should be enough of a symbol to strike fear into the hearts of the unjust. But I doubt that's what it means anymore in the world anyway. Because we're a bunch of vengeful, malicious, meddlesome cavemen now and have no ownership of justice or truth by any stretch of the imagination. Ugga bugga anythehellway.

***

I still can't fathom how grown men can slobber and fawn over professional athlete heroes. We have a TV in our break room at work and - since we work overnight - there is often ESPN or such similar programming on at all times. And, of course, athlete interviews are the ultimate absurdity...

"We just need to just go out there and take care of business."
"I want to just contribute for the good of the team."
"If we play like we're capable of..."
"Go out there..."
"One day at a time."
"Out there."

And then there's these guys who want desperately to believe in some kind of ultimate goodness. Sitting around the break room stuffing our faces with sandwiches and chili and all, some guys seem to always be the ones saying "oh he's a good guy." or "He does a lot of charity work you know." Or "he's a real down to Earth guy." Really... who cares what these guys do, and how "good" they are? For God's sake they're millionaires who don't really give two shits about us watching them when all is said and done. The whole worship-thing is just as bad as the opposite. "I don't watch basketball because they all wear chains and have their baseball caps on sideways." Seriously? They all do? Oh yeah? Wow.

I purposely avoid athlete interviews because they are useless in the first place. And I seriously don't care about their personal lives or what they do in their spare time or who their girlfriend is nowadays. The same goes for the big game, pre-game hype sessions. Hell I even avoid the national anthem. The whole hand-over-heart crap and suddenly the word "brave" has 47 syllables is a bunch of tripe.

***

But here's something I don't reject at all...

Yep. There's Charlize again dammit. She just can't stay away it seems.

Also? I turned off the capcha codes on the comments. Or at least I think I have. What a stupid ass idea THAT was. Who came up with that? I can't even read the friggin things.

Sometimes...

...I'm not sure if holding down a regular job all the time has been good or bad for my publication record - or lack of one. On the one hand it keeps me grounded in real life, hones people watching and - more importantly - people listening skills. But on the other hand it has chewed up a shit-ton of my time I could have otherwise used following my goals. Oh well. Buying another lottery ticket this Saturday, you can be sure.

Sent out the first large batch of rejection notices for Thrice #4. I have developed quite a huge slush pile or back logged stuff to read. Somebody asked me what I'm reading lately. I answered "a lot of bad fiction."

I think it's funny when I point people to Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules of writing, then someone sends me a story they wrote and in the cover letter the writer explains that it was my pointing to Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules that led them to submit to Thrice, and then they proceed to break every one of the god damn rules - meticulously - before I can get to the third page.

I FINALLY got my own copy of the Chicago Manual of Style. Yes I know it is something that, as a writer, I should have had thirty years ago (and the fact is that having it at work-side is more liberating than restricting, seriously). But it was always so expensive. $65 and I just could never justify plunging. Well I got a $50 gift card from work this Christmas and put it all out there for the manual, so that I ended up shelling out only $15. This is OK.

It's a pedant's dream. So don't give me any of your punctuation/grammar guff from here on out. I've got the Gold Standard eight inches from my elbow.

But, seriously, just thumbing through it makes me realize it is not actually something that bottles up and restricts creativity as some have suggested. It is written in such a broad, accessible way, and is so eager to point out antiquated practices in writing that tend to stifle common sense that I am quite surprised. Where have you been all my life?

When all is said and done, I've been somewhat embarrassed by some of the editing faux pas I am responsible for in past issues of Thrice. This will be corrected. Nobody to blame but myself.

You'd think I'd apply what I have learned from the Manual to blog posts, wouldn't you? Yeah... um. Sure! Just look in your Google Reader how many times I posted this entry. I'm never happy...

Just So You Know

I've decided that if I ever catch you texting someone while we're sitting together in real time and real space, communicating like human beings, I'm going to ignore you from that point on. Even if you're in my dining room I'll just not hear you from then on, or I'll go watch TV or go online and just leave you there until you figure out what your next move is; because I'm not going to bother you anymore. You can get your own beer or get in your car or just sit there waiting to see if anything is going to happen next because, I mean, since the rest of us are not really here anyway, it shouldn't bug you or anything if we just split, right? Because, I mean, you're busy and shit, right? You've got something to do. Our going to another room or getting in our cars and just leaving you there shouldn't really be a problem, right? You won't mind or anything.

Right?

I mean, okay, if you take your device to the bathroom or anywhere else, just OUT of the current social mix you are physically in, I don't have a problem - if you have the common decency to excuse yourself. In fact I would consider that POLITE and give you points. A lot of points. I'm talking about you're sitting right there in the middle of us and suddenly it doesn't even matter if someone is talking to you, your device has called and you must answer. Or, worse, you just remembered something you wanted to tell somebody six hundred miles away and even though someone is in the middle of a sentence and looking right at you, you just start thumbing away regardless.

I don't see that as unreasonable.

But I've also decided that if you think that is draconian or unreasonable or silly or petty or churlish or crabby or pissy or childish of me, well you and your mother can just suck my dick any time you guys are ready, okay?

And I don't care who you are, if you sign my check, or if you're a big deal on the internet.

I don't care if it's what everybody is doing or that's how it is or I'm supposed to get with it or I shouldn't take it personally or it's not that big a deal or whatever. Just know that when it happens, and every time it happens, I willfully and happily add a few more bricks to the wall that separates you and me.

Because it's rude.

Oh wait... that's a concept that doesn't apply to anything in 2010 America any more, is it?

Maybe a refresher is in order?

Rude: discourteous or impolite, esp. in a deliberate way: a rude reply, without culture, learning, or refinement; rough in manners or behavior; unmannerly; uncouth.

Or, to harp on something I've been thinking about a lot lately - having no class. It's like, not having enough of a connection to the people in your immediate presence to treat them with some modicum of regard.

It's basically saying "I'm hearing what you're saying but I actually don't give enough of a shit about you to listen /or/ I'm talking to you but I actually don't give enough of a shit if you understand what I'm saying."

Or, in terms you may find easier to understand... "brb: more important shit."

It isn't a matter of me being insecure, it's a matter of you being an asshole.

It isn't a matter of demanding you act a certain way, it's a matter of expecting you know how not to be an asshole in public.

And when you get this lesson down, fruit pie, we can start on Lesson 2: "Just because your cell phone rings doesn't mean you have to answer it like a freakin robot."

Just think of this as my version of a "slow driver/I'm PMS internet blog rant."

You will notice that when I am with you I probably have my phone in the car, or off or muted, and never answer, call, or text anyone. That's because I'm not as big a jerk as you are.

And since this can be addressed to 99% of the world who are now all sure I'm talking about them and suddenly can't figure out how they're supposed to act if they ever meet me and now may not ever want to because I'm such an unreasonable old crab... well it was nice knowing you too.

So there.