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Given the high price and low quality of music today I imagine I don’t have to struggle to convince anyone that the music industry has been hijacked by big business. Music sucks. Stars are chosen and groomed by the main stream media rather than chosen for their talent by fans and, as it turns out, most folks are actually delighted to be relieved of the responsibility of choosing their own musical tastes. Call me crazy but I like to listen to music, and I’m just not hearing much worth listening to these days.

The industry is full of clock-punchers: the so-called artists that seemingly have a track quota they need to meet each year which they fill with generic lyrics born less from the heart than the wallet. I expect this sort of sell-out behavior from rap and rock; after all, musicians are like the rest of us and we all have a tenancy to mellow with age. So we’ve got guys that once sang songs like Cop Killa and Fuck tha’ Police playing detectives on TV and making children’s movies. As I said, I expect this sort of behavior from rap and rock and all of their subgenres because it’s so difficult to keep up that booze-drinking, drug-doing, groupie-banging pace as well as the level of anger that makes a legendary rap or rock song. And with social security being what it is, I understand Ice Cube’s need for a paycheck.

But I expected more from you, country music. You used to be about hard work, rebelliousness, heartbreak, and making bad decisions. Did you stop singing about hard work because the media keeps telling us that Americans are lazy? Has there been a time since 1861 when we’ve needed a little rebellion in our hearts more than we do today? Did relationships all of the sudden get simple while I was busy picking at my emotional wounds to the tunes of Tammy Wynette? And when did we stop enjoying a good soundtrack to go along with our mischief? Country music, I just don’t know who you are anymore.

Luckily the spirit of country is alive and well in the form of Hank Williams III. When I listened to Hank III for the first time two months ago I actually had to ask around to confirm that he really was off the radar of country fans and not just my own. You’d think the grandson and son of two of country’s biggest legends would have more respect in Nashville, but they’re not giving it and he wouldn’t want it if they were.

As soon as I heard the following lyrics, I knew I was in love.

I’m here to put the dick in Dixie
And the cunt back in country
Cuz the kind of shit I’m hearing nowadays
Is a bunch of fuckin shit to me.

He’s got the voice of Hank Senior, the piss and vinegar of his dad, and more than a little rebelliousness all his own. But he’s more than just the progeny of these two legends. The themes of his music go back to the roots of country but have a modern, sometimes almost punkish sound (Hank himself says he’s influences by cow punk). He’s rebellious; he’s hard working; he makes some bad decisions; and he’s the future that country music should have had.

Hello, is there anybody in there? I haven’t updated my blog in what seems like months, but I’m going to make an effort to write more often from now on.  I’ve just been so busy lately that it’s been impossible to find the time to squeeze out an update.

For example, this weekend I single-handedly dismantled a terrorist network and assassinated the rogue Russian diplomat that controlled them.  In 18 hours of game play I won the war on terror.  How’s that for a withdraw timetable, Mrs. Pelosi?  Just set Iraq to Normal Difficulty and send me in; I’ll find Bin Laden and the WMD’s and be home in time for dinner. Perhaps Call of Duty 4 is going to my head; but if it’s wrong for an adult to wear camouflage an cookware on his head while camping out in front of the television all day screaming expletives at imaginary terrorists, I don’t really want to be right.

Playstation 3 could possibly be the end of what little motivation I had left.

I did manage to pry myself away from the war on terror long enough to go out with some friends last night.  Originally we planned on visiting the End Zone in State College, but half of our group bitched out before even we left town.  You know what they say: you can please some of the people all of the time and you can please all the people some of the time, but some people wait all week for better plans to come up and scumbag you at the last second.  That is what they say, right?  Don’t worry, I’m not bitter or anything.

So I go along with my roommate, his twat du juor, and one of his friends to Williamsport for dinner and a wild night on the town.  At some point we decided that it was worth the hour drive to eat at a restaurant that not only exists in our own town but isn’t even worth eating at anyway, so we pull in to Ruby Tuesdays to stuff our gullets. Apparently no one was listening to my infomercial for Ichiban’s Japanese steakhouse on the ride up, because I really wanted to go there instead.
After dinner we went to a bar called Benji’s.  There was nothing particularly special about Benji’s except that I got to see a lady in a wheelchair dancing, or as I like to call it, “treading imaginary water.”  I chuckled a little bit at first. Then I realized that it was actually really great that this woman wasn’t letting her disability ruin her fun and that I’m an awful person for finding her situation funny.  I’m also a bad person for secretly wishing she would have tried to ride the mechanical bull, but seriously, who can blame me?

Eventually we had mocked everyone at Benji’s and were forced to entertain ourselves elsewhere, so we drove down the street to the Cell Block. The Cell Block is not my kind of bar.  In fact I would have enjoyed myself more had they never converted it from a prison to a dance club.  Coincidentally I was tempted to shank half the people there, but it’s harder to break skin with the swizzle stick from a cocktail than you might think, especially when the people you want to shank are wearing a protective popped-collar which greatly inhibits your ability to make the shanking count.

Chuck’s girl spent much of the night dancing with an old man that looked like a bulimic Santa Claus. This guy looked as though he would crawl down your chimney and eat the cookies and milk, then proceed to gag himself with a candy cane he took from your Christmas tree.  He had a funny little dance that I’m hoping someone caught on camera.

Chuck’s friend Ryan was accosted by a drunk girl who made out with him all night at the bar.  Can I call it accosted? I guess that depends on whether or not she was cute.  I was accosted by a girl in Shamokin once, but she was large and I was too drunk to scream rape.  Ryan’s make-out buddy was cute, at least seen through the lenses prescribed by Dr. Jack Daniels.

But at the end of the night she ditched him, and that actually made me angrier than it made him.  I was appalled at the lack of follow through this girl presented.  If you’re going to be a beer slut then be a beer slut. Don’t get cold feet at 2:00 A.M. and go home with your boyfriend instead of the random guy you spent the night getting horning-up. Show some dedication! This girl was a disappointment to bar rats across the nation, and I was sure to let her know before we parted ways.

The evening ended with a scenic drive home through Lycoming, Union, and Snyder counties.  You know you never really appreciate the natural beauty of Pennsylvania’s highways until some drunk broad makes you stop at every mile marker to spit up Long Island Iced Teas.  I went to bed with a new appreciation of the Department of Transportation’s craftmanship, and a renewed disdain for college kids.

The time has finally come.  I’ve reluctantly decided to sell my Jeep so that I can afford to put more money toward my student loans and, hopefully by the end of the year, be free of college dept.

The Jeep I am selling is a 2006 Jeep Wrangeler 4×4 65 Anniversary Edition.  It’s a standard Jeep Wrangler with a bunch of fancy additions, including a Sirius Satellite radio, 7 speakers, a subroofer, a flip-up soft top, and whole bunch of other fantastic features.  On top of that, there are still 18,000+ miles or 22 months left on the warranty.

If you are interested in checking out my Jeep, I’ve uploaded a PDF of my in-window advertisement as well as the CarFax report which shows a flawless vehicle history.  Check them out and get at me if you’re interested.

Jeep Information
CarFax Vehicle History Report

You can’t mix and match religions. You just can’t.

Last night at the bar I met a woman who was, on first impressions anyway, perfectly normal and seemingly quite sweet. By met, of course, I mean I was eavesdropping on a conversation she was having with Trish. She said she worked at a nursing home, a profession I give her a lot of credit for choosing because, frankly, old people bug me out even when they’re healthy. Trish asked her how she handled the stress and emotion of being surrounded by the sick, dying, and occasionally dead and this is when the conversation got heavy and I had to chime in. The woman stated that she wasn’t bothered by the disease and mental illness eating away at her patients because “they chose it for themselves.”

That’s a bold statement. After all, Alzheimer’s (one particular disease e she mentioned) isn’t an illness you choose or even acknowledge as an acceptable risk as does a smoker with lung cancer. In fact I’d imagine that, given a choice, many of her patients wouldn’t choose to live their final days suffering the indignity of having someone else wipe their assholes, let alone the pain and confusion of forgetting the faces of one’s own children.

So why, pray tell, does this woman believe that these patients choose their afflictions?

According to her when a person dies their soul is given a choice between being reborn in order to learn new lessons in the physical world, or moving on to their final destination. Many of us are born hundreds of times, she claims, until we decide that we’re enlightened enough to leave the Earth. The interesting point to me is that we actually decide our own fate, as though anyone would choose to be diseased or handicapped. Personally if I had to choose my own reincarnation I’d come back as a pair of Jessica Biel’s underwear, not an Alzheimer’s patient.

The real icing on the cake is what she said when we asked her religion: METHODIST.

I calmly said to myself: “no, no you’re not fucking Methodist you ignorant hag.” I really don’t care what people believe so long as they don’t push it on me. (Yes I know I’m a bit of a hypocrite since I’m more than happy to tell folks I think their beliefs are bunk.) But my point is this: why claim any religious affiliation if you’re going to mix and match totally incompatible philosophies to suit your own tastes? What makes this hodgepodge spiritual melting pot philosophy any better than my own secular outlook? The religious claim I simply conjure my morals out of my own ass, while good-hearted folks like this woman are force-fed theirs from assholes like Silvia Brown.

Did I forget to mention that part? The woman I’ve been discussing follows Silvia Brown, the Montel William’s weekly quack psychic guest who claims occult knowledge on such issues as telekinesis, life after death, angels, ghosts, UFOs, and magical leoplorodons from Candy Mountain (I am making that last one up). Personally I tend not to believe the teachings of anyone quoted as saying “Screw ‘em. Anybody who believes this stuff oughta be taken,” but I guess that’s just that crazy brain of mine talking again. It does, however, make me wonder what other holy men and women have said out of earshot of their flocks.

There was a day not so long ago when I thought racism was funny. I’d tell a racist joke and would almost immediately backpedal into a disclaimer like “I’m not racist, I have black friends!” Or I’d launch into a false justification about the difference between racism, stereotyping, and simply cracking a joke.

But in truth I have one black friend and, if we’re going to talk in stereotypes, she’s just as “white” as I am, which just goes to show that stereotypes are made to be broken. My perspective on other races and cultures has been shaped by the media, and chances are good that yours has too. Most of us here in central Pennsylvania and areas like it have absolutely no frame of reference in the real world on which to base racial judgments.

I don’t find racism as funny as I once did and I’ve got a black comedian to thank for that. Dave Chappelle attempted to deal with bigotry through satire and, after two successful seasons realized that most of his audience just didn’t get the joke. Before he walked off a stage in Sacramento he stated,

“You know why my show is good? Because the network officials say you’re not smart enough to get what I’m doing, and every day I fight for you. I tell them how smart you are. Turns out, I was wrong. You people are stupid.”

Chappelle realized we were laughing along with the racism rather than at the absurdity with which he portrayed it. The fact is most of us don’t understand race. I know I don’t and I can never hope to, which brings me to this disingenuous “white pride” tirade that more than a few friends of mine actually had the audacity to pass on. If I thought any of you actually had an ounce of pride in your heritage I’d stay silent, but “white” isn’t a heritage: it’s a color.

In exercising your “white pride” you’ve all managed to stereotype yourselves too; and what does the stereotypical white person believe? Let’s read on and find out. I can only write from my own personal experience so, if I’m wrong, feel free to disagree. The original post is bold and my thoughts will follow. Thanks for hearing me out.

You call me, “redneck”, “hillbilly”, “slaker”, “Cracker”, “Honkey”, “Whitey”, “Gringo” “albino ” and you think it’s OK.

…But when I call you porch monkey, coon,jiggaboo, Kike, sand nigger, rag head ,Towelhead, WOP, diego, kraut, spooks, paki, beaner, wetback, spik, polock, Camel Jockey, Jap, Gook, slant eyes or Chink you call me a racist.

The best justification you can come up with for using racist labels is that “they’re doing it too?” As compelling an argument as that is, I don’t buy it. If you’re not a racist, you have no reason to use racist slang; and if you are a racist you have no right to complain about being called one. Racism isn’t just a disease of white society: rather ironically as I see it, racism itself is totally colorblind in choosing its victims. But it’s still wrong, and it’s still a disease.

-You say that whites commit a lot of violence against you, so why are the ghettos the most dangerous places to live?

Of course ghettos are a violent place to live. That’s what happens when a lot of poor, discontent, and disenfranchised people are forced to live out their lives in squalor with little opportunity to do better. Look no further than the Middle East if you need proof. Today black on black violence is more prevalent than the white on black variety, but you can’t dismiss the fact that minorities have been forced to inhabit these places partially because of historical government policies, with government being a predominantly white institution. So even black-on-black violence has a little shade of white in it somewhere.

But complaints about white on black oppression and violence are largely based in the past, though to some the wounds are still wide open and manifest as bigotry in both races. Civil rights activists that actually care and seek to overcome our embarrassing past have been asking angry black youths for years to abandon the victim mindset, stop blaming the white man for their problems, and start looking for solutions. I say civil rights activists that actually care because we still have a few opportunists who make money by exploiting racial tension.
-You have the United Negro College Fund.

To put this in perspective, “In 2005, the UNCF supported approximately 65,000 students at over 900 colleges and universities with approximately $113 million in grants and scholarships” (Wikipedia). If you do the math, that’s an average of $1,738 per student, or about one third of one semester at a public school. When discussing the cost of education this amounts to mere pennies on the dollar, so why complain? Besides, if you’re hardworking and driven you can find money to pay for college regardless of your skin tone.

-You have Martin Luther King Day.

And so do the rest of us. Civil rights are something to be celebrated by everyone, not just African Americans. Plus I’m white and I still get the day off because I work at a high school. I’m not complaining.

-You have Black History Month.

Coincidentally many blacks agree with you that Black History Month is pointless, as black history is as much a part of American history as the Revolutionary War. If history is taught correctly, anyone attending a high school level U.S. history course can’t help but learn about it.
-You have Cesar Chavez Day.

Actually I don’t have Cesar Chavez Day. It’s only a holiday in four states; and what’s wrong with Cesar Chavez? He fought for the rights of farm workers, and actually opposed illegal immigration because it negatively affected the wages of farm laborers.

-You have Yom Hashoah

Yom Hashoah is a day of remembrance for holocaust survivors and it’s only a national holiday in Israel. Frankly I think it ought to be on our American calendars as well. The lessons of the holocaust are too important to be forgotten. But I suppose Jews ought to forget about their dead as we should forget about ours from 9/11, right? Is that what you’re getting at?

-You have Ma’uled Al-Nabi

Muslims have Mawlid an-Nabi (Muhammad’s birthday). Christians have Christmas. I think the only people who really ought to be jealous are atheists, so quit whining.

-You have the NAACP.

Do you understand how civil rights work? In a nation run by a government which has actually passed laws legalizing discrimination and poor treatment of some subset of its population, that subset must act as a single cohesive unit in order to show strength and thus force social change. Not that it matters; whoever wrote this trash is obviously grasping at straws, looking at their color, then deciding whether or not he should hate them.

-You have BET.

Yes but I can’t imagine they’re very proud of the fact.

-If we had WET(white entertainment television) …we’d be racist.

As a matter of fact we do have White Entertainment Television. You can tune in on any channel that’s not BET.

-If we had a White Pride Day… you would call us racist.

White Pride Day… what would that entail? In fact what does it mean to be proud of one’s whiteness? Why would you be proud of (or ashamed, or feel anything else about) the lack of pigment in your skin? What value could that possibly have? I understand pride in one’s culture, one’s religion or one’s nation, but color? Color is an attribute completely outside of one’s own control. You had no choice in selecting it, and you certainly couldn’t change it if you wanted to; and it’s literally impossible to display pride in one’s own color except by contrasting it and showing contempt for someone else’s.

Besides, no one is celebrating Black Pride day or anything like it. They’re celebrating important dates in the history of their culture, both happy and sad. If you want to celebrate important holidays in your culture, you might want to start by learning about where you come from instead of focusing on something as meaningless as skin color.

-If we had white history month… we’d be racist.

Every month is white history month, just as many blacks would argue that every month is black history month.

-If we had an organization for only whites to “advance” our lives… we’d be racist.

We did: it was called the United States government, and fortunately somewhere along the way it was decided that all men really are created equal and so our government ought to treat them as such.

-If we had a college fund that only gave white students scholarships…you know we’d be racist.

I’ll concede a point here. This has actually happened, with the predicted result. Preferential treatment based on skin color is racism regardless of whom it benefits or harms.

-In the Million Man March, you believed that you were marching for your race and rights. If we marched for our race and rights…you would call us racist.

If you didn’t march for your rights I’d call you un-American. As for marching for your race, when the government starts to take away your rights based on the color of your skin I’ll be right there with you. In an intelligent nation such as ours this should never happen again.

-Did you know that some high school students decided to make a club for only the white students because the other ethnicities had them… they all got sent to court for being racist but the african-american, Latino, and Asia clubs were not even questioned.

I don’t know enough about this incident to comment, but I’d love to know both the motive behind starting a white pride student club as well as the results of the court hearing. Minorities start clubs because as single individuals who look and act different than the majority are easily preyed upon by others. As a group they have strength and safety. The white kids have safety in numbers by default.

-You are proud to be black, brown, yellow and orange, and you’re not afraid to announce it. But when we announce our white pride, you call us racists.

They’re proud to be African American or Brazilian, Latin American, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, or whatever their nationality happens to be. Categorizing people by the color of their skin is ignorant because, among other reasons, no single color belongs to a single nationality.

I am white.
I am proud.
But, you call me a racist.
Why is it that only whites can be racists?
Now watch, I’ll be a racist for posting this
So what? no one will re post this for fear of being called racist
if you think its true re-post it saying ” I’m not racist but its true

It’s not true that only whites can be racist; whites just happen to take me most heat for it, probably because we’re unfortunate enough to have an overabundance of people who think this way and are foolish enough to open their mouths.

The point is this. If you’re racist, stop hiding behind white pride. There’s no such thing.