First off, I'm not black. Sadly. Sometimes I think it'd be pretty tight to be black. I mean first off, there's the whole penis thing. But that goes without saying. Also, there's the whole fast-twitch muscle fiber thing. I'd like that also. But once again, as I tend to do, I digress.
The point of this blog is not to say how I want to be black. It's to talk about all that wonderful stuff your president (assuming you are American), Mr. Obama, has been up to. For those of you that don't know, here's a quick little recap on the actions of yet another president whose support is rapidly plummeting for acting too much like a dictator and not enough like a President.
Regardless, here's what happened: A black Harvard professor was arrested for being an asshole to the police after he was caught trying to break into his own house. The police quickly established that he was the resident of the home he was attempting to break into, and were going to leave it at that. However, the professor was apparently a dick. He made a huge scene and kept bugging the hell out of the cops, so they cuffed him and took him into the station. There were three police offers at the scene, two white and one black. Mr. Obama then proceeded to, nationally I'd like to add, chew out the officer that arrested the professor for, and I quote, "acting stupidly." He accused the man of racial profiling and only arresting the professor because he was black.
Side note: the white officer that arrested the professor is also the racial stress adviser. One of his key jobs is to teach other officers how to avoid racial profiling and situations that may cause such an issue with the public. He is widely respect by both black and white officers in his department because of his skills in working with the public. Race is not and has never been an issue with this particular officer.
So, after a lot of argueing, Mr. Obama finally realized he was wrong. When he went up infront of the world to admit this, he did and said everything short of saying "I'm sorry."
Now, I know you're president Mr. Obama, but how fucking big does your ego have to be that you can't apologize to a man that clearly did nothing wrong? If every cop in his department is behind him, don't you think that maybe, just maybe, you could have gotten all of this completely wrong and made one big presidential booboo?
But hey, what do I know? I'm a white Englishman who bitches about everything and everyone regardless of race, gender, or creed. I'm pretty much a hater. Maybe you are too?
Monday, July 27, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
"Let's Say I Break into Your House..." Response
Below is a copy of my response to "The Email". If you haven't read the previous post, I would suggest doing that before you start reading this one.
Here's what I wrote:
That's certainly an interesting point to say the least, but it does ignore a large portion of issues surrounding the situation. Let's continue the metaphor, shall we?
Let's say you break into my house.
I worked hard to earn that house. I came from nothing, earned money, built that house from the ground up by myself. That was nobodies money but my own. That was nobodies work but my own. I alone own that property. As a free man living in America, that house and the land it sits on is mine. Unless I declare bankruptcy or something else along a similar line, I will not lose that house. It is mine.
Let's say you break into my house.
I load my gun and shoot you dead. That's my house. You were a criminal for entering it. It's my property. I feared for my life when you set foot into my small, isolated little piece of security. I wanted to protect myself, and I wanted to protect my family. I didn't want to hurt you, but my desire to protect the ones I love was more important than the discomfort produced by taking your life.
However, America is not a house. Like all other countries, it's a place of individual government and leadership. A large body of land full of houses, millions of them, for all those within and enough space for millions more. It's a community of people who sometimes like each other and sometimes don't Some people you know, some you don't. Some you spend time with, some you don't. But it's a collection of houses all the same, and though I can walk down the street within this neighborhood, I am not allowed to walk straight into any house but my own, unless I'm invited to do so.
America is a neighborhood.
Now imagine this. I am born in a neighborhood where bullets are constantly whizzing outside my door. I live in such an unsafe place that I cannot even lift my head off the ground without fear of a stray round ripping open my skull. When I hear a car pass outside my house, I pray to the God I lost hope in years ago that it isn't someone coming to drag me off and kill me for being born into a different belief system than himself. I grow up here, from child to man, and every second of every day I am afraid. I can't ever have children, because what awful person would bring a child into a life of such misery?
But then I hear that in the neighborhood several miles away, there is more room, there are less people, and there are laws that would never let what's happening to me ever happen to its citizens. So I leave this place, because I am human and I am afraid, just like the people who are living in the neighborhood several miles away would be if they were in my situation. But when I get there, I find it to be a gated community. And the gates are locked. The guards are waiting. When I arrive, they tell me to go home. I refuse, because I am scared, because I want a life for my children, because I don't want to die for nothing. But I am not allowed in. I am escorted home by armed guards, and placed back inside my house. Everyone has seen me march through the neighborhood that I tried to escape. Everyone watched me go. Nobody will talk to me now for fear of being associated with me. I cannot work, I cannot trade, I cannot survive. And then one day, because the people in my neighborhood wish for nothing more for themselves than I did for me, they come to my door, drag me outside, and murder me for running away. They take my insides out, and bleed me dead just because of the simple fear of being considered my friend when the truly terrible people come rolling back through our neighborhood.
Would you not let that person into your country?
Would you not let that person into your home?
If not, then think of this:
The statue of liberty its self, which sits at the gates of America, standing tall and proud welcoming all that pass her by, the symbol of hope for the entire world, reads:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
Perhaps you would prefer we string some neon lights that read "No Vacancy" over that inscription instead?
Sincerely,
James R. Mitchener
Here's what I wrote:
That's certainly an interesting point to say the least, but it does ignore a large portion of issues surrounding the situation. Let's continue the metaphor, shall we?
Let's say you break into my house.
I worked hard to earn that house. I came from nothing, earned money, built that house from the ground up by myself. That was nobodies money but my own. That was nobodies work but my own. I alone own that property. As a free man living in America, that house and the land it sits on is mine. Unless I declare bankruptcy or something else along a similar line, I will not lose that house. It is mine.
Let's say you break into my house.
I load my gun and shoot you dead. That's my house. You were a criminal for entering it. It's my property. I feared for my life when you set foot into my small, isolated little piece of security. I wanted to protect myself, and I wanted to protect my family. I didn't want to hurt you, but my desire to protect the ones I love was more important than the discomfort produced by taking your life.
However, America is not a house. Like all other countries, it's a place of individual government and leadership. A large body of land full of houses, millions of them, for all those within and enough space for millions more. It's a community of people who sometimes like each other and sometimes don't Some people you know, some you don't. Some you spend time with, some you don't. But it's a collection of houses all the same, and though I can walk down the street within this neighborhood, I am not allowed to walk straight into any house but my own, unless I'm invited to do so.
America is a neighborhood.
Now imagine this. I am born in a neighborhood where bullets are constantly whizzing outside my door. I live in such an unsafe place that I cannot even lift my head off the ground without fear of a stray round ripping open my skull. When I hear a car pass outside my house, I pray to the God I lost hope in years ago that it isn't someone coming to drag me off and kill me for being born into a different belief system than himself. I grow up here, from child to man, and every second of every day I am afraid. I can't ever have children, because what awful person would bring a child into a life of such misery?
But then I hear that in the neighborhood several miles away, there is more room, there are less people, and there are laws that would never let what's happening to me ever happen to its citizens. So I leave this place, because I am human and I am afraid, just like the people who are living in the neighborhood several miles away would be if they were in my situation. But when I get there, I find it to be a gated community. And the gates are locked. The guards are waiting. When I arrive, they tell me to go home. I refuse, because I am scared, because I want a life for my children, because I don't want to die for nothing. But I am not allowed in. I am escorted home by armed guards, and placed back inside my house. Everyone has seen me march through the neighborhood that I tried to escape. Everyone watched me go. Nobody will talk to me now for fear of being associated with me. I cannot work, I cannot trade, I cannot survive. And then one day, because the people in my neighborhood wish for nothing more for themselves than I did for me, they come to my door, drag me outside, and murder me for running away. They take my insides out, and bleed me dead just because of the simple fear of being considered my friend when the truly terrible people come rolling back through our neighborhood.
Would you not let that person into your country?
Would you not let that person into your home?
If not, then think of this:
The statue of liberty its self, which sits at the gates of America, standing tall and proud welcoming all that pass her by, the symbol of hope for the entire world, reads:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
Perhaps you would prefer we string some neon lights that read "No Vacancy" over that inscription instead?
Sincerely,
James R. Mitchener
Friday, July 17, 2009
"Let's Say I Break into Your House..." The Email
I am going to post in this section an email that was sent to me. I just want to have it up here for a while so you can have a chance to skim over it. My response to what is being said will be the post that follows this one.
Here's the email:
Let's say I break into your house...
A lady wrote the best letter in the Editorials in ages!!! It explains
things better than all the baloney you hear on TV.
Her point:
Recently large demonstrations have taken place across the country
protesting the fact that Congress is finally addressing the issue of illegal
immigration.
Certain people are angry that the US might protect its own borders,
might make it harder to sneak into this country and, once here, to stay
indefinitely.
Let me see if I correctly understand the thinking behind these
protests
Let's say I break into your house.
Let's say that when you discover me in your house, you insist that I
leave.
But I say, 'No! I like it here. It's better than my house. I've made
all the beds and washed the dishes and did the laundry and swept the floors.
I've done all the things you don't like to do. I'm hard-working and honest
(except for when I broke into your house).
According to the protesters:
You are Required to let me stay in your house
You are Required to feed me
You are Required to add me to your family's insurance plan
You are Required to Educate my kids
You are Required to Provide other benefits to me & to my family
My husband will do all of your yard work because he is also
hard-working and honest. (except for that breaking in part).
If you try to call the police or force me out, I will call my friends who
will picket your house carrying signs that proclaim my RIGHT to be there.
It's only fair, after all, because you have a nicer house than I do,
and I'm just trying to better myself. I'm a hard-working and honest, person,
except for well, you know, I did break into your house
And what a deal it is for me!!!
I live in your house, contributing only a fraction of the cost of my
keep, and there is nothing you can do about it without being accused of
cold, uncaring, selfish, prejudiced, and bigoted behavior.
Oh yeah, and I DEMAND that you learn MY LANGUAGE so that you can
communicate with me.
Why can't people see how ridiculous this is?! America is governed by
idiots, and populated by apathetic individuals.
If you agree, pass it on.
If not, blow it off......... along with your future Social Security
funds and a lot of the former benefits of being an American Citizen.
Here's the email:
Let's say I break into your house...
A lady wrote the best letter in the Editorials in ages!!! It explains
things better than all the baloney you hear on TV.
Her point:
Recently large demonstrations have taken place across the country
protesting the fact that Congress is finally addressing the issue of illegal
immigration.
Certain people are angry that the US might protect its own borders,
might make it harder to sneak into this country and, once here, to stay
indefinitely.
Let me see if I correctly understand the thinking behind these
protests
Let's say I break into your house.
Let's say that when you discover me in your house, you insist that I
leave.
But I say, 'No! I like it here. It's better than my house. I've made
all the beds and washed the dishes and did the laundry and swept the floors.
I've done all the things you don't like to do. I'm hard-working and honest
(except for when I broke into your house).
According to the protesters:
You are Required to let me stay in your house
You are Required to feed me
You are Required to add me to your family's insurance plan
You are Required to Educate my kids
You are Required to Provide other benefits to me & to my family
My husband will do all of your yard work because he is also
hard-working and honest. (except for that breaking in part).
If you try to call the police or force me out, I will call my friends who
will picket your house carrying signs that proclaim my RIGHT to be there.
It's only fair, after all, because you have a nicer house than I do,
and I'm just trying to better myself. I'm a hard-working and honest, person,
except for well, you know, I did break into your house
And what a deal it is for me!!!
I live in your house, contributing only a fraction of the cost of my
keep, and there is nothing you can do about it without being accused of
cold, uncaring, selfish, prejudiced, and bigoted behavior.
Oh yeah, and I DEMAND that you learn MY LANGUAGE so that you can
communicate with me.
Why can't people see how ridiculous this is?! America is governed by
idiots, and populated by apathetic individuals.
If you agree, pass it on.
If not, blow it off......... along with your future Social Security
funds and a lot of the former benefits of being an American Citizen.
Golf-Run Derby
I was watching the Home Run Derby the other day on ESPN. I know, who knew right, James was watching a sport that wasn't football! Oh, and when I say football, I mean real football. Not that broke-ass game Americans call football, which oddly enough is played with your hands. But i digress.
So I was watching the Home Run Derby, and I realized something. The Home Run Derby is basically just a game of Golf in which you don't get to drive a cool little cart around everywhere you go. Honestly, I think that makes Home Run Derby a little less interesting, but hey, I've always loved go-karts. Again, I digress. My apologies.
Here's how I see the two games:
Home Run Derby: A game played involving a stick and a ball in which you use the stick to send the ball towards a given target or goal.
Golf: A game played involving a stick and a ball in which you use the stick to send the ball towards a given target or goal.
I tried pretty hard to come up with a few solid differences between the two games, but all I could muster was this:
The only difference between Home Run Derby and Golf is that in the Home Run Derby, they supply you with clothing that makes you look like a jackass. In Golf, it's a competition to see who can dress like the biggest idiot on his or her own.
So I was watching the Home Run Derby, and I realized something. The Home Run Derby is basically just a game of Golf in which you don't get to drive a cool little cart around everywhere you go. Honestly, I think that makes Home Run Derby a little less interesting, but hey, I've always loved go-karts. Again, I digress. My apologies.
Here's how I see the two games:
Home Run Derby: A game played involving a stick and a ball in which you use the stick to send the ball towards a given target or goal.
Golf: A game played involving a stick and a ball in which you use the stick to send the ball towards a given target or goal.
I tried pretty hard to come up with a few solid differences between the two games, but all I could muster was this:
The only difference between Home Run Derby and Golf is that in the Home Run Derby, they supply you with clothing that makes you look like a jackass. In Golf, it's a competition to see who can dress like the biggest idiot on his or her own.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Missing Elderly
I was driving down IH-10 the other day, as I have been doing quite frequently recently hopping from San Antonio to Houston, then back again, when I saw a sign that read "Missing Elderly" and then gave a description of his or her vehicle along with a license plate number.
It was at this time that I realized I see that sign a lot. On almost every drive, those billboards almost always have some sort of description of an old person that got lost.
I have a few questions about this:
First, is it just one elderly person that keeps getting lost, or is it a different one every time? They are always getting lost in a red Chevy SUV or something very similar. Last I checked, old people only drive cars from the 1960's. When did they start driving SUV's? That just doesn't seem safe. Their bones are very weak. If they were to get in a crash in some broke-ass American SUV they are pretty much dead.
Second, how do we keep losing these old people? Are they really even lost, or did some paranoid parent just wake up one day and call their parents and when they didn't pick up because they are out on a fishing trip they chose not to tell their adult child about, the person freaks out and calls the police. They can't all be senile old men who can't remember their way home. I mean, IH-10 is a straight line! Either you're going one way, or you're going the other. How hard is that? I know toddlers that can figure that shit out!
Third, why are people letting these old people drive if they can't find their way home on a two way road? If they can't figure out after 100 miles that they are going the wrong way, they probably shouldn't be driving. Unless they are escaping from an old people's home, then they have no excuse. If they are, then go for it! Drive like hell Missing Elderly! You run your ass off!
Shouldn't we be more worried about missing kids than missing old people?
It was at this time that I realized I see that sign a lot. On almost every drive, those billboards almost always have some sort of description of an old person that got lost.
I have a few questions about this:
First, is it just one elderly person that keeps getting lost, or is it a different one every time? They are always getting lost in a red Chevy SUV or something very similar. Last I checked, old people only drive cars from the 1960's. When did they start driving SUV's? That just doesn't seem safe. Their bones are very weak. If they were to get in a crash in some broke-ass American SUV they are pretty much dead.
Second, how do we keep losing these old people? Are they really even lost, or did some paranoid parent just wake up one day and call their parents and when they didn't pick up because they are out on a fishing trip they chose not to tell their adult child about, the person freaks out and calls the police. They can't all be senile old men who can't remember their way home. I mean, IH-10 is a straight line! Either you're going one way, or you're going the other. How hard is that? I know toddlers that can figure that shit out!
Third, why are people letting these old people drive if they can't find their way home on a two way road? If they can't figure out after 100 miles that they are going the wrong way, they probably shouldn't be driving. Unless they are escaping from an old people's home, then they have no excuse. If they are, then go for it! Drive like hell Missing Elderly! You run your ass off!
Shouldn't we be more worried about missing kids than missing old people?
Love Me, No Matter What.
Have you ever heard anyone say the words "I'll love you, no matter what"? I have. In fact, I was watching TV last night and someone said it on a show I was watching. It got me thinking, could I ever love someone no matter what? Would I ever want someone to love me no matter what?
Definitely not.
Think about it. Loving someone no matter what they do, no matter what they say, no matter where they go. Completely unconditional love and devotion. Dogs don't even have that kind of loyalty, and we look at them as the most loving creatures in the world. I don't think I could handle being with someone who let me get away with everything. Where's the fun in that?
And yet for some reason, people consider those words romantic. I'll love you honey, no matter what. It makes people smile, puts butterflies into the stomachs of millions. But they are words of failure. To love somebody no matter what allows them to do anything, to you and to themselves. It's sort of stupid.
I think we need to start thinking about what we say. So, I've got a new one for you. How about from now on we say this: "I'll never love you forever. I'll love you as long as you continue to make me smile, you stay by my side, and you always put me first." But then, that's sort of long. How about this:
"I'll love you until you fuck up."
Definitely not.
Think about it. Loving someone no matter what they do, no matter what they say, no matter where they go. Completely unconditional love and devotion. Dogs don't even have that kind of loyalty, and we look at them as the most loving creatures in the world. I don't think I could handle being with someone who let me get away with everything. Where's the fun in that?
And yet for some reason, people consider those words romantic. I'll love you honey, no matter what. It makes people smile, puts butterflies into the stomachs of millions. But they are words of failure. To love somebody no matter what allows them to do anything, to you and to themselves. It's sort of stupid.
I think we need to start thinking about what we say. So, I've got a new one for you. How about from now on we say this: "I'll never love you forever. I'll love you as long as you continue to make me smile, you stay by my side, and you always put me first." But then, that's sort of long. How about this:
"I'll love you until you fuck up."
200th post
Well, this is my 200th post. I did have an interesting topic to discuss, but now I think I'll just comment on my achievement. I have written 200 different pieces of nonsense on this blog. I hope you have enjoyed them.
As I said before, let's go for 100 more!
As I said before, let's go for 100 more!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Capri Sun
You're at the pool, you're young, you want a cool and refreshing beverage? Why not bust out a box drink? Well what could be better than a box drink? How about a beverage in an aluminum-plastic case that's soft, cools easily, and has a unique way to open it? How about a Capri Sun!
No.
Capri Suns are quite simply the worst idea for kids of all times. First of all, all the flavours are completely artificial. But hey, kids like artificial flavouring. Also, it doesn't matter what flavour the Capri Sun may be, it's still going to come out clear. Kids don't like that.
No, the true problem with a Capri Sun is this: There are only two (2) possible outcomes for opening a Capri Sun.
1) You shove the straw in while squeezing the stupid container, and the juice comes right out and squirts you in the face.
2) You don't sqeeze the container for fear of being squirted in the face, and instead shove the straw into the aluminium-plastic just to have it come straight out the other side.
I just don't understand how Capri Suns made it so big when they hate kids.
No.
Capri Suns are quite simply the worst idea for kids of all times. First of all, all the flavours are completely artificial. But hey, kids like artificial flavouring. Also, it doesn't matter what flavour the Capri Sun may be, it's still going to come out clear. Kids don't like that.
No, the true problem with a Capri Sun is this: There are only two (2) possible outcomes for opening a Capri Sun.
1) You shove the straw in while squeezing the stupid container, and the juice comes right out and squirts you in the face.
2) You don't sqeeze the container for fear of being squirted in the face, and instead shove the straw into the aluminium-plastic just to have it come straight out the other side.
I just don't understand how Capri Suns made it so big when they hate kids.
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