Entitlement

Lately I've been hearing the familiar notes of the entitlement song being trumpeted by most anyone with an opinion on the state of being in this country. A bi-partisan battle hymn about how American life is being dragged through the muck and mud of ineptitude by those that feel they're owed something/everything by everyone around them, simply because they were born here, seems to twist and turn every nearly-full belly.

Whether it be the cliche welfare and food stamps debate, or how long it takes my generation and latter to find/create their place in this world, all the way down to why more kids aren't starting musical bands "these days", we've come to accept a notion that being handed everything fosters an environment where the almost-immediate next-generation slips into malaise and general lack of interest in pursuing feats and endeavors requiring any amount of hard work or diligence.

Heck, as a bona fide selective-outrage-card carrying member of what I've been referring to as, "Generation Zzzzzzzzzzz", I've found myself espousing the same rhetoric and ideology, and I can say that I do believe it plays a large factor in a number of society's shortcomings and downfalls. FED LIONS SLEEP.  Why try when the end of satisfaction seems nowhere in sight?

I get it. I see it. It's us.

But I want to chime in on one aspect of this debate that is not spoken of enough.

See, I feel like when I participate in or overhear conversations regarding entitlement, all the aforementioned common themes and subtexts of entitlement seem to revolve solely around inactivity as the agent of the poor and less fortunate. It exclusively acts as the header for items of laziness. And, I guess, to a large extent that's true. It is the most fertile ground for it to grow on.

What I don't understand is how entitlement is not lumped in with our current financial crisis and widening wealth divide. Why is it that when speaking of the injustices and crimes the wealthy elite have perpetrated when, say, gambling away futures on derivatives made of toxic mortgages, or improperly hedging loans and losing two billion dollars, the word greed is more often thrown around? Are they really different? Greed, like laziness, is the excrement of entitlement.

Is it so hard to believe that members of our "entitled generation" didn't just sink and become the grit on the bottom of society's glass? Maybe they were handed lavish educations, pursued powerful positions, and became the bitter froth on the rim as well. Because while some were at home subsisting on, "I want you to have all the things I didn't have. Wait there, honey; I'll get it for you.", others were being fed a steady diet of, "The world is your oyster.  All's fair and acquire everything you can."

To me laziness and greed are opposing reactions to the same stimuli.  And to simply place the burden of ineffectuality squarely on those with less will only leave the disease partially researched and thus resistant to treatment and control.  Responsibility should be evenly distributed to all that take without first measuring it's effects on those around them. And taking without measure is the root of all our problems. Not just coddling.

YES, we are the generation that never turned off our bedroom light because someone was always there to tuck us in, but let's not forget that we are also the generation that never refilled the water bottle.

A Hankering.

I want to believe in the ability to travel throughout one's own mind in a lucid journey to understand that each part can be folded or manipulated in an effort to distort the world's actions into an environment suitable for personal growth. I want to believe in the ability to train the soul to both need nothing and experience everything. I want to own jealousy, not be owned by it. I want to trace the lineage of my anger back to one solitary place; a place that can be pitted and removed forever. I want to understand why the eyes and the heart heart cannot connect with the ears and the penis. I want my stomach to untie ITSELF once in a while. I want my legs to not shake when I'm forced to remain still for moments on end. I want to not NEED you, but ACCEPT you when available, and accept me when you're not. I want to forget how everything made me feel when I was younger. I want to understand the imagination as the place where life truly begins. I want to realize that in my truest words, I am free. I want my eyes to not set tears on their sill, ready to topple anytime. I want to replace sadness with ferocity. I want hunger to never subside. I want to own nothing that can't be discarded in a bag. I want to remove love from sex. I want everything to remain as is, so I can analyze and distinguish it from everything that has ever been, then remove what only carries consequence. I want the willful ignorance I endure at the hands of my desires to escape through my lungs in one last exasperated breath. I want to burn my television set - see it's insides melt and understand that machines have neither the pixels nor the energy source to generate what the nose and eyes can. I want to understand that we are receptors of goodwill and adjustment, solitary animals operating amongst a pack, vicious and cunning, nurturing and concerned. I want to understand that we are complicated, that we are a mix of nature's whim and nurture's will, and that being complicated is intriguing and terrifying. I want to not be tired.

And I want it all now.

What the fuck, Marc Maron?!?!

So I just finished listening to the latest episode of WTF. For those of you not familiar with this podcast, I don't have time to keep bringing you up to speed with the goings-on of the twenty first century. Turn your computer off now.

Anyway, back to the reason I'm writing. I was particularly excited to give the newest episode a listen for a couple reasons. First, it featured someone I'm very familiar with; a person I consider to be a good friend and peer. Of course by now you may know it's Josh Blue. Josh has been a local celeb and Mile-High comedy stalwart since before he won Season Four of Last Comic Standing in 2006. Over the past few years Josh has been gracious enough to take me on the road with him several times and I feel like during those travels I've really got to know him on a personal level.

But familiarity wasn't the only reason I was excited to feed my ears with this interview. As much as I love and respect Josh as a human being and comic, I was excited to hear him placed in the hot seat and forced to face a seemingly inevitable barrage of questions aimed at the controversial choices he's made with his career and material. It would seem that in the eyes of Marc Maron, and his ever-present opinion on stand-up integrity, Josh had some long overdue explaining to do.  Last Comic Standing?! That show fucking sucks. Cerebral Palsy jokes? That's a crutch Josh seems to be content leaning on despite supposedly not needing to.
Staying in Denver? Why would he do that?

I want you to know that I don't/didn't want to see a person I care about slandered and ripped apart; I just felt that after the numerous conversations I've had with Josh over recent years, he's fully capable of justifying and making others understand the motivations and benefits of the road he's chosen to take. If anything, this could only help a skeptical comedy community embrace a talented and thoughtful individual that I feel has
been somewhat misunderstood.

So when the episode was finally posted, I added it to my already full WTF folder, dragged it to my I-Pod, and listened anxiously for the prodding to begin. A prodding that never came. Instead what I got was a Marc Maron that appeared to have gone soft. It was as if I listening to a Midwest housewife interviewing a kid with Downs Syndrome in front of her "less-worldly" friends. Did weed help his mind or where he was at in his life? Are you serious?! Why not just come out and ask him if it fucking hurts to be retarded? God damn it I'm gassy from all the placation.

How many times did Maron dig into Joe Rogan for his choice to do Fear Factor? Josh was on Last Comic Standing! Willingly! That show was a violent shit factory. If Marc had done the research he'd know that Josh won the series. He'd also know that despite what Josh claims, those were not his best sets. The network sold the story and used that to create a star. We all knew it. Why not lay into him about that? If he had, I'm sure Josh would have told him, as he's told me, that's it's afforded him a good life. That the choices he made have allowed him to do what he loves every day of his life. That when all was said and done, he didn't go to Hollywood and milk it for everything it was worth. He bought a home and a place in the mountains, started a family, secured a future for his kids, and lives in the place he loves. Shit, if I was a comic or fan who didn't know him, I'd applaud that for sure.

Forget that last point. It's obvious that was just lack of research on Marc's part. But why not press Josh for his glaring hypocrisy in wanting to be seen as equal while freely admitting to using his disability when it suits his interests? Then poke around about his time on Mind of Mencia, when Josh and Brad Williams were part of a thinly-veiled attempt by Carlos to form a freak-menagerie?

Once again I want to reiterate that I love Josh. This is a truly hardworking, extremely talented, no-bullshit dude. A guy who has given me great advice. A guy who worries about his future. A mentor I learn from. A dickface. A husband. An ego. A father. An opportunist. A fan of the craft. A friend.

I'm saying all this because I see him as an equal, if not better. And he is deserved of equal treatment. And equal treatment for the physically disabled doesn't just mean access to buildings and restaurants or free refills at the bar. It also means being judged accountable for the flaws, contradictions, oversights, and self-righteous musings we're all prone to when in the midst of trying to entertain.

I guess I just feel like that in Maron's attempt to not seem ignorant and uninformed with the things he said, he came across as ignorant and uninformed with the things he didn't.

Lame.

"Neutrality is at times a graver sin than belligerence."

If I hear another unfounded or news-fed opinion about what is happening at any of the dozens of Occupy or Tea Party protests throughout our country, I'm going to punch my son in the face.  Think before you speak.  His future mental stability now rests in your hands. 

That goes for anyone who has created an assumption or bias about the agendas and ideas of those involved knowing full well that they, as well as any person they associate with, have never set foot in an encampment or march, or had dialogue with any of the thousands directly involved.  Because when you voice your inexperienced opinion, all you do is firmly plant yourself in the pavement as another speed bump.  My face will gladly entertain your insights once I see photos of you holding a dated sign by any of the "bongo playing hippies" or "right-wing elderly nuts".  This is not about entitlement or bigotry.  This is about dialogue.  And that is happening right now.  On both sides.  This is a good thing!  Both sides can agree that banks are playing a rigged hand, at a table they've erected, in a gambling hall they operate.  So be a part of something.  Whatever that is.  Because you shouldn't be worried about tea-partiers or occupy protesters, you should be worried about why you're ineffectual.  Don't be another fucking mouthpiece of censure and trite opposition for a nihilistic media that is only concerned with ensuring sponsors don't walk away with their operating budget.

A Facebook debate spawned this and it's irritating.  The point was brought up, as it has been in the media, that a big focus of the Occupy movement is on a lack of jobs and a hatred of corporations. 

"Get a job, you fucking hippy.". 

"Don't like it, don't shop at Wal-Marts or chain stores." 

"America has plenty of money.  People are just lazy now."

I've heard this all.  Heck I've echoed some of the same things in the past.  But now I find myself wondering where this came from?  Any large protest will attract a percentage of the fringe.  Sometimes a healthy portion.  But after watching, reading, and speaking with people involved, I know what some of the main points are.

For the lower and middle class, average household incomes have been on a steady decline. The upper class is continuing to see a rise.  The question being presented is not whether the middle class is dwindling, because we know it is.  It's whether or not people should be taxed more as they get wealthier.   A large, healthy middle class is what made this country the land of dreams.  If we all worked hard, at the end of the day, everyone got to sit and enjoy a slice.  Unfortunately, human greed has changed the emphasis to where it's now less about everyone having a slice and more about everyone clawing to get their own pie(s).

We could work to protect and preserve just the upper class and scorn anyone who doesn't make it there as unmotivated whiners.  There are plenty of great countries with an emphasis on a protected upper class and large struggling lower class.  Great places like Guatemala and Peru.

If we have so much, why is it that money for publicly funded projects continue to decline year by year? Why are schools beginning to fall apart? I'll be the first to shit on entitlement but some things can't be summed up as laziness.

More money is being funneled into the top tiers. That's what Wall Street does. Corporations go public, sell stocks, and decrease pay and benefits to increase profit margins for shareholders. They move call centers and manufacturing overseas to places like China where labor is cheap.  We all know this.  The problem grows when most shares are not owned by thousands of Joe and Jane Smiths, they're bought and gathered into portfolios by hedge funds, vested, and paid out to small groups of very wealthy individuals.

Not shopping at Wal-Mart is part of a solution but it certainly doesn't stop investment bankers from gambling away pensions and 401K's. It wouldn't have stopped Citigroup or Bear Stearns from bundling toxic mortgages and assets to sell, only to then turn around and hedge their bets by purchasing insurance, knowing full well those toxic layers would most likely fail and, because of the aforementioned insurance, be more profitable in the end if they did.  That's unethical and immoral.  These are facts. That's why AIG nearly went bankrupt. That's why the global market continues to teeter on collapse. And that's why people are pissed.

No one is being held accountable. And regardless of what any of you think about "lazy" people sitting in the park, we're arguing about it right now. So it's worked. It's created dialogue. It's a string on a finger.

I wish everyone could see that people are not trying to do harm.  The ends are noble.  Whether or not you agree with the means, as harmless as they may be, what those involved are trying to accomplish is for the betterment of society. 


And I don't care about my spelling or grammar.  Eat fuck.

"Egotism is the anesthetic that dulls the pain of stupidity."

As this day winds down I find myself reflecting back on how I have been affected by the events of September 11th, 2001.  How my everyday life has changed.  On how my world, and the way in which I navigate it, has been altered.  I went back and forth in my head contemplating these questions and I arrive at only one reasonable and rational response; it hasn't.

I have the fortunate pleasure of knowing no one that was in, outside of, or near the World Trade Center site the morning those buildings collapsed.  There are no relatives or members of my family that served or died in New York City that day.  I have no connection or ties to any of the parties responsible for carrying out those atrocities.  I have friends and relatives who serve(d) in the armed forces both in Iraq and Afghanistan but all are currently safe or have returned home alive.  I watched the events unfold, untouched and unharmed, from 400+ miles away.

Because of this I try to find some part of me that can be sentimental about the whole experience.  I do my best to show remorse because I truly do feel for the people directly affected by those events.  I don't need to remind myself to not forget because, really, how the fuck could I?  If you did, or are capable of forgetting, you must have been blackout drunk for four months to not remember the scenes that were replayed on a repetitive real for a third of a year. 

But as far as feeling a sense of loss or personal pain, I guess I'm incapable.  Has my life changed?  In all honesty, the motions of my day to day living have not.  I work in the same manner, perhaps even a bit harder.  Not because of some new found reverence for life and American patriotism, but because I'm ten years older and loaded down with the burdens of a dream.  Not to mention that I'm now the father of a six year old child who demands more of me than I sometimes am capable of giving.  I still work, pay taxes (sometimes), shop for the same foods, and demand the same rights and luxuries as before.  Perhaps even more. 

Really, any domestic changes have been slight given the full magnitude of the event.  I now have to take my shoes off at the airport.  I've lost six ounces of carry-on liquid.  I have to use a passport to visit our sketch comedy loving friends to the north. I pay more at the pump.

Aside from incremental inconveniences, for those like myself, life appears to be the same.  Have we as a country become more isolationist, closing off our boarders and reducing foreign imports, increasing domestic productions, in an effort to be more self-reliant and less dependant on a world we seem sure is hell-bent on destroying our rights?  No.  Not all.  Are we working to become a fitter, faster, and smarter nation in preparation for a rapidly approaching war with enemies that surely want to annihilate the very fabric of freedom we cherish so much?  No.  In fact, we're getting fatter and dumber.  Well surely we must be doing more to understand our enemies, and in turn make our interests and agendas better known to them through civil dialogue and exchange in an effort to keep our potential foes closer than our friends.  No.  We've just ratcheted up stereotypes and fear mongering in an effort to keep initiative moral up.

My point is, life has not changed for a great number of us.  I guess I'm tired of hearing that it has, because honestly, we could have used a little change in this country.  We could have used some isolation and introspection.  We could have used victory gardens.  We could have used scrap metal recycling initiatives and manufacturing bonds.  We could have used power conservation and alternative fuel programs.  We could have used diet and exercise regiments designed to prepare a populace for a potential conflict on our doorstep.  Unfortunately we didn't get that.  Why?  Cause we want it all.   And we insist on convenience in every aspect of our life, and sadly for soldiers and their families that includes our wars. 

If you want to ask someone how their life continues to be affected ten years after 9/11, get on a plane and leave this country.  It's the rest of the world that's still paying the price.

"Moving on is simple, it’s what you leave behind that makes it so difficult."

Every break up I've ever been through is hard.  Thinking back on them all, there's not one that doesn't elicit some sort of physical reaction in me.  Whether it was infidelity or lack of compatibility; when ended there was always a feeling of sadness and regret that still faintly resonates.  Doubt leaving me to question whether or not the right decision was made.  The easy part was saying the words because for one reason or another they all needed to be folded.  The hard part came when reconciling what I was leaving behind.  A part of me, even at 32, misses every women I've spent any considerable time with.  As improved as my life is having made the decisions I have, I still feel for all.

Bands are no different for me.  In my life, when trying to recall, I've been in at least 16 musical projects since the age of 15.  I say "at least" because I have a feeling there's a few I'm missing along the way.  I'm sure there's a rogue noise quartet that never made it out of the practice space lodged behind a synapse somewhere in my brain.  The latest and arguably most mature project (both in sound and attitude) I've been lucky enough to be a part of was 'The Fire Drills'.  A five piece jangly power-pop outfit designed to make simple, catchy Rock N' Roll.  When I joined the band I was intimidated by the lineup and newness of style, having most of my life played in aggressive hardcore and punk rock bands.  I resolved to be me and put my touch on it, and if it fit, it fit.  Surprisingly it worked out well and we wrote a handful of fun songs and played a small number of great shows.  We recorded for two days but never put any finishing touches on the tracks.  This went unreleased and it will unfortunately remain that way because today we all collectively decided to let the project go.  Put the fork in it.  Set the bitch on ice.  A decision that came about amicably and rationally.   With age increasing and time decreasing for every member we all felt it best to end on an even plane.  It is unquestionably the right thing to do.  There are no hard feelings and I'm sure I'll keep in touch with most, if not everyone involved.  But now that it's over, and with a slight weight off my shoulders, that aforementioned part of me is looking back with a hint of sadness. 

I'm not bothered that we won't be going forward.  Honestly, I could care less.  I'm too busy and too invested in other avenues of my life to worry about something so insignificant.  No, I'm sad when looking back at we're leaving behind.  I'm attached to the music.  Every sound is important to me.  It's sappy, I know, but I'm sentimental about music.  During my worst times it was the only outlet I had.  I then, and now, put myself into every word.  I enjoy writing.  I respect the process.  I envy those that do it best.  And fuck it - I don't care if I'm viewed as self-centered - I listen to my own music.  There I said it.  Boooom.  Yeah, you like that?  Huh?  I get a lot out of it.  I mean what are we doing if we're not fabricating what we'd like to see on this earth?

For the three of you reading, I ask you this: Do you know that feeling you get when you hear a song that you fucking love?  You've memorized every beat and pitch change.  Each note inspires some part of you.  It's perfect.  Now imagine, you created it.  You sat and mumbled and hummed it into existence.  You let the tone dictate the subject matter and put letters and words in an order that conveyed a sensation you had buried deep in your guts.  When finished and tested, a feeling of gratification falls over you.  You did it and, OH YEAH, the best is still yet to come.  You get to play it live.  To see if it resonates.  To see if people connect.  And some people get it.  And this is important.  This is why I fucking waste my time with it.  That moment. 

What I created with this group was not groundbreaking.  Heck, in forced moments of objectivity, I can see that some of it wasn't good at all.  It may have connected with only one of the seven billion people on this earth.  But that one person was the sixteen year old pock marked kid that lives inside of me.  The one that is still bruised by a dozen loveless breakups.  He's an asshole by the way.  He's a self-aggrandizing solace pig, still angry about a billion blown opportunities and squandered "shots".  But as he's matured, and at the core, the product is all that matters to him. 

I know, I know, bro, "feelings are gay."  I'll stop.  I'm ready for this to go.   I wish I could say it will be the last project but those words have come out of my mouth so frequently they're now near worthless.  What can I say?  I'm off.  I'm tilted.  But it's the truth.  I'll do this again even though I know it won't work.  I just enjoy it too much.

Thanks to all my friends that came to shows out of obligation or pure interest.  I appreciate it.  I feel confident saying the rest of the guys do as well.

In honor of my small contribution to The Fire Drills, below are the lyrics to my favorite song we wrote, "Teenage Hearts".  Alright, back to less serious musings.  Take care, dudes. 


TEENAGE HEARTS

Wake up, Wake up, hey, honey.
It's time go
We've only got ten years or so, lovely
Before we slow
So let's take the biggest risks, baby
And crease the sheets
Cause lord knows that when we get older
It won't burn so sweet

(Chorus)
Teenage Hearts
They beat so fast
But when you get past the point of innocence
They crack
Teenage hearts

We'll wither away with our money
And little sleep
So let's take this time now, shall we
And taste defeat
I'm giving you the whole summer
To bring relief
Cause when forty hits our souls heavy
You'll turn from me

You're "geeving" me the shits!!!

Hello, everyone!  Sorry for the long delay in blogging.  Not that any of you have lost sleep over it.  I've just been so busy at the gym toning up my potent potables.  I've missed you all, and honestly, I've kind of missed doing this.  Not enough to feel compelled before today to do anything about it but I've kind of missed it regardless.

Why am I writing today?  What moved me to the keyboard?  Watch the video above.  (Warning:  If you're a music aficionado, please relocate sharp or delicate objects, or any sentient beings smaller than you, to a radius three feet beyond your current reach.) 


Are you done?  Okay, well first off, I'm sorry.  I did it because I love you and because all of your self-obsessed revelry has allowed shit like this to see fruition.  I too watched the video and was immediately driven to hard, hard, HARD diarrhea.  You're saying to yourself, "Is this a joke?".   There isn't a comedic writer alive capable of creating such a masterpiece.

I can't even begin to express how bad I hate this.  Now, to each their own.  But when given your own, please for fuck's sake, don't create aural Ipecac.  The children are restless enough.  It's like taking two very bland and mediocre objects and mashing them together into a misguided mess.  Like preparing a Boca burger, then deciding to smother it in plain yogurt, and serving the messy concoction on a Richard Marx LP.

Upon listening to the intro I found myself thinking I was just walking through another ordinary suburban metal/hardcore video.  Which is near useless but I can tune it out.  Then, WHAMM-O,  it's as if I turned a corner and now I'm strolling through Kylie Minogue's uterus.  And we all know the beating that thing has taken.

Why does this music drive my colon to empty itself at first tones?  Because it's confusing.  When confused, I shit.  I can't help it.  You should have seen me in Geometry class.  Why are they wearing crosses?  Why are they so mad about partying hard?  How come the chick singing the chorus has no tits?  All the auto-tune parodies haven't clued any of these guys to the fact that giving minimally talented musicians vocoders is the recording equivalent of giving crutches to a quadriplegic?

I feel so sad for music to come.  Oh, damn, I've gotta shit again.