It’s damn near 2009, I know it doesn’t matter that I feel like the 90’s just ended, we should be further along than we are. No just socially, and obviously economically, but I mean technology. I’m not talking about space vacations or everyone having a robot at home to let the dog out, nothing that would change the very shape of our world today. Simple every day tasks could be, and should be, easier with the help of technology.
Sadly, this just isn’t the case. In my perfect world we’d have the following:
Every vending machine would have the ability to read your dollar bill. Seriously, how long have they been taking dollars now? They still spit out 54.9% of each dollar, and those rejected dollars are rejected more than three times 80.3% of the time. I probably didn’t make up any of those percentages. I said probably. Really though, it should no longer matter if the bill is as wrinkled as Bea Authors vazhïn or has one or four folded corners. Take the friggin’ dollar, give me my Starburst and let’s end this transaction. American’s waste 4 hours a year dealing with vending machine issues, probably something like that.
I want all ATM’s and those terminals at the store you swipe your credit card through should all have the same lay out. All computer keyboards have the main keys in the same spot; they can do the same for us. Imagine if the “U” was different by keyboard manufacturer. At an ATM, the yes/no, English/Spanish, and complete another transaction, should come in the same order and the appropriate keys should be placed the same. You can jazz up your ATM with a nice display or a beep so I know I really hit the key, that’s fine. But let’s keep it simple stupid. Same goes for the terminals at Targets, pharmacies and grocery stores. They should all work the same. This isn’t Mac versus PC, but it’s to the point that I’ve already considered walking out of a store without milk because their keypad is laid out differently. Can you imagine if I was one of those OCD freaks or just really anal?
November 20, 2008
November 18, 2008
Hirpoooo
I really enjoy watching “How I Met Your Mother” and I consider it to be one of the best comedies on TV. Last night however, I realized that I could write for the series. They had a whole bit about girls “wooing.” Not wooing, as in courting or trying to win over someone, but that annoying sound we often hear from a group of women in their late teens and if they are especially retarded, into their early twenties. I blogged about it many moons ago, along with a few other pet peeves of mine.
Back in July of 2005, I posted my Top 10 List of things that annoy the shit out of me. Woohoo made that list, along with high fives; they came in at #7. “Woooo” is a version of the aforementioned “woohoo,” it’s really more of a regional thing I believe. Aside from the fact that the writers went to that well a few too many times and took it from the smart social commentary it was and made it as annoying as the actual phrase, I realized I could write for this show. Maybe even a few other shows, some shows I’d have to get paid more than others to write for, but we’re only talking an extra $10 or $20. Seriously, I think most of my rants (see: bitching) on this very site could be turned into episodes of a successful sitcom.
My last name even fits the requirements for being shown in the credits; it ends with “berg.”
***
I have a bit of a conundrum at work. My boss has organized a team building activity, which ironically enough is being called “volunteer work,” even though the email specifically states that participation is not optional. The kicker is, we’re supposed to go to church, and not just any church, her church, to help staff backpacks full of food for kids who are in the unfortunate situation of not always getting a meal outside of school. The cause is a good one, and I have no qualms with doing something like that.
I do, however, have a beef with having to go to her church, or any church for that matter, for a work related function. So I’ve wrestled with saying something about how I feel it isn’t appropriate, which it isn’t, or biting my tongue and going along, or option three which results in me unexpected and unavoidable absence from work that day.
It’s been pointed out to me that a lot of good goes on at the church, which I don’t deny. And I highly doubt that there will be much preaching going on towards us, but any preaching while I’m at work is too much preaching. I highly doubt any of my co-workers would like to sit down and listen to my views, and better yet, I wouldn’t subject them to such an event. As I realize there’s a time and a place, and this isn’t either of those.
So as much as I find this awkward and potentially harmful to my career, I also find this pretty upsetting. That’s right, it upsets me. This angers me in fact. But as I think out my reactions to this, I see even more drama. If I say anything, I know the company would protect me, but I also think I’d be a bit ostracized. If I just go, I’ll be disappointed in myself for caving, and there’s still the possibility of a brain fart leading to some verbal diarrhea. I don’t think bringing up the fact that I didn’t ask anyone to die for my sins, or that I think I should own my sins, is going to win anyone over. Either one of those reactions causes me to be at the center of both an HR issue and piss off some coworkers who are way to comfortable talking about their beliefs.
My third option, where I some how being unable to come in that day has its own double edged sword, as we’re also supposed to go to lunch for my bosses boss’ birthday. Not that he’s really going to give a damn if I’m not there, but I don’t think it’s really smart to ever be the lone absent employee at a lunch like that.
Back in July of 2005, I posted my Top 10 List of things that annoy the shit out of me. Woohoo made that list, along with high fives; they came in at #7. “Woooo” is a version of the aforementioned “woohoo,” it’s really more of a regional thing I believe. Aside from the fact that the writers went to that well a few too many times and took it from the smart social commentary it was and made it as annoying as the actual phrase, I realized I could write for this show. Maybe even a few other shows, some shows I’d have to get paid more than others to write for, but we’re only talking an extra $10 or $20. Seriously, I think most of my rants (see: bitching) on this very site could be turned into episodes of a successful sitcom.
My last name even fits the requirements for being shown in the credits; it ends with “berg.”
***
I have a bit of a conundrum at work. My boss has organized a team building activity, which ironically enough is being called “volunteer work,” even though the email specifically states that participation is not optional. The kicker is, we’re supposed to go to church, and not just any church, her church, to help staff backpacks full of food for kids who are in the unfortunate situation of not always getting a meal outside of school. The cause is a good one, and I have no qualms with doing something like that.
I do, however, have a beef with having to go to her church, or any church for that matter, for a work related function. So I’ve wrestled with saying something about how I feel it isn’t appropriate, which it isn’t, or biting my tongue and going along, or option three which results in me unexpected and unavoidable absence from work that day.
It’s been pointed out to me that a lot of good goes on at the church, which I don’t deny. And I highly doubt that there will be much preaching going on towards us, but any preaching while I’m at work is too much preaching. I highly doubt any of my co-workers would like to sit down and listen to my views, and better yet, I wouldn’t subject them to such an event. As I realize there’s a time and a place, and this isn’t either of those.
So as much as I find this awkward and potentially harmful to my career, I also find this pretty upsetting. That’s right, it upsets me. This angers me in fact. But as I think out my reactions to this, I see even more drama. If I say anything, I know the company would protect me, but I also think I’d be a bit ostracized. If I just go, I’ll be disappointed in myself for caving, and there’s still the possibility of a brain fart leading to some verbal diarrhea. I don’t think bringing up the fact that I didn’t ask anyone to die for my sins, or that I think I should own my sins, is going to win anyone over. Either one of those reactions causes me to be at the center of both an HR issue and piss off some coworkers who are way to comfortable talking about their beliefs.
My third option, where I some how being unable to come in that day has its own double edged sword, as we’re also supposed to go to lunch for my bosses boss’ birthday. Not that he’s really going to give a damn if I’m not there, but I don’t think it’s really smart to ever be the lone absent employee at a lunch like that.
November 17, 2008
Hirpback
I love a good comeback story. There’s nothing as rewarding as seeing a good comeback, and there’s no genre or situation that is as fun to see no matter the story line. Be it a conversation, some solid banter, the comeback is the winner. In sports, even more than the long shot, the comeback has more staying power. Be it a personal story, the comeback is the most inspirational.
Merriam-Webster defines a comeback as:
1 a: a sharp or witty reply: Retort b: a cause for complaint
2: a return to a former position or condition (as of success or prosperity)
And “Entourage’ has come all the way back. It hit the scene and knocked us on our collective asses. It was the most honest view into male relationships, and knew that men generally don’t want to use the “R” word to describe anything. Then a few seasons later it began to slip, still capable of producing a couple solid episodes a season, but far below it’s previous greatness.
This year changed all that. I love that we’re seeing more Turtle, and finding out what a decent guy he is. The signs were always there, he was honest (even about living off of Vin) loyal (even to the point he missed out on some lovin’ because he had to defend his dog) and he was always reliable. Of course he isn’t the brightest guy in the group, but he doesn’t need to be.
This show is always ten times better when we’re dealing with actual drama, and not the idiot brother. When Chase’s career is the catalyst, things really click. And it’s nice to have the boys back. Too bad there’s just one episode left, then I go into “Weeds” withdrawl. I just hope those writers take a page from HBO’s playbook, and get back to basics, so their show can have an Entourage-esque encore.
Merriam-Webster defines a comeback as:
1 a: a sharp or witty reply: Retort b: a cause for complaint
2: a return to a former position or condition (as of success or prosperity)
And “Entourage’ has come all the way back. It hit the scene and knocked us on our collective asses. It was the most honest view into male relationships, and knew that men generally don’t want to use the “R” word to describe anything. Then a few seasons later it began to slip, still capable of producing a couple solid episodes a season, but far below it’s previous greatness.
This year changed all that. I love that we’re seeing more Turtle, and finding out what a decent guy he is. The signs were always there, he was honest (even about living off of Vin) loyal (even to the point he missed out on some lovin’ because he had to defend his dog) and he was always reliable. Of course he isn’t the brightest guy in the group, but he doesn’t need to be.
This show is always ten times better when we’re dealing with actual drama, and not the idiot brother. When Chase’s career is the catalyst, things really click. And it’s nice to have the boys back. Too bad there’s just one episode left, then I go into “Weeds” withdrawl. I just hope those writers take a page from HBO’s playbook, and get back to basics, so their show can have an Entourage-esque encore.
November 13, 2008
Hirp Review
Normally I only review movies I’ve seen in their entirety, and usually I won’t give a movie a good review if I dosed off during it. But hey, I’m all about breaking rules. It’s gettin’ crazy up in this mofo, ya’all. That’s what happens when Hirp watches a movie based on one of the American Girl Store dolls. And that’s what we started last night, Kitt Kittredge: An American Girl, one of the many gifts the Kyd has received for her 7th birthday. So she’s just 6 years away from being a teenager, and I won’t even be able to blame her teenage years for my hair loss.
The Kyd has had the American Girl Doll, Kitt, for a while now, and last year she and her mom read the book that tells the story of her doll. Seriously, each doll gets a book, and now those books are being turned into movies. In my world, that would be like every rapper getting a book and a movie about their life story. Oh wait, never mind. Back to Kitt Kitty Kitt.
The first thing I noticed, okay second, was the impressive cast they assembled. Julia Ormand, Chris O’Donnell, Joan Cusack, Stanley Tucci and Abigal Breslin. Abigal is the first thing I noticed, because my wife has always said how she looks so much like a younger version of ‘Chop’s wife, and it’s down right eerie how much she resembles her. Back to the cast, I realize this isn’t the cast of The Departed, but those are some pretty impressive names for a movie about a doll.
So we have a story about a girl in depression-era Ohio, and we catch a glimpse of the best of times and the worst of times, through the eyes of a sweet 10ish year old girl. We see her friends impacted by a tough economy. The rich friends hear from their dads how the hobo’s are all criminals and that we can’t allow the government to take our money and give it to the poor. Then her dad loses his job, and she grows close to being one of those “worthless” poor people herself. A real pick me up kinda movie when you work for a company that lays off people every other Thursday.
But that’s what I like about this movie; it has an element of reality that most movies for young girls lack. Rather then a storyline that centers around on either idiot parents or kids who hang out and we never even see or hear about their parents, we see parents who love and worry about their kids. And kids who love their parents, and are stressed by the drama of the adult world. It sparked a conversation with the Kyd about how there are families losing their houses today, just the way they did in the movie. I can’t imagine how scary that is for her to hear about, but seeing a character she can relate to, going through the same things, and coming out okay on the other end may give her some sort of comfort (man, I hope so) that her mom and I can’t with our reassurances. And it sure beats her hearing a story on the news about foreclosures and trying to explain it.
But yes, I dosed off for a few minutes early in the movie. It really wasn’t the movies fault, it was that damn couch. It made me do it. We paused the movie and will finish it off tonight, right after we watch the news about a certain local telecom company cutting jobs as their stock falls.
The Kyd has had the American Girl Doll, Kitt, for a while now, and last year she and her mom read the book that tells the story of her doll. Seriously, each doll gets a book, and now those books are being turned into movies. In my world, that would be like every rapper getting a book and a movie about their life story. Oh wait, never mind. Back to Kitt Kitty Kitt.
The first thing I noticed, okay second, was the impressive cast they assembled. Julia Ormand, Chris O’Donnell, Joan Cusack, Stanley Tucci and Abigal Breslin. Abigal is the first thing I noticed, because my wife has always said how she looks so much like a younger version of ‘Chop’s wife, and it’s down right eerie how much she resembles her. Back to the cast, I realize this isn’t the cast of The Departed, but those are some pretty impressive names for a movie about a doll.
So we have a story about a girl in depression-era Ohio, and we catch a glimpse of the best of times and the worst of times, through the eyes of a sweet 10ish year old girl. We see her friends impacted by a tough economy. The rich friends hear from their dads how the hobo’s are all criminals and that we can’t allow the government to take our money and give it to the poor. Then her dad loses his job, and she grows close to being one of those “worthless” poor people herself. A real pick me up kinda movie when you work for a company that lays off people every other Thursday.
But that’s what I like about this movie; it has an element of reality that most movies for young girls lack. Rather then a storyline that centers around on either idiot parents or kids who hang out and we never even see or hear about their parents, we see parents who love and worry about their kids. And kids who love their parents, and are stressed by the drama of the adult world. It sparked a conversation with the Kyd about how there are families losing their houses today, just the way they did in the movie. I can’t imagine how scary that is for her to hear about, but seeing a character she can relate to, going through the same things, and coming out okay on the other end may give her some sort of comfort (man, I hope so) that her mom and I can’t with our reassurances. And it sure beats her hearing a story on the news about foreclosures and trying to explain it.
But yes, I dosed off for a few minutes early in the movie. It really wasn’t the movies fault, it was that damn couch. It made me do it. We paused the movie and will finish it off tonight, right after we watch the news about a certain local telecom company cutting jobs as their stock falls.
November 10, 2008
Hirp Thoughts
If I had to, or if I could, weight what percentage of the following question comes from actual external sources, my guess is it would come out to be about 22%. But that 22% has influenced me about 100%, with a +/- of .02%. Sorry, I’ve seen about 108% of my poll threshold, and I think it’s starting to take it’s toll. The thing is, I could probably only count a hand full, maybe two, times in my life where an apparently harmless question, left a ripple effect that lead to me questioning most aspects of my life.
I don’t know if those questions came first, or my own drive to be true to myself came first. It’s the proverbial chicken and the egg. But it’s come in one of the following six ways (in no particular order): true fan, real New Yorker, real Jew, brother, Uncle, and now parent. Those are the subject of the same question, and the answers have been what I often used to define myself. The question being, “am I a real ____” and fill in the blank with the six previous subjects.
It’s been in good fun and the harassing nature of some of my longest, and best, friendships. We love to give each other shit, and we’re good at it. When I first met them, I was the die hard sports fan. ESPN was the only channel that mattered 22 hours of the day, and I didn’t have Cinemax enough to make up for one of the remaining two hours, so ESPN and NBC were all I needed access to.
It could be that I grew up, or that my tastes and priorites changed. And there’s probably some truth to that. Also, there’s some truth to the fact that I became more disenchanted with sports, after running into a few athletes as a near adult, and seeing what dicks they are. I believe I’ve posted about this a little in the past. But because I was at one time, the diehard fan my wife is glad I’m no longer, I still identify, at least somewhat, as part of who I am. And to be honest, even though I don’t know everyone in Triple-A, let alone everyone on the KU roster, I still know more than the average fan. But I’m not where, or who, I once was. So when I get that, “you’re not a true fan,” I both agree with it, deny it, regret it, and feel proud of it.
The most common question posed to me by others, relates to me being a “real New Yorker.” And in some way, this offends me and screws me up the most. I was born in New York to parents who were born and raised in Cleveland, with a brother and sister who were born in Detroit. I left New York, by the choice of others, when I was eight. And when I was a kid, I was terrorifed of the city. But of the places I lived as a kid, my best memories are from New York. It’s influenced my taste in music, movies, food and sports. Probably even how I speak. But no, I didn’t grow up running around Manhattan, and I don’t have family residing out there now. But everything about what I do now was influenced and is still influenced by New York.
There’s no way I’m just another tourist who loves the city, because they didn’t hit Jones Beach as a kid. They didn’t take a trip to the Catskills, and they didn’t ride their bike to Artie’s to get baseball cards. They didn’t grow up watching the Mets, and there’s no way they have fond memories of going to their first ball game at Shea. A tourist didn’t camp out by the sound, even if they know all of Billy Joel’s songs by heart. They may know how to get around the city better, and they may get out there more often than I do, and I may have lived most of my life between the Rockies and the Mississippi, but I never forget where I came from.
I understand why it’s questioned, I really do. I’ve lived away from New York for 75% of my life, and that number will do nothing except grow. And I’ve kind of turned my nose up at Kansas and Missouri as if I think I’m too good for the area or something. For the record, I am not. My home is here, and I don’t want to live, or be, anywhere else, other than with my family in Lee’s Summit. But as a kid who moved around a little, and I know there are tons of kids who moved around a lot more than I did, it was the only way to keep myself grounded. Some move around, and they’re chameleons, and blend in with their new surroundings nice and easy. I didn’t have the social skills for that, and I didn’t have the drive to do that. So I held on to where I was happiest as tight as I could, and I don’t regret it for a second. That’s the loyalty in me that I happen to believe is my best quality. Even if it’s just being loyal to a zip code to most, to me, it’s being loyal to the 7 year old Hirp.
Maybe all Jews are such neurotic messes. But then again, I’m the Jew that doesn’t believe in God, hasn’t been to Temple for anything other than a wedding in the past 17 years, and knows less about our traditions than Rush Limbaugh. But I am a Jew. My parents, raised me Jewish, my bloodline is made up of nothing but Jews. But I never heard stories about aunts and uncles who survived Auschwitz, I’ve never even watched a Woody Allen movie and I read Italian about as well as I read Hebrew. Oh, and I’m pretty much in opposition of any and all organized religions. Never mind that I don’t believe in God. So am I a real Jew? Oy, I just don’t know. I’ve been to West Palm Beach, Boca, the upper west side and I’ve worn a Yamaka.
This one hasn’t come up often, and it’s probably just me when I get into my over-analyzing mode coupled with my defensive mode. See, my brother and sister were both adopted by my parents, but make no mistake; they are my brother and sister. Maybe two times in my life, I have heard, “well they aren’t your real brother and sister,” in response to the fact they were born with different DNA. Bullshit, and double bullshit because it opens up the thought that my nieces and nephews aren’t my “real” nieces and nephews. They couldn’t be more “real” and I couldn’t be more of an uncle to them. Maybe it’s just a pitty defense others come up with when they hear some of the stories, and think, that maybe it’d be easiser for me to separate myself from some drama. Only that couldn’t be more untrue. And sadly, I think someone has planted that seed with my sister and her kids. That we aren’t their “real family.” That’s some dangerous thinking there. Real family, there’s no such thing. There’s just family. Blood or genetics are questions for science to concern itself with, you can get that at a sperm bank or after a few too many drinks at a bar one random night.
It’s those infrequent situations that caused my semi-frequent visits to inside my head. See, if anyone would ask that, then I know they’d use the same reasoning when it comes to their judgement of me as a parent. Not that they should matter, or really do, but importance aside, that’s the shit that screws us all up on some level. But it matters not, that the Kyd share my DNA, not having been there when she woke in the night or that I wasn’t there for her first words or steps, and the fact that I am not “daddy” is of little significance. I lose sleep thinking about her, worried for her health, happiness, education and future. I dread when she begins dating, driving, and the first time someone offers her a beer or a hit. I hope she finds the right guy, or girl, and that her mom, father and I don’t screw her up too much. Will I walk her down the aisle, no. But I’ll be sitting up front with a giant grin, maybe a tear, and perhaps a loaded weapon just incase he gets any bad ideas.
It probably sounds bad, but it’s honest, this seed was planted by the Kyd’s friends. There have been a few times where I picked her up from school, and a classmate asked if I was her “real dad.” She says I am her “G” but I can see she’s uncomfortable with the question, and I understand. It makes me uncomfortable when I pick her up and someone at the daycare asks if I’m her dad, or if we’re out at Blockbuster and the person checking us out speaks to her and calls me her dad. Part of me wants to explain, well, I’m her step-dad. Why the hell do I do that? Because I don’t want to mislead anyone, especially her, I’m afraid whenever I don’t correct someone, that subconsciously, or consciously, she’ll think I’m trying to be her dad.
For all the things I am you can call me Sybil if you want. I’m a Jewish New Yorker, a real fan, a brother, uncle and a parent.
I don’t know if those questions came first, or my own drive to be true to myself came first. It’s the proverbial chicken and the egg. But it’s come in one of the following six ways (in no particular order): true fan, real New Yorker, real Jew, brother, Uncle, and now parent. Those are the subject of the same question, and the answers have been what I often used to define myself. The question being, “am I a real ____” and fill in the blank with the six previous subjects.
It’s been in good fun and the harassing nature of some of my longest, and best, friendships. We love to give each other shit, and we’re good at it. When I first met them, I was the die hard sports fan. ESPN was the only channel that mattered 22 hours of the day, and I didn’t have Cinemax enough to make up for one of the remaining two hours, so ESPN and NBC were all I needed access to.
It could be that I grew up, or that my tastes and priorites changed. And there’s probably some truth to that. Also, there’s some truth to the fact that I became more disenchanted with sports, after running into a few athletes as a near adult, and seeing what dicks they are. I believe I’ve posted about this a little in the past. But because I was at one time, the diehard fan my wife is glad I’m no longer, I still identify, at least somewhat, as part of who I am. And to be honest, even though I don’t know everyone in Triple-A, let alone everyone on the KU roster, I still know more than the average fan. But I’m not where, or who, I once was. So when I get that, “you’re not a true fan,” I both agree with it, deny it, regret it, and feel proud of it.
The most common question posed to me by others, relates to me being a “real New Yorker.” And in some way, this offends me and screws me up the most. I was born in New York to parents who were born and raised in Cleveland, with a brother and sister who were born in Detroit. I left New York, by the choice of others, when I was eight. And when I was a kid, I was terrorifed of the city. But of the places I lived as a kid, my best memories are from New York. It’s influenced my taste in music, movies, food and sports. Probably even how I speak. But no, I didn’t grow up running around Manhattan, and I don’t have family residing out there now. But everything about what I do now was influenced and is still influenced by New York.
There’s no way I’m just another tourist who loves the city, because they didn’t hit Jones Beach as a kid. They didn’t take a trip to the Catskills, and they didn’t ride their bike to Artie’s to get baseball cards. They didn’t grow up watching the Mets, and there’s no way they have fond memories of going to their first ball game at Shea. A tourist didn’t camp out by the sound, even if they know all of Billy Joel’s songs by heart. They may know how to get around the city better, and they may get out there more often than I do, and I may have lived most of my life between the Rockies and the Mississippi, but I never forget where I came from.
I understand why it’s questioned, I really do. I’ve lived away from New York for 75% of my life, and that number will do nothing except grow. And I’ve kind of turned my nose up at Kansas and Missouri as if I think I’m too good for the area or something. For the record, I am not. My home is here, and I don’t want to live, or be, anywhere else, other than with my family in Lee’s Summit. But as a kid who moved around a little, and I know there are tons of kids who moved around a lot more than I did, it was the only way to keep myself grounded. Some move around, and they’re chameleons, and blend in with their new surroundings nice and easy. I didn’t have the social skills for that, and I didn’t have the drive to do that. So I held on to where I was happiest as tight as I could, and I don’t regret it for a second. That’s the loyalty in me that I happen to believe is my best quality. Even if it’s just being loyal to a zip code to most, to me, it’s being loyal to the 7 year old Hirp.
Maybe all Jews are such neurotic messes. But then again, I’m the Jew that doesn’t believe in God, hasn’t been to Temple for anything other than a wedding in the past 17 years, and knows less about our traditions than Rush Limbaugh. But I am a Jew. My parents, raised me Jewish, my bloodline is made up of nothing but Jews. But I never heard stories about aunts and uncles who survived Auschwitz, I’ve never even watched a Woody Allen movie and I read Italian about as well as I read Hebrew. Oh, and I’m pretty much in opposition of any and all organized religions. Never mind that I don’t believe in God. So am I a real Jew? Oy, I just don’t know. I’ve been to West Palm Beach, Boca, the upper west side and I’ve worn a Yamaka.
This one hasn’t come up often, and it’s probably just me when I get into my over-analyzing mode coupled with my defensive mode. See, my brother and sister were both adopted by my parents, but make no mistake; they are my brother and sister. Maybe two times in my life, I have heard, “well they aren’t your real brother and sister,” in response to the fact they were born with different DNA. Bullshit, and double bullshit because it opens up the thought that my nieces and nephews aren’t my “real” nieces and nephews. They couldn’t be more “real” and I couldn’t be more of an uncle to them. Maybe it’s just a pitty defense others come up with when they hear some of the stories, and think, that maybe it’d be easiser for me to separate myself from some drama. Only that couldn’t be more untrue. And sadly, I think someone has planted that seed with my sister and her kids. That we aren’t their “real family.” That’s some dangerous thinking there. Real family, there’s no such thing. There’s just family. Blood or genetics are questions for science to concern itself with, you can get that at a sperm bank or after a few too many drinks at a bar one random night.
It’s those infrequent situations that caused my semi-frequent visits to inside my head. See, if anyone would ask that, then I know they’d use the same reasoning when it comes to their judgement of me as a parent. Not that they should matter, or really do, but importance aside, that’s the shit that screws us all up on some level. But it matters not, that the Kyd share my DNA, not having been there when she woke in the night or that I wasn’t there for her first words or steps, and the fact that I am not “daddy” is of little significance. I lose sleep thinking about her, worried for her health, happiness, education and future. I dread when she begins dating, driving, and the first time someone offers her a beer or a hit. I hope she finds the right guy, or girl, and that her mom, father and I don’t screw her up too much. Will I walk her down the aisle, no. But I’ll be sitting up front with a giant grin, maybe a tear, and perhaps a loaded weapon just incase he gets any bad ideas.
It probably sounds bad, but it’s honest, this seed was planted by the Kyd’s friends. There have been a few times where I picked her up from school, and a classmate asked if I was her “real dad.” She says I am her “G” but I can see she’s uncomfortable with the question, and I understand. It makes me uncomfortable when I pick her up and someone at the daycare asks if I’m her dad, or if we’re out at Blockbuster and the person checking us out speaks to her and calls me her dad. Part of me wants to explain, well, I’m her step-dad. Why the hell do I do that? Because I don’t want to mislead anyone, especially her, I’m afraid whenever I don’t correct someone, that subconsciously, or consciously, she’ll think I’m trying to be her dad.
For all the things I am you can call me Sybil if you want. I’m a Jewish New Yorker, a real fan, a brother, uncle and a parent.
November 06, 2008
Yes Hirp Can
I thought it would be best to wait a day, before I posted anything about the election. I wanted to let everything really set in, and anyway, I commented either via Twitter or Facebook every 18 minutes on Election Night. The thing that has had the greatest impact on me, actually wasn’t President-elect Obama’s acceptance speech. But lets just start rewriting the book on great speakers now, the Obama needs to be in one of the first three or four chapters. What really moved me was the clips of the spontaneous celebrations both in our country and abroad. It’s not that I thought, “we’ll never see the world celebrate one of our elections,” it’s that I never would have considered that even a possibility.
And I’ve heard friends comment on post-election celebrations we’ve seen on the news in the past. We couldn’t understand how an election could inspire them to party in the streets. A sports franchise winning the final game of their season, which results in little more than the players getting new rings and the arenas or stadiums getting new flags, well celebrating that makes sense. Hell, in America, we’ll even tear down a city in celebration of such an accomplishment. But celebrate an election? Never.
Well that’s just one of many things that changed on November 4, 2008. There are three national events of my lifetime, that I know I’ll remember for the rest of my days. The first was the tragedy of the Challenger disaster. I remember where I was sitting and exactly how I heard about it. If I say third grade, it might make a few readers feel, well, a little more chronologically advanced. The second was 9/11/01. I now have #3 in the memory bank, thankfully and finally, it’s something positive. The day America grew up.
I don’t, for one second, believe this mean’s everything is right with America now. Race is still, and will always be an issue. Just as sex, class and religion. These things aren’t going away, but perhaps we’re back on the right path of facing these permanent obstacles. I’m no historian, but my gut tells me that after the combination of the Kennedy’s, Dr. King, John Lennon and Malcolm X being assassinated, and the Vietnam War finally ended, I think American’s became too exhausted to care enough. What was the point of caring, if it was just going to result in yet another crushing disappointment? We got to the 80’s, and we began to care just about our own worlds even more. Greed was good, and the sentiment trickled down.
The 90’s came, and soon the internet began making it easy to stay in touch, but not to really communicate. We had a new community, but it was and is still largely, a faceless one. We retreated even deeper in to our closets. The world saw genocide, terrorist attacks, diseases, poverty and famine. And we only bonded long enough for a telethon, benefit concert and to raise funds for our military. Oh, and we would print some clever t-shirts and bumper stickers. Then it was back to soccer games, e-mails, SUV’s and iPods. The only thing that came close to inspiring us was a few good movies, and even those were increasingly infrequent.
Then there was a candidate, and people began to stir. He had something we’d seen before, but not in a long time. I think it took the economy sinking as it did to finally scare people out of their little worlds, and realize it was time. Could we change, and make it back? Yes we can.
It still bothers me that we call Barack Obama an African-American, I think doing so is racist. Why is a man that has one Caucasian parent and one African-American parent, automatically labeled an African-American? When we get past that, when we no longer make an issue out of how blacks are voting for this candidate, or women vote for this candidate just because the candidates are either of the same shade or have the pee out of the same thing, that’s when we’ll have made serious progress. Obama doesn’t tell me that we did it, only that Yes We Can. It’s been a long time since we thought we could, it feels good.
And I’ve heard friends comment on post-election celebrations we’ve seen on the news in the past. We couldn’t understand how an election could inspire them to party in the streets. A sports franchise winning the final game of their season, which results in little more than the players getting new rings and the arenas or stadiums getting new flags, well celebrating that makes sense. Hell, in America, we’ll even tear down a city in celebration of such an accomplishment. But celebrate an election? Never.
Well that’s just one of many things that changed on November 4, 2008. There are three national events of my lifetime, that I know I’ll remember for the rest of my days. The first was the tragedy of the Challenger disaster. I remember where I was sitting and exactly how I heard about it. If I say third grade, it might make a few readers feel, well, a little more chronologically advanced. The second was 9/11/01. I now have #3 in the memory bank, thankfully and finally, it’s something positive. The day America grew up.
I don’t, for one second, believe this mean’s everything is right with America now. Race is still, and will always be an issue. Just as sex, class and religion. These things aren’t going away, but perhaps we’re back on the right path of facing these permanent obstacles. I’m no historian, but my gut tells me that after the combination of the Kennedy’s, Dr. King, John Lennon and Malcolm X being assassinated, and the Vietnam War finally ended, I think American’s became too exhausted to care enough. What was the point of caring, if it was just going to result in yet another crushing disappointment? We got to the 80’s, and we began to care just about our own worlds even more. Greed was good, and the sentiment trickled down.
The 90’s came, and soon the internet began making it easy to stay in touch, but not to really communicate. We had a new community, but it was and is still largely, a faceless one. We retreated even deeper in to our closets. The world saw genocide, terrorist attacks, diseases, poverty and famine. And we only bonded long enough for a telethon, benefit concert and to raise funds for our military. Oh, and we would print some clever t-shirts and bumper stickers. Then it was back to soccer games, e-mails, SUV’s and iPods. The only thing that came close to inspiring us was a few good movies, and even those were increasingly infrequent.
Then there was a candidate, and people began to stir. He had something we’d seen before, but not in a long time. I think it took the economy sinking as it did to finally scare people out of their little worlds, and realize it was time. Could we change, and make it back? Yes we can.
It still bothers me that we call Barack Obama an African-American, I think doing so is racist. Why is a man that has one Caucasian parent and one African-American parent, automatically labeled an African-American? When we get past that, when we no longer make an issue out of how blacks are voting for this candidate, or women vote for this candidate just because the candidates are either of the same shade or have the pee out of the same thing, that’s when we’ll have made serious progress. Obama doesn’t tell me that we did it, only that Yes We Can. It’s been a long time since we thought we could, it feels good.
November 04, 2008
JstVote
I’m reviewing the candidates for some local elections, and I can’t help but cringe a little when I see candidates that are MU graduates. Is that bad? I’m looking at the web site for Secretary of State Candidate, Mitch Hubbard, and on the values page, he lead off with his faith and belief in Jesus Christ. Now, that’s his business. And as much as I am for freedom of speech, I really wish people would keep their business where it belongs: on blogs or to themselves.
Really, his beliefs don’t matter when it comes to doing his job. Employers aren’t allowed to ask potential (or current) employees about their religious beliefs. Is it really asking too much to treat these candidates the same way? I get it, I do, and I just don’t like it. When reading the profiles of these candidates, I admit that I am more likely to vote for someone who I feel I can relate to. And we know how much society uses religious beliefs as a measure for connecting, but that doesn’t make it right.
I don’t want to know if Barrack Obama is Christian, Jewish, Muslim or Scientologist. Okay, that’s not true. If he were Scientologist, I’d want to know that. And that’s wrong on my part; they can’t all be like Tom Cruise, John Travolta and Kristie Alley. Anyway, I don’t want to get off another rant about religion.
I’m pretty sure every Republican has to throw a variation of the phrase “better Government, not bigger” on their web sites. I think they can all do us a favor, and take pay cuts, that’ll help reduce the size at least a little bit.
And by the way, I’m not voting down party lines. For Treasuer, I’m going with a Republican. It just makes sense to me, like hiring a Jewish accountant, female house keeper or Democrat for President.
Really, his beliefs don’t matter when it comes to doing his job. Employers aren’t allowed to ask potential (or current) employees about their religious beliefs. Is it really asking too much to treat these candidates the same way? I get it, I do, and I just don’t like it. When reading the profiles of these candidates, I admit that I am more likely to vote for someone who I feel I can relate to. And we know how much society uses religious beliefs as a measure for connecting, but that doesn’t make it right.
I don’t want to know if Barrack Obama is Christian, Jewish, Muslim or Scientologist. Okay, that’s not true. If he were Scientologist, I’d want to know that. And that’s wrong on my part; they can’t all be like Tom Cruise, John Travolta and Kristie Alley. Anyway, I don’t want to get off another rant about religion.
I’m pretty sure every Republican has to throw a variation of the phrase “better Government, not bigger” on their web sites. I think they can all do us a favor, and take pay cuts, that’ll help reduce the size at least a little bit.
And by the way, I’m not voting down party lines. For Treasuer, I’m going with a Republican. It just makes sense to me, like hiring a Jewish accountant, female house keeper or Democrat for President.
November 03, 2008
hirPolitics
I’ve decided to run for office, because I have one good idea. It might even make sense. I’m pretty much against guns, except for in my movies and music. But if people want to have guns, fine, I get it. We won’t ever see that law changed. So lets treat it like alcohol and cigarettes. Actually, I think I heard an idea like this from Chris Rock once. Anyway, tax the hell out of ammo. Not just 8% or whatever, I mean really tax it. Tax it like you mean it. 50, 60, 80%, a man’s tax.
If you can’t afford the tax, you probably don’t need a gun to protect your property, as you have nothing worth stealing. And if you’re that poor, you’d probably just use the ammo to commit some crime. So like everything else in this country, health care, legal fees, education, we’ll leave the ammo for the rich.
I think Rock once said that a bullet should cost a million dollars, that way we’d see less innocent by-standers as victims.
Now I also have a visual for my commercials. I see sub-titles.
***
I thought of some Obama phrases that are pretty horrible ideas, but still, they humor me:
McCain doesn’t care about the future; he won’t be here for it
Hey, I’m half-white
War hero? He got caught!
Because a President should be able to lift his arms
The 70’s are over, no one wants any more Bush
***
I’m sure some marketing company did some studies, and proved that those lawn signs help decide an election. But I say ban ‘em. Do we really want to decide elections by who puts out the most signs? I’m thinking those are voters shouldn’t be voting in the first place. Plus, think of how much money can be saved if candidates didn’t print up retarded lawn signs.
And really, putting your political views out there like that, you’re just asking for your house to be tp’d or egged.
If you can’t afford the tax, you probably don’t need a gun to protect your property, as you have nothing worth stealing. And if you’re that poor, you’d probably just use the ammo to commit some crime. So like everything else in this country, health care, legal fees, education, we’ll leave the ammo for the rich.
I think Rock once said that a bullet should cost a million dollars, that way we’d see less innocent by-standers as victims.
Now I also have a visual for my commercials. I see sub-titles.
***
I thought of some Obama phrases that are pretty horrible ideas, but still, they humor me:
McCain doesn’t care about the future; he won’t be here for it
Hey, I’m half-white
War hero? He got caught!
Because a President should be able to lift his arms
The 70’s are over, no one wants any more Bush
***
I’m sure some marketing company did some studies, and proved that those lawn signs help decide an election. But I say ban ‘em. Do we really want to decide elections by who puts out the most signs? I’m thinking those are voters shouldn’t be voting in the first place. Plus, think of how much money can be saved if candidates didn’t print up retarded lawn signs.
And really, putting your political views out there like that, you’re just asking for your house to be tp’d or egged.
JstSore
I am sore, so sore in fact, that “sore” is no longer a descriptive enough word. But I am thrilled, so thrilled in fact, that “thrilled” no longer works to describe how I feel. We moved in to the house over the weekend, and when I say over the weekend, I mean the entire thing plus last Thursday. Pretty much all day, every day, consisted of load boxes, unloading boxes. We’ve been unpacking boxes, moving boxes, then moving empty boxes out of the way, and ultimately taking empty boxes out of the house. I’m not quite done with the latter portion of the process. Seriously, moving is like the whole circle of life, the Cliffs Notes version that you can get through over a weekend.
We have a nice 32” inch HDTV, has the flat screen but, it isn’t thin. In our apartment, it looked great. But now that we have a bigger room, and a tall wall, it’s just a little too small. This really has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve wanted a big flat screen for a long time. Luckily, I hear that the price for such a TV is going to drop drastically after the Holidays. No one knows how much “drastically” is, but it sounds like a good number to me. So, we’ll put that at the top of Hirp’s Wish List. Please, Santa, I’ve been good. Except for being Jewish, you should be really happy with me this year.
Now I’ve had my heart set on going up to 42”, as it sounds like a good size, plus we wouldn’t have to sell off one of the Kyd’s limbs. But my pop told me about a chart, and it says that based on how far away our couch is, we should make the jump to 50”. How can I argue with a chart?
***
I’ll be glad when the Election is over. Glad that I will no longer be “reminded” to vote, or that day light savings is coming. I just hope I’m not reminded how stupid the citizens of this country can be.
“Entourage” has bounced back after a couple of off seasons. Maybe “Californiacation” can do the same, but that show has dropped from a 10 to a 7.
We have a nice 32” inch HDTV, has the flat screen but, it isn’t thin. In our apartment, it looked great. But now that we have a bigger room, and a tall wall, it’s just a little too small. This really has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve wanted a big flat screen for a long time. Luckily, I hear that the price for such a TV is going to drop drastically after the Holidays. No one knows how much “drastically” is, but it sounds like a good number to me. So, we’ll put that at the top of Hirp’s Wish List. Please, Santa, I’ve been good. Except for being Jewish, you should be really happy with me this year.
Now I’ve had my heart set on going up to 42”, as it sounds like a good size, plus we wouldn’t have to sell off one of the Kyd’s limbs. But my pop told me about a chart, and it says that based on how far away our couch is, we should make the jump to 50”. How can I argue with a chart?
***
I’ll be glad when the Election is over. Glad that I will no longer be “reminded” to vote, or that day light savings is coming. I just hope I’m not reminded how stupid the citizens of this country can be.
“Entourage” has bounced back after a couple of off seasons. Maybe “Californiacation” can do the same, but that show has dropped from a 10 to a 7.
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