I’ve been estranged from my father’s side of the family for almost exactly as long as I’ve been estranged from my father. That’s because in the midst of the turmoil caused by him running off with a chambermaid, evading his taxes and failing to pay our mortgage, his mother (my grandmother) informed us that Dad had prayed for forgiveness—God had forgiven him and so should we. Yes, he closed his eyes and spoke to his imaginary friend and because of that we should over look the money he stole and the fact that he left us homeless. His family couldn’t understand why that was a problem for us.
There’s been very little communication with any of them for almost ten years. In that time I’ve moved, gotten married and even changed my name. Since none of them was invited to any of those events, I don’t expect them to be necessarily aware of them (in fact, one of the ideas behind the name change was that it would prevent them from getting in contact with me—that and it would help prevent my father from committing fraud against me like he has with the rest of my family).
When I was talking to my mom the other day, she informed me that a letter had come to her house intended for my siblings and me. It was an invitation to an upcoming family reunion. Yes, it’s absurd that these people have so little grasp on reality as to think that my brother, sister and I would be interested in such an event (we never even liked that side of the family when we had to spend time with them). And yes, it is absolutely insulting and infuriating that my mother, who was better to that family than my father ever was, was purposely omitted from the invitation (divorce is a sin) which was mailed to her house. That alone would be reason enough for me to boycott the reunion if a myriad of other reasons didn’t already exist.
The most remarkable thing about this invitation, however, trumps those other things. The invitation was addressed to: “E.J., Jane and Daniel” (emphasis mine).
Yes, I’ve changed my name. My last name. I am not now, nor have I ever been a ‘Daniel.’ If you’re sending out invitations to your family and you can’t quite remember someone’s name apparently the thing to do is just guess. Don’t look it up or anything. Don’t call Aunt Alice and say, “What’s the name of Jim and Sandy’s quiet, pudgy son? I know his twin sister is Jane, but what’s his name? . . . Daniel? Are you sure? . . . Well, if you’re not sure I’ll call a few other people to verify so that I don’t end up looking like a complete mutherfucking idiot when I send out the invitation.”
Am I just that forgettable? I’ve been called a lot of things, but I’m not sure that “wallflower” is a label that would stick. Or quiet. Or hell, anything short of loud, obnoxious and intrusive.
It’s funny, too, because the only other place where people constantly struggled with remembering my name was the church where I grew up.
After every service, we’d file out and shake hands with the people assigned to door duty. Invariably, it would go like this: “Good to see you, Julie. That’s a very pretty dress, Jane. How are you Sandy? Jim. Hello . . . uh, Champ. Hey, EJ, how’s school?” Substitute “Sport,” “young man,” or “Tom?” for “Champ” and you have an accurate idea of my exit from church every week for the first 13 years of my life*.
I’m now thinking that the only reason I’m estranged from the family and the church is because neither group could remember my name. My ego, my sick need to be in the spotlight wouldn’t allow me to bother with those who refused to acknowledge my stardom.
Then again, maybe my abandonment of them had something to do with the fact that my dad’s family is a group of cattle ranching bigots and the church is a group of bigoted cattle.
Hard to say, really.
*After that point it stayed pretty much the same for the next seven years, but every few years we lost someone from the line-up. You’d think the novelty of that alone would help make me memorable, but alas, no.
17 May 2008
09 May 2008
Fletch's Rules to Live By
I am no role model nor would I like to be considered one. But, there are a few habits and practices of mine that should, nonetheless, be adopted universally. I've compiled a list of a few of these universal maxims.
I am not the only one who does these things, but I am the one who is about to list them for you so the history books will one day give me the credit. I beat you to it, so there.
1. Pay at the Pump
Welcome to the 21st century, ladies and gentlemen! We have a lot of amazing things here in the 21st century, not the least of which are credit cards and gas pumps that take them. Truly, inserting one's plastic into the slot of a pump and quickly withdrawing it is nothing short of capitalist intercourse. There is no reason why one should ever have to leave one's car sitting at the pump while one goes inside to pay. There are, in fact, only two reasons why anyone should ever enter a gas station: a. to use the restroom during a long car trip and 2. to purchase cheap candy to smuggle into the movie theatre. And when doing either of those things, one should pull into a parking spot at the gas station, not leave one's car sitting at the pump.
2. Reusable Bags
Yes, it's ecologically responsible and blah blah blah but really the best reason to do it is because nothing quite beats the feeling of superiority you get when you go through the checkout with reusable bags. Regardless of what you are purchasing, people will actually look up to you for using reusable bags. Even if you're purchasing nothing but a tray of sushi and two silk ties (true story) they will think you are a good human being. I'm fairly certain that you could purchase a stack of porno mags, a case of batteries and a box of Toaster Strudel while using cloth bags and the cashier would still say "How responsible of you!" And, of course, you get to look down on everyone who isn't using them*! It's awesome. You may be inferior to them in every other way (as I usually am) but when it comes to the grocery checkout lane: You are officially their better if you are using reusable bags.
3. Donate
I don't care what it is: money, time, blood, other bodily fluids . . . Whatever. Just give something you don't have to** to someone you don't know.
4. Listen to Radio Lab
This isn't a matter of opinion here, people. I'm not just trying to tell you that this is a good show. It can actually be objectively proven to be the best show ever created. I mean, I really like This American Life but that's an opinion. It is a scientifically verifiable that everyone in the universe should be listening to Radio Lab.
5. Do Not Turn In To The Center Lane
Turning in to the center lane does not solve any of your problems, it just delays them. Having a hard time turning onto the street? That sucks. But you know what sucks even more? Trying to merge into busy traffic from a dead stop with the potential of someone going the other direction coming into your lane at any moment. Just don’t do it.
6. Take a Course in Logic
Why is Gym Class required but Logic optional? And sure, PE has its merits but I truly believe that if everyone took a course in Logic the world would be a much better place. Think of how much better equipped people would be to deal with difficult problems if they had a background in Logic. This should be a core class along with Science, English and History. Middle school, high school, college . . . people should even have to take a test in Logic when applying to work at a video store.
7. Make an Ass of Yourself
I don’t expect everyone to take to it quite as well as I have, but I do think that everyone should do this at least once a day. It doesn’t have to be a large scale “Mission Accomplished” kind of self-ass-makery, it could be something as small as using the phrase “self-ass-makery” in a blog. At any rate, the world would be a better place if everyone made an ass of themselves from time to time.
So there you go. These are seven rules that I live by and, though I would not recommend living as I do under any other circumstances, if everyone were more like me in the above ways the world would be a better place.
*I realize that if this were universally adopted the feeling of superiority would be moot. That is why it is ever so important that you start this practice as soon as possible, that way the early adopters will always be able to rub that fact in the noses of all the Johnny Come-Latelys. And for the record, I beat you to it, so there.
**Giving to a church, while technically a donation, doesn't really apply for this particular rule since the threat of damnation for not giving is an act of coercion and therefore it's not really giving something you don't have to.
I am not the only one who does these things, but I am the one who is about to list them for you so the history books will one day give me the credit. I beat you to it, so there.
1. Pay at the Pump
Welcome to the 21st century, ladies and gentlemen! We have a lot of amazing things here in the 21st century, not the least of which are credit cards and gas pumps that take them. Truly, inserting one's plastic into the slot of a pump and quickly withdrawing it is nothing short of capitalist intercourse. There is no reason why one should ever have to leave one's car sitting at the pump while one goes inside to pay. There are, in fact, only two reasons why anyone should ever enter a gas station: a. to use the restroom during a long car trip and 2. to purchase cheap candy to smuggle into the movie theatre. And when doing either of those things, one should pull into a parking spot at the gas station, not leave one's car sitting at the pump.
2. Reusable Bags
Yes, it's ecologically responsible and blah blah blah but really the best reason to do it is because nothing quite beats the feeling of superiority you get when you go through the checkout with reusable bags. Regardless of what you are purchasing, people will actually look up to you for using reusable bags. Even if you're purchasing nothing but a tray of sushi and two silk ties (true story) they will think you are a good human being. I'm fairly certain that you could purchase a stack of porno mags, a case of batteries and a box of Toaster Strudel while using cloth bags and the cashier would still say "How responsible of you!" And, of course, you get to look down on everyone who isn't using them*! It's awesome. You may be inferior to them in every other way (as I usually am) but when it comes to the grocery checkout lane: You are officially their better if you are using reusable bags.
3. Donate
I don't care what it is: money, time, blood, other bodily fluids . . . Whatever. Just give something you don't have to** to someone you don't know.
4. Listen to Radio Lab
This isn't a matter of opinion here, people. I'm not just trying to tell you that this is a good show. It can actually be objectively proven to be the best show ever created. I mean, I really like This American Life but that's an opinion. It is a scientifically verifiable that everyone in the universe should be listening to Radio Lab.
5. Do Not Turn In To The Center Lane
Turning in to the center lane does not solve any of your problems, it just delays them. Having a hard time turning onto the street? That sucks. But you know what sucks even more? Trying to merge into busy traffic from a dead stop with the potential of someone going the other direction coming into your lane at any moment. Just don’t do it.
6. Take a Course in Logic
Why is Gym Class required but Logic optional? And sure, PE has its merits but I truly believe that if everyone took a course in Logic the world would be a much better place. Think of how much better equipped people would be to deal with difficult problems if they had a background in Logic. This should be a core class along with Science, English and History. Middle school, high school, college . . . people should even have to take a test in Logic when applying to work at a video store.
7. Make an Ass of Yourself
I don’t expect everyone to take to it quite as well as I have, but I do think that everyone should do this at least once a day. It doesn’t have to be a large scale “Mission Accomplished” kind of self-ass-makery, it could be something as small as using the phrase “self-ass-makery” in a blog. At any rate, the world would be a better place if everyone made an ass of themselves from time to time.
So there you go. These are seven rules that I live by and, though I would not recommend living as I do under any other circumstances, if everyone were more like me in the above ways the world would be a better place.
*I realize that if this were universally adopted the feeling of superiority would be moot. That is why it is ever so important that you start this practice as soon as possible, that way the early adopters will always be able to rub that fact in the noses of all the Johnny Come-Latelys. And for the record, I beat you to it, so there.
**Giving to a church, while technically a donation, doesn't really apply for this particular rule since the threat of damnation for not giving is an act of coercion and therefore it's not really giving something you don't have to.
22 April 2008
Off Season Rant
It’s been a long time since I blogged. Sorry.
I recently found something I had written down in a notebook a while ago . . . and by a while, I mean either last December or a year before that. I’m not really sure. Anyway, I’m sure at the time I intended to do something more with it, but in rereading it I was pretty happy with it, so I’m going to leave it how it is. Enjoy.
I was sitting in the lobby of the theater, which is the primary job of a House Manager if all is right the world, when I heard someone trying to get in the lobby doors. This is not untypical, even at a quarter after eight for a show with a 7:30 curtain. What can I say? People are rude and don’t understand how disruptive it is for live theater when someone walks in 45 minutes late. I got up to see who it was tugging on my lobby door, shaking my head with disgust at the rude bastard, whomever it might be and screwing on my “I’m disappointed with you as a human being” face. Through the glass doors I saw an enormous man, easily my height , maybe even taller, in a Santa suit.
“WTF?” I thought to myself.
Behind him stood a middle-aged woman in glasses and frumpy attire. Not frumpy Mrs. Claus attire, just regular frumpy. Not unlike what many of the women who volunteer as ushers at the theater wear.
When the behemoth Santa saw me, he waved one gloved hand while the other clutched a fist full of candy canes. Suffice it to say, I was suspicious.
I pushed the door open the same way I always do when some kind of degenerate is trying to get into the theater and I want to act polite but not inviting. I said, “Can I help you?” And though he could have just as easily crushed me with his massive frame, he thrust a candy cane at me and said “Merry Christmas!”
The way he said it suggested to me that either he thought I thought he was really Santa or he thought he was. Not wanting to burst his bubble and have to deal with an enraged 7ft. tall schizophrenic in a fake beard, I said “What, uh, what’s going on, uhm, Santa?”
He immediately dropped his guise and said “I had a thing at the Kid’s Museum [next door], just stopped by on my way to the car.”
“Ah. Alright. Well, thanks for the candy cane.”
“No problem,” he said waving good-bye, “Happy Holidays!”
Now, ‘Happy Holidays’ is my preferred winter salutation. I’m a card carrying member of the ACLU, I don’t think it’s overly PC to be respectful of the fact that other people don’t necessarily celebrate the same holidays—I think it’s just the right level of PC. But Santa saying it? Santa?! How weird is that? It’d be like Zombie Jesus saying “Happy Pagan Fertility Celebration” on Easter Sunday. But, y’know, like a 7ft. tall Zombie Jesus with a frumpy mute female sidekick*.
The whole thing left me feeling incredibly unsettled, but hey, free candy cane, so who am I to complain?
*It’s been a while since I read the Biblical accounts of the resurrection—does Jesus have a frumpy mute female sidekick?**
**Actually, given the great disparity between the various “gospel” accounts, it’s entirely possible that in Mark Jesus had a frumpy mute female sidekick and in Luke he had a fast-talking midget in leather pants as a sidekick and in John Jesus actually is a fast-talking midget in leather pants.
Seriously people, those of you who actually believe the Bible is true need to read the various resurrection stories and, with a straight face, explain to me how it could be possible that all four of them is true. Really, I dare you.
I recently found something I had written down in a notebook a while ago . . . and by a while, I mean either last December or a year before that. I’m not really sure. Anyway, I’m sure at the time I intended to do something more with it, but in rereading it I was pretty happy with it, so I’m going to leave it how it is. Enjoy.
I was sitting in the lobby of the theater, which is the primary job of a House Manager if all is right the world, when I heard someone trying to get in the lobby doors. This is not untypical, even at a quarter after eight for a show with a 7:30 curtain. What can I say? People are rude and don’t understand how disruptive it is for live theater when someone walks in 45 minutes late. I got up to see who it was tugging on my lobby door, shaking my head with disgust at the rude bastard, whomever it might be and screwing on my “I’m disappointed with you as a human being” face. Through the glass doors I saw an enormous man, easily my height , maybe even taller, in a Santa suit.
“WTF?” I thought to myself.
Behind him stood a middle-aged woman in glasses and frumpy attire. Not frumpy Mrs. Claus attire, just regular frumpy. Not unlike what many of the women who volunteer as ushers at the theater wear.
When the behemoth Santa saw me, he waved one gloved hand while the other clutched a fist full of candy canes. Suffice it to say, I was suspicious.
I pushed the door open the same way I always do when some kind of degenerate is trying to get into the theater and I want to act polite but not inviting. I said, “Can I help you?” And though he could have just as easily crushed me with his massive frame, he thrust a candy cane at me and said “Merry Christmas!”
The way he said it suggested to me that either he thought I thought he was really Santa or he thought he was. Not wanting to burst his bubble and have to deal with an enraged 7ft. tall schizophrenic in a fake beard, I said “What, uh, what’s going on, uhm, Santa?”
He immediately dropped his guise and said “I had a thing at the Kid’s Museum [next door], just stopped by on my way to the car.”
“Ah. Alright. Well, thanks for the candy cane.”
“No problem,” he said waving good-bye, “Happy Holidays!”
Now, ‘Happy Holidays’ is my preferred winter salutation. I’m a card carrying member of the ACLU, I don’t think it’s overly PC to be respectful of the fact that other people don’t necessarily celebrate the same holidays—I think it’s just the right level of PC. But Santa saying it? Santa?! How weird is that? It’d be like Zombie Jesus saying “Happy Pagan Fertility Celebration” on Easter Sunday. But, y’know, like a 7ft. tall Zombie Jesus with a frumpy mute female sidekick*.
The whole thing left me feeling incredibly unsettled, but hey, free candy cane, so who am I to complain?
*It’s been a while since I read the Biblical accounts of the resurrection—does Jesus have a frumpy mute female sidekick?**
**Actually, given the great disparity between the various “gospel” accounts, it’s entirely possible that in Mark Jesus had a frumpy mute female sidekick and in Luke he had a fast-talking midget in leather pants as a sidekick and in John Jesus actually is a fast-talking midget in leather pants.
Seriously people, those of you who actually believe the Bible is true need to read the various resurrection stories and, with a straight face, explain to me how it could be possible that all four of them is true. Really, I dare you.
26 January 2008
An Open Letter to the Asshat Who Stole the Tape
Asshat Who Stole the Tape:
What's the deal, man? That tape may not have looked like much to you, but it was an important part of the workings of this box office and you just freakin' took it! WTF? Do you know how long it took us to find the right thing to prop the door open just enough to make for easy entrance without suggesting to people that it's okay for them to come in? I mean, we tried door stops but those never work. They're more trouble than they're worth. But that roll of electrical tape fit perfectly in front of the door jam and kept the jar open just the right amount. It didn't slip out like a shitty little door stop-- it did it's job. For months the Little Roll of Tape That Could helped to improve the lives of all of us who come and go from the box office. But tonight, while I was selling concessions to your classmates and classmates parents and maybe even your own grandmother, you stole the freakin' tape! C'mon, man, that's just wrong. This petty act of theft makes me irrationally angry! At this point, even if you brought the tape back, I'd probably still call the cops on you. I'm actually considering calling Campus Safety and asking them to search everyone as they leave the theatre. Even if you didn't know the full significance of the tape, you sure as hell knew it wasn't yours. It's not like you saw it there on the floor in front of the door and thought: "Oh, man, that must be where I dropped my roll of electrical tape! After all these years, we are reunited!" No, you freaking saw it on the floor and thought to yourself: "I'm gonna be a huge douche bag and steal a roll of tape that I know doesn't belong to me just so I can upset the good people in the box office who were nice enough to sell me a ticket even though I paid in quarters*! BWAH-Hah-hahahahahaha! Mine is an evil laugh!!"
You bastard. Seriously. What are you going to do with that tape? Tape something? Make a shiny black wallet for your emo girlfriend?
Y'know what? I don't really care because whatever you're doing with it, it's not as important as the job it was doing here. Even if you're doing something awesome with it like repairing a space shuttle or curing cancer, it still doesn't justify what you did. There's other tape out there, man, but we need this one. You sonovabitch.
And the part that really burns me (other than the fact that we have to find something else to prop the door open and until we do I'll have to keep getting out my key every time I want to open the door) is that before this happened I was in the middle of writing another blog. I haven't blogged in like a month and you came and pissed me off so much that I couldn't even finish the one I had started. I don't want to waste my precious blogging time on haranguing you but you know what? Now I have to. Fuck you. Asshat.
You have brought shame upon the Catholic Secondary Schools of Grand Rapids because of this foul deed. I don't think I can trust any Catholics anymore, thanks to you. Don't you have a god or something that's supposed to stop you from doing douche-y things like this? I mean, isn't The Virgin Mary looking down on you with shame in her immaculately conceived heart? And you know what else? That tape you stole equals one more thorn that pushed it's way into Jesus' soft flesh and sent hot sacrificial blood into his holy eyes, stinging them badly as he hung on the cross lo those many years ago. If you listen real hard, I bet you can hear him crying because of it. I'm not going to judge, because it's not like the Jesus and I are all that tight, but I think we can all agree that the safe bet is that he'll damn you for all eternity for taking that tape. At least he would if there were any justice. Which, apparently, there isn't because if there were justice the tape would still be holding the door open rather than being put to whatever nefarious task you're planning on using it for! I hope you enjoy your tape more than you would have enjoyed eternal bliss. Fucker.
Goddamn it. This totally ruined my night. And I know by saying that, I've made the deed all the sweeter for you, but I can't help it. It's gonna take a while for me to get over this, if I ever do. Man, you're just such an asshat! You probably brought candy into the theatre, too and you're gonna drop your Junior Mints on the carpet and then step on them. Bastard.
I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone.
Sincerely,
~Dave
*I have no reason to believe that the thief and the person with quarters are one and the same-- except, of course, the obvious fact that both acts could only be perpetrated by a complete douche.
What's the deal, man? That tape may not have looked like much to you, but it was an important part of the workings of this box office and you just freakin' took it! WTF? Do you know how long it took us to find the right thing to prop the door open just enough to make for easy entrance without suggesting to people that it's okay for them to come in? I mean, we tried door stops but those never work. They're more trouble than they're worth. But that roll of electrical tape fit perfectly in front of the door jam and kept the jar open just the right amount. It didn't slip out like a shitty little door stop-- it did it's job. For months the Little Roll of Tape That Could helped to improve the lives of all of us who come and go from the box office. But tonight, while I was selling concessions to your classmates and classmates parents and maybe even your own grandmother, you stole the freakin' tape! C'mon, man, that's just wrong. This petty act of theft makes me irrationally angry! At this point, even if you brought the tape back, I'd probably still call the cops on you. I'm actually considering calling Campus Safety and asking them to search everyone as they leave the theatre. Even if you didn't know the full significance of the tape, you sure as hell knew it wasn't yours. It's not like you saw it there on the floor in front of the door and thought: "Oh, man, that must be where I dropped my roll of electrical tape! After all these years, we are reunited!" No, you freaking saw it on the floor and thought to yourself: "I'm gonna be a huge douche bag and steal a roll of tape that I know doesn't belong to me just so I can upset the good people in the box office who were nice enough to sell me a ticket even though I paid in quarters*! BWAH-Hah-hahahahahaha! Mine is an evil laugh!!"
You bastard. Seriously. What are you going to do with that tape? Tape something? Make a shiny black wallet for your emo girlfriend?
Y'know what? I don't really care because whatever you're doing with it, it's not as important as the job it was doing here. Even if you're doing something awesome with it like repairing a space shuttle or curing cancer, it still doesn't justify what you did. There's other tape out there, man, but we need this one. You sonovabitch.
And the part that really burns me (other than the fact that we have to find something else to prop the door open and until we do I'll have to keep getting out my key every time I want to open the door) is that before this happened I was in the middle of writing another blog. I haven't blogged in like a month and you came and pissed me off so much that I couldn't even finish the one I had started. I don't want to waste my precious blogging time on haranguing you but you know what? Now I have to. Fuck you. Asshat.
You have brought shame upon the Catholic Secondary Schools of Grand Rapids because of this foul deed. I don't think I can trust any Catholics anymore, thanks to you. Don't you have a god or something that's supposed to stop you from doing douche-y things like this? I mean, isn't The Virgin Mary looking down on you with shame in her immaculately conceived heart? And you know what else? That tape you stole equals one more thorn that pushed it's way into Jesus' soft flesh and sent hot sacrificial blood into his holy eyes, stinging them badly as he hung on the cross lo those many years ago. If you listen real hard, I bet you can hear him crying because of it. I'm not going to judge, because it's not like the Jesus and I are all that tight, but I think we can all agree that the safe bet is that he'll damn you for all eternity for taking that tape. At least he would if there were any justice. Which, apparently, there isn't because if there were justice the tape would still be holding the door open rather than being put to whatever nefarious task you're planning on using it for! I hope you enjoy your tape more than you would have enjoyed eternal bliss. Fucker.
Goddamn it. This totally ruined my night. And I know by saying that, I've made the deed all the sweeter for you, but I can't help it. It's gonna take a while for me to get over this, if I ever do. Man, you're just such an asshat! You probably brought candy into the theatre, too and you're gonna drop your Junior Mints on the carpet and then step on them. Bastard.
I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone.
Sincerely,
~Dave
*I have no reason to believe that the thief and the person with quarters are one and the same-- except, of course, the obvious fact that both acts could only be perpetrated by a complete douche.
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