Nothing Compares to Me

Most Likely to Develop Penguin Rocket Launchers: Oswald Cobblepot

About once a month, I receive these emails from Facebook telling of the results from their "Compare People" application. Usually they come in pairs. The first email contains the top three friends who have been rated highest in several completely shallow and trivial categories: "best friend," "coolest," "best fashion sense," "hardest worker," etc. I say "shallow" and "trivial" mostly because I'm never on these lists. However, I also receive another one about once a month called "Justin, Here are your strengths and weaknesses as voted by your friends."

Every email is exactly the same. I always have the same strengths and weaknesses.
STRENGTHS:
Most Organized
Most Useful
Most Desired for Marriage

WEAKNESSES:
Coolest
Best Travel Companion

I realize that these descriptions carry about as much weight as reading tea leaves, but I'm going to scrutinize them anyway. After all, my "friends" are apparently voting on these things. Of course, one wonders about the friends who are taking the time to join the "Compare People" application. I've also considered the possibility that the entire thing is fabricated. The strengths and weaknesses are just general enough to apply to just about anyone. What person would read this and declare, "Nay sir. I am a disorganized and useless lifelong bachelor who is cooler than Fonzie and a superior travel companion!"? But for the sake of argument, let's assume that my Facebook friends actually voted for this.

I will grant that I am obsessively organized though I don't know how most of my friends would know this. I don't publicize my obsessive dedication to color-coordinated folders, calendars, maps, road signs, and properly aligned toothbrushes. These are organizational principles that I keep to myself.

I don't even know how to take "most useful." Society and the economy would certainly disagree.

The most peculiar choice on this list is "most desired for marriage." Aside from one instance in my early college years, I haven't been able to maintain a relationship with a woman for longer than two months. I realize that I'm a dashing, dapper, articulate, uproarious, charming, and dazzling example of the modern male, but if you're interested in marrying me, chances are you're too normal and well-adjusted for me to be attracted to you. Given my track record, you apparently need to be the one flying over the cuckoo's nest or be listening to the voices of three dead poets in your head before I'll want to date you. The only type of woman that I'd be interested in would probably stab me in the thorax before the wedding day. What can I say? I like interesting women.

My weaknesses are a bit more understandable. I'm not cool. I've never been cool. I know I'll never BE cool. Gigantic Star Trek fans who majored in English, write blogs, and use big words to amuse themselves don't often get to be lumped into the "cool" category. For that very same reason, I imagine that I must be a lousy travel companion. Nobody wants to be on a six hour car ride with someone who will waste all six hours extolling the virtues of the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode "A Call to Arms" and spend considerable time and fervor explaining why the Cardassians are a futuristic representation of an Orwellian dystopia as filtered through the prism of 20th century science fiction... and why that episode had totally boss space battles!

Stop trying to lure me into using your ridiculous applications, Facebook. If I wanted to know about people judging me behind my back, I'd pay more attention to my real life.

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The Undesirable Element:
STRENGTHS: Best Blog with No Pornography
WEAKNESSES: No Pornography

Bringing Dandy Back

Here is a list of once popular things that have been forgotten for decades or even centuries that should make a comeback no matter how impractical they may be.

1. Top Hats: Nobody ever wears a snazzy top hat anymore, and that's a real shame. They're too damned classy to be forgotten to history. I would even accept the fedora being brought back into regular use. Pulp detectives and black comedians can't have all the fun.

2. Personal Jesters: Don't get me wrong. I don't want to own my own personal jester; I want to be one! Given limited career options, I think I'd stand a good chance by putting bells on top of my multi-tiered and colorful hat and throwing pies into my own face for the amusement of a benevolent monarch.

3. Public Orgies: If they were good enough for the Ancient Greeks, they're good enough for me!

4. Robes: While I'm thinking Greek, long flowing robes should be acceptable attire for everyday activities. Not only would walking around in a tailored bedsheet be exceedingly comfortable, but the loose material hides a lot of unsightly flab from public view.

5. Walking Staffs with Interesting Shapes: These days, you never see a gentleman carrying a walking stick that's shaped like a giant snake. That's a loss to society at large.

6. Meaningless Titles for the Landed Gentry: Half a millennium ago, even if you weren't royalty, you could still give yourself a pompous title as long as you owned a shitload of land (and a comparable shitload of slaves to tend to it). Slavery and feudalism may be bad, but let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. If I own a home, I want the ability to preface my name with "Master," "Sir," "Duke," "Baron," or my personal favorite "Count." It would be even better if you could pull an "Alfred, Lord Tennyson" and stick the title in the middle of your name.

7. Old Timey Maps: For some reason, Rand McNally frowns upon maps having regions cordoned off with declarations like, "HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!" Not only do I want to litter my topography with such things, but I also want to be able to assert my manifest destiny by renaming shit after my friends and family regardless of what the indiginous populations have to say about it.

8. Muttonchops: It takes a classy sumbitch to pull this look off, and I want more men (and women if they have the gumption to do it) to be growing muttonchops to go along with their top hats. You only ever see them in beard/moustache competitions, and those are far too scarce.

9. Monocles: I have no idea how people kept them from falling out all the time, but nothing says, "I have enough money to swim in and you don't" quite like a monocle. In these tough economic times, it's hard to identify rich people so that you can throw rotting vegetables at them, and monocles would help to vilify the right folks.

10. Largest Man Becomes King: You have to go pretty primitive for this rule to apply, but it would be great if I could assert supreme rule over a sizable group of people just because I'm the biggest of the bunch. And I'd be sure to execute any scrappy ambitious little kids to prevent a "David vs. Goliath" scenario from ruining my sovereignty.

11. Corner Paperboys: CNN and USA Today lack the same flair and panache that's encompassed by a newspaper boy with a Cockney accent and a flat cap shouting, "EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!!"

12. Snake Oil Salesmen: Enzyte may have Smiling Bob, but the 19th century had the best advertisements for medication in any medium. Why for just a dime sir, you can find a gen-u-ine liniment that soothes the soul, cools the blood, balances your humors, and eases the derangements of the abdominal organs. And the bonus of the Snake Oil Salesman is that he often wears a top hat and sports a wicked set of muttonchops!

I'd also like to quickly address some classical trends that are best left forgotten:
- Duels: I can't win one, and I'm sure I'd mouth off to the wrong gentleman before too long.
- Inquisitions: They don't take too kindly to smartass atheists.
- Slavery: Largest man often becomes a valuable but unpaid laborer.
- Ritual Castration: There's just no good that can come from that.
- The Pillory: I have a very sensitive neck, and there are a lot of crimes against the establishment that I'd like to commit.

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The Past: From your perspective, that's when this post was written.

And That's the Way It Isn't

"The truth is just an excuse for a lack of imagination."

For years, I've been putting that quote on my AIM profile, Facebook page, and perhaps several official government documents. You might think that it's some kind of profound sentiment from a distinguished philosopher or a clever witticism from Twain or something. You would be wrong. It's from that most profound of shows, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Suck on that! Star Trek once again serves as a parable for life.

We rely on news outlets for our understanding of what happens in our communities and the world. Unless I start doing some serious traveling or develop some sort of extra-sensory perception (all the more reason to hang around gamma radiation and toxic spills), this will remain true for the foreseeable future. When it comes to the economy, those of us without our MBA have to rely on analysts to make sense of seemingly indecipherable stock values, though I have no objections to this if the networks follow NBC's lead and find extremely hot financial analysts for me to leer at. Once I accept that every news network, newspaper, magazine, and professional website is dedicated first and foremost to making money, I can sift through the information at my leisure.

What bothers me is that people don't understand that the news isn't "just the facts." Every once in awhile, I tear myself away from VoyeurCzechGirls.com and visit some legitimate message boards where people discuss current events, politics, and everyday news items. It kills me that a lot of people uncritically accept anything they read on the internet or see on television. Maybe it's just the latent bug up my ass about rhetoric that's reasserting itself, but I'm endlessly annoyed by the inability of the public at large to understand how the media works.

Let's take a look at today's CNN website. The headline reads, "Clinton: U.S. Shares Blame for Mexico Violence." The article addresses Hillary Clinton's perspective on the recent problems in Mexico. The informed reader should say, "Oh, this is what Hillary Clinton thinks of what's happening in Mexico." The undisputable "fact" of the story is that Hillary Clinton has shared her viewpoint. But the way that the headline is worded, many uncritical readers may assume the fact to be "The United States shares the blame for the violence in Mexico." The story's only source for anything cited in the article is, of course, Hillary Clinton. Granted, she's the Secretary of State and should probably know a thing or two about it, but many people will accept what she says as undisputed fact even though this is the perspective of a single person.

Now I use this example because it's actually, in my opinion, a legitimate news story. If the Secretary of State has something to say about contemporary foreign affairs, it's probably newsworthy. My objection is that too many people seem to read stories like that without considering how to read them. If there's video on the internet, very few people seem to consider that there might be a context for what's happening or that the cameraman only recorded what would sell. If there's a damning quote about a famous person, let's not consider that the quote may have been taken out of context.

Before I seem too comfortable sitting atop my high horse, let me hasten to add that I fall for the same stuff, but I like to think that I catch myself more often than not. For instance, I really don't understand what Bernie Madoff did, and I have only a vague understanding of what a ponzi scheme is, but I neatly filed the note "Bernie Madoff, maker of money-dollars, gets convicted for doing bad guy stuff" away in my brain under "Economic Stuff that I Don't Understand." Now I have to make sure that there's an asterisk next to that note that means, "This tidbit may have been deduced from incomplete information."

Slightly off tangent but still within the scope of this topic... when will Mr. Employer learn that forwarded emails can be completely fabricated? It was bad enough when he gave me a long lists of "truths" about Barack Obama shortly before the election and told me to "think long and hard about them" before voting. Oh I definitely thought long and hard after I found on Snopes.com that most of them were complete bullshit. Even after bringing this to his attention, I had to read his new one about Barack Obama having Narcissistic Personality Disorder because some doctor DIAGNOSED him by watching his television appearances. Never mind that the article lacked any citations or that the doctor doesn't exist. He still thinks the internet would never lie to him.

I won't even get into those occassional days when Mr. Employer decides to turn on Rush Limbaugh while we're eating lunch. If restating an oversimplified version of your opponent's viewpoint in a funny voice and then adding "Are you kidding me?" is your idea of a convincing argument, then you enjoy yourself. Hey Rush, check out the definitions for "ad hominem" and "slippery slope" and then ask yourself why they're both called "fallacies."

So to sum up: Don't trust anybody. They're all out to get you.

Especially me.

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JP: May only be bitter because news sites make more money than his website does.

Do Not Frakking Disturb

Tonight is the two-hour Battlestar Galactica series finale. I intend to fully revel in my nerd glory this evening. I will find out if the Scrolls of Pithia indeed predicted that Hera would lead the Twelve Tribes of Kobol to their salvation. I will find out why Earth was inhabited by Cylons. I'll find out why the song "All Along the Watchtower" spans the entire frakking galaxy. And most importantly, I'll discover if Colonel Tigh can be any more badass than he already is.

So because I'm going to be finding the answers to these deep questions that only other fellow basement dwellers with nerdy glasses and an affinity for gun-toting robots can appreciate, I don't want to be disturbed between 9pm and 11:30pm. That's two hours to watch the show, and another half hour to post my delight/disgust throughout various internet forums.

Thank you for your consideration. So say we all.

Do Not Disturb tonight... or Colonel Tigh will fuck up your shit!

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Colonel Tigh: The Intergalactic doppleganger of John McCain.

The Pitt and the Pendulum

Well, I've finally made some actual measurable headway on something in my life, and it's certainly not in my commitment to timely blog posts. I've been accepted into the University of Pittsburgh teacher certification program. I'm certain that your applause and accolades are overwhelming. Due to my disastrously futile attempts to sneak into the corporate world, something else needed to be done. I couldn't just sit idly by sending off one resume after another just to hear nothing back in return. I can now mark August 19th on my calendar as "The Day My Life Resumes."

The beauty of this program is that the classes I'd take are all graduate level; therefore, should I ever want to go back to get my Masters in Education, I'd already have a year's worth of graduate credits under my belt. On the downside, this means that I'll once again be doing the grad school grind, but after a year of complete mental indolence, I'm actually looking forward to it. Spending my days copying church bulletins while living with my parents in my culturally vacuous town has been giving me the distinct (and rather unpleasant) feeling of having a stagnant life. A lot of my friends are building credit, buying houses, getting married, planning future investments, and generally doing quite well in establishing their lives. Much as I'm loathe to paraphrase a guy who used to be part of the 80s Aussie group Men at Work, but I'm truly waiting for my real life to begin.

Even Batmite, who doesn't have a job either, at least gets to have interesting adventures where he wrecks his car and profits from it, has brunch with a U.S. senator, wanders the streets of Manhattan drunk with no money, spends several nights in the Manhattan penthouse of a stranger, misses out on an orgy, and steals video games from grade schoolers. Quit bitching about your life, Batmite. They call these moments "character building."

Of course, my reemerging interest in education doesn't come without its problems. University administration is still a complete pain in the ass. After six years of schooling, two of which were spent actually teaching (though my students might argue otherwise), you would think that I'd be almost over-qualified for this certification program. In some respects, that's entirely true, but I discovered that I actually haven't fulfilled one of their prerequisites: Social and Cultural Foundations of Education. Fortunately, one of the nice gravelly-voiced old women in the education department was receptive to my polite diatribe about my financial constraints, and she recommended that I take the class at the Community College of Allegheny County (CCAC) over the summer and transfer the credits to Pitt.

CCAC, for those who don't know, is not exactly known for its rigorous academic standards, and the class they want me to take is an introductory course in education. I've taken two upper-level undergraduate courses in education and a graduate level course in composition pedagogy in addition to already having actual teaching experience, but just because I haven't had a course that deals with the history of education, I have to take a freshman-level education course to show that I understand what it means to be a teacher. This is administrative bullshit that almost rivals Batmite's inability to meet WVU's language requirement despite being fluent in three languages. At least the class is offered online so that I don't actually have to meet the charming little snowflakes who will be in my class.

The overwhelming burden of education (the profession not the tediously boring classes) sometimes makes me question my decision to become a teacher. I find myself frequently bouncing back and forth between my lifelong desire to teach and my innate sense of self-preservation that's encouraging me to flee from that career track as quickly as possible. (Hence the "pendulum" reference in the title.) But when it comes right down to it, while I'd like to have had the opportunity to try a job in the private sector, I have no qualms about becoming a teacher. I think I'd be a very good high school teacher, and not to sound immodest (even though I'm totally gloating about it internally), I know that the education system would be better with me in it. There are too many stupid and lazy teachers in high schools as it is. While I'll certainly continue the tradition of laziness, I can at least be an English teacher of above-average intelligence. Maybe some kids will actually learn to read and write with me in charge.

Granted, they'll probably learn to read Mein Kampf and write threatening notes to faculty, but they have to start somewhere.

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Nine out of ten readers are getting sterilized as we speak to prevent JP from warping their future progeny. The last reader is Batmite who is looking to stab JP for making fun of him in this post... but he'll never find me for I have fled to Earth-616.

God Less America

America has spoken! God is dead! Now we can all graciously apologize to Nietzsche.

The Associated Press recently released a report of a study conducted by Trinity College that indicates that Americans are becoming less religious. According to the article:

The percentage of Christians in the nation has declined and more people say they have no religion at all. Fifteen percent of respondents said they had no religion, an increase from 14.2 percent in 2001 and 8.2 percent in 1990, according to the American Religious Identification Survey.

I must admit that I didn't think the percentage of admitted non-religious Americans was so high. I didn't even know about the 2001 14.2% figure. I've always suspected that a vast number of Americans are secretly non-believers and only go to church for social, familial, traditional, or habitual reasons. I never thought that as many as 15% would actually admit to being atheists!

If fifteen percent sounds like a low figure to you, just remember that that number describes people who don't have any religious beliefs. According to the survey:

"About 12 percent of Americans believe in a higher power but not the personal God at the core of monotheistic faiths."

These people could believe in anything from a mysterious energy being from the fifth dimension to the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Another 3.5% of respondents describe themselves as "non-denominational Christians." The AP says:

"Congregations that most often use the term are megachurches considered 'seeker-sensitive.' They use rock music and less structured prayer to attract people who don't usually attend church."

Any group that listens to "Enter Sandman" while worshiping in a "megachurch" does not qualify as a religion. Such is the way of things.

On a more general level, the study found that organized religion is playing less of a role in the daily lives of Americans.

"Thirty percent of married couples did not have a religious wedding ceremony and 27 percent of respondents said they did not want a religious funeral."

This pleases me. I don't want a religious wedding or funeral, and now it looks like a sizable portion of the population agrees with me. Why should God have any part in my wedding? No religion really teaches of a Mrs. God, so I'm not inclined to take marital advice and blessings from a guy who's never had his own old lady at home. As for funerals, I don't need some guy in a pointy hat giving hollow platitudes to my loved ones about me being in a better place. Bullshit! If religious folk thought that dying would send them to a better place, they'd go out of their way to ensure their own deaths. Why aren't Christians out there driving without seatbelts, sniffing in toxic gases, and drinking lighter fluid? And if there are people at my funeral who are religious, they certainly won't believe that my sacreligious ass went to a "better place."

The only religion that seems to be doing well right now is Catholicism. But don't celebrate just yet, dear Catholic readers. The reason the Catholics' numbers are so high is because of Mexican immigrants. Mexicans are overwhelmingly Catholic, and they're bringing their Pope-love with them to the States, so some conservative Catholics better alter their stance on Mexican immigration if they want to keep their numbers high.

It's nice to know that atheists are more numerous than I thought. While in Morgantown a few weeks ago, I lamented to Virgil that in a hundred years, Mormonism would probably be as mainstream as Catholicism or Protestantism. She smiled and retorted, "I'm hoping that religion will be completely gone in a hundred years." I rolled my eyes and sort of guffawed at the notion. But maybe she's not completely out of the ball park. The percentage of admitted atheists in this country has nearly doubled in 20 years. Who knows what a century will bring.

For now, I can at least have an even MORE pompous and arrogant tone when discussing religious matters with my friends. They can then scoff at the hypocrite who gets all of his money by working for a pastor while he's condemning religion on the internet.

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Atheist numbers are growing. Thank God!

My Personal Debasement

My current pimp lodgings

The economic recession occasionally makes me feel better because I'm a sadistic and bitter man. I appreciate the fact that my unemployment misery is now shared by thousands if not millions of other Americans. Imagine my elation when I discovered someone with a story distressingly similar to my own.

A recent article on CNN.com relates the tale of Jeffrey Root, a good-natured 26-year-old slob from Utah who just quit his fast food job so that he could move back into his parents' basement because his expenses were becoming too great. What does Jeffrey do now? Why he's working on his English degree. He hopes to become a teacher one day!

This is not fair at all. Aside from living in Utah and having a very cute wife (pictured in the article), Jeffrey is essentially living my life. I was unemployed and living in my parents' basement before it was cool. Where's my fucking CNN tribute??

However, the article still makes me feel better about myself. Here is a lovely quote from it:

In a recent poll of people ages 18 and older, the AARP found about a quarter of them were living with their parents or in-laws; and about one in seven were living with a sibling.
About 15 percent of the 1,002 people polled by the organization said they're at some risk of having to move back into their parents' home. And about a third of those at risk said they may have to do so because of job loss.

Suddenly my basement lifestyle doesn't seem so bad. I'm a trend-setter!! Pretty soon, a sizable percentage of Americans will loiter in basements downloading episodes of 30 Rock, perusing Star Trek message boards, and blogging about their superfluous subterranean existences while waiting to wander upstairs to see what the parents have cooked for dinner.

Actually, to be fair, I'm really lathering on the hyperbole in describing my homestead as a "basement." As you can see from the picture at the top of the post, my bedroom does not consist of concrete walls and a hammock suspended to the floorboards of the living room. And just outside my bedroom is a game room furnished with most of the crap from my old apartment.
The "basement" of our house is actually the size of the entire upstairs. My parents seldom come down here, so it's like I have my own little apartment beneath the house. As if that weren't enough, there's even a sweet gym in our basement so that my fat ass can shed its excess pounds.
I'm like the Scrooge McDuck of vagabonds. I get the street cred and wild pity sex of an unemployed tramp, but I have sweet lodgings that I fully enjoy and exploit even though I know full well that I don't deserve them on a financial level. I will admit that my lifestyle of moochery has frequently given me a laissez-faire attitude toward the job search. However, in all fairness, there really aren't any jobs anymore. I have several websites that send me job postings based on a multitude of search criteria. Over the summer and into the fall, I received several credible leads a day. Now I'm lucky to find a job that I barely qualify for once every two weeks. Additionally, I'm now competing with a lot of bitter formerly-employed people who have much more experience than me who now want the same crappy jobs that I so highly covet.

I really do miss having my own place (sharing an apartment with Batmite even qualifies). There's a certain level of pride in paying for your own space and having complete control over your own life, and I'd jump at the chance to have an apartment again. However, with a very nicely-paying part-time job right next door, no rent, a sweet basement command center, and an economy that wants to personally rape me, I'm very happy to remain a cellar dweller for another six months. I'll reassess my life choices before going to get my teacher certification.

I still need a hot wife and a background in food service to beat Jeffrey, but I'm going to show that bastard who the real basement phenom is! Of course, he doesn't have to deal with this asshole...
... so he's got one up on me there.

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4 out of 5 readers are not as impressed as JP is with his great pun title. The last reader is too busy fawning over the picture of the cute kitty cat.

Rage Against the Machine

I spent so much time today in front of a copy machine that I can't be sure that I didn't duplicate myself in the process. I've been feeling rather duplicated all day, but that may have been the result of the meatloaf sandwich I had for lunch.

Six hours!! Six hours copying church bulletins today. To hell with giving myself the lotto numbers; if I build a time machine, I'm going back to the 15th century and stabbing Johannes Gutenberg in the throat. I now support a completely original society where no documents may be duplicated by anyone or anything (at least without the express written consent of Major League Baseball).

Apparently not content with providing one copier to make my life a miserable hell, my employers have TWO copiers for me to use. I've developed an unhealthy relationship with these reproductive monstrosities. Not only do I curse and shout at them when they jam, but I have a sneaking suspicion that these machines are mocking me. They know how tedious and unfulfilled their own lives are, and they're trying to drive my self esteem into the ground in order to make themselves feel better. They're mechanized bullies. I suspect this is how Skynet developed.

I talk to the copiers. I've humanized the copiers. I not only believe that the copiers have emotions, but I'm convinced that they're smug, self-righteous, and condescending. How could they not be? All they do is read Christian bulletins all day! I say to the copier nicely, "Please copy 50 cover pages because I only have 50 sheets of card stock." The copier retorts by declaring, "Nay sir, I'm going to inhale ten pages at once, rip them to shreds, and then jam them into my own gears. Then I'll bleep noisily at you and put a message on the display screen that says, 'Fuck off, JP' but I'll get rid of it as soon as you try to show the employer what a saucy machine she purchased." One day I'll teach that copier to quit sassing me.

I don't want you to think that this is your run-of-the-mill disdain for office supplies. I believe the copy machine to be a worthy adversary, and I know it can best me when it wants. Just the other day, I was cursing it for being too damned slow. It was churning out the copies at about 85% of its normal speed. After such a long working relationship, I know what it's capable of. After my diatribe, the copier responds by making several loud grinding noises. It then starts copying pages at about 10% of its normal speed before finally giving up and producing a generic "ERROR" message. Then it shuts down altogether. Delighted, I go into Mrs. Employer's office to tell her that her copier finally bit the dust and that she needs a new one. However, when I go back into the main office to show her that it's broken, the damn thing starts right up and begins happily printing pages. Mrs. Employer mocks me for not understanding how to use use the "ON/OFF" switch before leaving the room. I glare at the copier and grudgingly say, "Well played, machine - well played indeed."

This is why I need to teach. At least the people who'll make me miserable will be REAL people instead of anthropomorphic pieces of office equipment that spend more time with me in a given week than most other human beings. And when I push my students' buttons, they actually do what I want them to do.

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"PC LOAD LETTER?? What the fuck does that mean?"