March 28, 2012
Worse Than Just Racism: A Rant/Monologue on the Edge of Sanity

That racism is thriving in America is no surprise. (Please direct your television to any and all election coverage.)  It’s as sadly ingrained in our national consciousness as baseball and mom’s good old apple pie. Which is why there shouldn’t be anything shocking to me about the racist reactions to the casting of black actors in the Hunger Games.  But for some reason it did surprise me, and I can’t think of a pop culture related story that’s made me angrier or more disheartened in recent times. 

Idiots took to twitter after the movie to say that they thought that casting black actors for the “good characters” ruined the movie.  Or that they were fooled into feeling sympathy for a young female character who got brutally stabbed and killed, only to realize when they saw that movie that she was BLACK.  Some claimed to feel less sad because of her race but apologized if you thought this made them seem a little racist.  These people were able to fall in love with and mourn the image of the character they created in their minds, but could no longer do that with the visual representation of a different race.

It’s awful knowing that these people exist, and it smarts to know that a lot of good people have to deal with the consequences of their racist bullshit.  Beyond the blatant racism, which if I try really hard to suspend reality, I can usually just write off as stupidity and move on knowing that I choose to not surround myself with that ilk, there were a couple other things about this that exacerbated the degree of awfulness in their messages for me.

Yes, it boggles the mind that people would actually feel betrayed by a surprise revelation that these characters were black.  But the fact is that along with missing a soul, those who complained about the blackness of the characters are also without a basic grasp on reading comprehension.  Listen, I don’t know the correlative stats on reading ability and racist dumbfuckery, and I am sure there’s a study somewhere to prove this, but this particular sample group exhibits that racists may not really understand what they’re reading. 

The author herself wrote that 2 of the characters in question were dark skinned, and she’s given interviews confirming that indeed they were meant to be African American. Lenny Kravitz’s character was not given any racial indicators in the novel, and a casting director is in no way to employ default-whitewashing regardless of the preference of the vocal, racist moviegoer. This wasn’t a situation like in the Harry Potter series when the author outed a certain character as gay after the fact without explicitly stating it in the novel.

This is to say nothing of the spelling or grammar of these particular racists, which is probably the least of their worries.

Also alarming is the complete confidence that these people have in their racism, the utter lack of embarrassment in posting an opinion that should make them cringe.  I understand that people gain false confidence and sometimes lose their minds when their toes dangle over the edge of a social media platform. I’ve posted things on twitter that I would come to regret down the road. But what does it say when people demonstrate no shame in flouting backwards thinking? Where are they learning that this is ok?  When did it become a point of pride to show that there are limits to compassion and sympathy that can be drawn as easily as color lines? These people either didn’t know that they were being racist, or they didn’t know that racism was wrong.  Either way, that’s disturbing. 

I guess what bothers me most is that these stories actually took me by surprise. I never gave much thought to the idea that the comingling of races on screen or the casting of non-whites would be a flash point of controversy.  Of course, I realized that racists exist in the world, and as a white male, I don’t bear the any of brunt of having to deal with their actions. But these idiots really caught off guard and made me feel naïve and sad. And twitter should make you feel many things: dumber, lazier, smugger, but never sad. 

These people reminded me that we always must be vigilant on the lookout for complete fucking idiots.  And for that I owe them.

So, to help these people facilitate their narrow-mindedness in the future, I’ve come up with some suggestions for them the next time they take to twitter:

- Start an inquiry into why the host of RuPaul’s Drag Race is black? Couldn’t they have found a nice white lady?

-Write angry letters about why there are so many white people that have to do their own cooking on the Food Network.

- Demand an explanation into how those two nice men on Modern Family made a baby together. Be sure to include the phrase “Adam and Steve.”

-Continue your twentieth straight year of outrage that the Simpsons were drawn yellow when they were clearly written white.

- Blame a young black child’s death on the fact that he wore a hooded sweatshirt, the uniform of a “gangsta wannabe”.  Oh wait.

March 6, 2012
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Boner

The intrepid, self-appointed and yawn-inducing provocateur of CNN and beyond, Piers Morgan, recently hosted child star cum evangelical life coach Kirk Cameron on his talk show to discuss important matters.  Among other things, Kirk was encouraged for reasons unknown to touch on his feelings about homosexuality. Much like maintaining a career in mainstream films and television, it’s turns out that it’s not much to his liking.  He finds it “unhealthy” and “detrimental to society.”

Pity.  I think it’s rather fun.

With the deluge of publicity that resulted in Kirk’s visit and subsequent Sermon on the Mount, we eagerly await Morgan’s plans to capitalize on the trend of asking former child starts their vital opinions on world affairs.  Here are some suggestions for future shows:

-Jodie Sweetin on partial birth abortion. (Pro. In all cases.)

-David Faustino on feminist epistemology. (Encourages practices of inquiry and justification.)

-Josh Saviano on abstinence education. (Anti.)

 

-Corin Nemec on Basque separatists. (Tapas!)

 

Jenna Von Oy on the European economic bailout. (Loves lamb kebabs.)

 

Lark Voorhees on affirmative action. (Anti.)

 

Rider Strong on immigration regulation.  (Anti.)

 

Jonathan Taylor Thomas on gun rights. (Out of his cold dead hands.)

 

Emmanuel Lewis on Birthers. (Definitely Kenyan.)

Tiffany Brissette on the military industrial complex. (More robots.)

November 30, 2011
Why I Did What I Did:

I just did something probably stupid; I realize that.  I just resigned a somewhat stable position in this economy. I know that I am an asshole.  But let me tell you why:

I have known for quite some time that I have been less than satisfied at my job.  The work was fine, unchallenging.  I was being paid more for it than I deserved, which is why I never made much of an effort to leave. It lulled me into a place of complacency for years. I knew that I was not going to be moving up the ladder any time soon, as per the particular nature of our job.  It is so important to have a steady paycheck, and my job made it so easy to procure one without much thought. About anything.

With any job, it’s so difficult at the end of the day to come home and do any sort of meaningful work on a resume, never mind on yourself.  If you take my particular situation, you can throw into to the mix some panic attacks that I had been having for a couple months, triggered by my job and escalating in seriousness.  Add a pinch of false accusation for harassing coworkers, and you have a stew not worth eating.  Though, truth be told, I shan’t be turning down free food any time soon.

I am the kind of person who needs a kick in the ass to get anything done.  I am giving myself that kick in the ass rather than waiting for it, after long tearful conversations with family, friends and boyfriend. Long.  Tearful.  Embarrassing, really.  I mean, I was on a park bench doing this sometimes, garnering sympathetic glares from the homeless.  I had been arriving at work as a quiet wreck lately. 

I realize that the job market is no joke and I know that putting this in writing sets me up for disaster, but I also know I won’t make a move if I continue sitting at that table and exhaust myself plugging in numbers day after day.  When I turned 34 last weekend, the fact that I was not getting any younger came into stark relief.  I had better find something I love or even like to do, and quick. 

I ran a marathon a couple weekend’s ago after intensive training and the careful application of self-discipline.  It was the first time in a very long time that I felt good about myself, proud of myself for something.  I feel like my job contributed to a mindset where my default setting was treading water, barely registering the rise and fall of daily victories. 

 My plan is to commit to a full time job of searching for a couple months.  If I need to go back to a contract job later, I hope I have that option elsewhere.  But my hope is that I will have found a full time job with benefits before then.  Do you know someone who wants to hire me?


To tell you the truth, I am not sure that there’s another time in my life when I will have the opportunity to self-sabotage like this again.  My rent is at an all time low now that the boyfriend and I split our bills, I don’t have children or any large outstanding debts.  When the economy crashed and legal expenses became luxuries, my salary was frozen at such a point where my future, inevitable paycut will be nominal—it’s not like I have to try to replace a 200k/year job.  I can barely afford to do this, but I will also barely be able to afford it in the future.  And any potential job I take now will pay more than my new salary: $0.  I really like to set expectations low, you see. 

Most important right now, I’ve discovered that my support system: friends, family and my super supportive boyfriend didn’t hesitate to tell me that I was making the right choice.  No one blinked.  I am pretty lucky. 

What now?  I have some thinking to do.  I have to figure out what I am good at, what I have to offer employers, what I have to offer myself.  I have to fight the inertia of settling into a cliché, trying to determine what color my parachute is. 

I’ve been met with congratulations and whispers of envy.  People wish they could make the same move.  Someone at work called me a folk hero when I was on my way out the door.  Of course, no one is going to actually tell me what I am doing is crazy.  Why would they?  They didn’t experience my sleepless nights leading up to this.  And they certainly weren’t there as I was throwing up last night from nerves about what’s to come. 

The simple things.  I have to figure out what to do with my time every day when I am not looking at my resume.  I have already started to plan meetings with people to network and spread errands out on the calendar so I have a reason to get out of bed every day.  I’ve researched budget recipes to feed myself and spent time in the mirror learning to look sympathetic so friends will take it upon themselves to feed me. 

I will try not to feel like a fraud when I have nothing to do in the morning except search for a job.  I will attempt to not feel guilty when I feel happy about something, despite being jobless.  I have to avoid depression.  I have to be hopeful that I will find something.  I will try to maintain a healthy level of self-worth in a society where we define ourselves almost solely on what we do from 9 to 5.  What a way to make a living, indeed.

So now I sit here with an incomplete resume staring back at me.  The objective section is left blank.  Fitting. 


I am really, really scared.  But I am also hopeful, excited, happy, sad, nervous, among so many other emotions.  I am feeling something again, and somehow all of that feels right. 

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