There’s Cancer in Everything – Strip Clubs are Sad Discos

Lethal Aide

Finally, we have ended the charade and let Branding and Marketing have its hegemony in the abode of war. Sure, we’vehad propaganda, pamphlets and the like, but now you can sense a real shift in philosophy. It feels like those formerly Mad Men-style, Madison Avenue types have made it into the smoke-filled rooms where the biggest decisions are made. And, at the head of the table, they’ve decided that masking war to make it palatable for public consumption is just so last generation. No, the marketers have determined that warfare is an actuarial product, a commodity that is limited only by the difference between return and exposure. Moreover, the return doesn’t have to be simply money; we’ve learned that war can bring about impetus, helping people see it your way. Death and destruction boiled down to risk management; it’s a wager on the value of life vs. resources, variable only to P (proximity), π (profit – in its many forms) and P² (popularity). Finally, the means to calculate how many foreign troops it could take to get a dollar reduction on energy costs or a tack-on tax cut to a relief bill.

I came to this conclusion as the term “Lethal Aide” made its way around the Sunday Morning political shows. Besides its obvious oxymoronic leaning, this term seems warmed-over and focused-grouped. One can imagine a group of white male mid-westerners, ranging 18-34, sitting in a sterile room being feddifferent terms like “Death Help” and “Kill Assistance” before, finally, finding the perfect phrase: Lethal Aide. “Yea, I mean…it makes me think…like your also kinda…helping the people you’re shooting at,” one of the focus group members must’vesaid. It’s a softening of the hard reality of war and it is highlighting a grave cowardice that has become all too common in “modern” warfare: the outsourcing of responsibility and blood. As long as another country’s soldiers and people take on the risk of death, there is no need to delve deep into the soul of a nation in order to find a morality and then the will to support it.

Of course, there will always be despots. Even in the sandbox, we dealt with tyrants, but their crimes were petty or ridiculous. They needed the proper turns of fate and resources to grow into the monsters we always knew they could be. Consequently, when the beast comes to maturity, he or she will feast on a people or a country or a world. Free Nations will rush in to condemn and denounce, but do so in the company of their own allied autocracies, hand-in-hand with the “Lesser of Two Evils”.

The Ryder Files

I’m a dad of a toddler – soon to be preschooler – so there is no way I don’t know who Ryder is. For the uninitiated, there is a cartoon called Paw Patrol where a boy name Ryder leads a group of rescue pups – all with specific skills, and assorted, representative colors and vehicles – that help the people in and around a place called Adventure bay. Feasible so far right? You’re probably thinking they’ll be catching cats that fall out of trees and putting out the occasional picnic fire, no big deal. You’d probably also assume they’d have a ladder, maybe a hose or flashlight and operate out of some sort of clubhouse or something. Wrong! I submit to you that Ryder is at the helm of a cross-departmental, DEA-CIA-NSA operation, which he’ssince become a double, no quadruple agent and is now playing all sides leading to a simultaneous career as a narcotics smuggler! And if the Pups are not patsies they are aiding and abetting his criminal activities.

Fact #1: Ryder has unlimited technical resources with seemingly unlimited large-scale logistical support by the way of communication devices like Pup Pads and the mega headquarters known as the Paw Patrol Tower (The Tower also has a formulation that is powered by a meteorite that is seemingly radioactive. They’re nuclear!). Ryder can reach his team anywhere in Adventure bay, FoggyBottom and parts of Barkingburg without interference – the signal also works in some sort of land-before-time esque location only accessible by cave, but more on that when I watch those episodes. This can only mean satellite signals, which means he definitely has military clearance.

Fact #2: Funding of this Paw Patrol project is not discussed, but on-demand new updates and tech become available to Ryder without any discussion of his means of acquisition. I would eliminate the possibility that Ryder himself is the engineer of these devices and the many well-equipped vehicles like the Mission Cruiser, which is a 100-foot multi-purpose reconnaissance transport (tip of the iceberg!), since he has always had a great difficulty discerning Mayor Humdinger’s identity even though the mayor uses terribly conspicuous disguises. This kind of support must be vast and with a marginal amount of oversight. I don’t think you need me to spell out the kind of agencies that work that way! However, even with the “Alphabet Boys” attached to this operation, Ryder’s sheer opportunity and access have also made him a player in the international drug distribution business.

Fact #3: Ryder has cultivated relationships on all the major transport routes. Cap’N Turbot runs the boating routes with the perfect cover story of being a marine biologist. His back-up is none other than Zuma with extensive underwater and aquatic experience. After that, you have the sky’s covered with…well Skye with the artificial intelligent-capable Robo-dog running any mission she can’t accomplish. Jake operates the snowy mountains and Farmer Yumi handles the plains in case any passage is blocked. Carlos and Tracker hold down the jungle area where I believe all the product originates! And, of course, you have Ryder’s most loyal pup: Chase. Chase that is always dressed as law enforcement, but whose main skill is sniffing out what’s wrong. Sounds like a drug-sniffing dog if you ask me!

Or it could just be a kids show.

It’s Just Soda!

Red Bull and Monster drinks are just a ploy to make soda an acceptable breakfast beverage. There I said it! I know you’re response will be, “Big Beverage already got us hooked on coffee, tea and delicious orange juice…why would they need to peddle their fizzy wares pre-lunchtime” (I’m paraphrasing).

Simple! Think market share (sorry for raising my voice earlier). All across the board, it makes sense to start moneymaking campaigns early. You’ve seen it with Christmas and how it starts earlier and earlier. Also, Black Friday – I think they moved it up to June this year. Ultimately, no matter how diaphanous or subtle the efforts of Corporate America are, we are still subject to them. Before long, we’ll be chomping on McDonald’s fries alongside our eggs or pancakes, because they’re basically hash brown’s idiot cousin…right?

The motivation is that the profit margins are greater when lunch and dinner are being served; after all, no matter how you dress it up, we all know a couple of eggs are pretty cheap and plenty filling. So next time you’re washing that bacon, egg and cheese down with an icy Mango Mania Monster drink (12oz because I’m no quitter, nor do I fear the Reaper), just remember that they’re two for five at 7-eleven this week!

God Believes in Irony

Indigenous People’s Day seems to have turned a corner. What once was a regionally specific holiday has now become its own thing. Thanks to this root canal of a year we’re having, people have developed a now-or-never mentality. It seems that when enough terrible things happen in a short span of time, people reach a sort-of societal Terminal Velocity where fear – fear of discomfort or change or pushback – is marginalized: I call this the “IDGAF stage”. Consequently, those things that used to cause a person to quietly and hopelessly dissent now evoke outcry and action. Along with social justice reform outcries, there was a clamor for historical corrections as statues toppled because they were considered symbols of oppression and misinformation. That’s where Indigenous People’s Day comes in.

Originally adopted to celebrate Native American peoples, I.P.D. is evolving to embody the struggle of all those indigenous people killed, displaced and/or oppressed worldwide – usually without even a footnote in the history books. Ironically, the holiday has taken hold because of a historical oppressor: Christopher Columbus. Hidden among History’s many misrepresentations was Christopher Columbus. A man now considered more of a buccaneer than a benevolent discoverer. Chris enslaved, dominated and killed up-and-down the New World. Amid this groin pull of a year, the new historical perspective of Columbus show him to be torturous, commodifying and violent, which have revised his legacy from hero to a more pedestrian role for the time: brutal European colonizer. All of this, ironically, worked to the benefit of Indigenous People’s Day, which now found itself nestled in a prime National Holiday timeslot!

Once again, Timing proves itself vital in life. All it took was a perfectly terrible cocktail of disaster, disease and discontent to lead this country and the world into a serious – although I’m sure fleeting – interest in Justice both in the present and in the past. Perhaps, this raging hemorrhoid of a year had purpose after all or maybe everything will revert as soon as we can be sufficiently distracted once again.

Old Age and New Land Development

I’ve gotten older. The evidence wasn’t just the tiny inferno atop my cake this year. I realized I was older for different reasons. The first instance was during a conversation with my niece and nephew. On the bus, on the way to do some shopping, I kept telling them about what store or building used-to be there. They, of course, had no input or interest in local architecture and business trends through the decades; however, that fact did not dissuade my fascination. So, until I noticed my behavior, I was gleefully carrying on this one-sided conversation. Lightbulb…OLD!

Second instance, was almost a badge of honor before I realized it was an indicator of my aging: a behavior I’ve labelled Food Triage. In my late 20’s or early 30’s, I discovered the importance of seeking out all of the near-expiring food and creating some sort makeshift, CHOPPED-esque meal. There was a strange sense of satisfaction when creating some sort of loose chicken, old vegetable and rando-cheese burrito. It tasted mediocre at best, but I felt like a field surgeon making due with his supplies in order to patch-up an injured soldier. Apparently, that tingle of satisfaction was just the gentle vibration of time passing. Lightbulb…OLD!

Finally, and maybe the most damning evidence, is my newly found interest in the potential warmth of jackets and coats. I’m ALWAYS hot. And yet, I now find myself entrenched in the outerwear department asking myself and others, “how warm is this rancher jacket… really? Would a real Sherpa sign-off on this lining?” Also, at some point, I’ve become able to expertly rub my fingers against the inside of any outerwear and instinctually sense how it will stand up to cold weather (apparently, one of my new older person super powers). Moreover, I’m now not only concerned about my warmth, but also the warmth of others. An interest that has led my normally anti-social self to ask strangers about their coats. Lightbulb…I am OLD!

Suction Cup Technology

Have you noticed that there has been no advancement in the area of Suction Cup Technology? I thought by now we’d be regularly climbing in through our office windows, but, no, instead our bath pillows are still swinging loose and lazy. I think this little failure is a microcosm of the less than spirited scientific community. Honestly, why aren’t our scientists fixing problems and perfecting innovations. It seems that all too often our creators only shoot for the bigger achievements and, ultimately, fail at achieving them. So you’re saying none of you can focus on less glamorous problems? Somewhere along the line, it was decided that suction cups are just as good as they’re going to get and there was no point in wasting our “best minds” on it. Well I would remind those best minds that our cars still don’t fly (Michael J. Fox lied!) and the common cold still hangs out where it pleases. “Are those big enough problems to tackle,” I ask as my relaxing bath turns into a shoulder-juke session sans the comfort a static bath pillow would provide.

Has the luster of true achievement gotten cloudy? Is curing problems, ailments and puzzles less important than the profit attached to chronic treatment? The pressure of monetary concerns is the driving force now, not that ever-satisfying moment when one runs a line through an item on his/her list. I want to laugh about flat feet because it was solved by the HyperBoot or cast aspersions on that pop-up thunderstorm because of the Weather Protect Personal Force Field system. And most importantly, I want to rest easy knowing that the only concern I’ll have during a bath is that perhaps I’ll become too relaxed.

We The Hunched Over Wordies

Have you noticed that no one wants the two spaces after the period anymore? Apparently, Microsoft decided to make it one – most likely for Its own convenience. There’s a whiff of that compromise in all things language and literature. It’s no coincidence that a tech mega-company decides what’s best for writers and readers. Sometime between the Scientific Revolution and when the term ‘Language Arts’ became obsolete, people began to discredit and disrespect the written word and all of us hunched over and vocabulary-laden wordies. Where were you when they came for our non-colloquial definitions, our leather-bound editions, our tiny notepads, and our odiferous library corners and, at last, our word-processing etiquette? “Tech Evolution” cannot take the history of the letter away by simply adding an E (E—Mail – excuse the pun, but I pun when I get upset)! So forgive my tedious and troublesome double space, but we’re a package deal.

Athletes aren’t Heroes

Athletes should not be paid more than teachers! It is one of the great injustices of Life. And I don’t just feel that way because my mother and father taught for many years or that Ms. Ramirez from 2nd grade was super-hot (I won the perfect attendance certificate that year). No, I think teachers and all professions, for that matter, should compensate solely on their positive societal impact. The greater the positive societal influences, the higher the compensation. On another note, I believe the gap between the occupations’ societal impact and its proportional compensation is what really makes a Hero. The teacher’s hard work and value to society combined with the limited monetary compensation makes him/her a Hero in my book.

Entertainment, although necessary in our increasingly discouraging times, is not hero-work. With all the impact this virus is having on our society and communities, it’s becoming clearer and clearer that the real heroes in our world wear a mantle of thanklessness. Health Care workers are not just doctors. The nurses, nurse aides, in-take personnel, hospital security, hospital janitors and the like are the day-to-day, impactful members of the health care industry. Moreover, very similar to teachers, those kind of workers often get a middling check paired with high responsibility.

Athletes are as much heroes as let’s say… tight-rope walkers: both are skilled, but they’re essentially useless to the overall functionality of society. Now before you label me as some anti-sport, semi-masculine bookworm (see previous post Boring Beetle), you should know that I have spent a good deal of my discretionary time on sports (see previous post Truly America’s Pastime). In addition, I know first-hand, with my failure to fabricate a sports career, that an athlete has unique physical skills. However, the professional athlete’s application of those physical skills are non-contributive. How much impact can Aquaman have on the swim team or The Flash playing wide receiver for the 49ers?!

Boring Beetle

You’ve been lied to…the Bookworm, a symbol of the book smart, bibliophile class, does not exist! There is no such worm or insect. What we know as the Bookworm can actually be any number of wood boring insects in the larva stage, usually a beetle.

So next time you’re called a Bookworm, because you’re occasionally seen reading a book recognize that they’re calling you a Wood Boring Beetle with no discernable trait for intelligence due to book-learning

Truly America’s Pastime

I failed at baseball. I wanted to play professionally and I failed. In the process, I also failed all my family and friends. Ok – maybe I’m being harsh – I pretty much just failed myself. The odds of becoming a professional athlete is slim, but it felt possible on more than a couple of occasions. Alas, it was not meant to be and so I became what I was supposed to be: a writer. After all, if I did somehow make it, I would be an interloper, a trespasser in the game because I had neither the skills nor the natural talent to excel in it…right? Right…two-thousand seventeen Houston Astros – nudge, nudge – right???

The more I hear about this Sign-Stealing scandal and think back to the Steroid Era and then the game’s many unnamed dalliances with unfair play: corked bats, spit-balls, Black Sox debacle…Pete Rose, amphetamine abuse, drug abuse, etc etcetc. I begin to wonder if talent and skill really mattered at all. Perhaps, I simply didn’t have the moral flexibility necessary to play professional baseball (says the man raised in a housing project in Queens between the infamous Queensbridge and Astoria Projects). Or, perhaps, I lacked the the strong creative mind that was necessary to aid in the destruction of a once beautiful pastime.

Or, maybe, baseball’s indiscretions make it more American. People used to speak about the purity of baseball as well as the overall purity of sports. Competition that relied on effort and training, which highlighted the framework of the American Dream: work hard and you will be successful. It was in that purity of competition that many Americans ensconced themselves so they could ignore the history of slavery, the history of sexism and the history of social injustice that underlay this country (more so than a “Dream”). Perhaps, baseball was supposed to fail to truly succeed in actually aligning itself to the mantra of work hard while people are watching, deviate when necessary and NEVER get caught. Maybe now baseball can finally be American’s Greatest Pastime.