Should I Stay, or Should I Go?

I love The Clash’s popular stuff. Sometimes I get the notion to dig into their catalog for the rest of the story, but then I get distracted.

Aside from my muscles screaming in four different languages on Monday, I had mental block about what to post. I spent the weekend doing all sorts of physical labor, including helping my sister paint her house. Apparently, mortgage underwriters are sending out shady inspectors to be capricious with their repair recommendations. The paint was peeling too much for Bubba’s liking and he wouldn’t give the green light to the underwriter until it was repainted. Super.

Of course, she was carrying on about it, because she had to fork over another $450 and wasn’t used to getting in and doing the job. It would have chewed up her whole weekend. She’s a public employee. Those people don’t work unless they really need to do so, you know. I keed! I keed, public employees! Not really. I’ve had to work with several Federal, state, and local departments for 14 years. I’ve had more help from a chocolate chip cookie.

What it brings me to is a post that I’ve been meaning to write over the past five and a half months. That’s about as much time as I’ve been on WordPress. I’ve read a lot of other poster’s material, and can say I’ve seen some great stories from some great people. On the other hand, I’ve seen some rather childish posts too. It’s a grab bag of the good and the bad, which I somewhat expect from a world-wide website.

Simply stated, I’m a white, American male with a masculine set of traits. That, apparently, makes me the Devil around certain parts and I didn’t even have work for it. That’s a little disheartening, as I earn my reputation. Someone has denied me the opportunity of burning down a village in Bangladesh or stealing candy from kids in the projects. Mmm… tastes like the sorrow of impoverished children. Does anyone really think that’s a viable point of view, or are they screaming to feel justified? I’m going with the latter, because the former is too hypocritical to even be discussed.

Getting to the point, if I sense a lack of discretion in you, then I will be less motivated to interact with you. Many of these posters on WordPress don’t seem to be willing to write with this understanding. It is also why I don’t follow anyone screaming blanket rage over men. I’m with everyone else that rape’s vile act, but not every man’s a rapist. I’m not sitting on the chocolate suede, my beloved couch of 10 years, reading fiery feminist posts thinking “wow, you’re right. I’ll have to cancel those rapes I was planning for the weekend.” Why? Because I wasn’t planning anything of the sort.

This is where “knowing your audience” helps. The people that are going to commit criminal acts will not be reading your WordPress blog. In other words, you’re insulting a section of your readership big time. They don’t have to put up with your crap. You’re a dime a dozen, and they have plenty of options.

Does this mean you’re to wrap yourself up in heteronormative stereotypes? Not even in the slightest, but you’ll go farther by being a friend. That’s why I don’t follow blogs that scream or act like a little brat on every single post. We all have our moments of anger, and I get that you’re frustrated in your position, but the lack of cooperation gets you nowhere. You do realize I don’t have to bother with your opinions, right? After society pretty much said I was on my own, it’s not difficult for me to go it alone. It’s a blessing and a curse, but one that’s not going to benefit your single-sided view on life. I’ll be off to help the people willing to work together. Sorry, Charlie.

I like you for who you are, as long as you’re comfortable in being who you are.

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The Travel and the Granite

I will be attending a conference in New Hampshire on Friday. This will be a great chance to get out of the state, but conferences bore the Hell out of me. That probably goes for the majority of other conference goers, but I’d like to complain about it anyway. Indulge me in my whining. No? OK, I’m going to run upstairs, slam my bedroom door, and punish you with three hours of Judas Priest before I get real hungry and go downstairs for a snack. Fat kid’s gotta eat.

This is where having completely carefree, spontaneous, comely female company comes in handy. If left to my own devices, I end up in a bar, drunk, with a pad of paper and a pencil. Mostly, I’m writing of death and destruction. With such a lovely assistant, how could I resist such absurd behavior as walking miles for a specific restaurant or standing naked in the town square in front of a throng of shocked onlookers? Well, maybe not the last part, but you get the idea. I can be pretty dull, when alone. I blame my parents.

To my benefit, I am not driving this time. Here’s where I can tell people are not from America. Immigrants and foreign tourists have this overwhelming tendency to think it only takes a couple hours to drive to shore. It’s like I can fold Pennsylvania, New York, and Vermont over and reach the east coast within time for lunch. THAT’S WHAT DID IN GENERAL CORNWALLIS, SUCKAS! The trip is deceptively long, and I’m not up for that kind of road trip. At least, for right now.

The alternative is to fly. Flying is about as fun as being pinched with a toy claw. You’ll live, but it’s annoying and the experience feels highly unnecessary. I’m just hoping I don’t get too much guff from the TSA lackeys, and can pass through Logan Int’l with little hassle as possible.

I think it fair to mention I’m also drinking extremely cheap beer at the moment. That should explain the disorganization and weaving train of thought. It’s so cheap and disgusting that I’m not going to mention the brand. Why did I buy it in the first place? I thought it would be an adventure. On second thought, this trip might be exactly what I need. Do you see to what I’m reduced?