Meme Tag

My dear friend Nunly over at Bad Habit, a delightfully sinful blog, tagged me in a meme game.  Apparently there are rules that she didn't post, which is just as well because I wouldn't post them either.   Best I can tell is that you have to list 6 random things about yourself and then select other bloggers to tag.  Sounds simple enough.

So let's see...six random things about me...

1)  I am a misanthrope.  I hate people.  Okay, hate is a strong word.  I have an inherent, rabid dislike of people.  They are selfish, brutish, smell bad, and would most likely eat their own mothers if there was enough money involved.  The people running our countries are self important assfaced dingdongs who are the ones trying to get people to eat their own mothers in the first place.  And people, Americans especially, go bleating along like sheep, which is insulting to the sheep, whom I find to be generally kind, empathic creatures.  

Take it away Housemartins! (Dorks of the world unite!)

One need only go to a mall on Black Friday and witness parents beating each other over the head to get the last Diddle Me Elmo, or trampling a Wal-Mart worker to death to buy a flat screen TV to understand what I'm saying.

"How can you make such a blanket generalization Shtuey?"

That's simple.  If Ken Kesey was wrong about there always being more dumb people than smart people in any given situation, would the world be so unbelievably fucked up?

Ding ding!  Thank you for playing.

Of course my friends, colleagues, and associates do not fall into this category because I tend to not spend time with idiots.  It makes my brain hurt.  I'm not asking for anything difficult, just a healthy sense of empathy, morality, compassion, and a sense of humor.  Is that too much to ask?  I don't think so.

The light on the horizon was the PUMAs.  After watching the RBC meeting on May 31, 2008 I honestly thought people were going to roll over and go back to watching Gilligan's Island reruns.  PUMA proved me wrong and has given me some hope that we can turn this thing around, or at least make our little corner not so completely fucked up.  

In spite of all this I am, paradoxically, a pretty social creature, and more often than not have been called the life of the party.  But I think this gets back to the fact that I have a keen ability to separate the wheat from the chaff.   No doubt I am someone else's chaff.  I learned a long time ago that no matter how nice you are, there's always gonna be someone who thinks you're a complete asshole.  It's when the latter outweighs the former that you start having problems.  I've been pretty lucky to have had a lot of people willing to deal with some of my bullshit over the years.  I can be a real cranky pants sometimes, and often forget other people's birthdays.  But I am largely forgiven.

In spite of my feelings about the human race.  Those of you bringing kids into this world, I applaud your optimism.  But when you get to have this around, it's really not a bad deal:

I still have hope (not the bullshit kind being sold by Camp Pamp) that we can turn this puppy around.  I think most people want to do the right thing, they are just so fucked in their day to day lives that they are too tired, or too dispirited to care.  I can't say that I blame them.  That's why, when I'm your President, we're going to start taking it easier, we're going to relax more, and learn to enjoy life.  It's a pretty fucking awesome deal, and it goes by too fast to waste it.

2)  I love Manhattan.  I get sucked in completely.  If I'm in my hotel room and I hear people on the street I can't stand it.  I have to get out in it until I'm so wasted and/or tired that I have to go home and pass out.  I was most notably afflicted by this a few months before 9/11.  I was in town for a wedding.  After the partying was over, and a mandatory trip to CBGB's to see a friend of a friend perform, I found myself in my hotel room wide awake.  After drunk calling a couple friends I hadn't spoken to in ages I wandered the streets to a local bar where I proceeded to consume martinis and write furiously on cocktail napkins and guest checks provided by the bartender.  He also provided me with free martinis.  As I left, random people started shaking my hand.  I suppose they wanted to be able to say they knew me before I was famous, when in reality they knew me before I went back to my hotel and vomited all over the floor.  I was still so wrecked the next day that I forgot to leave a ginormous tip in the room for my mess and assume that I have been blacklisted.  I would have sent a tip to the hotel for the crew, but being so distrustful of people I assumed that the proper parties would never receive it, so instead I just occasionally think about it and feel bad.  Having had to clean my share of vomit, bowel movements, and other bodily fluids and semi-solids as part of my job I think karma has definitely evened the score on that one.

But what I love most about New York is the food.  Second Avenue deli, I could stay there for days.  If they let me sleep there so I could just wake up and stuff my face I would and would never leave.  I am also a huge fan of Wo Hop's wonton soup: the soup that eats like a meal.  And can anyone say enough good things about the biali?  I don't think so.  You should eat bialis, whitefish salad, corned beef and pastrami sandwiches on rye with mustard, NEVER ON WHITE BREAD OR WITH MAYO.  It is written in the Talmud that every time someone eats deli on white bread with mayo somewhere a Jew dies.  Any guesses as to what Larry Johnson has for lunch tomorrow?

3)  I love M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water.  I thought it was a wonderful story, with brilliant characters, and an amazing ensemble of actors.  I think Paul Giamatti and Bryce Dallas Howard are two of our finest actors in cinema (ignore her role in Spider Man please).  People called it self-indulgent.  I thought it was an incredibly human story.  If you haven't seen it, rent it.  I also loved The Village for the same reasons, just replace Paul Giamatti with Joaquin Phoenix, another fine actor who I've heard is retiring to start a career in music.  You'll come crawling back.

4)  I maxed out a Discover Card on cash advances to pay for Grateful Dead tickets.  They were stupid enough to send the card to a college student.  That's their problem.  I spent the money on other stuff, like food, but mostly tour.  I ended up seeing 50 shows over the years and a big chunk of this beautiful country of ours.  I drove cross country once, went to Vegas three times to see the boys.  The first time I went I helped dupe a hoard of about 500 stoned faux hippies into staring at the fountain at the Mirage waiting for it to erupt, though the last eruption of the day had already happened.  A drum circle formed.  That's about the time we snuck across the street for late night buffet and watched them wait.  They ended up having a good time.  No harm done.  Oh my valve!  I just realized that they might still be there.  If there is anyone in the greater Las Vegas area do me a favor; swing by the Mirage and tell them to go home already.

In the end I paid only a percentage of what I owed (it was still a lot of money).  I take no responsibility for the current credit mess.  This was more than 15 years ago man.   For the record, I would make the minimum payments almost regularly.  Let this be a cautionary tale that minimum card payment does not help and you will be fucked in the ass.  If you don't have it, don't spend it.  I learned this the hard way.  But also learned the valuable lesson that you can live without credit cards, and in many ways are better off without them.  Credit cards are the way of the devil.  But if the Grateful Dead taught me anything you can go to hell in a bucket, but at least enjoy the ride.  I regret nothing.  If I had to do it all over again I would have just done a Maddoff pyramid scheme to fund my touring...just kidding.  Geez, you're so fucking serious!

5)   I think women are the shit.  Physically, mentally, intellectually.  Sure they can make you crazy, but no more so than we guys make them.  It's all part of the package.  When I get hit on by men (it's been more than 10 years since that's happened...my friends say it's the facial hair...what do I know), I tell them that I love women so much that if I were a woman I'd be a raging lesbian.  They get that.  I think men are kinda gross.  We tend to be flabby around the edges, with dangly bits, and a tendency toward sloth.  Quite frankly I find it amazing that you ladies put up with us, consenting to share your lives with us in any capacity, but I'm eternally grateful that you do, because life would be horribly unbearable without you.

6) If you feed me raw broccoli and garlic my ass becomes a weapon of mass destruction.  Seriously, people leave the room.  The Geneva convention explicitly states that I am not permitted to eat raw broccoli and garlic together except for humanitarian purposes like hostage crises and such.  I have always said that if we ever capture Osama bin Laden they should feed me raw broccoli and garlic and lock me in a room with him.  I wonder if anyone could fix it so I could meet Pampers in the White House.  I could make him resign.  Seriously...it's that bad.

7) Bonus meme: I firmly believe that if you think Led Zeppelin is better than The Who you are mentally ill and should be in the care of a trained psychiatrist.  Let's face it, even with an original member dead, and being old enough to get a senior citizen discount at your local drugstore, The Who could still kick Zeppelin's ass to the curb:

Now I must select my bloggers to tag:

Petunia

Nobama

Cinie

Roofingbird

GaryChapelhill

12 Tequilas