Walking in the Summer

The days of summer that stick to the walls of your memory like an old picture on corkboard are the days that feel like an time independent capsule unto themselves. The day begins in the morning which fades into the afternoon and when you’re not looking it becomes the night. But on those magical days the constraints of daily living blow away with the wind up towards a cloud. If you get chilly the clouds part and the sun radiates on you. If you get too warm a timely cool breeze sifts through the trees and melts the heat into a most relaxing sensation.

The first day I spent with Alice was a day like that. We walked along the old dirt path that drove through the oak trees and patches of shrubs and leaves. The ambience of the woods, the cicadas chirping, the birds calling, and beers cans rattling on the lip of the water, became a member of the conversation not a distraction. We talked of nothing and everything, trivialities inside of metaphysics, and pain inside of happiness.

Being ever the gentleman, I had prepared a snack for my female companionship. I reached inside my side pant pocket and removed a red apple which I have read is the fourth most romantic fruit. After rubbing the apple-shaped fruit on my shirt to rid it of dust and other harmful carcinogens I look into her eyes and speak to her being by saying, “So…you into apples?” She giggled and blushed which in turn made me giggle and blush. By the opportunity which broke the ice and removed the guards we shielded the other with, I reached out to take her hand in mine. Her fingers held on to mine the way the bun covers a McRib. We ambled along the path further hardly conscious of our wooded surroundings, which is ok because after you’ve seen a few trees you pretty much get the idea. I hoped that my pounding pulse couldn’t be felt by Alice as she gingerly held my hand. Every drop of blood circulating my body had been called up to face like there was a draft. Beads of sweat were forming rivers in the lines in my forehead. Where’s that cool breeze now? I take back all I said about it’s punctuality.

My head faced front gazing at some untamed plant that I had no interest in knowing the name of while I can see through my periphery that Alice is looking right at me. Terror courses through me but for fear of the consequences of missing an opportunity my head swivels towards the girl in slow, smooth pace to wrench her anticipation for when our eyes would at last meet. Eight and a half minutes later, our eyes are locked. Her lips were trembling; at least I assumed they were lips because everything had become a blur. As it turns out that was because Alice had vomited all over my face. There had been a worm in the apple I gave her, I took a mental note, “Alice must be allergic to worms.”

After washing my face in the cool, murky pond we continued on the path now with the moisture on my knees from the pond and some moisture in my hair from Alice’s Cobb salad. The sun began to morph into a pinkish orange tandem as the heat of the day waned. The frogs on the pond called out like an old country song that people only pretend to like but secretly loathe. As the magic of the setting struck me my knees began to tremble. It wasn’t the shining water rolling only slightly as the suggestion of the breeze, it wasn’t the nascent moon rising for duty, although it might have been dehydration as I don’t drink the recommended 5 glasses of water a day. The most likely of all reasons was that I had found a peace inside this shrine of beauty carved out of the earth and Alice was there to share it with me.

Signs for Re-Evaluation

Signs that you need to rethink your life.

1. If you cook a hot pocket in a conventional oven. It takes 30 minutes. Most people aren’t willing to wait that long for things that bring them enjoyment, if you’re doing it for a hot pocket you need around the clock psychological treatment. Call me a product of the internet age but I just don’t think I should have to wait that long for violent diarrhea.

2. If you have more than three half used tubes of toothpaste. Let’s face it, if you get a new one the old one’s out of a job. Let it down quick and easy. There’s no use pussyfooting around pretending like things are going to work between you. You both knew what this was.

3. If you’ve ever looked all over the house for your keys, tearing open couch cushions, looking in pockets of pants you haven’t worn since 8th grade, accusing people around the house, giving them an ultimatum of the keys or their future only to realize they’ve been in your pocket the whole time. No, it doesn’t happen to everyone. Just you. Freak

4. If you've ever poked someone on Facebook. When you don’t have anything to say but you want to remind somebody you’re still breathing poking is a great idea. If you’ve ever poked someone then you’re either close enough to them that they know you’re not a douche or you’re just a douche.

5. If you watch movies based on books or comic books and are angry when the story differs from the original. You can’t say that’s not the way it happened. Because IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!!!

Happy Sunday!!!

Judging Casey Anthony

I won’t dive into any legal analysis because I’m obviously not equipped to do that, but I do feel like it’s valuable that this is said by somebody even if it’s me and the only receptors are the six people that are reading this. I believe this is worth saying, hearing and digesting because in the wake of Casey Anthony being exonerated from all the major charges she faced, there has been a media/social media tidal wave of anger, disgust and frustration that Anthony wasn’t charged with murder, manslaughter and child abuse. It now seems most people are ignoring the verdict the jury handed because they had already made up their mind that she was guilty. That’s fine. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, and it’s hard not to have one when there’s a legal case that’s so highly covered and unusual like this was. It’s tempting to watch this as a piece of pulpy entertainment and be upset that the ending was unexpected and maybe hard for a person to take. If you believe she is guilty then you see it as a woman who killed her child and is not being punished for it, which is horrific. How do we know she did it? Honestly, we can’t that we do. Even our strongest instincts leave us being less 100% about the reality of her daughters death. Estimates say that thousands of people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. For all the Casey Anthony’s that might very well have done it, there are thousands of men and women who have lost their family, jobs, reputations and sometimes their lives for something that they did not do. It’s got to feel like a horrible dream to have everything being taken from you and everyone looks at you like a monster. If Casey Anthony had been convicted #justice served probably would have been trending on twitter. But we could have been wrong and the court could have been wrong. Then what we have is a woman who’s daughter was killed, and she has to suffer behind bars for three years while being ripped apart by the entire world calling you a killer and a monster, then she likely would have been executed. If you compare the two would be a greater tragedy to let a killer walk or to crucify an innocent woman who is mourning the loss of her child. We do know Casey Anthony was probably not a mother of the year candidate anyway but there’s a big difference between being a crappy mom and being homicidal. We’ll never know and we’d be left wondering either way the verdict would have gone. The justice system is far from perfect and it’s constantly improving but to say it doesn’t have it’s faults is egregiously naïve. But it’s the best we’ve got and it’s the best in the world. If we don’t support and believe in our courts then what does this country become? I’m troubled by this but I just am sad that a little girl died, I’m sad that the family had to endure all of this, and I’m sad that Casey Anthony’s life couldn’t have turned out better, because now if she’s truly guilty she will carry that guilt on her back for the rest of her life, and if she’s truly innocent she’ll carry around the guilt that everyone’s put on her back for the rest of her life. God will see justice through, of that I have no doubt.

The Gondolas Are Heeea!!!

You can run, you can hide, you can possess some final shreds of sense of self worth and morality left in you but there’s no denying the Jersey Shore has infiltrated American pop-culture like perhaps no reality show has ever done. Ever since the show began airing sales of hair gel, gym membership and Jacuzzi disinfectant have gone through the roof. Being Italian…ok half-Italian…alright they enjoy eating at Olive Garden, you would think the real Italians, the ones that live in the country, would embrace the newfound Mount Rushmore of Italian culture in American society. Apparently, real Italians aren’t as keen on embracing the show as Uncle Sam has been. One columnist wrote, “They embody the worst stereotypes for Italians, multiplied by thousands and Americanized.” That’s how I always felt about Little Caesar but they’re entitled to their opinion.

The cast was set to film the fourth season in their homeland but there’s been a delay because producers have been having difficulty finding clubs that will allow the cast to be filmed partying in. They say it’s not that they don’t want them there it’s just that the prime minister doesn’t want to be on tape while hiring his underage hookers. He’d have to do a lot more than redefine the word “is” to get out of that one.

Also Snooki, The Situation, Paul D and J-Woww (no immediate relation to Bow Wow) are holding out on their big money contracts until deals are finalized for them to film in Italy. Really? Snooki, you have better offers that you don’t want to take off the table only to find you’re not going to be able to traipse the Italian country side looking for “juiced guidos”? If that movie about the holocaust victim who was born deaf yet can sing beautiful German opera is calling, I’d go ahead and take them up on that offer. Honestly, these kids are getting paid to basically party, sleep with each other, and maybe fall off a balcony or something every once and a while. They should slow down, reflect and just be happy they get to do what they love.

Mr. Trump Goes to Washington

Many, many weeks ago I wrote about the possibility that well known real estate mogul/television personality and wife collector Donald Trump was possibly throwing his hat in the Republican primary ring for the presidency. That boat seems like it’s heading into the harbor as Trump is blitzing the news at every turn with head-on comments that lie somewhere between lunacy and refreshing frankness. I’ll give him credit where credit’s due, he says things that no sane politician would ever say. Things like we need to “take the oil from Iraq“. No dancing around it or sweet words to make it sound like we‘re trading them for sneakers or something. Just boom. His foreign policy is bludgeon the toads over the head and take off with all the petroleum. Brilliant.

He’s very entertaining but it’s those blowhard, Randy Macho-Man Savagesque comments that come out of his mouth make him sound far dumber than his past has led us to believe. After all this guy is a billionaire real estate investor that made his name a brand that basically is centered around the mantra, “buy my merchandise, so you may lightly graze the awesomeness that I shed upon the earth.” It’d be a crime to just say he’s crazy, because we have seen crazy and he doesn’t stand a chance if we want to compare him to the returning champs. That’s why I think he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had 10,000 ninja pollsters working around the clock, talking to right-wing soccer moms and gun club members to precisely slice out a campaign that will get him elected.

He’s been stirring up a lot of commotion that was nearly ready to pass into the west about President Obama never producing a birth-certificate to show the American public, thereby proving he was probably born in another country or possibly…galaxy. He never said that last part but he was so profoundly suspicious he sent his own people to Hawaii to investigate the location Barack Obama first saw the light of day. Now, I honestly don’t even think he believes this garbage but he must be able to read because a recent poll came out that over half of Americans think the President was not born in this country. I believe this whole buzz that the president is by birth a foreigner to be crazy but if there’s more crazy people than sane people, I guess that then makes me crazy? So based on the info I just gave you, you would think he’d be doing pretty well in the early polls for the GOP nom. You’d be exactly right. Polls in New Hampshire, the small but mighty state that holds a tidal wave of power because they go first, say Trump trails only Mitt Romney in New Hampshire. And then in the often undecisive sunshine state, Floridians have him just behind Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee. It’s hard what to make of his honest chances. He’s unconventional but maybe that appeals to some of the base. You could even call him a maverick. His rhetoric is brash and probably a steaming pile of bull excrement but this is politics after all…

Como se dice?...morons

You know it's just a fact that most citizens of the world can speak at least 2 or 3 languages, while most Americans can only speak one and if you're from Alabama even less than that. It typically isn't as necessary to learn a second language if you live in America or answer phones for Dell but that's just because it just hasn't been a necessity for most. Up until now the most useful purpose of we could come up for learning French was to be able to pronounce hockey players names (that still doesn't help me know what sound the upside down U with the dots mean). There's nothing but positives that come from learning another language. Your brain begins to process faster, your speaking skills improve, and if you're hitting on a spanish-speaking woman your best move won't be continuous winking and asking her if she likes guacamole. Being bilingual is also said to improve your listening skills. Now, I speak a little Spanish but really my listening is pretty great. I make sure I am in tuned and intent on absorbing and treasuring every word that's spoken, unless it's spoken by someone that's not me. Whoever you may be listening to though, wouldn't it be great to be able to freely communicate with people in their native language? Language can sometimes be quite a barrier to communicating ideas, feelings, and directions to the bathroom and really that's what makes being a human being so great. When you learn another language you rise another level as a citizen of the world and you lower your level as a NASCAR fan.

Beanie Babies

I'm only 20 years old and I've lived through some fads. There is a difference between an innovation like say like the internet, ipod, cellphone that catches on and reshapes society and propels itself into the future and will probably exist or at least inspire future technologies for as long as the world as we know it exists. Then there's Beanie Babies. From the time I was 8-12 people bought Beanie Babies like they were stocks. People talked about how they were going to be worth a fortune some day. People were taking money out of their 401K's and CD's to invest in Beanie Babies because someday they were going to be able to retire early because in 1998 they were smart enough to buy a tub of Beanie Babies. People would buy hundreds of these things and a few years later it was like waking up from a drunken haze saying, not sure why you did what you did. "I think I sold my vital organs and first born child for some and felt and bb's." I was young so I don't know how serious people really took this. I can't imagine some broker at Edward Jones telling someone, "You really need to diversify your portfolio and you don't have any reptiles. I can get you a good price on Hissy." The Ty Company were geniuses of marketing, I'll give them that. but the actual product was crap. Basically, it was a generic looking stuffed animal, given names that a 5 year old could come up with. Somebody thought to name a lion Groowwl. I imagine they were going to name him growl but somebody suggested doubling the letters and got a raise. On the inside of the tags there was always a little poem about them. Again, not very controversial.

In the kitchen, on the prowl
Because I heard my tummy growl
I'll pounce just when I spy my prey
A thick and juicy rare filet !

The animal kingdom couldn't have been anything but insulted. Beautiful creatures, some that have been around longer than us and we come around and deduce them to this. Why is a lion in the kitchen? And if he is in the kitchen I hope he eats your dumbass for spending 80 bucks on a Beanie Baby. Last but not least they each have a birthday. What is the point of this? To have parties for them? I guess that's part of getting older. When you're young you celebrate inanimate objects birthdays. When you're older you forget everybody's birthday. Luckily, facebook fixes that which is why facebook is better than Beanie Babies. Although they do have their similarities. Beanie Babies make inanimate objects more like people and facebook makes people more like inanimate objects.