Fool Me... More Than Once

Another night at 1509 D is creeping along and I find myself sitting on my love seat, laptop in place, watching some quality television. In fact, I just saw a commercial advertising another season of the long-running MTV series; The Real World, which happens to be taking place in Las Vegas. I have to give props to MTV for keeping the same old song and dance buzzing for the past twenty years. I believe its success is in part due to the fact that everyone wants to watch others mingle under the microscope and relate to those seven or eight strangers in some way. Pair that with the shenanigans of big city life and you have a recipe for some entertaining, organized chaos.

The basic plot to a season of the Real World goes as follows: Some people meet two at a time with seemingly very different backgrounds, bum a ride to a ridiculously cool house where they encounter a more diverse population, congregate in a hot tub while sharing life experiences, consume WAYYY too much alcohol, start to get annoyed with one another’s habits, call people out on those habits, have a few loud verbal disagreements, discuss and work through the differences, figure out the group is more alike than once thought, and finally share some tears and hugs as everyone leaves one at a time. Oh, there’s always a gay person, a deep south conservative, and some skank (guy or girl) who made the uneducated decision to remain in a relationship only to end up cheating. And a future side note to said skank: whenever you tell your partner about the incident, take the tears somewhere else because we all knew what was going to happen.

Even though we know the basic plot we come back and watch because there are so many different quirks about the characters that are so interesting. And we get rewarded by watching these people (maybe) mature and grow in front of our eyes. That’s the return on our time investment. We have a couple people we root for and a few we want to throw through some drywall. All things considered, we get a little back.

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said about shows like Monster Quest or Ghost Hunters; the proverbial Ponzi schemes of cable television. A Ponzi scheme is a scam that promises a high return on investments by unwitting individuals. Now, the investors get a high return back on their initial investment so they wind up giving more money to the “organization” in hopes of an even bigger return. Then, after some time, the masterminds take the money and run. That’s what we innocent viewers are subjected to when we tune in for an episode of one of the aforementioned shows.

Each time an advertisement of either pops up, our ears perk up and we relinquish all attention. Gunshots and high pitched screams mere feet from our front door couldn’t disengage us as we salivate at the promise of the most recent photo of Bigfoot or some paranormal footage acquired by hard-nosed investigative work.

When eight o’clock rolls around we flip the lights off to set the mood, turn the television to the History Channel, and settle in with some popcorn. IT’S SHOWTIME!!! Fifteen minutes pass with an introduction, and a little background on whatever topic is to be addressed. This is forgiven since we usually need some basic knowledge to set us up for the good stuff! After all, they PROMISED some awesome footage after the break. Another fifteen minutes pass and still nothing. Just some old black and white photos of a guy in a gorilla suit, possibly some driftwood posing as Nessie, or white splotches a.k.a orbs floating around on night vision camera.

So far a half-hour goes by and we have no hard evidence of what we really tuned in to see. Well, I guess that’s OK. We still have a half hour to see something crazy! Another thirty minutes filled with failed attempts at catching anything remotely interesting on camera passes. Have no fear! We can surely rely on some testimony from some attention-starved elderly people or awkward rednecks with blurred Polaroids. “Has this really happened? I can’t believe it! They tricked me again!”

An hour has gone by and just like at the end of a Golden Corral buffet, we feel fat (thanks to popcorn and a few unnecessary trips to the refrigerator) as well as ashamed for wasting an hour on such unrewarding programming. At least with the Real World we know what to expect. A small return on a small investment. Those History Channel guys are good though. Every single time they promise never before seen footage of ghostly activity or some legendary creature only few claim to have seen. We invest an astonishing amount of excitement and time on something that doesn’t deliver what it promises.

Don’t fret History Channel executives; you haven’t lost any of your audience. As soon as you come up with a different title, hire a fresh faced host with an accent, and market the bajesus out of the new and improved program, we’ll be back on the couch with our bowl of popcorn and the same eager look in our eyes. We’ll be there watching, waiting, and hoping that one day you’ll give us more than peanuts for our time. Until next time. Happy viewing and God bless.

Saddle Up, its 2011!

Happy (late) New Year and drop that horoscope, it’s time for a change! If you’ve been paying attention to Yahoo! news feeds or other informational sources for that matter, then it’s no surprise that your Zodiac sign may have changed. Now when this little missile hit the media, message boards lit up and people in the United States had a complete idea shift and went crazy. Some folks paid no attention whereas others called in sick to work so they could bang their head against a wall while grunting loudly. I guess it’s hard for me to get on board with the idea of horoscopes but I will admit it’s entertaining.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that we woke up to the year 2011 with a clean slate; a fresh outlook on life and the determination to make the New Year our proverbial female dog. It didn’t take long for those astrologer types to roll out horoscopes and like a bunch of starving beggars waiting outside of a bakery at four in the morning, we westerners gobbled them up. The entire concept of horoscopes and astrology is fascinating. Apparently thousands of years ago, zodiac signs were based on the location of the sun in relation to certain constellations. Because of the moon’s gravitational pull, the earth shifted on its axis which resulted in a one month change in the alignment of stars. This led to the proposition of moving the star signs back a month and introducing a new sign: Ophiuchus. There are so many different types of astrology and by only reading a small amount it all became a very convoluted, mind-numbing adventure. With that being said, I just stuck with the basic idea that there had been a shift in the earth’s axis causing a new zodiac sign to be entered into the horoscope club.

I got a taste of my horoscope a couple of weeks ago when I read that the Leo (born between July 23^rd and August 22^nd) would have a successful financial year. Hey hey, look at me! Then a few days ago I read another saying that it would be a year of struggle. What? Whoa now, you can’t just take that back. Then I discovered under the “new” horoscope umbrella, I’m a Cancer. So I go from a mane-sporting, zebra-assassinating Lion with a thunderous roar to a beach dwelling crustacean that could unknowingly be a victim of some vacationer’s misstep. What gives moon?! Pulling the earth around on its axis; you should be ashamed. And to top it off, I don’t even know the luck or misfortune the year is going to bring me. On top of that top-off, there’s another kick in the pants on the way. In the personality realm I’m basically going from a CEO of a major corporation to a 7^th grade girl.

Well guys, I have no idea what to do now. My entire scope of reality and sense of security has been soaked with rain, trampled on, kicked around by some unruly five year old after being put in his mouth, and thrown into a New York City gutter. I guess the only thing I have left to do after shivering in a corner for three days is express my anger on Facebook, Twitter and to whoever else wants to lend an ear. I hope the over-the-top sarcasm has helped you all see that I’m not serious about my horoscope situation. Although I don’t in any way associate myself or life experiences with some astrological sign, I do see some potential in checking my horoscope every now and then.

Sometimes they’re good and sometimes they’re extremely negative but they just might serve as an inspiration. For example, if I find myself reading one of my two possible horoscopes and see that it says “It's a great day for planning and brainstorming strategic ideas. Even if you're on your own this time, you will still be able to beat the opposition with your sharp thinking and clever ideas.” I might start thinking of kooky ideas and come up with something great not because my horoscope said it would happen but because I took the initiative to do so. Or if it says something negative such as “March-July will be a financially troubling period for you” I’ll rebut by saying “No it’s not you crazy horoscope, I’m determined to make dat money!” My point is that horoscopes can be looked at in such a way to serve as some sort of motivating factor even if you don’t believe in or follow them to a T.

I think that behind the mystique of horoscopes lies a bunch of self-fulfilling statements. If a person chooses to accept an astrological sign as an indicator of how life will play out then they read horoscopes. In doing so they bring personality traits that are present in all people to the surface of their own in turn making them dominant. Not all of them are bad characteristics and could definitely lead to an abundance of success but it isn’t because some stargazing nerds said so. People make their way in life based on choices and a little, or in some cases, a lot of luck. So whether you read horoscopes with serious intent and the focus of a dog chasing a squirrel or purely for their entertainment value, (enter Tony Robbins statement) there’s always a possibility of absorbing and practicing positive ideas. I hope everyone has a great year because we’re just getting started. Until next time. God Bless.

Damn Nature, You Scary

Stop traffic guys, the 1975 movie and 1974 novel Jaws has come to life! About ten days ago on an Egyptian resort nestled by the Red Sea, four unfortunate eastern European souls fell victim to shark attacks. Not to worry, local governor Shosha ordered the beach closed for a 48 hour period in which time two sharks were whacked by the authorities. "Hey guys, we got 'em... destroyed this shark duo and now the seas are safe." Well played all-star! Within 24 hours of saying the waters were all clear, an unsuspecting woman was attacked and killed in water no deeper than four to five feet.

Five unlucky travelers experienced the wrath of the shark over a six day time span. The crazy part is that in the last DECADE, only six attacks were reported at this resort. But wait, it gets better. Officials surrounding this incident claim with certainty that two of these attacks were caused by the same shark! Although not as glamorous and cinematized as Jaws, this is one very intriguing story. We may just have a serial killer shark.

There are a number of theories floating about which try to give reason to these "bizarre" attacks. One of these theories is a low supply of fish in the Red Sea which forces these aquatic beasts to seek alternative sustenance. Another suggest that a ship dumped sheep carcasses in the Red Sea. The reason for a ship carrying these dead balls of cotton has something to do with the Muslim celebrated Feast of the Sacrifice but that isn't why I'm here. The shark featured in the article, an oceanic white tip, hunts in a pack to find an optimal food source.

Let's just get right down to it; sharks are predators that hunt other sea creatures and eat them. It's a pretty simple concept. I don't buy this whole theory that "they're just as scared of us as we are of them." You expect me to believe that these sea lion shredding monsters of the deep are scared of us? An adult male sea lion can grow up to 9 feet in length and weigh over 770 pounds and they're scared of a human that might stand about 6 feet tall and tip the scales at a whopping 175 pounds? There are a few holes in that logic.

That being said, humans walked into their kitchen. With noses to the sky and chests puffed out, the human race kicked their figurative back door down and stepped into that monster's watery abyss. I honestly can't imagine why they would sink teeth into one of us... Let's say a shark somehow flies through your door with its offspring acting like fools and messing with your entire feng shui. If this scenario impossibly presents itself, are you going to stand idly by and watch as these douche bags use your house as a playground? I think not. You would grab the nearest firearm or blunt object and have a heyday sending those beady eyed fin-strapped jackasses back to where they came from.

In my opinion, the entire shark species has been incredibly lenient on us humans. In 2007 there were about 70 "unprovoked" attacks on humans by sharks. In comparison to the outrageous amount of people who visit beaches and partake in its watery services each year, that's a pretty generous statistic. If that many sharks invaded land each year, we humans would slaughter thousands without hesitation. Caps busted and harpoons shot, we'd take 'em down. Yet we are surprised and even baffled when these deep sea assassins decide to bite limbs off our arrogant asses every so often. Don't hate, they're just keeping us in check and letting us know that when we step into the big mass of liquid mystery that is the ocean, we're setting foot into their world. Sleep on it. Until next time. God bless.

For Those About to Shop, We Salute You

Well guys and gals, it’s that time of year again. Time to give thanks for everything we have and everyone special that helps carry us through this journey known as life. And what better way to do so than stuffing our faces with turkey, mounds of mashed potatoes, piles of corn, dumplings and one slice of each kind of pie sitting atop the checkered apron covered table. After the binge fest is done, we gravitate toward the couch, chair or open floor space to watch the Detroit Lions or Dallas Cowboys heave a football up and down a field while drifting off into the best nap of the year.

Once the sleeping pill effects of the meal wear off, we sluggishly shuffle to bed so we can get up in four hours to join the mosh pit about to turn stampede outside Wal-Mart. Some are lucky enough that they sleep all the way to 3 a.m. and just get up like normal and venture out in search of that sixty inch LCD HDTV. I bet some whacky owner of a retail store planned this out perfectly. They shared the common Thanksgiving experience, fell asleep, came to at four in the morning and decided it would be a fantastic time to shop! They kept all this excitement bottled up for a year and when mid-November rolled around they announced that they would be slashing prices for one day! And that day was the Friday after Thanksgiving! Perfect for Christmas shopping! The catch... it starts at 4 a.m.

When this little bomb dropped it spread like wildfire and caught the attention of every company owner from the docks of the Northeast to the beaches of Hawaii. Now we have what is called Black Friday. It’s a disaster of a “holiday” where adults that are hopped up on too much caffeine make the uneducated choice of bringing their five-year-old to the outlet mall. So it’s Tammy shouting at the top of her lungs for little Jeffrey to get back in the cart while daddy browses electronics with a blank look on his face. If you’re familiar with my blogs, I wrote something about it last year. It was mainly a dumb little how-to guide on surviving the crazy shoppers. So why write about it again? Such a fascinating topic can’t be ignored… I think.

I’ve had time to sit back and let thoughts bounce around in my head so I can get a better view of the brave Black Friday warriors. I’ve come up with a new theory during the past few weeks. These early bird shoppers are not much different than hunters. You know; the camouflage clad, gun toting, animal shootin’ gangsters of the woods. Chances are that you either hunt or know people that do so. These folks get up when the bar crowd is stumbling in just to tip-toe their way to some debacle of a tree fort in the forest so they MIGHT shoot some defenseless animal (Defenseless as in they literally are without weapon). When the potential animal is dead they drag it back to their F-250, load it up, strap it down, call it a day’s work and head back (enjoy some stereotypes).

Black Friday warriors (their new nickname courtesy of me) a.k.a. fanny pack wearin’, double shot latté chuggin’, cart pushin’ crazy people get up at the same time as those hunter dudes. No helpless little animal in their sights though, just a GPS, TV, some wicked new phone or the latest in fashion. They gather in a group outside the doors of retail stores around the country and wait like Usain Bolt on the starting block listening for a “POP!” so they can rush the doors. With the ferocity of a wild animal protecting their young and the focus of an assassin they rush the target. Throwing out an occasional white sneaker to impede another’s progress is commonplace during this hunt. No retreat, no surrender!! Getting to said target might seem like mission impossible but it’s merely half the battle. Now they have to apply some stiff arms, spin moves and possibly lower a shoulder to find the checkout line which is backed up to the freezer section.

Even making it to the end of this line is no treat because a very gruff and disinterested cashier who had to make their eggs a little too early waits for them. After making it through the labyrinth of a store, the BFWs (Black Friday Warriors) have to run their new toys out to the car, pack it up and avoid playing bumper cars in the parking lot. The work still isn’t done though. They have to unload the merchandise and for those who didn’t bring the kid, hide it while keeping junior in the dark about the shenanigans going on. This is one tough task as the little ones like to poke around. And now, now it’s time to relax. Oh wait! The dishes from the day before are still scattered on the counter and piled up in the sink. The BFW’s work never ends.

I hope you enjoyed the little blog and truly have a happy Thanksgiving (and Black Friday). Cherish the time you have with your family, friends, and take a second to breathe in order to tolerate that one relative who just stirs the pot. Besides, they’re entertainment so have fun. Most of all, be safe and love the ones you’re with. Until next time. God Bless.

In the Defense of Geeks

Every day people around the world wake up, roll out of bed and into their house slippers, put on something extra to escape the cold of morning, eat some Cheerios; fight the urge to call in sick and apathetically get in their vehicles. With a belly full of boxed goodness and a black coffee thermos they move through stop-and-go traffic grumbling about the light that is NEVER green for them. After pulling into the parking lot and finally discovering that elusive space, they shut the car down and trudge to their place of employment. For some, the journey to work every morning isn’t so exhausting but it seems the majority doesn’t share their enthusiasm.

Throughout the day people dodge supervisors like they’re turtle shells in a game of Mario except, in this case, there isn’t a magic star that plays a catchy jingle which carries them to clock out time. Once that is about to come around, everyone is a fifth grader with a toe kissing their chair leg on a Friday at 3:59. BOOM! Parking lots turn into carnival bumper cars and traffic backs up like water in a folded garden hose.

People who once dreamt of becoming astronauts, cops, rock stars, pro athletes and knights, have settled on a less than spacious gray cubicle. I’m not at all saying it’s a bad thing, just the way of the world. Whether it is financial reasons or lack of talent, along the way people are persuaded to give up on potential and nestle into a career they barely or never considered. I’ve never understood the concept of “settling” until now. Living outside of my Mom’s house and forced to pay rent, among other bills, I finally understand why people fall into jobs. When push comes to shove, it all has to be paid.

I recently read an article about a team of videogame players that won a Halo tournament where they received $700,000! That’s right; people played a game and won nearly a million dollars! Crazy! Wait a second Adam; pro football players do the same thing. Yeah, well those roided –out ball handling jack rabbits get enough attention already. Don’t get me wrong, I love football but I have my opinions and that’s for another blog folks.

Seeing this article about gamers led me to bunch them with LARPRS, or Live Action Role Players. To many people, these LARPRS are the pure definition of the word “geek.” They dress up like knights in King Arthur’s Court and pretend to slay each other in a nearby park where fake castles are constructed. The winner of these fictional fights receives the glory of Achilles until the group gathers again so a new ruler can be crowned.

In our culture people like this are seen as “geeks” and ridiculed by the masses. While we accept a bunch of overgrown adult males throwing a brown ball down a field, we reject those who dress in mock medieval attire and smack people with fake swords. Are these activities really that different? I think not. There isn’t any significance attached to dudes wearing tight pants and matching shirts throwing or carrying a ball from one side of a big field to the other. Just like grown men jabbing each other with foam swords isn’t really important. The only difference is that the majority has declared football an acceptable form of entertainment.

There isn’t a beef with football here, just an admiration of the minority who decided to say “screw what others think, I’m gonna do what makes me happy.” No cubicles, just a bunch of people who kept the dream of being something other than society’s dog and pony act. With no cameras rolling, no audiences viewing and no money coming their way, the LARPR faithful join each other in sharing the spirit of ten year olds. There isn’t money involved, just B-movie acting (at best) and people with a common ideal getting together.

I find this simple crap so awesome it’s crazy. People who kept the childhood ideas of fake worlds and characters alive are to be admired. Don’t sit there and criticize me because you know you want to go back to age nine and kill the bad guys holding up your fort. This is the type of “I don’t really care” attitude that I want to adopt. They like what makes them happy and that’s what matters. So what if they’re happy going against the so called norms of society? They’re not fake reality TV buffoons that do what everyone else wants so they can make a dollar, just real people that love acting out of character for a day.

There have been so many times in my life where I’ve given in to peer pressure or thrown away things I like just to fit in or please others. I like movies, music and TV shows that others might not feel is “acceptable” but that’s fine, I like them. Life is simpler when people shed their semi-fake exterior and get down to what is real. We all have our quirks and insecurities to hide behind but who really cares? It’s crazy how much we can be alike when you get down to it. Until next time. God bless.