Sunday, September 21, 2008

This is the end. Beautiful friend, the end.

Well, I've pretty much had it up to here with the dolts in this country.

Obama is nobody's messiah, but Jeeebus; compared to McPain he most certainly is. And don't even get me started on that psychopathic smug little moron Palin. Ugh. Those dipshits will be the end for sure, and if they don't end up destroying the world in a newkyuhler war, they will at the very least ruin what's left of this always-flawed but once-great country.

I'm holding my breath until November 4th (or 5th), and if somehow that nightmare McCain/Palin ticket manages to pull it off, I am going to take what's left of my money and I am going on a trip. I will travel around the world, attempting to enjoy myself in between having to apologize and explain to the befuddled that at least half my fellow Americans are mentally retarded, and I'm sorry but I tried. Yada 2004 all over again but worse.

And when the money runs out, I will then commit suicide. I will attempt to do it in a very public way that will not hurt anyone else but will call attention to the reason I did it. maybe I'll do it on YouTube or something, with my manifesto as The Last True Patriot mailed to all the news outlets ahead of time. I dunno; something that will get attention. I wanna be remembered as the guy who repeated the words of Patrick Henry and actually meant them.

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Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Take out the traysh

Is it just me, or is this whole ghetto/trailertrash 'chic' thing gotten way past annoying? You know what I'm talkin' bout, right? I'm not going on some racist rant here; it's not about that. I mean, can anybody explain to me why Amy Winehouse has fans? The whole Cleopatra-as-crack-whore-who-got-gang-banged-while-passed-out-in-a-tattoo-parlor thing is, um, interesting how? Her voice reminds me of a fighter jet crashing into an animal shelter, and she looks like what would have happened if Carly Simon had been beaten up by Mike Tyson and ended up an extra on 'The Addams Family' instead of a crappy songwriter (yeah I know I'm making a lot of nonlinear assumptions about the spacetime continuum here, but work with me).

And speaking of dumpster chic, don't even get me started on the whole Britney/Lindsay/Paris thing either. Regarding the latter, I wasn't aware Gucci even made trailers. But I'm sure they're nice. To be fair, Hilton went up a (small) notch in my esteem with her unexpectedly articulate video smackdown of McCain -- but all that proves is that she can be coached and taught to read convincingly.

The point is, where are the Grace Kellys? The Lena Hornes? The Audrey Hepburns? Or even the Kate Hepburns? Am I just getting old? I mean, it's not like I'm 70 or something, ya know. I've got a good 25 years before retirement, assuming I can pull it off without having to move into a trailer myself and live on cat food (but that's a whole other discussion).

And what's with all the thugspeak? I mean, OK, let's just say for the sake of argument that the whole 'real' thug culture is a product of all the racial oppression, war on 'drugs' and institutionalized poverty that lead to gang violence, etc. Fine. Rap gives me a headache, and 'gangsta' rap pretty much ratchets it up to a brain tumor, but fine. OK, we've got angry black youth shouting about smacking up their hos and popping caps in each other's asses. Right. Except for one thing:


Yeah, we've all seen 'em. 'Wiggers' they're called, as a 'white' variation on the dreaded N-word (the word that hordes of civil rights leaders went through hell to try and eliminate, and they must really be happy that their kids and grandkids call each other that, but anyway). I just don't get it -- what is the point of all the white kids trying so hard to be black -- and not 'normal' black, but quasi-scary ghetto thug black? What's with the hideous clothes? When, for the love of Gawd, is the ridiculous GIANT PANTS pulled halfway down thing gonna go away? I mean, shouldn't it be passe by now? Please?

Let me be clear on this. I used to love black music, back in the day. Marvin Gaye; James Brown; Richie Havens; Al Green -- I loved those guys. But none of us white dudes tried to be black; we just tried to be open and multicultural and get along with and understand everybody. We tried, anyway, some of us. But how stupid would it have been if I'd attempted to dress up like Havens? A Dashiki just wouldn't work on me. Somehow it worked on him, but no way would it have looked anything but silly on me. These days the thug fashions look pretty stupid on the black rappers and wannabes that wear them, but they look even stupider on the white kids that try to emulate them.

Sorry; I just can't deal with the whole glorification of the lowest common denominator. The whole "keepin' it real" thing has just gotten way too out of hand for me. I mean, if you REALLY wanna 'keep it real', get rid of your TV and your endless 'bling' (40 pounds of gold chains and a 'grill' that makes you look like a complete retard) and your $400 sneakers, quit talking like some shuck-and-jive stereotype, read a book or two, and for Gawd's sake, turn down the bass on your piece of shit car stereo, willya? Jeebus.

I really hope Obama wins the election for a LOT of reasons. One of which is that he's not McCain. But maybe, just maybe, having a black President will give all the young black guys a reason to be a little less angry, and a little less...ghetto. And since the moronic white kids who want to be black will follow their lead, maybe they'll all be just a little less annoying.

Nah, who am I kidding? But vote Obama anyway, so I don't have to come pop a cap in your ass.

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Monday, September 08, 2008

Park yer carcass

Anybody who lives in a major city will no doubt have endless complaints about a lot of things, from crowds to violence to panhandlers to noise to having their front porch used as a toilet even though they pay as much rent as Warren Buffett earns in interest every month.

And yeah, as a San Franciscan, I can tell you stories about all of those things, and I have the dried shit in the tread of my Chuck Taylors to prove it.

But the one thing that really chaps my ass about living in a city, and this one in particular, is the parking situation. In case you don't live here or nobody has explained it to you, it just plain sucks ass.

First of all, it's a small city area-wise, with a lot of people crammed into it, and despite our California Liberal reputation of being all greenified and all that, way too many of those people have big gigantic stupid gas-pissing SUVs and such, taking up way too much room. So parking is at a premium.

The commercial areas are all dotted with parking meters and overpriced hourly lots, and that's fine. The city gets a shitload of revenue from the meters (mostly when they're expired and the Parking Nazis get to write the tickets they so love to write), and the unknown tycoons who own the lots and garages can likely afford their own private helipads. But whatever. The problem is the residential areas, where I live in my little Victorian flat with my two overindulged and overly furry feline roommates. Yeah that sounded pretty gay. Get over it.

Anyway, here's the thing: there aren't usually meters in the residential areas (yet), but there are inexplicable red zones everywhere, and you can't park in those without costing yourself so much money that I'm embarrassed to admit I know the amount. And you can't park ANYWHERE for more than 2 hours without getting a ticket. I think it's fifty bucks but it's always going up so I'm not sure of the current ripoff amount. To bypass this IF you're a resident, you can buy an annual permit sticker for the neighborhood you live in, for some significant coin. So far; so good -- it's hard enough to even FIND a parking space around here (and I have a tiny car), so if it weren't for the permit requirement, it would be IMPOSSIBLE, so I'm willing to pay for that. But the whole thing is really a racket, so it gets much more complicated. See, every street has alternating days on which you can't park there because of 'street cleaning'. Now, I've lived here for well over 20 years and I've never seen a street that was actually 'clean', but they do have these trucks that come by and swirl the crap around a bit, once a week on each side of the street. If you're parked there on that day, you get a ticket. Cha-ching. But am I complaining about that? Not this time. Not even when they randomly and without notice, change the days on which said 'cleaning' is to occur, putting up new signs here and there but not really making much noise about it so that inevitably they can ticket the folks who were too busy LIVING THEIR FUCKING LIVES to notice the slight sign change. Trust me when I tell you that the whole 'street cleaning' racket makes this city a TON of Benjamins every month, from all the folks who forget to move their damn car so the truck that swirls the crap has to drive around their parked vehicle, even if the 'street cleaning sign' had been quietly changed the night before. Yes, it's true; I've seen it. Hell, I've PAID it. Don't get me started...

But no, this blog posting isn't even about THAT particular travesty. No, it's about a certain city ordinance that one has to find out about the hard way. It seems that, regardless of the fact that you pay annually for a permit to park in your own neighborhood, and even if you carefully observe the sleight-of-hand magic they call 'street cleaning', they have an ordinance to make sure they get you anyway, no matter what you do. I think it's called the 'We're The Government So Go Fuck Yourself' ordinance. What it says is that if your car is parked anywhere, permit or not, for a minute past 72 consecutive hours, they can tow your car away and you have to pay not only an $80 ticket but right around TWO HUNDRED a day in storage fees to the tow yard. Yep. And this is assuming that you actually know you've been towed, since many of us city-dwellers walk or take public transportation and don't drive our cars every day, so -- you guessed it -- it can take a few days before you discover your car missing. So you frantically call the cops, not sure whether you prefer it was towed or stolen -- because nobody tells you. That's right; they take your shit and then don't even tell you about it. Like a week and a half later you get something in the mail saying your car was towed, but what good is that? By then you owe your life savings to the tow yard, so you'd better hope you made the discovery already.

This means, of course, that if you want to, say, fly somewhere on vacation for a few days, you have to be sure and have a friend agree to move your car for you. This means you have to be the kind of person who would do such a thing to their friend, knowing it will mean they have to spend a third of their day trying to find an available space -- one that won't conflict with any 'street cleaning' days while you're gone, or be out of the range of your permit that only covers a few blocks in either direction. And Gawd help them if you've got a car that's bigger than mine, because I can park the little fucker in a lot of places that other vehicles can't (which is one of the reasons I have it).

Anyway, so yeah, I got effin' towed. Altogether it cost me close to 500 smackers. And I can't even kill anybody, though I want to very badly.

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