Jerry Springer Chicago WEL2009 theatre breaks

I lost my job today. I was a coat collector at a local theatre, and this woman walked in wearing a huge coat made of some kind of animal fur, and… I had been watching a National Geographic documentary on Bigfoot the night before… and I must have had some kind of flashback because, next thing I know, I’m wrestling her to the ground, shouting for somebody to shoot her up with tranquiliser, and when the tranquiliser wasn’t forth coming, knocked her unconscious with one right-hook. I was rushed back into my boss’s office where he chewed me out, and fired me on the spot. On my way out I walked back into the foyer and… the woman was gone. Asked around but nobody believed she was ever there.

So I go home. And I’m anxious because I’ve got to explain to my wife I lost my job. I walk in and I find her watching the Jerry Springer show on daytime TV. Jerry had on a working class family from Mersey. They wanted to confront their priest about whether god was the real god. They wanted DNA tests, y’know. They had the big guy in the green room, upstairs, gritting his teeth, y’know. It was sound proofed but he could hear everything on account of omniscience. I stand there watching for ten minutes and my wife finally asks me, “Why are you home early?” and I shrug, answer honestly, “I lost my job.” And she reacted calmly. She went to our neighbour, Barry — and stayed there.

I thought, at least now I’ll have time to develop an alcohol problem, write abstract poems on the futility of life, and be found face down in a pool of my own blood and feces. A natural response, I think.

As we all know, Oprah’s talk show is coming to an end in the near future.  And by “near future”, I mean 2 years.  That gives us plenty of time to change the channel, and I’m pushing for sooner rather than later.  Since announcing her show will end in the year 2391, there have been a few interesting developments.  I’ve scoured the Internet for the Oprah news you won’t find anywhere else.

From an online article dated 11/30/09 – “. . . it appears that negotiations have broken down recently in Oprah’s attempt to buy, for $12.5 Billion, her soul back from the devil.”

From the Guinness Book of World Records comes this new record for Oprah – “Since launching her own magazine in April 2002, Oprah has now dethroned Mickey Mouse as ‘America’s Most Recognizable Religious Figure’.”

As reported by Court TV – “In a landmark ruling, the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals has ordered Oprah Winfrey to repay each Oprah viewer fifteen years of wasted time.  This is expected to have far-reaching ramifications than many experts believe will set a historic precedent.  I’m thinking here specifically of those same viewers who watch Dr. Phil, Jerry Springer, and Grey’s Anatomy.”

The most important question of all remains unanswered, which is: What will stupid people watch now?

Do not fear; Oprah is in the beginning stages of starting the Oprah Winfrey Network, or OWN.  As in, “I own you now”.  The 24-hour network will feature lifestyle programs and human-interest pieces that will surely delight and slowly degrade your brain in a cool lump of porridge.

Who could possibly replace the Queen of Daytime Talk?  I submit that no one could possibly fill the meaningful void other than, perhaps, a German Shepherd on roller skates.

If the Oprah Winfrey Network happens to fail miserably, which I believe it will, what would happen to Oprah?  When Oprah is penniless and struggling to pay the mortgage on her mansion, to what lengths will she go to make a fast buck?  Would Stedman, God forbid, finally have to get a job?

Let’s take a look back at what other stars have done to keep their solid-gold bathtubs just one more month.

Most recently, Creed has come out of a much-deserved and way-too-short retirement.  Like any good movie monster that won’t stay dead no matter how much the vast majority of the population wants it to, Creed has released a nary-anticipated sequel of new music.  (I am using the word “music” very loosely here.)

The only difference, of course, is that Creed’s members are not trying to make the payment on their mansions for another month.  No, sir.  Mansions are classy.  It’s my guess that Creed’s individual members are actually trying to pay $40 in back rent so they don’t get kicked their parents’ trailers.  What happened when Creed’s money ran out?  THIS:

I doubt you were able to hold back the bile from backing up into your mouth.  If you made it a minute in (and if so, I applaud you), you would have heard the inherently deep and thought-provoking lyric, “I’m entitled to overcome”.  If it were just a bit more of a piece of utter tripe, it might one day be featured on OWN.

Dude gets taken on to Jerry to find out that a girl he met on myspace was once a man…. smh

The Family Research Council’s Blog is reporting that a woman tricked her husband’s pregnant girlfriend (no this wasn’t an episode of Jerry Springer) into going to a pharmacy and taking a drug that caused her to go into labor in hopes of killing the baby.

Thankfully, the baby was born alive and is healthy. Incredibly, Jones tried another stunt to kill the baby: this time she tried to have poisoned milk given to the baby. That trick didn’t work, and it led to Jones’s arrest.

What a messed up world we live in. It’s kind of bizarre that the pregnant mother could be talked into getting the drug and then taking it without knowing what it was.

In surfing the web for something to occupy my mind for a bit while my little brats angels sat and sang along to their hearts content to the really cute at first but after the 8ooth time wrist slitting cuteness of the Little Mermaid I came across a few things that I think are the worse gifts anyone can receive for the holidays.

1.A subscription to Arthritis today
2.Life size stand ups of Twilight stars
3.Genital warts from your ex
4.a pack of used condoms
5.A gift certificate to a fat farm
6.Nude pics of Helen Thomas,Hilary Clinton or Janet Reno
7.A plastic and mounted singing bass singing I’m too sexy
8.The worlds largest bra
9.Padded toilet seat
10.Mr Butt Face pen holder, you know the one where the pen goes in his ass…
11.Pecker Detector
12.Do it yourself Prostate exam
13.An “I beat Anorexia” T-shirt
14.The Official Obama Chia Pet
15.A Fatty Patty blow up doll
16.Anal bleaching cream – Extra Strength
17.A Handi-cleanse personal bidet
18.Vagisil 6 Pack
19.Toilet paper, and if you must try to spring for the eight pack…
20.A bottle of Extenz
21.Preperation H
22.Underwear repair kit
23.A paternaty test
24.An invitation to be a “special guest” on the Jerry Springer Show
25.Divorce papers

In short this is the kind of things that I look forward to bringing to any of the following holiday events:

1. Office Party
2. PTA Christmas Event
3. Christmas with the Devil in-laws. – The vagisil for great Gam Gam really does put a nice ring in for the new year.
4. Church events and morning mass gift exchange.

So with that I leave you with the best of my worse Holiday gift ideas that I will probably actually use.
XOXO
Scarlette

  Toothless Woman On Jerry Springer Show 12-04-09

Be sure and look for this chick on the link above……

I spent quite a bit of time on the net this evening trying to find an URL for this video so that I could put the video in the post. But, I had no luck with it.  This show was, of course, about “Messy Affairs”. I was cooking supper and not really watching the show but the following quote caught my attention…..

“I was in a hurry to get to the Jerry Springer show. That’s why I forgot my teeth at home….THANK YOU!”……an actual quote from a Jerry Springer guest when her husband was told that he needed to buy her some teeth.

So, my white trash gift idea today is TEETH. If you have a white trash family member/friend/co-worker/etc. on your Christmas list, teeth would be a wonderful idea!

I’m feeling like I need to give you something else since I couldn’t actually embedded that video. So, I have chosen one of my favorite White Trash Videos From My Top-10 Favorite TrailerPark Video Collection. I hope you enjoy it…….

Image by Index Photograph. Used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic

I was talking to a writer friend recently about a freelancer of our acquaintance and the topic of openness. The person in question tended – shall I say – to be a bit too explicitly personal in her Twitter postings. Although neither of us had ever met her in person – it was after all a social “media” acquaintance – we had gotten a pretty intimate view of certain aspects of her life.

That got me to thinking when is too much too much?  These days the cliché “too much information!” comes to mind on a nearly daily basis.

My friend was concerned that the young lady’s twittering might prove detrimental to her career – she was a freelancer after all. Who knows how many clients were reading these posts and being turned off without giving her chance.

Obviously, reality TV and the likes of Jerry Springer have made keeping anything private – no matter how embarrassing – seem so, well, 19th Century Victorian. In fact, the more extravagant the misdeed the better and the more likely it could make you a star or an in demand book author (good news for ghost writers). 

In fact, campaigning for a spot on a reality show is something you plan your life around. If you’re the parents of a balloon boy or crashed a White House dinner – all the better for your chances. If it isn’t already, reality show contestant should be a job category – and one with true growth potential.

It wasn’t always like that. We former office workers remember the days when revealing too much was a much more local affair. There was the young lady with ample cleavage on display or the guy who couldn’t stop talking about his many, many, many feminine conquests. Relatively few ordinary people thought about leveraging their mistakes into media attention and that was a good thing.

Unless you’re aspiring to join the Real Housewives of New Jersey, looking bad may not be so good. Social media of every kind has given us all the means to project our talents, opinions and foibles far and wide. Where once our bad taste might have been limited to a few friends, family and co-workers we can now build a sizable platform from which to expose ourselves.

This ability can outpace your better judgment. Some people have discovered that employers troll social media sites looking for background data on job applicants. Facebook posts and funny pictures can solidify opinions long before you ever show up in your best business suit.

Just as businesses are careful about the image they project to the public, freelancers need to be conscious of what they’re saying to their customers as well. If provocative statements are part of your image then by all means keep writing those attention grabbing Twitter posts. If they aren’t something you want clients to read then don’t. And, save your misdeeds, tall tales, and bad taste for the home office. The dog won’t care and the public will never know.

To continue with my vacation with the People from Planet Polyester, here are more of the notes I took while being held hostage for Thanksgiving.

* * *

We went shopping all day!  What fun!

At six in the morning, one of the smallish inhabitants of the planet woke me up.  Do you want to wake up quickly?  Well, try waking – no clue where you are – with a midget wearing a snot-and-oatmeal facial two inches from your face.  The midget is poking you (again with the poking) in the chest, and snuffling.  I can almost guarantee that you will pop out of bed so fast you give yourself jet lag.

“Auntie Boo sez you gotta get up NOW.”  The midget tried to pet BuKi, but she scrambled deeper under the covers.  I’ve raised one smart dog.

“Auntie Boo is mad as a March hare, and should…”  I stopped.  The smallish one might be wired.  “Tell her I’m coming right down, okay, sweetie?”

And, so, I was told that, like it or not, we were going shopping in NYC today.  You better believe I took two xanax today to prepare.

I’d forgotten a few things.

I’d forgotten that I like the station at Hoboken even though it is dirty and noisy.  I’d forgotten how scary the subways in NYC are.  I’d forgotten that you never, EVER light a cigarette on the street unless you want to be surrounded by two dozen people with their hand out chanting, “Hey, can you spare a smoke?”  I have a few – 3 t0 5 – cigarettes a day (hush it – I like to smoke, dammit!), but I threw my pack at one of them, and fled.

I’d forgotten how very bad NYC cabs smell, and that – by transference – will YOU if you spend any time in them at all.  I’d forgotten that most cabbies hate you, have always hated you, and will hate you even more if you say something stupid like, “Oh, Jesus!  Are we near Harlem?  You’ve got the doors locked, don’t you?” as my Aunt Boo did.  (Boo lives with the certainty that every black male alive exists for no other reason than to rip the girdle off her aging, flabby thighs and rape her.  Oh, I suppose everyone can dream, though, can’t they!).

I’d forgotten that making eye contact with the man yelling, “Hey!  Hey, mami!  Ya wanna ride my salami?” will only encourage him to grab his crotch, and make the O Face.  This happened – with creative variations – throughout the day.

And I’d forgotten that I can’t go anywhere with these people without wanting to find a nice, quiet bathroom where I can eat a handful of barbituates before opening a few of my major arteries…but NYC bathrooms are even more frightening than the subways.

* * *

Thank god something good happened!

The only person I love arrived.  My cousin, Abbie.  Like me, she fled the nest as soon as it was financially feasible (only she went north to Vermont where she lives with her wonderfully peculiar lover, Jack).  As soon as she came in the door, I wanted to squeal and launch myself at her like a child.  Even better, she has to share the guest room with me.

As soon as we could, we snuck out to behind the garage to share a blunt and commiserate.  She asked me how bad it’s been, and I said it’s a new circle in Dantes’ Hell.  I told her how, the night before, I’d bent over in front of Uncle Pink to help a little one who’d fallen on her diapered butt, and he’d grabbed me and pantomimes sodomizing me while yelling, “Tell Santa what you want for Christmas, baby!” (I defy any of you to keep even a shred of dignity when your uncle is dry-humping you in front of everyone.)  She shuddered.  “He did the same thing to me a few years ago.  Jack calls him ‘Uncle Kinky’.  You should have whacked him over the head like I did.”

I’m so glad she’s here.

* * *

Giving BuKi her insulin is a spectator event.  As soon as I get the vial of insulin out of the ‘fridge, someone will announce it so that everyone crowds around to watch.  BuKi might be blind, but her instinct for self-preservation is spot-on, and she began to tremble so badly I had to support her with one hand while injecting her with the other.  The only thing I said was to the midget.  “Watch carefully.  You’re going to need this skill by the time you’re in sixth grade, and the nice man beside the playground wants to be your bestest friend.”  This earned me a dirty look from her mother, Gwen, as I’d forgotten she recently left rehab for a meth addiction.  My bad…

* * *

Three more days.  It will be easier with Abbie here.  She knows how to handle the natives better than I do.  When they began their poking, pinching, patting and pawing, she snapped, “Quit fucking touching me, dammit.”   This seems to be a magical incantation they respond to.  I’ll have to remember it.

* * *

(I’m sure you think I’m making it sound worse than what it was, but I don’t even get close to describing these people.  This is a hint:  Two of them were on the Jerry Springer Show, and they show the video each year because they are PROUD of it.  I refuse to tell you what episode it was.)

Fikk et brev i posten
Og ingen bjeller ringer
Jeg er invitert til Jerry Springer

Alt er så godt i livet mitt nå
Dama min gir meg en kjempesvær stå
Kompiser over med hasj og humør
Hva jeg driver på med
er det ingen som spør
Nei, ingen som tør

Jeg ble blipet 265 ganger på fire minutter
Ingen fikk vite hva jeg sa hennes mutter
Fikk heltestatus av nabolagets gutter
Og nydama ligger og sutter
Til opptaket slutter

Klart det var Brunett-Kissie jag menade i mitt tidigare inlägg Slående likt, vill jag mena. Ännu mer likt när man såg det live, så att säga. Hysteriskt. Misstänker att Springer-kvinnan är någon slags framtidsvision av Brissie. Någon sa “..om 20 år” men riktigt så långt vill jag nog inte sträcka mig.

Springer-avsnittet handlade om en hillbillykille som var otrogen mot sin fru med den spexiga kvinnan ovan. Hon var otrogen mot sin man med hillbillykillen. Alla var egentligen hillbillys, och pratade som ena riktigt fina såna. They met in the convenience store, och romansen varade hela 3 veckor! Åh, kärlek alltså. Fint värre.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and while I’m looking forward to good food, I’m dreading the inevitable family feuding. There is always a problem- someone gets pissed because someone didn’t say hi to them when they got there (ridiculous huh) or someone is suing someone else so they’re both pissed with each other.. (yeah- family suing family..nice). One Christmas there was an actual fist fight in the middle of the street at my Grandmothers house- I coined it ‘my white trash christmas’ and haven’t been back there for a holiday since. It’s just insane, I mean can’t we all just get along? Having divorced parents adds the stress of trying to please both sides of the family by attending both celebrations… while also going to the in-laws. No matter how I try my Mom gets upset every holiday, because she feels she doesn’t get the time due to her, which makes me feel guilty- an emotion that generally pisses me off. So she and I almost always argue every holiday. I’m just not in the mood to deal this year. I just had a baby 4 weeks ago… and I swear I might freak out on someone if they start with me. As  a general rule I try to avoid the drama and mind my own business, but sometimes thats easier said then done. I don’t know why my family doesn’t just get things settled and move on, instead of holding grudges and acting a fool. I mean it’s really embarrassing when a holiday celebrating the birth of Christ turns into a Jerry Springer episode- minus clothes coming off and someone getting hit with a shoe.

So by now, you should know that Donny & Kym won the big mirror ball trophy on “Dancing With The Stars.” I figured it would be hard to miss. So if you’re still interested in a recap of last night’s show, you’ll find it after the jump.

We got to see all the couples from season nine, with the final three couples making the grand entrance. Uh-oh. Miss Piggy – or at least the back of her head appeared as the recap of Monday’s performances played. Live TV, people. So here’s what we do when there are problems, we go to break, regroup, then get back to it. So happy Tom Bergeron is the host! He is a true pro!

Here are the standings:

1. Mya & Dmitry – 87 points

2. Donny & Kym – 85 points

3. Kelly & Louis – 76 points

First performance of the night comes from Whitney Houston. She performed “Million Dollar Bills.” Sorry. Can’t watch her. I don’t think she sings any more. It’s like she just speaks the lyrics.

It’s time for “The Losers Club.” It’s the people who are the first to be kicked off the show. Jeffery Ross returns in a sequined jacket to roast/induct a new member into the club. Ashley Hamilton gets his jacket. Jeff called it a “token of your suckiness.” He said when Ashley was out there, people thought it was a telethon for the uncoordinated. Then, Ashley said he’d give his dance with Edyta his full 10%. Ashley dropped Edyta, then danced with Jeff. Then (the horror!), they opened their shirts! That’s comedy, right? Tom said Jeff’s stomach was whiter than a snow drift. True.

Like deja vu, we get the first of many recaps of the entire season. Sorry, folks. I’m hitting FF. I’ve sat through the whole season. I could just go back and read my recaps if I wanted to live it again. Kathy Ireland & Tony Dovolani danced. If she danced like this weeks ago, she might have made it further. They were followed by Macy Gray & Jonathan Roberts. I’m still uncomfortable watching Macy dance. Debi Mazar & Maksim Chmerkovskiy. She was lovely.

Another taped piece looks back at what became “DWTS: The Season of The Flu/Injuries.”

Tom DeLay & Cheryl Burke returned to do the Texas Two Step. If not for injury, I totally believe The Hammer could have made it to the finale! This was his dance – even the booty shake. Only made me feel a little uncomfortable. Still, he is fun to watch!

Taped piece looking back at the fourth and fifth weeks of competition. FF again. Chuck Liddell & Anna Trebunskaya performed. He still scares me. Mark Dacascos & Lacey Schwimmer performed next. Then, Chuck and Mark did some fighting. Don’t worry, no one got hurt. Except maybe my eyes.

Adam Carolla gave Donny some advice on how to win. Really? Adam can’t dance! Kelly and Mya showed up. Adam called the ladies “the enemy.” Then, he tried hard to be funny. FF.

Natalie Coughlin & Alec Mazo returned to perform. She was good. Why didn’t she make it through the competition?

Melissa Joan Hart & Mark Ballas performed in bright yellow and purple. Is that a ploy to get Lakers tickets? She was so good!

The judges talk about the finalists. Len said Kelly is unexpected. Bruno said she’s wonderful in hold. Len said she engages with the audience. Carrie Ann said Donny is an incredible showman. Len said Donny lights up the ballroom with every dance. Bruno said Donny is solid and never underperforms. Len said Mya has the talent to take the title. Bruno said Mya uses her body like a musical instrument.

Another re-introduction of the final three. Come on, ABC! Content, please! FF again.

Kelly & Louis performed their Viennese waltz from earlier in the season. It did look like Kelly forgot a step towards the end. Still loved this dance. Len said of all the celebrities who have been on the show, he’ll miss her the most because he loves watching her every week. The audience was chanting for her. Bruno said she may come from rock and roll royalty, but she has earned her place as a ballroom princess. Carrie Ann through tears, she doesn’t know if anyone has ever touched her as much as Kelly has. She said every time she watched Kelly dance, she was growing every step of the way.

Mya & Dmitry performed their jive from earlier in the season. It was just as fun as the first time they performed it! Bruno said Mya was sharp, slick, never missed a beat. He said she never dropped her standards throughout the season. Carrie Ann said every season, someone sets the pace and that has been Mya from day one. She called Mya a star. Len said they’ve had a few ups and downs but he never doubted her dance talent. He called her fantastic.

Donny & Kym performed the Argentine tango from earlier in the season. I’m glad they chose this. Donny couldn’t smile one bit during this performance. I like that it was not a showman’s dance. Carrie Ann said Donny has graced them with show stopping performances. She was glad he chose that as his final dance because it was artistry in motion. Len said Donny has been mostly good, sometimes bad and one dance was pretty ugly. But he never lost his performance. He said Donny finished strong. Bruno said Donny is a great performer. He said Donny reaches the dark side and uses it well.

The judges ranked the finalists for the final round. Here’s how they chose ‘em:

1. Donny & Kym – 30 points

2. Mya & Dmitry – 28 points

3. Kelly & Louis – 26 points

Wow!

Louie Vito & Chelsie Hightower danced to “Puppy Love” performed by Donny. Do they have something to tell us? The song started slow, then got fast and the dance included a great lift and lots of tumbling from Louie. Donny gave them two thumbs up. Samantha said Chelsie & Louie are not dating. OK. I believe that.

Michael Irvin & Jerry Rice perform a dance off. Jerry performed with Anna Trebunskaya, while Michael got his partner, Anna Demidova, back. I’m giving Michael the edge because he has a more intense dance face. That said, watching these two dance, then fight over a football made me realize why they did not make it to the finals. It was fun. Not great. The judges awarded the mirror ball ring to Michael. There was celebrating. Then, the judges stopped that. They decided the battle of the bodies goes to Jerry.

Aaron Carter & Karina Smirnoff performed their quick step.

Miss Piggy was backstage with Cloris Leachman, Jerry Springer, Steve Wozniak and Joanna Krupa. They all seemed to be afraid of Miss Piggy. Huh? Then, those four took the stage to do a competition mambo. Cloris stood still for a bit as Corky seemed to shake her to life. The Woz did a lot of hobbling about in a pink boa. Jerry still made me a bit uncomfortable (I was afraid he might hurt himself). Cloris & Corky were the first eliminated. Jerry & Edyta were booted. How could Joanna not shine here? She’s left with The Woz? Then, a partner switch. Steve & Karina were booted. Surprise, surprise! Joanna wins. Is this how the judges reward her for not making the finals? Ah, the dance ends with the couple’s signature move – only in reverse (not dirty talk, it was Joanna holding Derek).

Whitney returned to perform “I Want To Dance With Somebody.” Again, mostly talking the lyrics. FF.

Now, finally down to the business. The third place finishers: Kelly & Louis.

The winners of that ugly mirror ball trophy: Donny & Kym.

That’s it. See you in the Spring!

I don’t usually frequent the lunch room in Fred Meyer, and for good reason. The tiny room can quickly become a battle zone within minutes, and I fear I may get caught in the crossfire. Like today. When I walked through the door, I was flooded with relief. I had the place to myself. A smile passed over my face as I chose my favorite seat facing an ancient t.v. blaring Jerry Springer. I contemplated walking over and fixing the rabbit ears sitting on top, in order to get a better picture of the freaks yelling and fighting on stage, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. I happily spread my food in front of me. A can of Natures Candy, a Pepsi, and an apple fruit pie lay in on the table waiting to be devoured. As I was about to pop a chip into my mouth, a fellow employee stormed into the lunch room. I squelched the groan that threatened to escape, and mustered the will to half-smile in her direction. She glanced at me straight faced, and I was thankful that I wouldn’t be asked to make small talk. She set her lunch items on the table, a pizza pocket, an orange juice, and a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar. Taking in the sight of the candy, I began to devise a way to either steal a piece, or get her to offer me some. I looked up at her hopefully, willing to be friendly if it meant I could have a piece of chocolate. She had a phone to her ear, and as I was about to grant her a full smile and a happy hello, she barked into the speaker, “Why don’t you answer you phone? What the hell have you been doing?” I automatically looked down, and started to unwrap my pie, trying my best to use my mental invisibility shield. If I didn’t make any sudden movements, maybe I would simply disappear. “What the hell Travis, you are always fucking sleeping,” she continued. After a small pause she asked, “So, do you want to end this or what?” I felt my face flaring up with embarrassment at being a witness to a break up. “What do you mean you don’t know? Fuck you, okay? Fuck you Travis.” I resisted the urge look up, and was once again distracted by the chocolate bar that sat on the table, untouched, forgotten, seemingly unwanted. My mind drifted back to the thought of stealing it. What would she care, she was breaking up? It was going to take more than a chocolate bar to make her feel better. In fact, if I stole it, I would actually be doing her a favor. I should have been praised for my unselfishness. At that moment, another employee entered the room and sat at the lunch table. Her eyes snapped up and shot daggers at the new arrival. “Hold the fuck on” she mumbled into the phone, and pushed her chair back violently. “No, stop acting like a bitch,” she shouted angrily as she stomped out the room. I glanced at the man seated across from me, who was effectively blocking the television. I felt a burst of irritation and the sudden need to chuck my Pepsi bottle at his head. With a scowl in his direction, I bit into my fruit pie and began to read the nutrition label on the Nature’s Candy. “Fuck you Travis,” I whispered.

My cousin recently wrote a blog post about how he believes the honesty of students is decreasing. He’s a teacher in the Midwest. He sees firsthand how the kids these days will not hesitate to cheat or lie to make their lives easier. And while I don’t disagree with this, I don’t really think it’s anything new. I made some pretty good money in my 2-year stint as a term paper writer in the early 2000s. But that’s neither here nor there.

Chuck Klosterman has a theory that Generation X became a generation of lazy, pessimistic slackers because the first movie we were old enough to understand was The Empire Strikes Back. I you remember that movie, you remember it ended with Han Solo being captured by Boba Fett and frozen in carbonite. It was also the episode where Luke learned that his father was Darth Vader and Leah was his sister. It was a prequel to Jerry Springer. So Klosterman’s theory is that because this was really our first memorable taste of culture, us Generation Xers grew up with a darker view of the world around us.

Let’s look at the generation going through high school right now. For some, their first cognizant memory is 9-11. They may have been alive during America’s prosperous years but they weren’t old enough to recognize it. Some of them might not even have been old enough to understand what was going on, but certainly absorbed some of the tension their parents carried around.

Enter George W. Bush.

You can say all you want about Barack Obama, but the one quality he has that George Bush lacked is the ability to think things through and not jump at the country’s whims.

So with Bush chomping at the bit to get revenge and appease the cries of the angry American mob, the leader of the free world, the most powerful person in the world, fed us a lie. Weapons of mass destruction (WMDs). Then add to that the Patriot Act and numerous other infractions against the Constitution and you’ve got yourself a guy who will put his integrity aside to further his own agenda. I mean, just look what came from it. Halliburton. Blackwater. All of the administration’s cronies were getting in on the action and getting rich off the lies of the President of the United States of America.

So why then would kids who were 10 years old at the time and have grown up seeing their President lie, cheat, and steal his way into infamy think it’s wrong to do any different? I mean, if he can do it, why can’t they? He didn’t talk like an educated man. In fact most of what came out of him mouth was unintelligible. Why would they value an education? George W. Bush didn’t put any effort into finding a middle ground with anyone else in the world. He didn’t respect other cultures. Why would the kids think they should respect anyone around them? Why wouldn’t they think that it’s ok to do whatever you want in the name of self-serving purpose.

If you think about it, it all makes sense.

Or am I way off base here. Please weigh in.

[Image Credit]

Today, I feel like connecting with someone.

I know I just posted about ten minutes ago, but I don’t feel done yet.  It’d be nice to just be in the company of someone who understands, someone else trans, maybe someone old and wise who’s been through it all.  Like Kate Bornstein.

I just checked out the only book of hers that our local library carries, “Hello, Cruel World.”  I know it’s a suicide prevention guide, and my gender dysphoria hasn’t been nearly bad enough lately to make death an option, but I just wanted someone who understood me to talk to me.  She didn’t fall short of that at all.

Even my boyfriend, who is supposed to get it more than anyone else, and who really does, isn’t THERE- he isn’t from this place, and I can’t expect him to automatically understand, even when he tries.  I don’t know any trans people in real life and I have a few remote blogging buddies, but I don’t know a single flesh-and-blood person who can relate and talk to me about this, past me educating them about something they’re clearly clueless on.  When I want guidance, and our conversations mainly consist of “How is this any different from cosmetic surgery?  Why don’t you get liposuction while you’re at it?  You’re fine the way you are,” it gets a little wearying.  When you’re talking about the sobering suicide statistics of trans people, roughly one in three, and the only way the guy can respond is “Well, they must be weak/stupid, anything is better than death,” when you’re stating that one in 12 trans people world wide will be murdered violently and you’re standing up to possibly be counted in that slaughter, and they only way they can respond is to say that it must be easier to change the inside than the outside…

You just know you’re talking to people who have no idea.

It’s a little like being from a different country entirely.  It IS being from a different culture.  Imagine being born part of a race that is physically branded by the color of their skin or the rituals of their culture to be ridiculed, spat on, torn down, made fun of and be one of the last politically “safe” punching bags the bullies can use.  Welcome to our lives.  We are the New Roma.

And guess what?  It’s only getting worse.  In a world where the circle of those who are accepted under the umbrella of protection is expanding, where the fringe of people it’s still safe to beat up on is rapidly shrinking, and where those who love to hate can’t find their fix and are told to focus their hatred and ugliness only on those who REALLY deserve it, there are only the sickos, perverts and inexcusible freaks of nature left.  And sadly enough, in the current world view, transsexuals are still under those categories.

We’re the only people left trapped in a burning apartment that the firemen won’t dare enter for fear of getting burned themselves, and we’re running out of time- if we don’t save ourselves, nobody will.

And this brings me to another topic that really burns my gills.  One of the only ways we CAN save ourselves in the world view is to stop being sideshow events and porno subjects and Jerry Springer fodder and try to make our way up in the world as respectable, upstanding, contributing citizens of society.  And yet…

It is SO hard to give back to a culture that has taken so much from us.  When you go your whole life beaten by the system and expected to be nothing more than punchlines and punching bags, you DO tend to live on the fringe, the only place that will accept you, and it’s hard to really clean up, duck your head, give nod to the Man and go back to living a white bread, vanilla life.  How can you even do that when you’ve seen so much cruelty, how far the all-powerful System falls from grace where we really slip through the gaps, when you’ve seen the really ugly side of life?  And it’s a double sided push, too.

On one side, you’ve got Society, the people who expect you to be unable to hold down a decent job and life and expect you to be ugly, incompatible with propriety and generally wrong- and yet, paradoxically, expect you to be able to overcome all of that, and sneer when you can’t.  It’s a direct challenge.

On the other side, you’ve got the trans community, which, as it evolves with the times and defines itself, can be almost as bad of an enemy as anyone else, in spite of itself.  I feel much more tremendous pressure from THAT side of things to be successful, respectable, and morally upright, and never ever let any cisgendered people catch me doing anything that might cast a shadow on the rest of the community.  In that way, I carry the burden of every other trans person on my shoulders every time I step out my doors, every time I make a decision, every time the public eye is on me.  We all do.  We all, individually, carry the weight of every other trans person out there.

And let me tell you something.  I hate it.

I hate being under such scrutiny that, if I decide to do something a little naughty, suddenly my whole people is paying for it, not just me.  I’m sure that anyone of a scrutinized minority understands that feeling.

The truth is, I do feel a responsiblity to my community, more patriotism than I do for my country or even my blood family.  I want to change the world and make it a better place for those like me.  But suddenly I’m a part of this fraternity just for being born this way, and I realize that things are turning around again for me, only on a grander scale.

I’m not part of the trans movement primarily for the sake of making the world a better place, to make a political statement, or because I believe in something greater than myself.  I didn’t “join” this to be part of a club or to take the banner of something that I believed would make me morally purer.  I’m not here because of some crusade, and I don’t support it because I want to give myself to a cause.

I’ve become trans to become myself, and I feel that if I reform myself because the trans community expects I owe them something on the sole virtue of being trans, then I’ve defeated the purpose we’re all here for.  If I become something I’m not for one side or the other, then I haven’t made any progress at all- just switched sides.

So I apologize if anything I ever do or say seems retrogressive to the trans movement, or if I ever seem selfish.  But I believe that, to change the world, we must first change ourselves, and if I change myself into something that I don’t necessarily believe in, then what do I expect of the world?

…

I will always try to honor my community the best I can, because I do love them, and I do want to change the world beyond myself, and I would like to make an effort to keep from tarnishing an already almost ruined people.  But I will not be fake to do it.  I will not censor myself, and I will not go quietly into the cage that the establishment has cut out for me.

I am me, nothing else.

It amazes me when I hear fellow Americans, who have had access to books and education, argue against Darwin’s theory of evolution.  Physical evidence abounds in the form of bones and fossils.  Scientific observation has shown the abilities of organisms to adapt and change to their environment.  However, the most indisputable proof EVER can be observed everyday on daytime TV.  The missing link between modern humans and their most primitive ancestors can be found in living color on the Jerry Springer show.

I try not to look at these creatures.  I’d rather only read about them in books.  Sometimes, when the TV is on and I hear the “Jerry, Jerry” chanting from the beginning of the show, I run to find the remote to change the channel immediately.  I only recently allowed the kids to catch a glimpse of these frightful beings.  Youngest Son is in college, a biology major, and I figured he was ready for this visual lesson in anthropology.  Yet, even his jaw dropped in amazement, his eyes transfixed upon these strange life forms.  I allowed myself a glimpse the other day when I had some shirts to iron.  It’s like watching mankind’s journey from the primordial ooze.

These denizens of the Springer show use a rudimentary language quite similar to our own, yet their grammar structure is far from developed.  They all speak with a pronounced twang, unlike any regional accent.  Voice modulation is a skill they haven’t mastered.  They often scream and yell, and make their point by lunging at one another.

They still rely on hand signals as a common method of communication.  They wave their arms and use hand gestures like the following:

talk to the hand

Their family structure is quite random.  Sometimes they marry, but the vows are rarely taken seriously.  They use their offspring as a means of showing relationship, such as baby momma or baby daddy, although frequently baby daddy is not known.  Sexual urges seem to be very strong, and boundaries on mating are not clear.  Often a male will mate with a female, and then move on to her sister or even her mother.

I ask you, folks.  How can they teach creationism when the evidence for evolution is so crystal clear?

Out of pure, morbid curiosity I decided to sit through an episode of this show to find out what all the fuss was about. After all, I had really enjoyed the fictional ‘Desperate Housewives’ show. ‘Desperate Housewives’ was clever, funny and had some very touching storylines over the years. So, I thought, maybe this version of ‘OC’ housewives would be as interesting. Cr*p!.. I’m now reminded why I refuse to watch television. (I watch either select shows on Hulu or DVD movies only). On this ‘OC’ show.. these women are self-centered, materialistic, shallow and have ZERO clue about anything of true value. If they were at least funny it might not be so bad. At least if they were funny it would be like the female version of ‘Jackass’ but with money and makeup.

As it is in most things, those who already ‘love’ this show will continue to watch it thinking it’s the best thing ever to light up their tube, or their life possibly. My opinion isn’t going to change that. I just call it as I see it.. and what I saw made me want to take out my brain and scrub it with bleach to erase the memory of sitting through an episode without covering my eyes or walking away in disgust. Watching a re-run of Gilligan’s Isle would have been a better use of my time by comparison. But.. such is the state of this world we live in. Let the parade of carnage continue as the cameras capture every twisted detail in HiDef TV.

First thirty minutes amongst the most beautiful and engaging storytelling I have ever seen onscreen.  As things go downhill, you can’t help thinking that Willem Defoe’s character is just a big psychoanalytic twat who needs to get out of his own head, and that Charlotte Gainsbourg needs to be sectioned.  Pronto.

But as an overwhelmingly engaging film experience, that makes you wince and puts you there, and bares the hearts of this couple driven wild by grief, I found it incredibly rich.  Bit of an anti-’The Shack’, for those that have read it!  Fits my art philosophy that being exposed to what life is like when things go truly wrong, is just as helpful as the opposite.  Sweetness and beaming bunny rabbits ain’t what life is like.  We have lots to learn from the darkness, for the sake of continually choosing to live in the light.  Keeps us all compassionate towards each other, too.

Dramatically, it just goes to remind you of the potential of what massive, epic things can take place, both beautiful and tragic, simply between two actors in one place. Who needs fireworks and CGI to tell a story when a setup this simple can be so gripping!  Not that I’d recommend it to the sqeamish, easily offended or Republicans.  It is supposed to be a ‘horror’, after all…

The ‘message’ I got from it?

Well, to quote the master of social dysfunction, Mr Jerry Springer: ‘Until next time, take care of yourselves….and each other’

Justice is all about getting fast and demonstrable results. Take domestic violence and child abuse: for sure, they  cause severe harm to children that should be taken seriously. But most importantly, these crimes have  seemingly  easily identifiable culprits. With one complaint, the bastard gets an order of protection against him and  as a result, that boosts crime prevention statistics. Sometimes, the crusade itself might create the criminal. I was reading last night the nauseous but brilliant piece of Mark Bowden in the December issue of Vanity Fair. Detective Michelle Deery, posing as the mother of two girls, entrapped a man to write that he wants to have sex with the two girls. Bowden goes through their  emails and shows how the predator -the cop- gets what she wants from her prey, the fellow with the deprived libido. He wants to have sex with her but he is not interested in her girls. Every time he tries to set up a rendez-vous with her only, she pulls out. He gets it.  He indulges into saying what she seems to want : having sex with her and the girls; in any case, having sex with the girls. Nobody knows how the guy would have behaved with the girls had Deery been the nuts she pretended to be, but why care with such hair splitting? Predator caught. Deery should create a own show and compete with voyeur and sick Chris Hansen’s NBC show, “To Catch a Predator.“

On the other hand however,  one wonders what it takes to have parental alienation acknowledged by the justice system. It leaves deep and perhaps indelible damage to children, years after the facts. Hence the justice system gets it just right: nothing urgent. To give credence to the charge of parental alienation in court, a group of 50 experts of 10 countries are pushing to have parental alienation registered as a syndrome in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Laudable efforts. The turning point in the recognition of parental alienation syndrome by the justice system might be a Jerry Springer show featuring a dad reunited with his alienated children.