Cautious Happiness

So… it’s been a while.

I’ve had every intention of posting more often, but just when I think of something, it’s already old news. I think that’s a recurring motif in Lewis Black’s comedy. No wonder he’s always so angry.

Heck, I wanted to do something about the iCloud leaks last year (the aptly named “Fappening”), but a year has gone by, and there are more celebrity scandals that have happened since then, and I don’t even know where to start.

Now, everybody’s talking about the 2016 Presidential race, and I can’t bring myself to care. The GOP is looking less like a political party and more like a circus, but funnier and more frightening. Meanwhile, the Democratic party has turned into a P.C. version of Spy vs. Spy starring Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders with “Feel the Bern” bombs and “It’s Your Time” catapults.

The truth is, I’m going through a bit of a paradigm shift. I’ve embraced my own philosophy I call “cynical optimism” or “cautious happiness” (or, I suppose, “existential positivity”). Hope for the best, expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed. If you’re upset with life, living, and the world in general, just remember, it eventually ends. Life is about helping out or getting out of the way. You want to make a change? Do it yourself. Don’t want to? Fine. Don’t. Just get out of the way.

Even now, I’m watching Muppets from Space. A world with Muppets can’t be too bad.

The truth is, I’ve been blessed with a good family, good friends, and comparatively good surroundings. In spite of all my issues with Utah, I do love it here, and I’d like to think maybe I can make some changes.

If you would, I’d appreciate your help. If not, get out of my way.

Shame, Shame

Today, I’ll be discussing guilty pleasures (not my strongest opening, but there’s a time and a place for subtlety, and subtlety comes by virtue of patience, which is not my best trait). Guilty pleasures are in a unique position in that a) everybody seems to have them and b) everybody seems to hate them. There are those who would argue that they don’t exist, one of which being one of my biggest influences, Chuck Klosterman (for those of you who may not have heard of him, give Fargo Rock City a read; it is memoir validating his love of ’80s hair metal – which, to his credit, he never treats as a truly “guilty pleasure”). Chuck Klosterman argues that those who feel guilt in that in which they take pleasure are “embarrassed about being engaged in life” and “it never matters what you like; what matters is why you like it.” Well, perhaps that is true, but that doesn’t entirely discredit guilty pleasures, either.

To my estimation, there are four types of guilty pleasures:

• things you feel ashamed of liking
• things you feel you should feel ashamed of liking
• things general consensus dictates you should feel ashamed of liking
• things you like ironically

First, things you feel ashamed of liking. You can’t even argue its existence. I would argue that everyone likes at least thing of which they ashamed. I refused to watch Paul Blart: Mall Cop for a couple of years, because I thought it looked horrible. By the time I watched, I found myself laughing out loud at it, and hating myself for it. But something about self-loathing manifested in pie and peanut butter appeals to my sense of humor.

Then, things you feel you should feel ashamed of liking. I love Iggy Azalea, but at the same time, I think she’s trashy and I feel trashy for liking her (on the off-chance that Iggy Azalea ends up reading this, I’m sorry, but it gets worse). She’s as Australian as didjeridus and vegemite, but when she starts rapping, she sounds as country-fried as Lynyrd Skynyrd and General Lee (it doesn’t help that she feels free to use the word “nigga”).

Next, things general consensus dictates you should feel ashamed of liking. I love professional wrestling. A lot of people do. But you would never know that, because a lot of these people don’t talk about it. Even in the popularity boom of the late ’90s, there was a bit of a stigma attached to watching it. I think that’s because the relative popularity of Stone Cold Steve Austin and the nWo was connected to the Jerry Springer-level dysfunction they put on television. But storylines are only part of the equation. The true storytelling is in the ring. Professional wrestling is dismissed as “fake,” but the truth is that professional wrestlers are real athletes who risk real injuries. There’s more to it than “knowing how to land.” Watch Mankind fall off a steel cage – not once, but twice – and then land on thumbtacks, and tell me how to land. But I take the most pleasure in ’80s wrestling, along with all its absurdity. Many people are familiar with “Macho Man” Randy Savage, “Rowdy” Roddy Piper, Jake “The Snake” Roberts, and the immortal Hulk Hogan (who revolutionized, popularized, and legitimized professional wrestling as a genuine source of entertainment, and no amount of “n-words” can take that away from him – I still love you, Hulk!), but some of the fun is with the over-the-top characters they put on television; Honky Tonk Man (an Elvis impersonator), The Nasty Boys (gross, mullet-hawked street fighters who rubbed their opponents faces in their armpits), and Akeem the African Dream (a white guy “reborn” as a black guy – sure, it seems racist, but it’s a lot less offensive to me than Rachel Dolezal).

Last, things you like ironically. This is less “guilty” pleasure and more “hipster” pleasure, but it deserves an honorable mention, simply because it represents a part of yourself that lives within your subconscious. This is why people who listen to Neil Diamond and Johnny Cash (and, yes, Iggy Azalea), who would never under any circumstances listen to Insane Clown Posse (whose fans, called “juggalos” – an amalgamation of “juggler” and “gigolo” – are considered both a cult and a gang) can find joy in wildly profane and cartoonishly violent ICP albums like Riddle Box and The Great Milenko.

That’s all of them, but that’s not all. One form of pleasure can become another.

When I was a kid, I remember watching reruns of The Super Mario Bros. Super Show! on television, loosely (very loosely) based on the Super Mario Bros. video game franchise. I sincerely loved that show. But when I saw it on Netflix, nostalgia forced me to watch it against better judgment. I have to admit, it’s not very good. It was shoddily animated out of South Korea and horribly acted by Captain Lou Albano and several celebrity guest stars.  But I still love it ironically.

The first time I watched Bio-Dome, I hated it. I hated it with an intense and occupying hate. I was angry by how bad it was. I thought no movie that bad should legally be allowed to exist. The second time I watched it. I started to see some charm in the stupidity. I liked it irionically. By the third time I watched it, I sincerely enjoyed it. Now, I love it to the point that I don’t even feel guilty about it anymore.

Like what you like. There’s no shame in having guilty pleasures.

Kryptonite

July was crazy-busy; two weddings and a funeral (the weddings were planned, the funeral was not). Add that to a consistently busy work schedule, steadily excessive eating habits, and several momentary nervous breakdowns, and you’ve got an exhausting month. Still, I got to indulge in a personal 4th of July tradition and watched at least one of the Rambo movies, so I can’t complain (well, I can; the premise of this blog is taking moderately nihilistic approach on big issues and minor inconveniences alike. But I digress).

Superman is one of the most (if not the most) celebrated superheroes of all time. His story begins on the planet of Krypton, where his parents, upon learning of their planet’s imminent destruction, sent their son rocketing into the unknown. He lands on earth and is raised by a farmer and his wife in Smallville and eventually finds work as a newspaper reporter in Metropolis.

His backstory is simple. His powers are less so.

You see, the Earth’s yellow sun gives him incredible powers, including, but not limited to: super strength, super speed, laser vision, x-ray vision, and superhuman hearing.

Nothing gets past this guy.

As for his weaknesses, they are a bit more limited: red sun radiation and Kryptonite. Both originate from his dead planet, Krypton, and thus extremely rare. (He’s also weak against magic, but let’s stick to the subject at hand.)

So, who is his greatest enemy? The one man who knows how to utilize these weaknesses; Lex Luthor, an incredibly smart, incredibly rich, and, perhaps most importantly, incredibly non-superpowered man.

The fandom of Superman is immense, and understandably so. As a child of the ’30s, he was an enemy of the Nazis. As a foreigner, he was a hero to immigrants. His superpowers captured the imagination of children and adults alike.

But he almost seems too powerful.

Everybody loves a hero, but everybody also loves to relate to others. It’s one of the ways we feel connected to humanity. It gives us the ability to empathize with others. And nothing creates empathy quite like one’s shortcomings. That’s why it’s important for heroes to have weaknesses. There reaches a point when a hero stops being a hero and becomes a “messiah.” This has worked once in literary history (Jesus, in case you were wondering). It can vilify a hero. For those of you familiar with professional wrestling (which I am – no shame!), it happened to Hulk Hogan in the early ’90s (and more recently to John Cena).

Batman is an ally of Superman, but they are also rivals. They have many similarities and many differences (which have been chronicled many other more reliable places). The main difference is Batman’s mortality; he is human and prone to death. With Earth’s sun, Superman is nearly indestructible. That makes Batman’s sacrifice seem more real. Batman’s weakness is his own moral compass of justice and mercy, and his greatest enemy is a psychopathic clown with no moral compass. The Green Lantern’s weakness is yellow (something to do with the emotional spectrum, where green represents willpower, and yellow represents fear) and his greatest enemy is his former mentor and current Yellow Lantern. The Flash’s weakness is the cold (low temperatures diminish his speed), and his greatest enemy is… a gorilla (hey, not everything in comics has to make sense). Superman is like a good Goliath going against an evil David.

Taking this into consideration, it makes Lex Luthor seem almost respectable. Sure, Lex Luthor is evil, but no more so than the 2016 Republican Presidential candidates thus far. Actually, if suddenly a superpowered extraterrestrial started saving lives in America, I wouldn’t be surprised in Donald Trump tried to get him deported. But maybe I’m giving The Donald too much credit. He seems like Scrooge McDuck with bad hair.

Politics is not without its fallen heroes. Franklin D. Roosevelt is considered a hero among the more liberal of us. He certainly expanded and helped popularize progressive policies. His “New Deal” economics were arguably brilliant. He also authorized the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. That is despicable, reactionary behavior. You can dismiss this as “different times,” but that’s the same argument I hear in defense of segregation.

Richard Nixon opened relations with China. He tried to strengthen relations with the Soviet Union. He eventually ended the Vietnam War. But he is best remembered for his involvement with the Watergate scandal. A lot people can’t even tell you what happened at Watergate, but they know the suffix “-gate” has become synonymous with scandals in the U.S.

But Superman was never interested in politics. He was America’s (and, by extension, the world’s) hero. What makes Superman the world’s greatest hero is that he has all the theoretical power in the world. He has the power to do anything, and he uses it to help others. And he does it free of charge. The Crash Test Dummies put it best when they sang “Superman never made any money saving the world from Solomon Grundy.”

Human beings are statistically the greatest threat to human beings. And Superman saves them from themselves.

Superman’s greatest weakness is us. And that makes him our greatest hero.

I hate to end on such a serious note, so I tried looking up some Superman jokes. The problem is, many of them seem to have been written by a child with a learning disability and a limited grasp of the English language. So, screw it, here are a couple of them anyway, courtesy of boldsky.com:

Why does Superman fly? Because he was getting bored so he started flying in the sky.

and my favorite

Why does Superman wear his undies outside? Because he is always fast so forgot to wear the undies first.

Race to the Finish

(editor’s note: I first published this on May 1, 2012, roughly three months after the shooting of Trayvon Martin. I normally wouldn’t cop out to lazily re-posting something I’ve already done before, but with everything that has happened – Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and, most recently the Charleston church shooting, etc., etc., etc. – it just seems appropriate. With so many hate crimes, both apparent and obvious, it can be easy to get lost in the race. But take the racial aspect out of the equation and look at it objectively and judge for yourself. Can’t we all just agree that, racism aside, George Zimmerman is still kind of a douche bag?)

There is a term that is used far too much today. It’s a trigger word of sorts, that can bring people to their knees and potentially end careers

“Racist.”

Racism is no good thing, but I believe it’s thrown around far too liberally. And really, why not? Everyone’s a little bit racist. Allow me to elaborate. There are three basic kinds of racism;

1) Racism by Incident; the kind of racism that comes through experience, good or bad. Example; while I was working at Subway, I served a few Canadians. They’ve all been incredibly nice, going so far as to argue about who was going to pay for whose sandwich. However, I’ve also served a number of Asian people (I assume tourists, but hell, that assumption itself could be considered racist). And I’ve noticed that whenever Asians come in, there is some sort of hushed debate as to who is going to serve them. I’ve also noticed it usually ends up being me. To generalize in the kindest terms, they’ve seemed like pretty nice people; however, they have also been incredibly hard to understand. As such, I don’t like taking their orders. Of course, this racism isn’t limited strictly to making people’s sandwiches, it’s simply the freshest in recent memory.

2) Racism by Surroundings; the kind of racism that comes from community. Look, I know this to be true – you tend to be more comfortable around what you’ve grown up with. We call this “the bubble.” Traveling to other communities and societies can expand your bubble, but you’ve got to be willing to adjust and adapt. Growing up in Utah, that means Mormons, Republicans, and a whole lot of white people. It’s sad for me to admit my discomfort around black people. It’s not a dislike or distaste, it’s just not something I’m used to. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them, because of a crippling fear of offending them (this is called “white guilt,” most commonly associated with the Democratic Party). However, after spending two years in Brazil (where diversity is more subtly accepted rather than bluntly acknowledged), I became close with a man who is dark as night (so dark, in fact, that when we experienced a blackout, I couldn’t see him until I saw the white teeth in his smile – it was like the Cheshire Cat). To this day, I consider him a brother. Ironically, a two-year LDS mission made me less comfortable around Mormons and Republicans.

3) Misinformed Racism; the kind of racism that comes from idiocy. I can’t rationalize this one. I can’t tell you why the Ku Klux Klan hates anybody who isn’t a straight, white Protestant. I can’t tell you why the Black Panthers hate white people (although I think it has something to do with the Ku Klux Klan). And I can’t tell you why it’s socially acceptable for latinos to use the word “nigger” as freely as African-Americans. All I can say is they must be getting their information out of their ass instead of their head, because if you think long enough about it, there is no superior race.

That is to say, there is no superior race, but there are races. In America, it’s like we’re trying to get rid of our differences rather than embrace them. I don’t understand why America is so taboo about race. Here in America, we talk about diversity while trying to eliminate it. I don’t think we should judge people based on gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, etc., but I think we should celebrate differences instead of try to obliterate them. I’m a white guy. I have things pretty easy, all things considered. Face it; white people have had it pretty good for the past thousands of years. And I’m totally glad I’m not a woman – menstruation sounds awful, I would never want to go through the experience of childbirth, not to mention all the other things.

And what about jokes? Can’t we find humor in our humanity, or is that unacceptable? I always thought of humor as an antidote (or is that anecdote?) to tension. Most people I know laugh at racist jokes, but most people I know are not actually racists. That includes me (although I’ve never laughed at a Polack joke. It’s not that I’m above that, I’ve just never known any Polish people as a basis of comparison). I understand that not all stereotypes are accurate, but not all of them are bad, either. Irish and Mexican stereotypes actually share a lot in common; they’re both strongly Catholic, they both come from working-class backgrounds, and both have holidays that are celebrated in the U.S. Yet I will never celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with the gusto that I celebrate Cinco de Mayo. Is that because I hate the Irish? (Yes! I mean no!) I haven’t liked St. Patrick’s Day since I was a child. I never understood why I had to wear green and why I’d get pinched if I didn’t. And to this day, I have no clue as to what the celebration is actually about! It’s actually a religious holiday in Ireland, but here we seem to celebrate it because St. Patrick vanquished all the snakes from Ireland (which is much easier than it sounds). But with Cinco de Mayo, they’re celebrating a military victory over Napoleon’s France (not the true “Mexican Independence Day” as most Americans believe). I can get behind a celebration like that! The mestizos in Mexico rose up against the French occupation. Who doesn’t love a good underdog story? Besides, I like tacos and tamales more than corned beef and cabbage.

So why should we be color blind? Here’s a hypothetical situation; You own a convenience store. You were robbed. You have to file a police report. You have two options;

Dark male, possibly Indian, around 35 years old. (And yes, I said Indian to because they stereotypically run convenience stores, rendering it ironic. Who else would you assume to rob the store? A Polack? Racist.)

or:

Human being, gender unspecified, age undetermined, race not important.

Those are both accurate, but you’ll get better results using descriptions.

Here’s one final test on racial profiling for you. Who is known for fearing cops and loving fried chicken and watermelon? Give up? I was actually talking about myself. I have a pretty clean record, but policemen make me uncomfortable as hell, and I love me some fried chicken and watermelon. I could eat fried chicken weekly if I wasn’t sure I’d give myself colon cancer.

And you probably thought I was talking about Polacks.

(Expletive Deleted)

I love words. Words are constantly evolving. They’re the means by which we express ourselves and convey ideas and inform others. So how can you say what’s “good” and “bad”?

Utah is arguably “watch-your-language” central. And, to a degree, I can understand the desire to control what our children see and hear. You certainly wouldn’t want impressionable youngsters exposed to Mein Kampf (well, some of you might, but I wouldn’t want my children exposed to you). But censorship by any other name is still censorship. And there’s a whole grey area between black and white.

Lest I should offend anyone, allow me to warn you; salty language lies ahead. My objective is not to upset anyone, but to put profanity into perspective. But I will stick only to the six or seven most commonly used ones.

1) hell/damn – Keeping profanity biblical. As swearing goes, these two are the most accepted. In fact, there are those who don’t consider them profane at all, although I don’t understand why not; damnation and Hell are both pretty heavy subjects to some religious people, particularly of the Judeo-Christian faith (or even those vaguely familiar with it).

2) fuck – Ah, the “f-word.” Generally considered among the strongest of the swear words. It can be a noun, a verb, an adjective, even a pronoun.

3) ass – I suppose this could be considered biblical too, though few use it in any biblical sense. It is most commonly used as a crude term for one’s posterior, although its uses can be extended to those of questionable intelligence or maturity.

4) shit – It only seems appropriate I go from ass to shit (rimshot!) Shit is a common name for feces and, by extension, things of little value, with one major exception; when “the” is added to the beginning, it suddenly goes from awful to suddenly great. Example: “This hamburger is shit,” insinuating the burger in question is of low quality; “This burger is the shit,” which, by contrast, insinuates the burger is delicious or of high regard. I can think of no other words in the English language with which you can apply the same technique.

5) bitch – This is sometimes viewed as a sexist word, and it is; but not for the reasons you might think. A bitch is literally a female dog. A bitch, in the literal sense, can be viewed as aggressive, defensive, rude, etc. That seems an appropriate definition for the swear word. Some of the more humorless feminists I’ve met have been quite bitchy. So why, then, does the definition appear to change when used towards a man, to mean weak? Can’t we just agree to one definition, regardless of genitals?

6) bastard – This one is really more deplorable if it’s true; the word itself means you are an illegitimate child. It’s fun to say, but it might hurt a little more if I came from a broken home. But I know both of my parents and they’re good people (who would not appreciate such language).

No word is bad in and of itself.

Some words are used to hurt others, which is bad. But words are not physical entities. They are not rocks. They will not directly cause physical damage. But unlike rock, you cannot dodge words.

Some words are simply overused, which isn’t good. “Racist” (actually, let’s broaden that to any word that implies discrimination. It exists, but it’s become a joke. Not everybody you disagree with is “sexist/racist/homophobic/etc.”). Adding “gate” to the ends of words to make it scandalous (do most of the people using this even know about Watergate?). “Neil deGrasse Tyson” (did I miss something? When was he elected president of the internet? Did I miss the elections? I get it, he’s smart. Is it considered an added bonus that he’s also black? I’m obviously missing something).

That doesn’t exclude our beloved swear words. Sometimes, when you’re experiencing a hardship or frustration (or if you’ve just stubbed your toe), a good “f-word” feels great. But when every other word out of your mouth begins with an “f,” you start to sound uneducated. Learn some new words. Don’t limit your vocabulary. I curb my cursing. Not particularly out of moral grounds, but because it can become restrictive to vocabulary.

There’s a reason it feels kind of nice swear to express yourself. We given words power. Which is why there are those of us who want to edit our language. But we have to learn that we are stronger than words. Words cannot control us unless we give them our consent. And really, what sounds worse? Calling someone a “bitch” or calling them “afterbirth”? I guess “bitch” might sting, but not as harshly (or as grossly) as “afterbirth.”

Just something to think about, you disfigured failed abortions.

In Defense of Offense

It’s interesting how my political views have evolved within just the last ten years. Well, it’s interesting to me. I don’t really care how you feel about it.

Growing up in Utah, you kind of just assume everyone is Mormon and Republican. But when people venture outside of the mountain west (particularly when you leave the country), you notice – holy rusted metal, Batman! – there are a lot of different people with a lot of different philosophies.

I remember the first time I thought I might be liberal. I was in an American government class my senior year of high school. My teacher made a very moving point by leading us to believe that then-President George W. Bush had implemented a military draft. Before then I had been only vaguely conscious of politics, and it served as a hard awakening.

Fast-forward ten years, and I’m still not entirely sure where I stand; somewhere between the liberal wing of the Republican Party with the likes of Nelson Rockefeller and Richard Nixon and the socialist tendencies of Bernie Sanders.

Clearly, I have a hard time defining my political ideology, no matter how hard I try. Though I think it’s safe to say my views generally lay left-of-center.

Bored? I don’t blame you. Bare with me, people, I’ll try to think of a good wiener joke.

The biggest issue I have with liberalism is the need they feel to pander to people’s feelings. Political correctness is nothing more than the advocacy of limiting free speech under the guise of social progress. That’s to say nothing ill of social progress; civil liberties need to protected and developed. But part of that is protecting the Constitutional rights we have.

But don’t take my word for it. Here’s what just a few men smarter than myself have said on the subject of freedom of speech;

* “If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they don’t want to hear.” – George Orwell

* “I may not agree with you, but I will defend to the death your right to make an ass of yourself.” – Oscar Wilde

* “If we don’t believe in freedom of expression for those we despise, we don’t believe in it at all.” – Noam Chomsky

The question then becomes to what extreme the freedom of speech is defended. I once heard someone say that using the word the “n-word” is like screaming “fire” in a crowded theater. Well, no it’s not. Screaming “fire” in a crowded theater is reckless endangerment. Saying “nigger” is, at best, insensitive; at worst, bigoted and vile. It’s still not putting anyone in harm’s way. What it is is a sad reminder that racism still exists. But I’ve heard people use it no racial context.

However, I’ve heard the argument of freedom of expression used in looking at pictures and watching movies of gruesome death. To me, this argument has no merit; the deceased cannot give their consent to be used as a sick form of pornography. As soon as someone releases a video of a suicide (assisted or self-applied), then perhaps you can make a case for it, and I sincerely believe there are those who would do it. Until then, your point is invalid.

I guess I promised you a wiener joke. Well, here it is;

[CENSORED]

Explanatory Notes to the Forthcoming Writings

I’d like to think the world is a good place. Hell, I’d like to think the world is a bad place. I’d like to form some sort of opinion about the world besides apathy. I’ve seen the good, I’ve seen the bad; the cocktail of mixed emotions it gives me has left me feeling a bit disillusioned. That’s why I don’t feel anything for the world. Apathy by definition is neither good nor bad, and it makes emotional detachment more palpable. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever come to “zen.” Some of you may be thinking that’s not a very good attitude, but that’s kind of the point – it’s no attitude at all. Existentialism ad nauseam.

Now, let me clarify something; when I talk about “the world,” I’m speaking of the human condition, as opposed to the earth or even humanity. I’ve found joy in people and in nature (though I keep my relationship with each at a comfortable minimum – it might not be for everyone, but it works for me). I believe in taking care of our planet and the people thereon. But I’m weary of optimism. Any time I feel faith in anything, I find myself disappointed with everything.

Let’s get one thing straight; this is supposed to be happy blog. This is about finding humor (or, at least, mild amusement) in the absurdities of life. When tragedy strikes, you have two options; you can laugh or you can cry, and laughter is really more enjoyable.

A good cry is nice every once in a while. It’s healthy! Don’t fight it! Microwave some popcorn, watch The Land Before Time, and let nature take its course. But you can’t get caught up in it. You can’t go through your high school yearbook and think of all the missed opportunities. Well, you can (far be it from me to tell you how to live your life), but that’s no way to live your life. Sure, Chinese food can make a good breakfast (and it is – don’t eff with me on this, I know from experience), but you’ve got to keep some of that to yourself. Depression can be funny. What is comedy but a mask for tragedy? To a degree, all humor is rooted in pain.