(r)evolution

sit down, shut up

2011-12-12T15:56:00.000-08:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

“There's always soma to calm your anger, to reconcile you to your enemies, to make you patient and long-suffering. In the past you could only accomplish these things by making a great effort and after years of hard moral training. Now, you swallow two or three half-gramme tablets, and there you are. Anybody can be virtuous now. You can carry at least half your morality about in a bottle. Christianity without tears—that's what soma is.” –Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

Take a look at this graph. I’m sure you’ve seen it before. It shows the increase in income of the top 1 percent of the nation’s wealth holders compared to the rest of us. Pay particular attention to what happened when Ronald Regan took office in 1980 and introduced trickle-down economics into our vocabulary.

Now look at this second graph. It shows the number of antidepressants prescribed through the years. Notice how the green line (the total) almost mirrors the income growth of the top 1 percent.

Until waking up in epiphany this morning, I’ve always believed that the increase in antidepressants is strictly profit driven. Drug companies make money when doctors prescribe their drugs and doctors get kickbacks from the drug companies for prescribing them. And while I still believe this is a large part of it, you can’t deny the facts. The number of antidepressants has increased 400 percent in the past two decades, just as the income of the wealthiest has grown nearly 300 percent. So maybe it’s not all motivated by profit for the drug companies but also to keep the American poor feeling satisfied that everything is as it should be as the salaries of the wealthy continue to grow as we slip into a slave-labor state.

We can get into a deep philosophical debate on the mental health of our nation and the necessity of antidepressants. But I’m not going to do that. What you decide is best for your health is between you and your doctor. However, I will say this—if you are truly unhappy, you need make lifestyle changes, not just take pills to make the reality of your situation seem livable. Pills alone will never fix things.

Could it be that the increase in prescribed antidepressants is really just a way to keep the people feeling complacent about the state of the world? Rather than fighting for equal rights, safe working conditions, and fair pay, we take a pill and pretend to be content. Rather than realizing that the American dream is all but dead, we take a pill and trudge through another day. Rather than be upset and take action, we take a pill and turn on TVs and continue through the shit.

I don’t know. It’s just a thought. But what do you suppose would happen if we all weaned ourselves off the happy pills and put some effort into restoring the American dream? What do you supposed would happen if we stopped altering the chemical makeup of our bodies and instead altered the physical world around us to more-livable conditions? Do you think the top 1 percent would start to squirm?

Do you think we’d see a government mandate come down the line, requiring us to take our meds?

Thoughts? Feelings?

[image credit] [image credit]

happiness is a warm drill

2011-11-29T16:11:00.000-08:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

We men are like animals. In most every situation involving more than one man, you can bet (at least one of them) is sizing up the situation and looking for a way to establish himself as the alpha male. And just like the firmness of his handshake, you can tell a lot about a man by the size of his drill.

This is why, ladies, it’s important that your man has a good drill. There is nothing more emasculating than when another man is in your house and needs to use a drill and you hand over an off-brand drill that you bought at Big Lots for $14.99 with a chuck key dangling from a flaccid piece of rubber attached to the cord. Or worse, having to dig through the junk drawer in your kitchen while muttering, “I know that chuck key is around here somewhere.” Untangling an extension cord so that the guy who is fixing whatever it is that you are already not manly enough to fix on your own can plug in your pathetic drill is on par with getting caught with your trunks down after a swim in a cold lake.

Trust me on this one. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I finally acquired a nice Black & Decker 24-volt cordless drill. It’s got some weight to it. It’s got a big battery. It allows me to lower my voice, stick out my chest, and say, “You bet,” instead of, “Ummm, let me go see if I can find it,” when someone asks “Can I borrow your drill?” A weak, cheap drill screams out, “I haven’t made an investment in a nice drill because I’m incompetent when it comes to fixing things.” And fixing things is what real men do.

Having a nice drill helps a man establish his dominance over the other. It shows the other that while you may require some help at this particular moment, you generally know your way around Home Depot. When one man hands another man his drill, the drill ceases to be a drill and is instead a billboard advertising his ability to lead the hunt, make the kill, and bring home the bloody carcass of a gazelle home for his wife and children to feed upon on a daily basis.

When I’m helping someone with a project and they pull out an inferior drill, I know that from that point forward in our relationship that I am the dominant male. I own the other in all other aspects of life. And if I am handed a nice, big drill, I acknowledge it. An acknowledgement of a nice drill is just as important as owning one. When you say, “Nice drill,” what you really mean is, “I, too, am in this club and know what a nice drill looks like. So don’t go jumping to establish your dominance just yet, good sir. We’ve got some more posturing to do.”

So this holiday season, make sure the men in your life are equipped with nice drills—be it your husband, son, brother, or friend. Giving a man a nice drill is a gift that goes beyond just screwing things (though screwing things is definitely part of it). It helps build confidence. And who knows—you may just turn his otherwise pointless life around.

[image credit] [image credit]

lost: christian america

2011-11-15T13:42:00.000-08:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

“Jesus answered, 'If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’” —Matthew 19:21

Whenever I read scripture verses like this, I get confused as to how a country who claims so strongly to be founded upon Christianity can value personal wealth so greatly. With the sheer number of Christian denominations and followers, how is it possible that we allowed our values and morals to become so warped and molested that we have replaced our government with corporations?

By the very nature of business, it is impossible to be a successful businessperson and simultaneously a good Christian. You cannot separate the two. You cannot say that one is not related to the other. You cannot say that all is fair when it comes to business. You are not allowed to pick and choose your times and terms to apply Christianity. Because Christianity should shroud everything you do and its path should supersede all others. A good Christian has never said, “Don’t take it personally, it’s just business.” Only a person who fails to love thy neighbor as thy self is capable of uttering such words. You don’t get a pass on your un-Christian acts just because you are at work and making money. The decisions you make at work will be judged just as harshly as those you make off the clock. God doesn’t care about your vacation home or your Maserati.

This doesn’t reduce the importance of business in America. It also doesn’t mean that every successful, wealthy person lacks complete Christian morals. But let’s get real. God does not exist in business. His name has no place on our currency. When you go to work, you leave God at the door. The purpose of business is to make a profit at any and all costs. The desire of God (at least the God of Christianity) isn’t that we come to Earth and make more money than Him—it’s that we will return to Him through Christ and Christ’s teachings. Christ taught strongly to help others through self-sacrifice. There is no room for self-sacrifice in business—especially when referring to profit. And I’m not saying that choosing to be a good Christian is necessarily better than choosing do be a good businessperson. To each his or her own, I say. Just stop calling yourself a first-rate businessperson and an excellent Christian. Because for every dollar your business profits, I can show you a person dying without health insurance.

Can you imagine the prosperity our world would experience if business would make room for Christianity? By reducing profits even just a little, more employees could be hired, and those employees could get out of the unemployment lines and start caring for their families. In other words, you can’t teach a man to fish if you aren’t willing to give up any control of the water. So stop calling the unemployed masses lazy and give them jobs.

This is why we need government. Self-sacrifice occurs in government. Or at least, in theory, it’s supposed to. The problem we currently face is that the lines between business and government have become blurred. Business has worked its way so deeply into government that it’s pushed Christianity out completely. This is why we get so worked up over whether or not we can put a statue of the 10 Commandments on public property instead of just living the principals. It’s a façade. It’s a show. It’s a ruse. All designed to make you think our country still has a shred of Christianity left in its fiber while picking your pocket at the same time.

Because of the current economic state of the world (created by business, by the way), many people are being drawn to candidates with experience in making money rather than serving people. Corporate leaders are being considered over community organizers. Business leaders responsible for sending thousands of American jobs overseas, increasing the unemployment rate in their own (allegedly Christian) country so they can personally make a few more dollars are gaining ground over people who have devoted their lives to keeping as much of Christ's teachings in common practice. Somewhere along the line, we started valuing the rich over the true servants. Maybe we thought that the wealthy would eventually lead us to wealth. However, when you mix business with government, government will always side with the good of business over the good of the people. They have to. The money says they must. Then slowly (as we have seen), the people are no longer represented in government at all. We let the earthly prize get in the way of what really matters.

Wake up, Christians! Stop allowing yourselves to be tempted by business. Remember your eternal goals and don’t be distracted by shiny, pretty things. Always bear in mind, “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16).

[image credit]

into the black

2011-10-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

“I'm writing this book because we're all going to die.” –Jack Kerouac

I know, you don’t have to tell me. Liking Jack Kerouac is like liking U2. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to pretend to be disinterested. But I’m a white male pushing 40 from the suburbs and that’s just what I like.

My friend, Brian, posted something somewhat out of character over on The Cheek of God yesterday. Well, out of character if you don’t really know him. If you know him, it was perfectly in character. It’s just a little darker take on what he normally writes about. But what he writes about and who he is don’t always necessarily jive. He is a human being, after all.

This post started as a comment to him but has taken on a life of its own so I’m keeping it (sorry Brian). I haven’t written much for this blog lately. I’ve been working on a book and it’s taken the majority of my creative energy. So I’ll take it where I can get it. Is it weird that today, Brian Thomas has become my muse? A little, huh?

Regardless…

The hardest part of being an artist isn’t the craft, it’s the willingness to strip down and bare everything to everyone (God included). It’s the faith that if you take a step off this ledge, you won’t fall to your death. And if you do, it's ok.

This is why you can read every book on writing ever published, you can sign up for 374 classes and/or seminars, you can spend your nights studying the Greats, but if you aren’t willing to bleed on the page (to use a beat-to-death-horse cliché [or two]), none of it will matter. People will see right through it. They’ll gloss right over it. Because the world is saturated with small talk. We want to identify with each other on a deeper level. I want to know that I’m not the only one who feels. You will never touch the audience from the surface. You have to come down into the muck if you want to pull us out. “Go deeper into the crevasse, Lemon, go deeper” (Jack Donaghy [Alec Baldwin], 30 Rock). And as an artist, the only instinct is to go deeper. It’s the only way out.

This is why people who can’t stand me keep coming and reading this blog. Yeah, I’m talking to you, guilty-pleasure reader. You might not always (or ever) agree with what I write, but you’ll keep reading because I’m willing go there. Do I write everything I feel? Nope. But what I do write about comes from the same place. And it’s ugly down there. And you like to know that you aren’t the only one who has that place inside you. Even if you pretend you don't.

The typical response from those who tread lightly with their public display of emotion usually comes in the following two-part response: (a) a put-down to let you know that your way of thinking isn’t approved by the responders interpretation of what the public at large is thinking and (b) an attempt to sway you to their way of thinking. In other words, I don’t like what you’re writing, you should write about this instead. To which I reply, if you do not wish to write it, plenty of people are writing about what you want to read and you are free to read what you like elsewhere. But you won’t, will you? Because you like it and you only put it down because you are scared of it. Don’t be scared of who you are. Because you aren’t alone. We are all dying to feel something.

There is nothing more beautiful than raw emotion—be it on the page, the screen, or even a basketball arena (is anything more exhilarating than high-fiving a stranger?). Rather than discouraging it, we should appreciate those who are willing to open themselves up and say, “I know I am ugly. So are you!” It's joy that brings us together, it is pain that bonds us.

So I wish to thank writers like Brian Thomas and Barbara DeCesare and Christian Peet and Julianna Spallholz who are willing to set aside their masks—even if just for a moment—to show me that I’m not alone in my ability to feel. Because if we release control just a little bit now and then and dip our toes into chaos, we might actually get through this shit life together.

Because life sucks. Ain’t it great!

heigh ho

2011-10-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

When we moved to California a little over a year ago, I became fascinated with the birds. I would sit on the back porch and watch the hummingbird who became territorial of our feeder. I would watch the woodpeckers build their nest in a hole in the tree right outside our bedroom window. I would notice when new and different birds came through the greenbelt behind our townhome. I would get excited. “There’s a new bird out there! Everyone come look!” Nobody came to look. And if they did, they only feigned interest. They could have tried harder, that’s all I’m saying.

Now we live in about as rural an area as you can get in Southern California and the birds are awesome. We still have hummingbirds fighting over our feeder (What can I say? I make a mean batch of nectar.) but on top of the normal array of birds, we have eagles and falcons and vultures.

We also have ants.

The ants where we live are the most industrious and tenacious ants you’ll ever find and I’ve been forced to spray the perimeter of our house to keep them out of our domain. An invisible moat of toxic chemicals. But those little buggers will travel in a single-file line for 50 yards into a crack in the foundation, up through the wall, and out through the gap between the wall and the electrical outlet cover for a piece of cat food.

So once we got them out of the house, I’ve taken to tracking them outside. Not to kill them (I’ll give them the outside world… I’m not a tyrannical maniac—we can share the outdoors) but to observe the lengths they’ll go for a grain of sugar. They travel such long and crazy distances that it’s kind of fun to follow them back to their homes. Just to see how far they’ll go. They’ve travelled across the yard, up the tree stump, through a maze of branches, and down to the hummingbird feeder, where they’ll pick up microscopic particles of sweetness to carry back to the queen (I told you my nectar formula was the bomb!). They’ll navigate a highway of cracks in the concrete to find the garbage can (which we have to keep out away from the house just because of the ants. We’re talking long distances. How do they find this food this far away from their home base? They’re intelligent little buggers. We don’t give them enough credit.

The road that goes by our house gets busy every evening. I understand why, to a certain degree. If you follow that road for 3 miles east, you’ll hit I-15 and from there, you can go anywhere. So I get the destination. It’s where they're coming from that has me baffled. That street originates at our little Main Street. The only way to get there is to leave the other main arterial highway heading to I-15, drive north for 10 miles, then turn onto the road that goes by our house. Why would you leave the road already taking you to I-15 to drive 20 minutes out of your way to get to the same place?

The other day, my wife and I were on Main Street, waiting for our chance to turn, watching all the cars appearing out of nowhere. And I asked the question, “Where are they all coming from?” And my wife said, “You and your ant watching. Always trying to trace it back to the origin.”

And that’s when it hit me. We’re all just ants. We’re all doing our jobs, in search of food to bring back to the colony to feed the queen. We get our little nibbles along the way, but the nice juicy bits are delivered to the queen. It’s just our natural tendency as natural creatures.

And this got me thinking. We know ants communicate with each other but we really don’t know the extent and complexity of it. Just because our science has yet to decode their language, doesn’t mean that they don’t have their own intricate creation myths. We are so large in relation to ants, that we aren’t even comprehended or seen. An ant looking up to the top of my shoe would be like me looking up at a sky scraper. Forget about what an ant actually sees when it looks up to my head. When my shoe steps onto their line of traffic, what do they think? They are there, minding their own business, heading out to do their jobs, not really happy to be going to the garbage can but they do it because maybe they'll get that promotion and get to go to the fallen piece of cheeseburger next week and BAM! a dozen of them are suddenly dead. Smashed flat without warning. This random act of me walking, and I may not even realize I stepped on them, would be considered an act of God. Do they have evangelical ants who try to rationalize it by attributing it to the colony’s immoral behavior. Did me spraying Ortho around my foundation single-handedly keep gay ants out of the ant army for another decade because it was God’s way of telling them they were wicked?

We don’t really know anything. How could we? Size is relative. For all we know, we are microscopic parasites feeding on the inside of an atom. We can’t comprehend the size of the universe outside our general vicinity. Just like the ants can’t comprehend the size of humans. And if you can see instances where we behave like ants, why is it impossible to believe that ants behave like humans in more ways than we can actually detect? And who’s to say what lies beyond our mental and physical grasp?

We need to realize that we are just another part of the natural order of things. We aren’t so special that we are above it all. That’s where things get dangerous. That’s where we start making assumptions about where we fit in the grand scheme of things. And you know what happens when you assume, don’t you?

[image credit]

folding laundry

2011-09-21T20:33:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

Upstairs I hear children's footsteps. They scamper across the kitchen looking for me. I hear little voices call my name, "Mom!" Concerned that I've abandoned them, they don't even think to check the laundry room. I stay quiet. A selfish moment of self-indulgence. I am wanted.

plug unplug plug unplug

2011-09-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

It’s hard to stay grounded. Nothing is concrete anymore. Everything exists offsite. In the ether.

Just look at our computers, for example. Everything is disposable. We don’t even worry about our hard drives crashing anymore. Everything is backed up somewhere else. Which makes it more difficult to destroy any evidence, but too convenient to worry about those types of things. Thus increasing prison populations.

Why, God, must everything that goes up come down?

Or take music and television. We’re not going into a store to buy it or tied to sitting in front of a box to watch it. We download it and watch it from our phones. From our phones! In Al Kharjijah if you so desire! That’s in Egypt, by the way. Way out there. It wasn’t until just recently, but your cell phone can even get service from there; therefore, making it necessary to find a new high-lubricant-consuming country to insert into the old expression.

It’s wild!

So it’s no wonder that as technology rolls along, we occasionally dislodge from the soil that’s eroding through time. We get carried away in the current. We let go and let it take us to the next bend where we snag on a stick. And just hang there. Until the next time.

We’re losing the need for place. We’re evolving our need for soul. We no longer form friendships and families based on vicinity. We find connections in the particles in the airwaves. Transmitted through wires. Or air. We expand our spirits by venturing beyond body. Electrical connections transmitting through vapor.

This is where the new revolution will transpire. Violence is obsolete. Everything exists offsite. The housing no longer means anything. We’re just containers. Computers backed up in the universe. Evidence of our transgressions intact. But so are the photos.

So you take the good with the bad. The lumps with the life.

The simplicity of war is lost with the insistence of self-cleaning toasters and movies on demand. You can’t just drop a few bombs and stand in front of a banner proclaiming victory. Borders no longer mean anything when we’re all connected through microwaves and satellites. And if you kill one of us, you kill us all.

It’s taken the digitalization of life to finally make us human. It’s taken exposure to language to finally make us understand.

Because I am you and you are me. Brothers and sisters and enemies. We’re all just chemical reactions. We’re all electricity. Because as much as you hate me, you are me. I know that’s hard to swallow. And believe me, the feeling is mutual. But our physical location is no longer fashionable. We’re all anywhere at any given moment.

So how do you stay grounded when home is everywhere? How do you define yourself when family is everyone? How do you take advantage of another when you just do it to yourself?

You don’t.

You love.

[image credit]

i want i want i want

2011-09-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

In our dreams we sleep in the shade of summer, regardless of what’s happening outside. I hate waking up. Another day fighting to make it through to night. Another night waiting for day.

My son asked me the other day what the point of going to school was if he was just going to eventually die. He’s 8. Or 80. Sometimes they all seem so much wiser than me.

I want them to tuck me in bed at night and tell me it will all be ok. I want their advice and guidance through life. I want bedtime stories and promises of better days. I want to go back and have them with me from the beginning. They came along too late in my life to change me when it mattered. We would have made a great gang.

But instead I watch lightning storms behind eyelids. Drown in the static in my head. Wake up paralyzed to the alarm clock. And ride on their shoulders into tomorrow.

the happiest place on earth

2011-09-13T20:42:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt, vagina

This past week has been difficult. The 9/11 anniversary came and went and it took everything I had to not write about it. September 11, 2001, was a defining moment for me. It caused me to reflect on my own decisions and reflect on my own life. I changed careers because of it. I made personal choices based on those events that have sent me down a very different path than I was heading at that moment. It also sent me into a deep internal debate about patriotism and where I stood in the landscape of America.

I chose to not write about it. I chose, instead, to grit my teeth and deal with my emotions in a not-so-public forum.

Then today this guy named Ryan Packer of Kearns, Utah, called me a vagina because I have sympathy for innocent Iraqi and Afghani citizens who had nothing to do with the 9/11 attacks but were also forced to deal with death and destruction in their homelands at the hands of America because of the actions of a few.

I don’t know Ryan Packer. I can only make assumptions on his character based on the few words he wrote to me. I’m guessing he’s the kind of guy who has no problem voicing his disdain of education as he covers himself with deer piss before the big hunt. I imagine he’s the kind of guy who waves a flag and screams chants of “U-S-A” but has no concept of what it even means to be American, because everything he says and does is the opposite of the founding principles of America.

But I don’t know. I’ve never met him.

And I suppose this is the real problem with patriotism. When we blindly fall in line behind country, we lose touch with humanity.

I’m by no means a pacifist. I believe there are times when violence is absolutely necessary. We shouldn’t stand by when another government turns on its people. Our recent involvement in Libya is one of those instances. I wish Bill Clinton would have gotten us involved in Rwanda before the horrors that happened there took place. But that’s not what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan. Both of those wars started as U.S. invasions of unarmed countries.

And why were the vast majority of people pushing for these invasions? Patriotism. Why do backward-facing xenophobes like Ryan Packer still associate the death of innocent people at the wrong end of a US-fired missile as justice? Patriotism.

But I can’t blame him and people like him. It’s easy to pull on your wranglers, get into your jacked-up pickup truck (and you know what they say about the size of a little man’s truck), and associate 1.57 billion people with the 19 terrorists (15 of them from Saudi Arabia, by the way, but that’s a minor piece of information when you’re talking to “patriots”). This is America. We’re all about doing it the easy way. And patriotism is the easiest way to sleep at night when you live in a country who has dealt out more death in the past 10 years than Ryan Packer can comprehend, let alone quantify. Patriotism is also what keeps educated foreigners from taking the good jobs. Rather than putting in the work to keep those jobs in American hands, let’s just kill them all. At the very least, you sound manly when you say it. Especially with a drawl.

I have a lot of problems with America. Then again, I hold our country to a higher standard than most. Expecting America to live up to the bullshit we spout is what makes me patriotic. Saying you’re a patriotic American when you behave like a terrorist is what makes you a hypocrite. Please stop it. You’re embarrassing those of us who want this country to stand for something.

I feel great honor for the brave Americans who were still going up the stairs in the World Trade Center when the building came down. I have great sympathy for the families of those whose lives were lost. I also have great pride in those who serve in our military, even though I don’t agree with the wars they are forced to fight. I would like all of those serving their country in our unpatriotic wars to return home safely. But I also have great sympathy for the families of those who lost their lives as a result of our patriotic justice. No matter where you live or the color of your skin or which god you pray to, we’re all humans, regardless of borders. To hate simply based on birthplace is simply lazy.

You’re lazy, Ryan Packer. And laziness is what’s wrong with this country right now. But God bless you, anyway. God bless us all.

[image credit]

punching clocks

2011-09-12T09:20:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

In his next life, Pedro orders the penguin to pour him a drink. The penguin complies without question.

Pedro gives the penguin the rest of the day off. Pedro understands kindness in a way that was never shown to him. He feels mercy in his stomach. He holds compassion in his chest. He masks sympathy on his breath.

“Tomorrow,” he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

if not you, who?

2011-08-31T10:18:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

This world is shit.

The rich are pissing on the poor. The middle class is eating itself. The government is corrupt. Health care costs are killing people faster than disease. And it seems every single person is only looking out for his or herself.

But even with all of that, there are still amazing people out there. People who work full-time jobs and take care of their families and deal with the everyday hardships that we all face. What makes them extraordinary is that on top of all that, they also dig deep and find the energy to contribute to their fellow humans in need.

If you watch Fox News and agree with them when they say that the government is too big, if you nod your head in approval when they say government programs that help people should be cut, or if you emphatically share their opinion that tax dollars should be used to help the rich grow their bank accounts and poor people should look to private donations for help, then put your money where your mouth is and throw some money toward these private organizations and the people who are donating their time and energy in an effort to make the world a better place. You don’t even have to get up from your chair. You don't even have to wad it up and throw it at them like you do with the guy at the freeway offramp. Just click your mouse and type a few strokes on your keyboard.

Billy Lewis-Croft makes homemade salsa to trade for donations to Walk Now for Autism Speaks. If you’re not in Utah where salsa orders can be picked up, you should still donate. Autism Speaks is dedicated to increasing awareness of autism spectrum disorders; to funding research into the causes, prevention, and treatments for autism; and to advocating for the needs of individuals with autism and their families.

Click here to donate to Billy’s team.

Jessica Mogis is raising money for Out of the Darkness Community Walks with donations going to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is at the forefront of research, education, and prevention initiatives designed to reduce loss of life from suicide. With more than 33,000 lives lost each year in the U.S. and over one million worldwide, the importance of AFSP's mission has never been greater, nor our work more urgent.

Click here to donate to Jessica’s team.

Stacey Woods is raising money for Step Out: Walk to Fight Diabetes with donations going to Stop Diabetes and the American Diabetes Association. Stop Diabetes is the movement to end the devastating toll that diabetes takes on millions of individuals and families across our nation. It inspires and mobilizes the general public, volunteers, donors, corporations, and the scientific and medical communities to rally around our cause and our call to "share, act, learn ,and give." The American Diabetes Association is the only non-profit organization supporting all 25.8 million Americans living with diabetes.

Click here to donate to Stacey’s team.

These are just three examples of everyday people who are putting their own problems aside and doing what they can to make the world a better place. So skip the McDonald’s for lunch today and give five bucks (or if you have it, give a lot) to these or other charities. Your waistline and thousands of people in need will thank you. And in this fight against the general negativity in the world, a little positive energy goes a long way.

an open letter to tysdaddy

2011-08-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

I met this guy named Brian some time ago. I’m not sure exactly how long it’s been. Maybe a couple years. Online years tend to blend together way more than regular physical years (maybe that’s why everybody is in such a funk… we’re spinning in a blender of physical and online years as we merge technology with our everyday lives). Brian and I have never met in person and we’ve only spoken on the phone once and it was mostly trying to figure out Spotify.

A while back, I started writing a version of this blog (I deleted it in an attempt to go off the grid right before I embraced the grid, which was a huge mistake as I've never been able to come close to matching my readership of that first blog). At the time, I was working on networking and increasing readers, so I was commenting on a lot of other blogs, trying to bring readers to mine. That’s when I came across The Cheek of God. I really liked it. It touched a chord. This guy was sappy and funny and he thought the same way I do about a lot of things. Mostly about how you can still be a loving and spiritual human being after breaking from religion. So I started commenting. And my plan worked. He visited my blog and started commenting.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I self-published a book of flash fiction (which is still available here… wink wink nudge nudge). Brian was the first person to buy it.

Since then, we’ve gotten to know each other, pushed each other’s writing, and (I can’t speak for Brian but as for me) he’s helped me develop a greater understanding of who I am by realizing that I’m not entirely alone in my ways of thinking. He’s helped me learn that there are people out there who have lived entirely different lives than I have, yet we are all connected in our desire to love and be loved. He's forced me to stop settling for gimicky rhetoric and fill everything I write with soul.

And now, I wouldn’t hesitate to call him my friend. And if we lived closer, I’m sure we’d hang out from time to time and talk about how our pasts have influenced our presents.

So what am I getting at? Well, that was a long introduction to a brief letter.

Dear Brian,

You have not posted to The Cheek of God in over 2 months. And even then, your posts were growing few and far between. Please start posting more frequently. When you don’t, I tend to start rambling about politics. Your beautiful posts about life, family, humanity, and love are what inspire me to make my writing more personal and less soapboxy.

Your immediate attention and remedy to this matter are greatly appreciated.

Sincerely and selfishly,

Mark Hammerschmidt, president of your fan club

with your pound of flesh

2011-08-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

Have you ever noticed that Republicans are completely enamored with the notion of celebrity? Look at these candidates they have running. Nobody is listening to a word any of them are saying. This Republican nomination isn’t going to come down to who has the best ideas to get America back on track. It’s going to come down to which candidate has the most heat at the time of the election.

I suppose it all started with Ronald Reagan (along with every other major problem we now face as a nation). And today, we’re seeing it again with Sarah Palin. Has she ever said anything of substance? Does anyone actually know where she stands on anything? Has she provided any real input into any policies? Yet, when she tweets, a whole segment of the conservative population gets all hot and bothered and scatters higgledy-piggledy in an orgasmic dance of excitement and wonder.

And look who the real leaders of the Republican party are—Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, and Ann Coulter. These aren’t elected officials who have dedicated their lives to the service of others. These are entertainers. These are celebrities who are making money by being extreme. The more extreme, the bigger the celebrity. The bigger the celebrity, the more you eat it up. Can you see how this snowballs toward disaster?

The crazy thing is that you’ve got some good candidates, Republicans. But you’ve already pushed Tim Pawlenty from the race because he doesn’t have that rugged cowboy image that you like in your Presidents. And what about Jon Huntsman? Here’s a guy with some real and rational ideas who might actually be able to bring a bipartisan approach to getting things done in Washington. However, you’re not interested in sanity, you’re interested in celebrity. Be sure to throw your support behind the loudest, most-entertaining actors and tune out anyone who doesn’t travel with a three-ring circus.

This is America, after all. We thrive on celebrity. We live our lives based on tabloids. We worship rock stars. We eat ice cream for breakfast.

We don’t care if every word we hear is a lie as long as it is delivered with pizzazz.

If only Michele Bachmann could get Jim Carrey to profess his love for her on Youtube—she’d be a shoe in!

[image credit]

dejen resonar la libertad

2011-08-24T08:21:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

It’s true. The Mexicans have stolen our jobs. They slid right in and yoinked that strawberry-picking job right out from under you. They were like thieves in the night when they stole your ditch-digging job. They came like an earthquake out of nowhere, leaving behind a pile of rubble (very neatly stacked on the curb awaiting pickup) in your place.

What did you expect? They are hungry. And sure, we have a lot of hungry Americans, but we’d rather just go on welfare or sleep in the streets or show up with guns at town hall meetings before we did some actual hard work. Sorry, that was a stereotype. I didn’t mean you. Of course, I didn’t mean you.

Let’s face it, the quiet Latinos with their mustaches and chinos are here to stay. And that’s good. We need them. As mentioned previously, Americans don’t like to work. We might get a little irritated at the way they wear long sleeves in the summer, whistle at our women, listen to music that doesn't even come close to resembling rock and roll, and speak in a secret language that we can’t understand (nevermind that Spanish is spoken in 20 countries and there are more Spanish speakers across the globe than English speakers—we’ll be damned if we’re going to learn anything other than American [which isn’t exactly English… ask a Brit if you don’t believe me]), but in a corporate-driven society, we need cheap labor. And what right-minded person would want to live in a place like Nicaragua when they could be standing under a cracked Washington Monument? Would you?

So why are we fighting it? Why do we think it makes us better Americans if we discourage the wholesale importing of cheap labor? After all, it’s not their fault that our system requires cheap labor to function. Do you honestly think that if we deported all illegal immigrants back to their homelands that Americans will get back to work? I’ve seen a total of zero white Americans standing in the day labor area in front of Home Depot. Zero. No, this country was built on slavery. It will always be the case.

But I get it—the real worry isn’t in this current working group of toilet scrubbers and bed makers. It’s in their children who are taking their parents’ work ethic and putting it into play in the school system. The problem is that their kids work harder than our kids and the next generation will be competing for the good jobs.

So why wouldn’t you want this next generation to be American citizens? Why wouldn’t you want the smartest, most-talented individuals on our team, paying taxes back into our system?

Oh, I see. You don’t want to put forth the effort to encourage and help your kids in school. I understand. It’s much easier to let them play Nintendo while we complain about Michelle Obama wanting them to eat healthier. It’s much easier to place blame elsewhere than face our own demons.

And what about the welfare system? That was put into place by our “Founding Fathers” to help white people. It’s not there for people in search of the American dream, it’s there for people who have squandered it.

So what about this?

What if the United States implements an amnesty tax. Basically, if someone is here illegally, they will be granted amnesty and given citizenship and, in return, they will agree to pay double the income tax for 10 years. They get the citizenship that they wouldn’t have previously been able to afford, the U.S. government gets some extra money in its pocket, immigrants are able to be tracked and accounted for, and the future generation entering the high-tech job market will stay inside our borders and continue to offer their services at the next level.

No, this won’t cure your hatred of brown people, but it will increase national security. And isn’t bolstering national security the real phony reason for doing everything?

[image credit]

bathtub reality

2011-08-19T11:36:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

In a universe where Sleeping Beauty plays with Spiderman, I turn on hot water to wash dirt and candy from the faces and hair of children returned to reality for 10 minutes of bath. As they soak in steam clouds, their secret identities are revealed beneath chocolate and grime, dripping like makeup from the faces of princesses and superheroes.

Then a rush back to play land where the game has been changed by the entrance of pajamas. And now they are pixies and robots and elves, bound together in a universe collectively imagined.

And when sleep overcomes them and they spread out across floors and couches and blankets, they dream of worlds without cares and lives before pain. Where plastic shoes don’t make you slip on hard floors.

And in the morning, as we all sit around the table eating breakfast together as a family, they are no longer children, but little adults, eagerly awaiting their turn to grow up.

From Drawing the Short Straw

[image credit]

bootlickers, inc.

2011-08-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

It’s time to stop blaming the government. It’s time to stop hoping they will step in and save us. Liberals, stop waiting for elected officials to do something. Conservatives, since you hate government so much, stop blaming them for the state of the country and start taking some responsibility.

“What we need is a jobs plan.” You’ve heard this from both sides. Yet, neither side has any intention of bringing jobs back to America. The jobs are gone. The sooner you face that fact, the sooner you can move on to figuring out what to do next.

The biggest con being perpetrated on the American people right now is the promise of the return of the economy. We hear it every day. “Just hang tight, America, once the economy is back on track, life will return to normal.” You’ve heard this message. You believe this message. It’s a sham. The economy is not coming back.

Those who will survive this mess will be those who come to the realization that the economy is never going to return to its previous condition and instead of waiting for it to come back, learn to function in the current state of the world.

It’s time for a revolution.

Corporate America has no intention of rehiring anybody. At least not while Obama is in office and certainly not at their previous salaries. And this isn’t Obama’s fault. This is corporate America putting their boot to our necks so we’ll vote against Obama and, in turn, put in someone who will make it easier for them to make even more money at our expense. And in the meantime, these corporations are banking on us doing nothing but sitting around on our widening asses and waiting. That way, when they do start hiring again, it will have been so long since anyone had a job that we'll be so happy to go back to work that we'll do it at a fraction of our previous salaries.

Stop confusing capitalism with corporatism.

Unless the middle class gets back to our entrepreneurial ways and starts working with each other and bypasses the current corporate system, we will continue down this path to corporate slavery.

I’m not talking about blowing up the system. I’m talking about bypassing the system.

The revolution will not come as a violent wave. It will be a slow-moving migration away from corporate dependency toward local sustainability. This means getting out of the box stores and buying locally grown and manufactured food, products, and services. This means buying milk from the local dairies and clothes from American manufacturers. This means bringing back the mom-and-pop shops. This means supporting farmers markets and buying products from Web sites such as Etsy and Big Cartel. This means spending a little more up front to make an investment in fellow Americans instead of lining the pockets of the wealthy while contributing to the loss of jobs to overseas companies.

Big business and the government aren’t going to do anything about it. It’s up to us.

Create new networks. Stop looking at bartering as an archaic practice that led to the demise of the Native Americans. Look at it as a means of survival. Trade food from your garden for eggs from your neighbor. Trade work on a Web site for the unclogging of a drain. Stop putting your money back into the corporate system and keep it with the middle class.

You say you hate government and paying taxes—start dealing at a local level in cash. Buy from yard sales and swap meets or Craigslist.

Take off your sweat pants and slippers and get out of WalMart. Be proactive. There are millions of us. Why are we so dependent on a few thousand money-grubbing rich guys? It’s time to make the wealthy feel some pain, too. As long as we support them by purchasing their cheap crap, we will continue to be at the mercy of their whims.

Or maybe that’s what you want. It’s much easier to blame someone else for the pathetic state of our country if it means you can continue to indulge your gluttony.

Just stop blaming the President. Because the solution lies in you.

[image credit]

hang the dj

2011-08-12T09:31:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

When you look at the unrest going on in the U.K. right now, it's clear that the U.S. is heading toward similar events. We're not quite there yet. Too many people still have faith that either the government, the corporations, or God will save them. But when they don't, it could get ugly. And even though we have a nice fat warning right here in front of us, we will still act surprised.

Of course the media will blame the liberals. Revolutionaries will be labeled as welfare moochers wanting what doesn't belong to them. You will hear no mention of conditions in which these people have been forced into. And don't tell me they, as Americans children born into the projects, have a way out.

Here's the thing... when the human spirit is cornered, the human spirit fights. This is why most revolutions are successful. Those with something to fight for always fight harder than those who have everything they could ever dream of.

It's impossible to sit in your suburban, middle-class home and question the integrity of those who started the riots without taking into account the reason why the riots happened. Even back to the L.A. riots here in the U.S. It wasn't simply a bunch of lawless heathens taking to the streets in the name of crime and looting. It was a group of people who had no other choice given their circumstances. A group of people who could no longer take the blatent abuse. And unless you were there and part of it, you really can't pass judgement.

And who are the Republican middle class to put their pinkies in the air whilst sipping tea to poo poo on violence anyway when they turn around and and jump in their pickup trucks with decals of beautiful elk on their windows and head out to the woods to drink beer and violently kill real elk while downing Keystone Light? How do you put down civil in London while cheering for the deaths of "towelheads" in the two wars of our own? Republicans are the epitomy of violence. Their hatred breeds it, thier love of money fosters it, and their devotion to God justifies it.

For the first time since September 11, I've felt unsure about the future. But this time it's not a fear of blood-thirsty anti-American terrorists, it's a fear of middle-aged, white Republicans who are hell-bent on bleeding the American public dry so one of their cronies will get elected to office and help them turn the American middle-class into a slave-labor class.

Listen, I'm not condoning violence. I would like to see things change before it ever gets to that point. But until you stop focusing on what those in power in our country are doing instead of what they are saying, we'll continue down this path of oppression until eventually, somebody will have no choice but to throw the first brick.

[image credit]

do the evolution

2011-08-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

Human beings, by our very nature, are selfish creatures. Those who are naturally selfless get walked all over and typically spend their lives being used and abused because they don’t understand that everybody else doesn’t operate in the same fashion. The rest of us have to make conscious decisions not be selfish and greedy. It’s not our fault. We’re programmed for self preservation. We’re animals going on instinct.

Here’s the problem—we, as humans, like to pretend we’re above the rest of the animal kingdom. This means that we possess the ability to think rationally and understand the difference between right and wrong. But that’s not how we’re naturally wired. So we have to take each situation as it comes and make a decision to either follow our gut instinct of self preservation and lust for more than the next guy or go against our natural tendencies and put ourselves in the other person’s shoes.

And it’s hard.

Making ourselves the center of the universe is easy.

But if you are going to continue to serve yourself, you are nothing more than an animal. And that’s fine. But let’s be sure to call a spade a spade. Human beings are animals. We are no greater than any other animal. We are self serving and ungrateful. We are gluttonous vultures feeding on the weak. We’re not created in God’s image. We’re not created in anything close to God’s image.

On the other hand, if you want to put yourself on a pedestal and say you are more evolved than any other species—prove it. Show that you can make a conscious effort to put someone else ahead of you. Be it with money or pride or just acknowledging feelings. Be selfless. Because that’s what separates us from the rest of the food chain—the ability to put someone else first.

Otherwise, we’re all just monkeys. And let’s cut the crap and stop pretending otherwise.

Ooo ooo. Ah ahh.

[image credit]

back in the city by the lake

2011-08-08T10:56:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

Salt Lake City has a smell to it on summer mornings. It’s not a bad smell. It’s a familiar smell that I never realized until this morning. It reminds me of summer breaks and how the kids on our street were all really close.

Our street was a good street. Everyone’s yard was open territory. Everyone’s front doors were unlocked. Everyone’s refrigerators were free for the raiding. At night, we’d play games like kick the can. Or just lay on lawns and watch satellites.

We were caged orangutans. Lazy and bored. Captive but free.

There were dynamics. There was a hierarchy. We were a subculture operating below the radar of our parents. We were Lord of the Flies in the suburbs.

Leaving Utah and starting new was the best decision I’ve ever made. But that doesn’t mean I hate coming back to visit. It’s got mountains and deserts. It’s got family and friends. It’s got blue skies and dry heat. And that certain smell on summer mornings that reminds me we’re all still kids inside in spite of our age.

[photo credit]

cutting loose the anchors

2011-08-04T08:56:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

Being a dad is hard. Believe me, there are days that I feel like slipping across the border into Mexico and just disappearing from the grid entirely, leaving my kids to fend for themselves in a world filled with wolves and Republicans. But those thoughts are merely momentary lapses of exhaustion and only entertained on a fantasy level. I would never leave my kids to fend for themselves in a world filled with Republicans. Wolves they can handle.

The fight for custody of my kids hasn’t been easy. It’s taken several years and we’re now tens of thousands of dollars in debt. Our credit is shot. We’ll probably never own a home again. We live life paycheck to paycheck, crossing our fingers that a child support check shows up on time, hoping utilities stay on and the food that my mother-in-law stocks us up with will last until we see her next. I’ve had to take out loans in my mom’s name that I struggle to pay. Our cars rattle, our clothes are faded, and our home is furnished with yard sale furniture. But I’ll tell you this—it’s been worth it. If for no other reason than I get to pull their covers up over their little (growing big) bodies and kiss them on the forehead every night. And if I had to go back to not tucking them in every night, I’d do it over again a thousand times until I got it right.

I’m so lucky. I have a wife who not only tolerates it, she encourages it and participates in their lives like she is their natural mother. She could hold bitterness and resentment at the difficulty that bringing them into her home and life has caused. But she doesn’t. She gets it. She loves them. We’re a family.

It’s been about 25 years since my parents divorced and my dad decided that fighting through the everyday struggles of being a divorced man was hard enough without dealing with the everyday struggles of being a divorced dad. I had the stereotypical divorced-parents childhood of waiting on the front steps for him to take us for a burger until dark because he couldn’t even break off a phone call to say he wasn’t coming. I quit every sport I started because what was the point of working hard at practice so I could play on Saturday for other kids’ dads? What was the point of doing anything if nobody was there to say they were proud of you?

And this isn’t meant to be a bitch session about how nobody loves me or a pity party where I’ve invited you all here to feel sorry for me. I just find myself at a moment in my life where my son is developing into a man and looking up to me. And I’m realizing that I’m completely winging it. Nobody showed me the ropes. Nobody showed me how to be a man. How am I supposed to teach my own son?

Looking back, the only male role models I had were my grandfathers. My dad’s dad has always held a certain mystique and clout and, until recently, I’ve always considered him to be the only positive male role model I’ve had in my life. But really, it’s not the man that I’ve looked up to all these years but the memory of the perception that I had of him when I was 12. But that’s only because I never saw him. In the end, that whole family kind of turned their backs on us. I’m the one who has always made the effort to keep them in my life. My mom’s dad is the only man who was ever really there for me and he’s the one I’ve shown appreciation to the least. I suppose in some regards and despite all efforts to be the opposite, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

So here I am at nearly 40 years old, finally ready to release it. This slow-moving tsunami of built-up shit and garbage has finally made its way to shore and I’m either going to sink or swim.

I’ve spent most of my life doing things on my own. I don’t get a lot of support in anything that I do. Part of me looks at this as a good thing. I’m proud of myself. I put myself through college and grad school 100 percent on my own (after dropping out of high school a week before graduation). I went from being a bum who jumps from job to job to having a semi-successful professional career. I’ve been able to make my own mistakes and figure life out on my own terms. Most of my achievements have come from my own hard work and determination and most of my failures have gone unnoticed and haven’t been publically scrutinized by my family.

On the other hand, it’s been an extremely lonely life.

A life that I will fight to the death to make sure my kids don’t suffer through.

And I’m not saying that my kids will never experience pain and suffering. Because they will. That’s what life is. But their pain and suffering won’t come as a result of me not being there. I am the one they turn to for help. No matter what I’m going through in my own life, it always takes a back seat when they need me. And they know that I've sacrificed everything to fight for them and will continue to do so. They will never feel like they aren't good enough or not deserving of my love.

Whatever has happened in my life has happened. It’s over. I hold no more grudges. My shoulders are light. My breathing is easy.

My kids deserve me clean, free of rancor. They deserve happy memories. I’m their dad. I am their happy memories.

And besides, it doesn’t look like these Republicans are going away anytime soon.

a rush and a push

2011-08-02T08:56:00.000-07:00

by Mark Hammerschmidt

They say it’s stoned wallabies to blame for the crop circles in Australia. That’s one of the most delightful things I’ve ever heard. You’d never see that here in America. Whoever owned the land would have either shot them all dead or would be fighting with the government to get the permit to shoot them all dead. Either way, we wouldn’t just let the wallabies be wallabies (especially with natural opiates—how dare they bypass the pharmaceutical industry like that!). So I’m glad this happened in Australia.

My thoughts on government are changing with age. Everyone always says the older you get, the more conservative you get. I wouldn’t say this is the case. I’m just as liberal as I’ve always been, but my thoughts on the role of government are changing.

I’m at a point in my life where I want to be done with it. I’m tired of being a pawn in the chess game of the wealthy. I don’t want to do it. I’m no longer striving for monetary riches so the vague idea of what life looks like on the other side of the golden gates that the Republicans keep promising doesn’t appeal to me. I’m also not interested in taking advantage of any government programs.

All I want is some land to disappear to. I’ll work the land and trade with neighbors for necessities. Everything I possess will come from my own hard work and ingenuity. Not from money (which is a representation of what someone thinks you’re worth), but from my own sweat and blood. Money doesn’t equal work ethic. Money equals privilege.

But it’s impossible to remove yourself from the system. Every piece of land has been stolen from God and is now “owned” by a person.

I’m living the plight of the Native Americans (minus all the really bad stuff, such as small pox, murder, rape, the Trail of Tears, genocide, lack of civil rights, miscellaneous massacres, and complete disruption of their way of life so white Europeans could cut down the forests, kill the animals, and build factories to employ children [but come on, they’re not people, they are savages!]). Okay, so I’m not exactly living their plight, but I get the frustration at the idea of land ownership.

This is what I’m talking about when I talk about a person with money having more freedoms and rights than someone without it. Those with money have made it impossible to go off the grid. The grid is stretched so tight, it’s nearly impossible to slip through the cracks. If you want to live on your own, without any corporate or government intrusion, you first have to have to be part of the system to “earn” your money so you can buy the land. Buy the land? The earth is for sale! Traced back to arbitrary ownership when some guy said, “This here is mine,” and stuck a flag in the ground 150 years ago.

It’s time to start over. I propose the Great Land Rush of 2012. It didn’t matter who was occupying the land in 1889, why should it matter now? I want my chance to stick my flag in your flower garden and say, “This land is mine,” regardless of who was here before me. But because we'll never remove money from the equation, I’ll put up fences. Borders within borders. Barricades to keep people away from my food. I don’t care if they’re starving. It’s mine. I bought it with money. And money is everything.

But it will never happen, will it? We’re too preoccupied watching Ashley Herbert hand out roses to brain-dead bachelors. We’re too busy returning our unsafe pogo sticks because our kids are getting blisters from playing outside. We’re too involved in burying ourselves in paper and numbers and general dissatisfaction to even realize that the sun is shining and a few birds are still left in the trees to watch and listen to.

Oh, to be a wallaby rolling in poppies, happy as a clam, tickled pink, and creating mysteries that blow human minds. That’s not behavior we should stop. That’s behavior we should strive for.

[image credit] [image credit]

This blog post also found here.

raising the white flag

2011-08-01T11:35:00.000-07:00

By Mark Hammerschmidt

I quit. I’m removing myself from the system.

But instead of unplugging, I’m plugging in.

Why are we still at the mercy of politicians? How are borders still relevant? Why should the physical location of my body have anything to do with my inner beliefs? We’re connected at lightning speed to anyone anywhere. We can take a three-dimensional vacation on our phones to anywhere in the world. We can work side-by-side with people across the globe from our own living rooms. We can explore the universe from a tablet in the park on the all-powerful TMobile network.

Somebody tell me why John Boehner has any influence at all on my own economic well being. Somebody tell me why when Eric Cantor has a tantrum, my 401K loses value.

And I’ll tell you this, fellow Americans, I would rather listen to soon-to-be-mom Fantasia perform a Quran recitation by farting in morse code while Randy Jackson adds in an occasional “dawg” for dramatic effect than listen to Mitch McConnell break down his own personal interpretation (Droopy style) of the Constitution.

I’d rather inhale the mysterious powder that someone sent me in the mail.

But when you turn on the news, they don’t give you these options. They just show slanted news that fits their own agendas. They tell you how to be a good poor person and that if you leave the rich people alone, they will eventually take care of you. The problem is that you don’t want them to take care of you. You just want them to stop finding ways to pay you less so they can afford to eat $25,000 ice cream sundaes at Serendipity. You want them to stop talking about shared sacrifice as they wipe gold-dusted chocolate from their collagen-filled lips.

This is why I’m leaving the physical realm of America to exist in the electronic web of the next reality. Forward my mail to my e-mail account. Stop by for a visit on Facebook. Thanksgiving dinner has been relocated to Skype. Sunday’s worship service has moved to the ether.

Our buildings and borders are obsolete. The flag flies tattered in an empty sky. Old Glory holds no clout in the electronic realm. Language is no longer a barrier. Skin color is no longer visible.

We are all just code.

Zeros and ones.

[image credit] [image credit]

Post also available here.

the only thing constant is change

2011-08-01T09:08:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the new home of (r)evolution. I will continue posting on both sites for a while and please visit the old site to read older posts.

Thanks for being you!