I Hate Politics and the Media

I guess I would call myself a social libertarian. I was thinking the other day about all the different political classifications I have tried to squeeze myself into. Too many to count. I have major problems with organized groups. Frats, religions, wine clubs, and school functions. I've always been a loner, Dotty. A Rebel! LOL. Thats from "Pee Wee's Big Adventure." I've just never been able to get behind anything with a hundred percent. I guess that would make me a flake, but I really don't give a shit.

Lately, my biggest problem has been with political thinking, left of center. Not necessarily left leaning groups, but more, left thinking people. You know those people. They remind me of small minded rednecks, as strange as that sounds, extreme left thinking people cannot see past their own noses to what the rest of the world is. Many of them are history revisionists and apologists and it drives me fucking nuts. They are very good at patting each other on the back and hurling accusations at the rest of the political spectrum, because they feel entitled to be correct. Here in the south, extreme left thinking people seem to have some hard core self guilt about factors about themselves that cannot be changed, such as their birth, but they continue to bitch about it. For extreme left thinking people, everything boils down to race, gender or "being the victim" which they love to do.

I cannot help but keeping up with politics here in Jackson and the different bickering sides. Its in my nature. I'm a political animal, even though I desperately despise politics and I especially despise the media.

I think I'll go read the new Jackson Free Press and watch some MSNBC.

Sex, Lies and Pardons

Scooter Libby was convicted today. He said he was a fall guy, the jurors said he was a fall guy, and everyone who DOESN'T live in the White House has been saying he is a fall guy. Ok, now the fireworks begin. Will Bush pardon him? I hope so. That would be some great political capital to spend on a little weasel covering for some bigger weasels. I guess I just love seeing the crazy drama spewing out of Washington these days. In other news, a District of Columbia madam, who was recently busted for pandering or whoring or something, has said she will name names. Oh I can't wait. I love when people name names. Everything is fun and friendships when money is changing hands for sex or lies, but the second the shit hits the fan, someone gets a special on the E! channel. I'm so anxious. The suspense is killing me. I hope it lasts. Ok, I can't claim that last line. That was Gene Wilder from the original film version of "Willy Wonka."

Is it raining, is it pouring, is a hurricane a'blowing?

I just love anarchy on television that comes from these kangaroo courts and Washington madams.

Rebel Without A Cause

Oh Lord. Where is football when you really need it? As we all wait in anticipation for the tease that is the NFL Draft, I can't get my mind off college football. Ole Miss messageboards are now going into overdrive as spring practice breaks and a new quarterback controversy takes over everyone's mind. I don't know why the spring gets me excited about Ole Miss football, but I think it has to do with the fact that basketball is soon to be over, baseball has really gotten swinging yet and Ole Miss really doesn't have too many other exciting sports. I mean, tennis is here, but come on.


As I sit here in one of my classes, I am numb to anything that is being said. Something about taxation, something about valuation. Somehow the judiciary fits in. All that runs through my mind is who will be taking snaps in October? I'm sure there are plenty of people out there feel the same way as me. Football in the south is wonderful thing, where disputes are settled (or created) and the sins of the world are battled on the gridiron. I pity anyone who cannot appreciate SEC football and what it means to this region.

Despite Ole Miss letting me down many times in the past, I miss Rebel football so much right now.

Writing, Writing, Writing

Given over to the better angels of my nature, I have decided to do a post that has nothing to do with jobs, school, the baby boomer generation or Jackson. Sing the praises on high, I'm not bitching too much today. The question was raise today, in a somewhat indirect way, of why I blog. Sure, I blog to bitch and moan so my friends, who I am certain are the only people who read this, can get their fill of my bullshit when I'm not around. However, surprise, surprise, I have another reason to blog: I like to write. As surprising as that may sound, I do like to write. No, I am not, nor have I ever been, much of creative person. I have always wanted to play an instrument and I have always wanted to paint, but despite my efforts, I just cannot. My brain does not function that way. I know real artists and they have some brain chemical or genetic structure I lack. Therefore, to get my creative fix, I write and I enjoy it. My writing may not be too good and my writing may lack a clear cohesiveness, but its a release for me. I am not good at grammar, but I don't give a fuck. Additionally, I write because I can and I can do this with impunity. No one cares what I write and I like things that way.

Last semester the fact dawned on me that I had many good ideas and I should start putting them down. Ideas like writing fiction. An interesting writer I met through the internet encouraged me to do so and on his creative writing website he listed one essential rule to writing. This rule is called "Butt in Chair." The essence of this rule is, if you want to write, you have to sit your fucking ass in a chair and write. All the great writers had to start somewhere and the place they start is with their ass in a chair.

Taking this wisdom, I also discovered that any great writer, writes alot. He doesn't sit around just thinking about writing something great, but he flexes his creative brain muscle and churns out a volume of words. For me, this exercise is blogging. I force myself to blog all the time, either coherently or incoherently, but at the very least I'm writing. So there is my answer. For me, blogging is the equivalent of doing 100 mental pushups.

True Crime

Ok, there was another murder in this city. What the hell is going on? The damn newspapers are not reporting the fact that we already have a good many murders for this to only be March. The mayor is in jail, the city council is drowning in red tape, no one is running the city, businesses are leaving, and when the fuck was the last time the damn police department actually solved a case? The cops need like 300 more officers and the fire department has an interim chief. The police chief doesn't have a plan to fight crime and there is real organized crime in this city. The potholes are mounting, drugs are sold in impunity, and muggings and home invasion is a real possibility if you live in the city limits. That's why I don't fucking live there. Certain media outlets in this area love to talk about all the "white flight" and how its so terrible. Well, there are a hell of alot of black people leaving Jackson too. Who the fuck wants to have to worry that their damn kid is going to sit on a crack pipe when they go to the local playground? Or worry about some homeless guy begging for a quarter? Or how about getting caught in the crossfire of some jerk-off, useless thugs battling it out on Wood Street for control of "turf?" No one. Black, white, whatever, its universal to want to be safe and for your children to be safe. So this is what I say to everyone who is thinking about moving out of Jackson. Fucking do it. Get the hell out and move to Rankin County or Madison County or wherever. Its going to get worse in Jackson and its time to head to high ground.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

God I hate when Saturday is over. Sunday is just such a tease of a day, shaking its sexy ass all around your life, then at the end of it, your super pissed because its over. Damn you Sunday, you bitch!! Well last night was the Friendship Ball at Hal and Mals. I ended up there late, after my trip to Oxford and a stop over at Martins to see some people. Yea, great. Ok, so then I go to the Friendship Ball. The jazz band was great, but the crowd was so weird. My night went from a high to a low, so I had to retreat to Hal and Mals. Just when I was settling down and enjoying the music, I started to notice who came to the Friendship Ball. Some older people, lots of pretentious wanna be writers, so called activists and the smattering of politicians. Despite the music making me feel a little better, the people at this thing were frustrating me a little. Who the hell are these people? This is my bar. I'm a regular. These people are treating this place like a novelty, a place they show up to once or twice a year to feel better about "race" relations in Jackson. They drive in from Madison, botox their faces and mingle with themselves. They might as well be at Schimmels. In fact, that's a great point. They should have the Friendship Ball at Schimmels. At least, then, the pretentiousness of the crowd would match the pretentiousness of the place.

Trick Daddy: Live on the Square!

I'm sitting right now, up at Square Books in Oxford, enjoying creation as it unfolds under the watchful eye of Lafayette county's capitalism. In the short time that I have been away from Oxford, I am never amazed at the frenzy to build and and create new things for the masses in this small corner of the world. Now I'm not one of these old fogeys who sits around talking about how great things were back in my day, but it just seems to me in the last few years, Oxford ha s been on a rampage to expand and grow. Is it that the powers that be finally realized the volume of disposable income that Ole Miss students have to throw around? Or maybe its the fact that people just see something special about Oxford and this area? Maybe its both. Whatever it is, its nice to sit here and enjoy people walking around. I'm a people watcher. On the Square, people watching could be a competitive sport. Students, old alumni trying to remember how to navigate the Square, old women, wanna be authors, wanna be musicians, real authors, real musicians, hell everyone is here. I'm so sentimental. Of course, what has to break the peace whilst I sit here? Trick Daddy blasting out of some extremely white and extremely redneck rich asshole's SUV. I'm on a very short vacation here and I could do without Trick Daddy.