Sunday November 8 2003

My spirit animal is a sock puppet

The Bucs are dead to me now.

How many miraculous fourth quarter comebacks can our supposedly barely competent offense pull out of its ass? I don’t know. I do know, however, how many unbelievable and completely appalling total collapses our defense can manage in the final four minutes of the game… the first number, plus one.

So, fuck it. I’m officially off the Bux bandwagon. All you cheerleaders still hanging in there who are now saying ‘well, don’t try to climb back on when we get to the playoffs, buddy’… screw you. I’ll climb back on when this team stops rewarding its fans support with utter mediocrity and failure, and there ain’t a goddam thing YOU can do about it.

Yes, there is no joy in A Brown Eyed Handsome Man Land today, so I suppose this blog entry may be a tad surly.

I’ve had nice email lately… not a lot of it, but some. Paul from… um… some blog I don’t know the name of… dropped me a note last night. Vanessa sent me a pleasant missive. And a lot of people have been nice enough to comment here. So that’s been good.

On the other hand, the guy who runs The Website Which Must Not Be Named still hasn’t gotten his thumb out and mailed out my check for the last quarter, or even posted the spreadsheets showing pay details, which he has to do first. He often doesn’t get to it until around the middle of the following month, which is aggravating, but as I’ve noted before, he has absolutely no incentive to do this at all quickly. It’s just money out of his pocket. And none of his writers have any way at all of bringing pressure on him. I badly badly want that check… Paul and I could seriously use a nice shot in our tiny little sub-economy… but he’ll get around to sending it when he gets around to sending it. Dick.

I had a call from Demolition Comics the other day. They’ve got a stack of comics sitting there for me and are getting anxious; if I can’t come up with some cash for them by the end of next week… and I seriously doubt I can… they’re going to cancel my subs and restock the comics. Who would have thought it would be so damned hard to get a job stocking shelves at Wal-mart or washing dishes in a restaurant?

On the flip side, Paul’s friend Scott got a call to go into Wal-mart for an interview a few days ago. This annoyed me; he and I filled out apps at the same time and answered the barrage of questions the same way; he gets a call and I get nothing. He would have had the job locked up, too, but he screwed up getting to the mandatory drug test on time and Wal-mart refused to let him re-schedule. (Well, he would have had the job locked up if the clean urine sample he borrowed from someone who doesn’t smoke anywhere near as much pot as he does had passed muster and he hadn’t been busted smuggling it in. I noted to him in passing that in another ten years, when DNA testing is so routine they can run one in a few seconds with some kind of simple chemical match technique, drug tests will include a finger prick to get a drop of blood, which they’ll compare to the urine test, and dopers will really find it hard to get jobs.)

Me, my worst nightmare is that Wal-mart gives me a call… okay, let me go back. My worst nightmare involves everyone on the planet turning into vampires some day I decide to sleep in until 5 in the afternoon. Sorry, I try not to exaggerate, especially in a cliché fashion. I’m sure I do as often as anyone else, but occasionally, I do catch myself.

Anyway, one of the more unpleasant possibilities that has occurred to me often is that Wal-mart calls me up for an interview while I’m sitting on the couch playing video games with Scott and Paul, as they pass the bowl back and forth across me. I don’t even drink, much less do any sort of illegal drug, but if I did well at the interview, they’d schedule me for an immediate drug test, and I’d probably fail it.

But, then, at least Paul would never be able to bitch at me for not finding work again, so that would be something.

I should probably… no, wait. I did have something I wanted to discuss here.

I’ve had a couple of emails over the past month I haven’t mentioned in this space, because it’s mostly been along the same theme… a few different regular readers (whom I won’t name, because I’m not yelling at anyone, it just suggests a topic of discussion) have tried to follow up on stuff I’ve said about my porn writing career… you know, what’s the website, come on, don’t be shy, it can’t be that bad, I like kinky stuff too, geez, tell me, send me a sample… and just this morning, I got another email similar to that, inquiring as to exactly what kind of adult chat rooms I like to hang out in.

I suppose these questions are snoopy, but I’m not offended by them, I’m snoopy myself. However, I tell these people I won’t answer them, and I want to state here, publicly, why I’m willing to discuss this stuff in general, but not in specific.

See, I’m not ashamed of writing porn. I’m not even ashamed of my more extreme fantasies, even the ones that are very ‘taboo’ (to use the cool word) or ‘anti-social’ (to use the depressingly accurate one… yes, much though my fellow freaks out there won’t like to acknowledge it, ‘taboo’ is just a titillating way of saying ‘anti-social’. If it wasn’t in violation of society’s mores, it wouldn’t be taboo, now would it?). The reason I’m not ashamed of this is that these aren’t actions and I’m not hurting anyone. My fantasies are harmless, regardless of what they are, and yes, they do get published for money, but they’re on an adult, passworded paysite.

And, in what seems almost like an obligatory cop out, I am also near obligated to note that fantasy is fantasy and most of my extremely ‘taboo’ fantasies are things I’d never do. Why I find it exciting to fantasize about this stuff is difficult to pin down, but, well, I don’t understand why it’s human nature to be fascinated with things we are not supposed to do. But we are. Tell someone that there is something they aren’t supposed to do, and probably the majority of people will become interested in at least seeing what it would be like. This is as true of smoking, drinking, and illegal drug use as it is of sexual practices, or sexual fantasy.

What matters isn’t fantasy, it’s behavior, and even there, I happen to think that all that REALLY matters is social behavior. One person in isolation is, by definition, always a saint. An action cannot be right or wrong until it has an impact on at least one person outside yourself.

So, having said all that, if I’m not ashamed of my writing or my fantasies, why not be explicit about it? I mean, it’s not like I care if YOU people are comfortable, right? ;)

Here’s the thing. It’s all very well for me to confess to writing porn, and to hanging out in adult chat rooms, and to having an entirely cybernetic sex life for the past many many years. There are those who will judge me harshly simply from those statements, but, well, they’re assholes. Anyone whose opinion I care at all about is going to have to be civil, mature, and tolerant enough that, even if they themselves don’t like porn and would never in their lives go into an adult chat room or engage in long distance cybernetic fantasy interactions with a complete stranger, they’re not going to get pissy with me because my tastes are different. (And, on that subject, any remotely attractive woman out there who feels its wrong of me to enjoy and produce porn, and to go into adult chat rooms, is welcome to offer me a real world alternative. I’m not crazy. Given an actual option, my choice would be quite predictable.)

However, when we start getting into specifics of sexual fantasy, things begin to get extremely wonky. No matter how tolerant or mature we are, certain things are hardwired into us, and the things that get us hot, or that leave us cold, are not subject to reason or analysis. Nearly all of us can agree that sex is pretty cool, and adults I like will be tolerant of my porn addiction whether they share it or not, but from that point forward, paths diverge widely. What turns one person on will utterly disgust and alienate another person, and that’s just how it is.

I’m no different in this regard. There’s stuff out there… and I’m a filthy jaded old Internet pervert, so I’ve probably seen a webpage devoted to nearly EVERYthing anyone does to anyone else (or themselves) that’s remotely sexual, if only for the half second it took me to hit the BACK button on my browser… that fills even me with revulsion. That’s just how human nature is. And while I think all the people out there whose opinions I remotely care about are perfectly capable of saying ‘yeah, he’s a horny old geek, let him look at his pictures of naked ladies’, I suspect only a minority actually share my rather extreme sexual turn ons, and the rest of you would be repulsed. And the fact that it’s only fantasy for me and I wouldn’t DO any of that stuff… um… okay… most of that stuff… well… SOME of that stuff, certainly… even if offered the opportunity won’t matter. If people who really know who I am were even once to find out some of the stuff I fantasize and/or write about, I’d have to move to Australia and become a bushman.

Having said THAT, I’ll also note that when taboo/anti-social thoughts or fantasies become public knowledge, a sad fact is that often the people who are the loudest about how revolting those fantasies are, are actually the people who have the same fantasies. They’re just fronting, so nobody will suspect THEY’RE godawful filthy minded preverts too.

Now, mind you, I probably wouldn’t come out and say ‘well, my God, I get turned on by power tools, too, there’s nothing wrong with that’ (editorial note: I do not get turned on by power tools, really), but at least I’d probably say ‘you know, someone’s sexual fantasies are private things, and harmless things, so just stop being a jerk about it, okay’?

But, still, I doubt I’d ever look at my brother/cousin/parent/in-law/fellow worker/close friend/casual acquaintance the same way again, if I found out that they got all hot staring at Black & Decker drills.

All of which is why, while I will still, when I feel like it, mention these things in general, I do not go into specifics, and I won’t even if you send me an email asking me nicely. Unless, of course, you want to front load with your own odd little kinks and fetishes, in hopes they align with mine. That would be brave of you. I would admire that.

But if you’re one of these people who likes to dress up like an ostrich or something, I’m going to think you’re a total weirdo.

Let’s see. I thumped Paul resolutely at Titan last night. Scott Shepherd, Prince Among Men, was kind enough to send me that Salon article he’d mentioned regarding Angel, sparing me Salon’s torturous ‘sign in by passing through an annoying ad’ process. And, sadly, one of my few true old timey geek friends broke up with his fiance this weekend, which sucks profoundly. We geeks get few shots at love, or even a sex life (you good looking women out there seeming to prefer men who will be mean to you, a solid majority of the time) and it’s always sad when one of our hook-ups fails.

Let me close by noting, once more, that the Bucs profoundly suck.

Oh, wait. Let me also thank everyone who contributed to the unprecedented amount of response I got on the last entry’s cartoon. I would imagine the one that’s up there now will have rather shocked some of my audience, but, you know, I’m just like that.

RULES OF THE ROAD

In one of his many invaluable essays on life in Hollywood, Mark Evanier described his first meeting with legendary TV comic and icon Milton Berle. Upon being introduced to Uncle Miltie and shaking hands with him, Mark, who is a pretty witty guy, blurted out without even thinking about it, “Wow, I didn’t recognize you in men’s clothing”. According to Mark, this soured Uncle Miltie on him from that point forward, because Mark had broken Rule Number One When Hanging With Milton Berle, namely, Never Be Funnier Than Milton Berle.

I’m reminded of that anecdote now.

Recent experiences at Electrolite being pretty much entirely similar if not completely identical to my previous experiences at Uppity-Negro.com and TampaTantrum.com, I thought I’d take the time to extrapolate whatever wisdom there is to find in the whole mess. Here’s The Deal, as far as I can see:

If you want to make friends and influence people when you head out onto the blogging trail, at least, as regards your posting comments on other people’s blogs, you MUST NOT:

(a) seem smarter than the person writing the blog you are posting comments to

(b) be funnier than the person writing the blog you are posting comments to

(d) be correct when you point out some manner in which the person writing the blog you are posting comments to was wrong, and/or

(e) Upset The Wimmenfolk On The Blog.

Rule E comes mostly out of my experiences with Aaron Hawkin’s Uppity-Negro blog. He gets a lot of female posters and like any of us male geeks would be in that admirable position, he is thoroughly whipped by them. If a new reader comes along and does anything whatsoever to offend the babes on Aaron’s blog, that new reader can expect a cold shoulder from Aaron roughly the size of the Greenland glacier. I don’t really blame Aaron for this; for a male geek, positive female attention is a jewel beyond price, and if I ever had any women posting to my blog who weren’t related to me by marriage, I’d most likely dance and sing like a puppet on a string when they cracked the lash, too.

I should add to this that I’ve learned, from Electrolite, that one Must Not Be Whimsical, Oblique, or Overly Geeky When Posting To A Big Important Political Marketplace of Ideas Type Blog, because those guys just have no time for Theodore Marley Brooks or Cornelus van Lunt references, regardless of how amusing or entertaining you and some others may find them.

Now, I am posting this to point out that while these may be the universal Rules of the Road on other blogs (and as far as I can see, they are, indeed, pretty much universal) you can ignore them here. I don’t care if you:

(a) seem smarter than I am, I like people who are smarter than I am, as long as they’re not jerks about it;

(b) are funnier than I am, then I get to laugh at your witty remarks, and hey, that’s all good;

(c) are a better writer than I am. Although I’m in a peculiar place as regards writing skills; good enough to be better than nearly all the amateurs out there, not good or lucky enough to be a professional at it. So if you are a better writer than I am, you are probably a professional writer and therefore do not have time to post comments on other people’s blogs, so this probably doesn’t matter, as relates to this blog;

(d) correct my mistakes; unlike apparently 95% of the remainder of the human race, I am under no illusions as to my own infallibility and simply don’t care if someone points out that I am wrong about something. Being wrong about things does not strike me as either a character flaw or a shameful embarrassment; we are all wrong about a lot of things every day of our lives, and that’s just how that works;

(e) Upset My Wimmenfolk. Well, actually, I shouldn’t say I don’t care if you upset my wimmenfolk, I do, the very thought deeply offends me. However, it’s just that the wimmenfolk at this point on this blog are my mom, my cuz in law, and my sister in law, and if you do something to upset them, I strongly doubt the authorities finding what’s left of you will be able to identify you without a DNA comparison. My mom, and any woman who marries any of the males in this family and stays married to him for any length of time, are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. So offend them all you want; it’s a self correcting problem.

Oh, and I like geeky references and would just adore whimsical, cleverly elliptical posts to my comment threads, although I suspect I’d get annoyed if someone started posting a whole lot of Harry Potter-speak here, just for one example.

If there is a universal rule on this blog, it is quite simply, Do Not Be A Bigger Asshole Than The Blogger. In fact, if you can avoid it (and most of my small number of regular posters avoid it with style and panache) Don’t Be An Asshole At All. I am quite a big enough asshole myself to supply all the assholiness necessary for any blog, and I will continue to keep this blog well furnished with stupid remarks, doltish mistakes, whiney rationalizations, and defensive recriminations by the ton lot, there can be no doubt. You need bring none of your own asshole nature with you, I have plenty and am always willing to share.

THE INEVITABLE DISCLAIMER

By generally accepted social standards, I'm not a likable guy. I'm not saying that to get cheap reassurances. It's simply the truth. I regard many social conventions in radically different ways than most people do, I have many many controversial opinions, and I tend to state them pretty forthrightly. This is not a formula for popularity in any social continuum I've ever experienced.

In my prior blogs, I took the fairly standard attitude: if you don't like my opinions or my blog, don't read the fucking thing.

Having given that some more thought, though, I'm not going to say that this time around, because I've realized that what this is basically saying is, 'if you don't like what I have to say, tough, I don't want to hear it, don't even bother to tell me, just go away'.

And that's actually a pretty worthless attitude. It's basically saying, 'I don't want to hear anything except unconditional agreement and approval'. And that's nonsense. This is still a free country... for a little while longer, anyway... and if you really feel you just gotta send me a flame, or post one on my comment threads (assuming they actually work, which I cannot in any way guarantee) then by all means, knock yourself out.

Unless your flame is exceptionally cogent, witty, or stylish, though, I will most likely ignore it. You do have a right to say anything you want (although I'm not sure that's a right when you're doing it in my comment threads, but hey, you can certainly send all the emails you want). However, I have an equal right not to read anything I don't feel like reading... and I'm really quick with the delete key... as various angry folks have found in the past, when they decided they just had to do their absolute level best to make me as miserable as possible.

So, if you don't like my opinions, feel free to say so. However, if I find absolutely nothing worthwhile in your commentary, I will almost certainly not respond to it in any way.

Stupidity, ignorance, intolerance... these things are only worth my time and attention if they're entertaining. So unless you can be stupid, ignorant, and/or intolerant with enough wit, style, and/or panache to amuse me... try to be smart, informed, and broad minded when you write me.