Some Festivus Vitriol (The Airing of Grievances)

The beginning of another year is bearing down on us while most of this one sits in the rear view mirror. Large numbers of those who put pen to paper (bits to disk? words to the web?) are cranking out their lists of the best and worst (and best of the worst or worst of the best). Cliched for sure, an easy dodge. Being a cliched dodgy sort, I might be tempted to follow suit. But I'll resist the urge. This may be my last post of the year after all and if it is, I'd like to go out on a higher note than that.

Maybe just some good ol' Festivus Airing of Grievances. Who am I pissed off at this year?

• The Philadelphia Eagles leadership, for hiring a serial sadist onto their team as a role model to all the football loving children the world over and now the Eagles players too, for voting him the 2009 recipient of the Ed Block Courage Award. Isn't that what the Wizard bestowed upon the Cowardly Lion? I only wish this squad very bad things in the weeks and months ahead.
• Congress, for dessimating the healthcare legislation and then jerking themselves off in self congratulation over it. I can't stand either side of the aisle (or the aisle itself these days). I can't very well blame them - it's the system, which might be the best in the world but still blows pretty bad these days.
  
• The lunatic fringe, who ultimately twisted the admittedly already very rubbery spines of the aforementioned legislators through their flames of bombastic hysteria. I can't really be all that mad at them, though, since they're only doing what they think is right, however misguided I might believe it to be. It's the cynical, money-grubbing swine who trumpet this kind of message for the sake of publicity and profit, pretending like they actually believe it. The ones who turn their high-powered fans on the flames. They're the ones I've got a bone to pick with. Clowns like Glenn Beck. That's way too easy. I'm lazy, so easy is good.
  
• Oprah, for the imminent destruction of my beloved Discovery Health Channel. Why, oh, why OWN, Oprah? And why does its introduction mean the end of Discovery Health? What do they have to do with one another? Do you really hate discussions of incontinence that much?
  
• Barack Obama, for being way too compromising - stand up for your core beliefs, man! Intelligent compromise in matters of foreign affairs can be good, but fuck 'em when it comes to domestic matters. You're being accused of being a Kenyan-born communist dictator already so it's high time you acted more like one! You know what I mean ... talk to Oprah, will ya? Order a cease and desist on the Discovery Health dissolution. I don't want Dr. G performing an autopsy on the very network that airs her show (I think the universe would explode).
  
• Saturday Night Live, for being consistently not funny (I'm assuming this is unintentional but I could be wrong: they seem so good at it).
  
• My neighbors, for being snow blowing bullies (see My Neighbors Blow for details).
  
• Walmart. 'nuff said. Except the online caskets. I think those are pretty neat, as anyone who's slogged through this drivel knows all too well.
  

That's enough vitriol (and I'm fresh out of Geritol).

I've got an early flight tomorrow so it's off to bed soon. After catching Heathers for the umpteenth time on IFC. Gotta love such a sentimental tale during this joyous holiday season.

Happy Holidays and a Grand New Year to all. I can't wait to kick 2009 to the curb. Christ, did somebody on TV just say "Sarah Palin is the Greta Garbo of American Politics" or are my ears malfunctioning!?! Nope, I just hit rewind and there it is. Huh? Apparently because she grants so few interviews. Still, I don't see it. I guess if Garbo was a batshit loon and had a terminal case of Twitter Tourette Syndrome. Kick it to the curb indeed.

Who let the dog in? Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof

Michael Vick re-signs with Nike, eh?  They're obviously convinced he's rehabilitated. And they would certainly know. Because they're fair minded people.  Sure, they want to make a buck; however, they'd never compromise their core principles in that pursuit.  I believe that.  The problem, of course, is their core principles. It would be refreshing for them to compromise them for once, let a little good old fashion dignity in there. Or maybe just a little tact.  "But gosh, Steve," you say. "Michael made a mistake, America's all about second chances!"

A mistake?  Okay, sure.

Oops! Didn't mean to hold that dog's head underwater so long! Or the one before that and then there were those others - see the pile of rotting mistake carcasses up against the garage? 

Darn! The electrodes slipped!  I didn't mean to place them around Laddie's gonads with live current runing through them! Sorry, Rover. Excuse me, Rex.  Apologies, Rin Tin Tin.  Man, did you see those sparks?!?  Sniff. Sniff.  What's that odor?  Is somebody barbecuing?!?  Throw another dog on the grill for me!  Extra ketchup!

Perhaps Nike is branching out yet again.  I mean they make everything from golf equipment to clothing to watches.  Maybe they're coming out with a whole new line of Nike branded merchandise:

• The 'After Party' Canine Corpse Handling Gloves ("keeps the blood - off your duds")
  
• Loser Doggy Drowning Tubs, with attached swoosh emblazoned leather head brace!
  
• High voltage Maimed Mutt Electrode Testicle Teasers! 
  

"Need to put a few Rovers down?  Have fun as they fry or a blast as they drown!   Shoooossshhh!"

A mistake?  There are certainly more than enough of those to go around.  Were his crimes that heinous in the grand scheme of things? Perhaps the effect was fairly low on the totem pole of atrocities.  But the intent was right up there with the worst of them.  And in the end, in my book, that's what counts. 

Hey, PETA, time to dust off those Nike signs of yore ...

Okay, I'm done with ragging on Vick.  You can only beat a dead horse so long, so-to-speak.  But a dead dog?  Well, just ask Mike ...

[Postscript: Vick, it turns out, didn't re-sign with Nike.  Nike simply gave him free clothes and equipment for the honor of having him use and wear the stuff, cause God knows you want your brand associated with sadism. Which changes nothing, since it means the same from an ethical point of view (it simply means they not only have no morals, they have no spine either).]

'I thought you were a racing man, ah, but you couldn't take the pace. That's a funeral in the mirror and it's stopping at your face'

Michael Vick is a Philadelphia Eagle now, eh? Has Andy Reid found a new motivational coach, a new regiment? Can't make the cut? Here's a new way of releasing a player: how 'bout a little 'lectricity to the gonads, Scarecrow?

Welcome to the Novacare Complex and Training Pit.

How do I feel about it?

Eagles? Eagles, who? Go, Seahawks!

Vick lands for me somewhere between a child molester, a rapist, and Dick Cheney. Which means, I guess, that he's fits in just fine in professional sports.

Yeah, I'm a meat-eating, slaughter-house-appeasing hypocrite. Guilty as charged. My prerogative.

But there's a difference. Humans are carnivores. We started out hunting with our hands, then spears, and so on. We've gotten brutally effective at turning what was (or so we thought) a necessary evil into a massive, assembly line killing-machine industry.

And a lot of that industry is needlessly cruel, both in their treatment of the animals before slaughter and of course in the means by which they are killed.

But they don't do it as sport. Vick wasn't electrocuting dogs for his supper, he was doing it for his jollies.

Redemption? Yeah, I believe in it.

This is different, though, than getting busted for selling drugs or robbing a bank or any of that kinda stuff. This is badness and cruelty over a lengthy period of time that comes from an innate sadism.

'But, Steve', you say, 'bad can morph into good.' It can. Not often. Is this the case here? Is this some sort of Edward Norton/American History X prison metamorphosis from evil to inspirational?

I don't see any signs of that yet.

For the techno-geeks, there something in software development called 'refactoring' - turning bad code into maintainable software. You start by identifying 'bad smells' in the code. You know you're done when there is no more odor.

You spot a bad smell the same as pornography: 'I know it when I see it'. Now, that's a bit cagey - there are patterns and known bad smells. But at its core, that's the starting point: something doesn't smell

right, your intuition and experience tells you.

And with Vick, something doesn't smell right.

Fuck football, anyway.

Roller Derby is coming back in a BIG WAY. Go Philly Roller Girls League!

So with that, I switch off the Eagles pre-season game and drown my sorrows in the psychedelic wonderland that is Woodstock (celebrating the 40th Anniversary, man), documentary-style.

Well, too distracted to keep it in 1969 for too long a clip at a time, so ...

Click.

... Flipping incessantly between Woodstock and Generation Islam on CNN with a rock star in her own right, the incomparable Christiane Amanpour.

It's kind of surreal whipping back and forth between swaying, muddy hippies and the shifting sands of Islam in the modern world. Jimi Hendrix and the Star Spangled Banner played over scenes of poverty on the Gaza Strip.

"The New York Thruway's Closed, man!"

Blood stained misery and steely eyed prepubescent hatred. Stubborn motherfuckers on both sides of the equation. Land and Religion and Ownership and "Security". All worth life and death and worthless in the end.

"Some people say that the acid is poison. It's not poison, it's just bad acid, just manufactured badly. There really are no bad trips, if you ask me. If you feel like experimenting, just take half a tab!"

There are bad trips, Mr. Unidentified Bad-Trip-Talker-Downer from the Woodstock stage (I'll just call you 'Doctor'). This intermixing of cultures I'm trying to do (sort of a hippie/Islam mashup - Cat Stevens would be proud) is giving me a migraine.

Ahh, the DVR to the rescue. I "taped" a Leonard Cohen Live in London on PBS the other night. Leonard at 74 is still at the top of his game (well, maybe a shade or two below it but only just).

I never really listened to Leonard's song, "The Future" until just now, though I know it's on my ipod somewhere. Any song that can rhyme "Charlie Manson" with "White Girls Dancin'" is okay by me.

Thanks for saving the evening, Lenny. It's just a Dress Rehearsal Rag, after all. Story of my life.

Now, before bed it's time to get my Philly Roller Girl League gear for the upcoming season. Shit - "men's 'merch' coming soon". Gotta wait to get decked out in my Roller Mania Colors, I guess.

Finally, to choose my team. Will it be:

• The Liberty Belles?
• The Heavy Metal Hookers?
• The Broad Street Butchers?

Mmmm. Film at 11.
And who do the Philly Roller Girls sponsor?

PAWS.

Fuckin' A.