Turning the tables

I'm a little off today.  Just not myself, a bit of melancholy hitting me for some reason.  Part of it has to do with the unpleasant revelation that the Vikings will be without their best receiver for several weeks, but mostly I think this somehow can be blamed on The Fray.

You see I have an iPhone, which is a wonderful device capable of myriad entertaining things, but can be known to betray you on occasion.  New software updates can lead to dropped calls en masse, the AroundMe app can mysterious gap out on critical business locations, and, most horrifically, it can fill your head with music that you never owned or wanted to hear in the first place.

How so?  Well there's this thing called Genius (as haughty and self-congratulating a name as ever could exist, should've called it Hubris), and it basically makes playlists out of the music you have in your iTunes account.  Up until today, I've regarded it as a clever idea, since it can build a playlist off a song you suggest, or just group different artists by genre, allowing for different mood music.  The program will even go out and pull music that you don't own, but sounds similar to things you do.  Since my musical tastes vary greatly depending on the situation, this has worked out pretty well so far...at least up until this morning.

Because I woke up today with a song in my head, and it's a song I don't own, don't like, and am fairly certain I've never heard before.  But I've heard songs like it, and I'm pretty sure it's by The Fray.  In fact I'm positive, because all of their songs are the same song, whiny and effeminate to the point where the name of the band should be changed to another word that rhymes with the current handle (Not that there's anything wrong with that, just not my kind of tunes.  And what is up with their name anyway?  They're either talking about the end of a rope or a fight, and judging by how likely these badasses are to wreck your shit, it had better be the rope.  Little guy in the middle looks like Skippy from down the street who you call when your computer is on the fritz, by this logic I should start a band named The Gigantic Wang).  This situation is compounded by the fact I tend to absentmindedly sing to myself whatever is in my head.  Pretty sure it's a sign of early-onset dementia, but that concerns me less that the odd looks I've been getting this morning when breaking out the falsetto. 

At this point I'm concerned about the possibility of two things:

My phone is engaging in some sort of covert behavior alteration utilizing the Genius software.  It's entirely possible that an unholy alliance exists between the folks at Apple and record companies, aimed at moving more units of certain bands.

I am in fact, despite my wholesale belief that this is untrue, a fan of The Fray.

While the first carries with it the unpleasant thought of inadvertently bursting into Lady Gaga choruses while walking the halls at work, at least I could rest easy in knowing my own taste had not betrayed me.  The second possibility is far more troubling, and is causing me to reassess exactly who I am and what I'm trying to do here.

I mean the iTunes must've gotten this Fray idea from someplace, right?  Which means somewhere in my musical collection, there is a tune or two that has me marked as an aficionado of substandard songs.  This is profoundly disappointing and bums me out the more I dwell on it.  So in order to get my mind off this debacle, I think it's time for a bit of Free-Floating Hostility.

The concept of Free-Floating Hostility was first introduced by George Carlin, who's teachings I follow closely and find to be applicable to almost every life situation.  Sometimes you just have to vent, in order to turn the tables on being overly introspective, and get the focus back on those that are the true root of the problem: The rest of the world. 

You've heard the phrase "It's not you, it's me"? Well this is "It's you, not me", because it is most assuredly you.  So this, simply put, is just a series of things that are pissing me off:

Injured wide receiver who wait 6 months before attending to the necessary surgery, there by screwing over everyone involved, including themselves
Obvious place to lead off, my revised copy of The Divine Comedy places them in the fifth circle of Hell, below Wrath, but above Heresy.


Parking
I'm boycotting Best Buy.  Not because of any bad service or shoddy products, but because they were the store who has incited the "specialized parking" epidemic that has spread like a virus across the retail landscape.  Once upon a time, handicapped parking was the only restriction placed on a lot.  Although they were rarely full, it seemed like an appropriate idea; if you have trouble getting around, we'll save you a couple of spots closer to the store.  Even if you have a motorized wheelchair which makes the concept moot and actually creates a logical argument for me being allowed to park closer.  I'm going to take the high road, with one exception: No handicapped spots at the gym.  Any logic previously applied just breaks down completely there, if you're spry enough to head to the gym, what's another 50 feet?  (Personally the whole parking structure at the gym bothers me anyway, nothing more annoying than people circling for 10 minutes trying to save 20 yards of walking, then going in and using a treadmill.  In fact I think all gym parking should just be 5 miles from the entrance, that way when you get there, you can just turn around and head back to your car).

At any rate handicapped parking folks, I'm not looking to switch places with you, even if you get the better spot, so we're cool.  I may get a tad irked when you get 4 of those stickers, slap them on cars you never drive and have a-hole family members who knowingly abuse their status.  But I will just be content with hoping their sloth-like nature leads to them losing a foot from diabetes and closing the poetic justice loop, without blaming you personally.  My benevolence knows no bounds.

But beyond all that is where the trouble really started, when in addition to the handicapped spaces, there began appearing stalls marked "Parking for Expectant Mothers".   Hmmm, now that one I had to think about.  While I can certainly see how unpleasant it must be to tote a bowling ball around your midsection for months on end, I'm not sure I can just rubber stamp the approval here outright.  For starters, this seems to be a self-inflicted condition.  I mean I know there was another party involved, but from what I know of childbearing, he was probably only following your instructions.  Not that the prick didn't enjoy it at the time, but the end result was probably not what he was shooting for.  Puns intended.

And to break things down further, isn't "Expectant Mother" really a whole lot better than the "Overweight Misanthropic Loser" designation that I'm currently toting around.  I mean at least we know you've gotten laid in the last nine months.  Comparing lots in life, you probably have a husband and/or boyfriend at home, possibly a full family unit, and are about to be involved in a true miracle (not that Jesus-spotted in a piece of toast crap).  Me?  My evening will consist of a Twins game and a blog post no one will read.  The metaphorical weight I'm carrying here is much greater than your physical one.  Frankly your significant other could probably say the same, no way he's gotten through your pregnancy unscathed.  Poor bastard has probably spent the last few months trying to keep a lower profile around the house than Edward Norton did at the end of his prison term in American History X.  I reached for that reference, but the fear of being gang-raped in the shower seemed akin to what I understand living with a pregnant woman to be like.  It was too apt to pass up.

Not to downplay your burden, just asking to look beyond what is skin deep.  After all, you can't judge a book by it's cover, I may look hale and hardy on the outside, but dammit I put up with a lot, and if it's raining outside I want "Loser" parking stalls next to yours.  We can even register with the DMV, it would be simple.  I go in and tell the guy I was in five fantasy football leagues last year, he gives me a special sticker and I'm set.  Still wouldn't help at Best Buy though, judging by the people browsing the video games you'd need half the lot.

Final thought on the parking thing, and it's the most egregious of all, why would you place the "Parking for families with small children" spots CLOSER to the store?  They should be at the end of the lot!  I mean why do children cause problems in stores?  Too much energy, and we're missing a golden opportunity to take some of the wind out of their sails on the way in!  Now I know there could be a safety issue with kids trekking long distances across parking lots, but get one of those neat tether things that I see at the State Fair and you're good to go.  Better yet, hitch those tykes to some kind of mobile conveyance (think rollers in summer, sleds in winter) and let them haul you someplace for once.  It would do my heart good to be walking into the grocery store some evening and hear some father screaming "Mush!" and he flew by me on his child-powered sleigh.  And I'm guessing fewer things might get broken in the store too.

Zombies
Now I'm not talking about real zombies here, as they've been the subject of some of my favorite films.  My problem lies with seemingly normal people who for whatever reason feel the need to doll themselves up in zombie gear and hit the town.  In the last few years I've heard about zombie dance parties, zombie pub crawls and now this gem out of Minneapolis where a bunch of idiots dressed up and walked through downtown to protest "mindless consumerism", then got paid off to the tune of $165k for being detained unnecessarily by the cops.

Now I'm not saying that the cops didn't overreact, in fact they probably did.  All I'm saying is, if you're going to smear yourself with fake blood and wander through a crowded shopping district scaring kids, then be prepared to get asked a few questions.  Frankly with all the sh*t cops have to deal with, I think they should have a special out know as the "The Mother****er Was Asking For It" clause, under which anything short of broken bones is permissible whenever they deem to to be an uppity f*ck who's causing unnecessary problems due to the fact they have too much time on their hands,

I'm all for freedom of speech and all that, but there are just some people with too much time on their hands engaging in all kinds of stupid do-gooder behavior simply because they can.  One of the morons that just made off with some of my tax dollars is a PhD candidate in Sociology at the U of M, which for the layperson translates to "I plan to apply for a lot of public grants and spend your money to produce nothing of value".  The thought that some of my grad school tuition may already be paying for this guy's work just warms my heart.

Tell you what, you want to dress like a zombie?  Fine.  But in exchange, I want the right to be able to go all Woody Harrelson on you without fear of legal reprisal.  I mean hey, if you approach me on the street, how am I supposed to tell the difference between you and a real zombie?  For all I know you think I'm lunch, and I can't take that chance.  Of course we might need some PSAs to avoid incidents around Halloween.  Makes you think, if actual zombies attacked, we'd be sitting ducks around Halloween, would never see it coming.  Fortunate for us that they're impulsive and unlikely to coordinate.

People who don't realize they're being manipulated by politics
There's another election coming.  There's always another election coming.  You'd think the certainty of this schedule would make people less concerned, not more.  After all, if someone royally screws up, you won't have to deal with them for very long.  But instead, many people start losing their minds, as if what's going to happen in an election will actually impact their lot in life.  Oh sure, you might pay more taxes, you might keep a favorite service around a bit longer, but at the end of the day, the impact will be nil.  In fact the only thing you'll probably succeed in is taking years off you life by getting all whipped up about it, and that won't benefit anyone but me.

The truth is that everything seems worse, but it's really much better; despite what you see on the news, we're making progress.  It might not be progress that benefits you personally, but stop being such a selfish prick for five seconds and look at the big picture.  After all, I gave the handicapped folks a break on the parking thing. 

For instance, you pay a lot for healthcare, and think that's shitty.  For many of us, the amount paid is disproportionate to what is received.  But if this was the 1500s, you would've never been asked to spend a dime on healthcare...of course you'd be dead now.

I knew a guy once who needed a new heart, only the donor list was too long.  So they took an artificial pump and stuck it in the guy's chest for a few weeks, keeping him alive until a heart was found.  A decade ago, this guy would've been dead, and now he's not.  I'm sure the price on this whole things was ridiculous, but by all definitions, that's a miracle, right?  If you got offered a miracle, would you haggle about the price?  Would you want to swap places with heart transplant guy?  I guarantee he feels like he got the deal of a lifetime on his healthcare premiums.

This example is repeated all over the place, but nobody wants to admit they aren't getting the raw deal they claim.  We're living in the age of air conditioning, airbags and air travel, so how has life gotten so much worse in the meantime?  But it's more fun to bitch, I know.  Just do me a favor and don't act like I'm supposed to buy what you're selling, chances are you just want it a little easier on yourself.  You're pissed off, as we all are, and I can't blame you.  Life is mostly drudgery and toil, punctuated by short bursts of fun.  But don't act like there is an elusive They out there that is the source of your misery, you most likely did this to yourself.

Because people are always the problem.  They complain about jobs being shipped overseas, then shop at Wal-Mart.  They talk about waste in the government, then write checks to fund multi-million dollar political campaigns.  They deride Congress as a bunch of crooks, then attend a rally supporting the guy from their district.  We all want to think there's a better deal out there, but there's not, because it's based on people, and most people suck.

So calm down and repeat after me: Bill O'Reilly used to be on Inside Edition and Al Franken used to be on Saturday Night Live.

Now, go focus your time on solving the larger problem of who's going to pick up the receiving slack in the red zone this year.

I feel better.