I sit in what would probably be called the interrogation room of the Washington, D.C. police station. I’m reluctant to call it an interrogation room because I don’t want to over dramatize my situation. It’s just a room. And the police are just about to ask me a couple of questions. The room looks like how you’d imagine it, largely thanks to the images in Hollywood movies. I wonder if maybe a lot of movie producers have found themselves in a similar room. But like I said, I don’t want to over dramatize my situation. Though I am by myself, under fluorescent lights, in front of a voice recorder and bleeding.
Officer Graves walks back in—I swear that’s his real name.
“Well, congratulations. I’ve been told to tell you that you’re fired.” Figures. “Want to talk about what happened?” Yeah. I can do that.
I work, er, worked at Mooven Group directly under CEO Preston Sterling. It’s the third biggest bank in the United States. So big, in fact, we hardly do any direct banking at all. Money is measured in the billions, that is, except for my paycheck.
“Enough jokes. Just tell the damn story.”
Fine. I was one of four personal assistants to Mr. Sterling. Actually he has a Ph.D. in economics so I guess he’s actually Dr. Sterling. He rose to the top by bundling thousands of poor-mortgages and selling them off, knowing they were toxic. He’s a genius. He turned down offers to teach at Yale, MIT, you name it. Anyway, the Mooven Group has diversified and changed not just the banking industry, but, well actually you’ve probably seen the commercials and slogan: ‘We’re Mooven the industry.’
“Yeah, those commercials suck.”
Well they worked. Business has been great. But because of the financial collapse, we were obviously one of the many banking companies to take the federal loans--which will be paid back to the taxpayer with interest. Earlier this week all of the major CEOs were called to testify before Congress as to why they needed more time to make the next quarterly payment. Mr. Sterling graciously brought along myself, Cooper, Sitton and Perry. We took the company plane but only because it’s a time-saver. The less time Mr. Sterling is traveling, the more time he can work on fixing this financial mess and getting money back to the taxpayers. Mr. Sterling isn’t going to succumb to some impractical inconvenience just because it sounds good for the cameras and Washington fat cats.
“Oppose to Mr. Wesley’s boys?”
Wesley and his…gang of assistants—it’s basically an army that follows him around—are total camera whores. He testified that he and his people ate food from a gas station on their drive to D.C. But that was only because he didn’t eat at the Wendy’s they first stopped at. An hour later though he’s starving to death and they have to pull into some Plug ‘n Chug and buy a packaged sandwich and bag of Doritos! So when Wesley’s lackeys start bragging about how their boss is in touch with real Americans, you can understand why I got angry.
“No, I don’t understand. Would you say Mr. Sterling, your former employer, is a nice man? Or pays you exceptionally well?”
He doesn’t need to be nice, he’s my boss. And it doesn’t make sense to pay me more than I’ll work for.
“Why would you get into a street brawl with employees of a person you don’t know because they are employees of a person you don’t know? You’re a personal assistant, not a best friend to Preston Sterling. So why did you really fight those other boys?”
You’ll never understand. Unpopular CEOs of unpopular companies have their biggest fans, not amongst stockholders, but amongst their secretaries, assistants, servants, maids and janitors. It doesn’t matter how the personal employer acts or treats you. If you’re going to be a mistreated assistant, you want to be the mistreated assistant to the richest and most powerful. It’s bad enough having this job, but no one wants to be a nobody to the poor or weak.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
What Are We Thankful For?
I hope everybody has a good Thanksgiving Day. I hope everyone has as good of a day as I ever wish anybody to have on any day (which is quite good). And if you're rooting for the same football teams as myself (Lions, Raiders, Giants), I hope your teams win.
However, I would also like to propose some notions that I would not suggest be discussed at the family dinner table. Nothing more vulgar than any thing previously read here, but as seen firsthand nothing quite kills family togetherness as abruptly (and loudly) as political controversy.
Thanksgiving is an American holiday. In fact, we could almost call it America Day (though a similar argument could be made for Independence Day, Memorial Day, Presidents' Day, Labor Day, Valentine's Day and, to a lesser extent, parent-teacher conferences). It's a complete celebration of American culture. The culture itself makes up the traditions. A dichotomy of cartoon characters and corporate mascots make up a parade sponsored by a department store and televised on no less than three TV networks. American football is as ingrained into the day; as is the joy, expectation and regret of eating too much. Then there are turkey sandwiches at night. And if we can keep the rampant and unconscionable consumerism from killing three people, then we as a country will have shown more restraint than last year's Black Friday.
American culture, I fear, is corporate culture. What is an "American" restaurant in other countries? McDonald's? What is an "American" restaurant in America? Chili's? This criticism is more appropriate to suburbs and small towns were nationalism is as boasted as it is unexamined. The melting pot has become coldly efficient. American culture is a gray goo of corporations, conformity and consistency. American culture should not include an Americanization process. Our culture should pride itself on diversity. That is American. Our history is made up of world cultures coming together, and I don't just mean in the grade-school-production-of-"The-First-Thanksgiving"-way. The cornerstone, hell, the whole foundation of America is built on equal freedom for anybody from anywhere in the world. We should be a collection of cultures, not one that appeals to the lowest common denominators of consumers. I don't want to believe cultural authenticity is a myth and I don't want to believe America is naturally face-less.
An American culture is based on our perceptions of the world from which we should be drawing our culture. However among much of America there is an indifference toward the global community at best and a cruel mockery at worst. The other countries are so incompetent at existing on their own, we still maintain over 750 bases in over 40 countries even after the Cold War, that's the logic, correct? Funny. Forgive me for not being convinced that the world has been more peaceful in the last 50 years thanks to this $600 billion-per-year endeavor.
Why are people more ready to consider themselves American citizens than world citizen? And why are those two different things? Why isn't there a collective responsibility to the world we live in? Aren't countries just arbitrary borders? Shouldn't I feel as connected to the 6.4 billion global people I don't know as the 300 million Americans I don't know? Why don't massive corporations believe stopping disease and starvation is profitable? Why does it cost leaders political capital?
I am thankful for more things than I care to list (most of which: family, friends and health). But that doesn't mean I'm done wishing for a better world. There haven't always been countries in the traditional sense we know and I believe a day will come when the notions of individual countries will change again. Maybe not in my lifetime, but they didn't get to space in Galileo's lifetime either (how's that for some ego-stroking?). In all sincerity, I would like to see a national change in Americanism and renewed perspectives on international organizations. I like being an American but I also know that just living in America doesn't make you a good American any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.There are times when we are 250 countries and there are times when we are one world. I believe the ReGeneration and the many generations after us will create, change, and unify an unprecedented global community.
And for that, I am thankful.
However, I would also like to propose some notions that I would not suggest be discussed at the family dinner table. Nothing more vulgar than any thing previously read here, but as seen firsthand nothing quite kills family togetherness as abruptly (and loudly) as political controversy.
Thanksgiving is an American holiday. In fact, we could almost call it America Day (though a similar argument could be made for Independence Day, Memorial Day, Presidents' Day, Labor Day, Valentine's Day and, to a lesser extent, parent-teacher conferences). It's a complete celebration of American culture. The culture itself makes up the traditions. A dichotomy of cartoon characters and corporate mascots make up a parade sponsored by a department store and televised on no less than three TV networks. American football is as ingrained into the day; as is the joy, expectation and regret of eating too much. Then there are turkey sandwiches at night. And if we can keep the rampant and unconscionable consumerism from killing three people, then we as a country will have shown more restraint than last year's Black Friday.
American culture, I fear, is corporate culture. What is an "American" restaurant in other countries? McDonald's? What is an "American" restaurant in America? Chili's? This criticism is more appropriate to suburbs and small towns were nationalism is as boasted as it is unexamined. The melting pot has become coldly efficient. American culture is a gray goo of corporations, conformity and consistency. American culture should not include an Americanization process. Our culture should pride itself on diversity. That is American. Our history is made up of world cultures coming together, and I don't just mean in the grade-school-production-of-"The-First-Thanksgiving"-way. The cornerstone, hell, the whole foundation of America is built on equal freedom for anybody from anywhere in the world. We should be a collection of cultures, not one that appeals to the lowest common denominators of consumers. I don't want to believe cultural authenticity is a myth and I don't want to believe America is naturally face-less.
An American culture is based on our perceptions of the world from which we should be drawing our culture. However among much of America there is an indifference toward the global community at best and a cruel mockery at worst. The other countries are so incompetent at existing on their own, we still maintain over 750 bases in over 40 countries even after the Cold War, that's the logic, correct? Funny. Forgive me for not being convinced that the world has been more peaceful in the last 50 years thanks to this $600 billion-per-year endeavor.
Why are people more ready to consider themselves American citizens than world citizen? And why are those two different things? Why isn't there a collective responsibility to the world we live in? Aren't countries just arbitrary borders? Shouldn't I feel as connected to the 6.4 billion global people I don't know as the 300 million Americans I don't know? Why don't massive corporations believe stopping disease and starvation is profitable? Why does it cost leaders political capital?
I am thankful for more things than I care to list (most of which: family, friends and health). But that doesn't mean I'm done wishing for a better world. There haven't always been countries in the traditional sense we know and I believe a day will come when the notions of individual countries will change again. Maybe not in my lifetime, but they didn't get to space in Galileo's lifetime either (how's that for some ego-stroking?). In all sincerity, I would like to see a national change in Americanism and renewed perspectives on international organizations. I like being an American but I also know that just living in America doesn't make you a good American any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.There are times when we are 250 countries and there are times when we are one world. I believe the ReGeneration and the many generations after us will create, change, and unify an unprecedented global community.
And for that, I am thankful.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The November Skyscaper
These are all novel ideas but none are the one I'm looking for.
I know lots of short stories but I know more shorter ones. Some are true stories, the others just happened in my life.
I was told to get a job so I went to the store but they were all out. I went to the store across the street but they had sold out weeks ago. In fact, no store in town was selling jobs. Now I have to go online to find one.
I saw an exceptionally hairy man on campus one day--though I suppose it could have been an even more exceptionally hairy woman. Nonetheless, he was walking with a slouch and seemed to move in a hurried gait. I thought perhaps he was Sasquatch. He was blurry and dodged behind immense shrubbery. Or maybe it was just foliage. I chased him down all afternoon. When he walked through mud it was easy to follow his footprints. When he walked on the sidewalk, it was much more difficult. Growing tired I decided to pull a raw steak out of my back pack and put it on the ground. Within moments, the man-like Sasquatch approached. He asked for my steak and I granted it to him. I asked him if he was the famous Sasquatch. He said no, he was the other Sasquatch.
I was learning to type once and asked my teacher why there were indents on letters "F" and "J". On second thought, I might have just called them "bumps." My teacher said they were there so that blind people could type. I then asked how would blind people read what they typed. She didn't know the answer. Whoever invented the computer really messed up.
I was told pain/pleasure is physical and renewable in the Muslim afterlife. If your skin burns off in hell, it will grow back and you will keep getting burned. Conversely, in heaven, virginity is physical and renewable. I suppose this means you will keep getting disappointed. Aside from that, I've never understood the appeal of 72 virgins. When not having sex, do you think they all just talk about Star Trek?
I wear red shirts when I go to Target and wait for other customers to ask me where the hose nozzles are. I then point them in the wrong direction and follow from a distance. When they don't find the hose nozzles, I laugh and run away.
I knew a man once who shot flies with his revolver. He used to design video games so he was a very good shot. In fact, I don't think he ever missed one fly. But he was brutal. If he only wounded a fly with the first shot he would then get out of his chair so that he could stand over the helpless bug and execute it at point-blank range. When I went to the man's house I saw bullet holes in his bookshelf, sofa, refrigerator, walls, floor and doors. I understand why he shot flies but I don't understand why he shot everything else.
Latantent - the act or description of fraudulent information being included with factual information in hopes of going unnoticed.
This story is a skyscraper because it is made up of dozens of stories.
I know lots of short stories but I know more shorter ones. Some are true stories, the others just happened in my life.
I was told to get a job so I went to the store but they were all out. I went to the store across the street but they had sold out weeks ago. In fact, no store in town was selling jobs. Now I have to go online to find one.
I saw an exceptionally hairy man on campus one day--though I suppose it could have been an even more exceptionally hairy woman. Nonetheless, he was walking with a slouch and seemed to move in a hurried gait. I thought perhaps he was Sasquatch. He was blurry and dodged behind immense shrubbery. Or maybe it was just foliage. I chased him down all afternoon. When he walked through mud it was easy to follow his footprints. When he walked on the sidewalk, it was much more difficult. Growing tired I decided to pull a raw steak out of my back pack and put it on the ground. Within moments, the man-like Sasquatch approached. He asked for my steak and I granted it to him. I asked him if he was the famous Sasquatch. He said no, he was the other Sasquatch.
I was learning to type once and asked my teacher why there were indents on letters "F" and "J". On second thought, I might have just called them "bumps." My teacher said they were there so that blind people could type. I then asked how would blind people read what they typed. She didn't know the answer. Whoever invented the computer really messed up.
I was told pain/pleasure is physical and renewable in the Muslim afterlife. If your skin burns off in hell, it will grow back and you will keep getting burned. Conversely, in heaven, virginity is physical and renewable. I suppose this means you will keep getting disappointed. Aside from that, I've never understood the appeal of 72 virgins. When not having sex, do you think they all just talk about Star Trek?
I wear red shirts when I go to Target and wait for other customers to ask me where the hose nozzles are. I then point them in the wrong direction and follow from a distance. When they don't find the hose nozzles, I laugh and run away.
I knew a man once who shot flies with his revolver. He used to design video games so he was a very good shot. In fact, I don't think he ever missed one fly. But he was brutal. If he only wounded a fly with the first shot he would then get out of his chair so that he could stand over the helpless bug and execute it at point-blank range. When I went to the man's house I saw bullet holes in his bookshelf, sofa, refrigerator, walls, floor and doors. I understand why he shot flies but I don't understand why he shot everything else.
Latantent - the act or description of fraudulent information being included with factual information in hopes of going unnoticed.
This story is a skyscraper because it is made up of dozens of stories.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tom Gunner and Lincoln Revisited
You know the first story of Tom Gunner and Lincoln
There were games with words and it left you thinkin’
This tale is stranger with a stranger, hope you don’t mind
But our heroes find themselves in the year nineteen ninety-nine
They mused and walked the ity-bity city
Just a two-man, problem-solving committee
Summer leaves left, fallers stayed to try
Like everyone else, they were asking why
You’re here for a problem, said a man with six strings
I am a master of all these crazy little things.
Name was Webster, he talked real fast
He had no future but a helluva past
Tom and Link knew the language, but he knew the words
Webster was a hawk in a world of birds
His bite had sting; his bark had bite
Didn’t matter if he was in the wrong or right
Why do we have a case? Asked Tom and Link
We all have problems said the man with a wink
Give me some change and I’ll give you some back
Ideas, not money, is what you lack
Internal, infernal rhyming is my game
Fighting all shame in the name of fame
Slacker Generation and a pop junk culture
Fights and death but no war for the soldier
I’ll stop spraying, start saying what game I’m playing
Its about old ideas, repackaged as new
Listen up close; don’t do as I do
Laugh, don’t pity this shitty little diddy
Two Mexican guys found themselves up north
Homeless and helpless on January fourth
They got lucky, couple blankets they found
Wrapped themselves up but couldn’t move around
Cut a hole in the middle; a pancho for each
Now they could move, it's the freedom of teach
Like you fellas, they didn’t seek glory
It’s the little wins that make a really good story
Prevent Y2K, maybe that’s why you’re here
Your problem is big but the answer ain’t clear
So you can’t help us out, said Link with no fears
No luck. Like a lot of solutions, yours will take ten years!
There were games with words and it left you thinkin’
This tale is stranger with a stranger, hope you don’t mind
But our heroes find themselves in the year nineteen ninety-nine
They mused and walked the ity-bity city
Just a two-man, problem-solving committee
Summer leaves left, fallers stayed to try
Like everyone else, they were asking why
You’re here for a problem, said a man with six strings
I am a master of all these crazy little things.
Name was Webster, he talked real fast
He had no future but a helluva past
Tom and Link knew the language, but he knew the words
Webster was a hawk in a world of birds
His bite had sting; his bark had bite
Didn’t matter if he was in the wrong or right
Why do we have a case? Asked Tom and Link
We all have problems said the man with a wink
Give me some change and I’ll give you some back
Ideas, not money, is what you lack
Internal, infernal rhyming is my game
Fighting all shame in the name of fame
Slacker Generation and a pop junk culture
Fights and death but no war for the soldier
I’ll stop spraying, start saying what game I’m playing
Its about old ideas, repackaged as new
Listen up close; don’t do as I do
Laugh, don’t pity this shitty little diddy
Two Mexican guys found themselves up north
Homeless and helpless on January fourth
They got lucky, couple blankets they found
Wrapped themselves up but couldn’t move around
Cut a hole in the middle; a pancho for each
Now they could move, it's the freedom of teach
Like you fellas, they didn’t seek glory
It’s the little wins that make a really good story
Prevent Y2K, maybe that’s why you’re here
Your problem is big but the answer ain’t clear
So you can’t help us out, said Link with no fears
No luck. Like a lot of solutions, yours will take ten years!
Monday, November 23, 2009
What am I Thinking?
So I was surfing the web the other day when I wondered if people still say "surfing the web." Seems more like the kind of new age lingo that would have gone bust with the dot-coms in 2000. Anymore people say stuff like "stumbling"or "Facebooking" when referring to their cyber-based activities. Just then, Joey Shababado, my roommate, waltzed into the living room.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked.
"Scuttering on the internet."
"What?"
"Stumbling."
"Oh. That's cool" he emphatically responded. "Today in class I sat next to Rachael, not for any real reason but blah blah blah and blah. Also blah blah."
Hugely is a funny word. Something can be "hugely important" in substitute of "very important." But "huge" means "big." Something can't be "bigly important." Or maybe it can. The English language changes so much I doubt anybody even says "bigly" anymore. Oh wait, Joey Shababado was still talking.
"Yeah?" I muster.
"Yeah," he confirms before continuing. "It's like that movie 'Boat Trip,' you ever see that?"
"Hell no."
"Well... in the movie two guys blah blah, blah blah, blah blah. Then Cuba Gooding, Jr., throws up on Vivica A. Fox and all blah blah blah. "
And what's the deal with that one statue? I think it's called "St. Wenceslas Riding a Dead Horse." That monument, or whatever, doesn't make any sense. Jeez. Europe sure has a lot of problems. I should just tell people I've been to Europe, it's not like they can prove I haven't been there. And pictures aren't bigly important. Everybody wins. Uh oh. Joey Shababado stopped talking.
"That's life for you, isn't it?" I suggest.
"Yeah. No kidding. Say, thanks for listening to me."
"Yeah, no problem."
"Talk to you later, man."
He went back into his room. I stayed on the computer, exuttering the internet. I have to stop making up these ornate, epigrammatic and latantent words.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked.
"Scuttering on the internet."
"What?"
"Stumbling."
"Oh. That's cool" he emphatically responded. "Today in class I sat next to Rachael, not for any real reason but blah blah blah and blah. Also blah blah."
Hugely is a funny word. Something can be "hugely important" in substitute of "very important." But "huge" means "big." Something can't be "bigly important." Or maybe it can. The English language changes so much I doubt anybody even says "bigly" anymore. Oh wait, Joey Shababado was still talking.
"Yeah?" I muster.
"Yeah," he confirms before continuing. "It's like that movie 'Boat Trip,' you ever see that?"
"Hell no."
"Well... in the movie two guys blah blah, blah blah, blah blah. Then Cuba Gooding, Jr., throws up on Vivica A. Fox and all blah blah blah. "
And what's the deal with that one statue? I think it's called "St. Wenceslas Riding a Dead Horse." That monument, or whatever, doesn't make any sense. Jeez. Europe sure has a lot of problems. I should just tell people I've been to Europe, it's not like they can prove I haven't been there. And pictures aren't bigly important. Everybody wins. Uh oh. Joey Shababado stopped talking.
"That's life for you, isn't it?" I suggest.
"Yeah. No kidding. Say, thanks for listening to me."
"Yeah, no problem."
"Talk to you later, man."
He went back into his room. I stayed on the computer, exuttering the internet. I have to stop making up these ornate, epigrammatic and latantent words.
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