Dammit, Did I Miss Flag Day Again?

Dear American Flag,

Another year has passed, and I have missed your birthday....... again.  They say you were 233 years old on June 14th, and I didn't even have the common decency to bake you that red velvet cake I know you love.  I am such an ass.

June 14th was a Monday.  I woke up that afternoon feeling appreciative of something, but I could not put my finger on what, exactly, I was appreciative of.  So, I began the search with my wife who I thanked for her steadfast love and kindness.  It didn't feel right.  It was definitely not that I appreciated.  I thought about calling my parents, then quickly realized that would be an error in judgment.  After all, they needed no thanks for all the ass wiping, conflict resolution, parent-teacher conferences, wrecked vehicles, and angst that I put them through, right?  Right!  I even tried thanking the woman who made my burrito that day for such a delicious treat.  But deep down inside, I felt nothing but contempt (she really skimped on my corn salsa).  As I was driving home and accepting defeat, I caught a glimpse of a giant red, white, and blue in the air.  Something grand stirred in my soul, and I thought with surety, that the flag above was by far the silliest thing I've ever seen.  It was twice as long as usual, looked more like a giant airborne hallway rug.  What a dumb flag!  Ohhh.... indigestion.

And so the day would pass as all the years before it, with me forgetting to celebrate flag day.  I know what you're thinking.  I am pretty ungrateful.  So many sacrifices have been made for me that go unthanked.  Just to think where I would be if all those people who couldn't pay the price for college, or, lets be honest, American citizenship, hadn't taken all those bullets overseas, the ones that were aimed at me.  If it weren't for the pile of British, Native American, African, Libyan, Mexican, Confederate, Spanish, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Iranian, Guatemalan, Grenadian, Iraqi, Somalian, and Afghanistani flesh at my feet (damn, you're only 233 years old?), well, no way I could stand this high.

I'd be mad about all of the dead you have claimed over, but what Ke$ha did on SNL

( http://www.hulu.com/watch/143257/saturday-night-live-keha-tik-tok ) has made me laugh quite heartily.  Now I realize why, exactly, I am so appreciative.  You entertain the hell out of me!  The most embarrassing and obstinate of humanity wave you about as their security blanket.  People actually get passionate about whether it is alright to burn you (it is).  Best of all, that one time you and Glenn Beck were caught on tape in the back of that van.... well, you were there.  How could I help but laugh at such a sad, sad spectacle.

So thanks for being what you are and all that.  I'm sure I'll remember next year.  Seems to me some other patriotic holiday is coming soon.  Hmm.  I'm stumped.  The only thing I can come up with is that day of mourning event on July 4th that marks the turning of the tide in the WNA (War of Northern Aggression).  Yeah, I'm going to have to think about this one....

P.S. - last weeks blog was the beginning of adding relevant music to my posts, a practice I plan to continue.  Hope you're enjoying it.

Quote of the week:

If we were wise, we would learn the elegant simplicity of finding the abundance in violent changes and learn the lessons of grateful adaptation. By naming a volcano a disaster, we rob it of its ability to teach. By seeing those in its reach as victims, we blind ourselves to the grace of evolution which is an inextricable part of humanity’s development. - David Martin, whose awesome blog can be found here: http://www.invertedalchemy.blogspot.com/

A Love Affair

I feel like I often ask too much of my reader, especially when I ask them to try and experience my madness.  It won't stop though, nope.  Below, you can find a link to some music that I feel reflects my message very well.  If you would please, either before after or during reading this post, listen to the song below.  Hopefully, you will be able to further appreciate what I am trying to express here.  I already do, thanks friend.

Lets begin, shall we?

Love affairs, as I am learning, have no regard for your life plans.  They scoff at them, making you feel ashamed for such pithy delusions.  They make you feel small and impotent (at least mine do) and eventually force you to face your life's circumstances.  Funny... this poor treatment is why anyone allows an affair to happen in the first place.  One wants a change, even with all of the personal destruction it includes.  And that is exactly why one loves an affair.  There is such beauty in the fall and submission of a human being to something so completely impossible to control.

I have a good friend in Birmingham who wanted to discuss my return to Alabama.  This place means different things to him than it does to me, so naturally he was curious as to why I like it down here so much.  I gave him some "this and that" about it being far away from anything resembling Chicago, and how I felt it was a good constructive space to figure out my next steps (as I'm sure I've already expressed in previous postings).  It started to nag on me that I had said all of that.  Though true, it wasn't THE truth.  As the conversation moved on, the desire to change my response grew stronger, until I had to interrupt.  Out of nowhere, I blurted out that the real reason I liked Alabama so much is, (are you ready?) the foliage.  I'll let that statement hang in the air for a minute.  The foliage...

What does that mean?  I can assure you it is not based in a scientific appreciation for the foliage; I don't give two shits about photosynthesis!  So, what is it?  To best explain, maybe some personal history will help.

I would like to recall my 20-25 phase in life.  I was tired of failing and disappointing people.  My solution was to give a damn about something that would in turn light a fire under my ass, to put it eloquently, and that is exactly what I did.  I got passionate about helping others, got two degrees in the subject, and when I was done, I had nothing waiting for me on the other side.  Looking back, it was foolish to think that I would have, no matter what may have been different.  So, in that defeat I came here, still having not learned my lesson.  This lesson I speak of was that all along I had only been interested in helping myself; mostly, to help me live with myself.  It's not very fun, my wife can attest to the mess.

Now how did I learn this lesson?

I came down here looking for a lot of answers, and the first and most important one came to me only days after I arrived.  Something about the woods here is intoxicating.  You can find a path in any neighborhood, it seems, and 100 feet in you feel totally separated from civilization.  At night, when the dark turns everything into mysterious shadows, insects take to the trees and play really good music.  The best of all of these is that when the wind picks up and moves the surrounding greenery, it forces one to remember that it is all very much alive.  This constant reminder, my friends, is the biggest blessing I have received in a long while.  There is something out here way bigger than myself.  And in the end, I have to agree that this whole life, in all its sorrows and wonder, is not about me.

As I continue to struggle to grasp this revelation, I am constantly enveloped by the foliage that speaks to me.  In Alabama, if you have a heart that listens, then the trees themselves will be your prophets.  All I want to do in return is to love them back, and to further explore the life surrounding us all.  How can I possibly do anything else?  It demands my worship, and I give it freely.  This place has become even dearer to my heart.

I was not looking for this love affair to occur, to draw me away from my self focus and bring me to new frontiers of understanding.  It has shown me where I have erred, and has been most gracious in doing so.  I think I will continue to listen.  Though I likely will someday, I hope that I never leave this place.  There is not a lot of opportunity in Alabama for a person of my interests, but unlike everywhere else I have lived, it surrounds me with loving arms.  It whispers in my ear, "you should learn to play the banjo".  Love affairs are funny indeed.

When Christ was asked to silence his followers, he said that if they kept quiet, that the very stones would cry out.  In the absence of everyone else, in the absence of myself, I hear the trees.

I Prefer My Coffee Brewed by Opressed College Grads

Its June, and you've just graduated from college; most likely with your BA (bad choice, you'll see).  You've  moved home "temporarily", and before you can catch up with your old acquaintances from childhood, its job hunting time!  You may not have graduated from an Ivy League institution, but hey, your school was in the top 25 for best universities in the third tier.  Nothing is going to hold YOU back.  All you have to do is shake that magic eight ball that is your destiny.  You give it a SHHHHAAAAKE!  *ask again later*  What?!?  You are a successful college grad.  You know you have something to offer, mostly spunk and a senior paper on Aristotle, but dammit, your practice of Aristotelian philosophies would really streamline that fortune 500 company you got your eye on.  You prepare to shake the ball again, this time with the ferocity of a human who demands the very best.  SHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAKE!!! *barista* ....... shit.

What happened? 

The world changed, missy/sport.  You see, your parents, like their parents before them, believed that you would benefit from a four year degree in a non-technical field.  It worked for them to some extent.  Start at an entry level position, work your way up to mid management (after all, this is the real world, the fun is over), then save money for your kids college (you won't forget to have children, will you?  You deserve to suffer like your parents did, and, well, don't deprive them of that joy.)  This was what your parents envisioned for you, and hoped that with this age tested, mother approved model of survival, they could finally escape to Boca to enjoy that time share.  Well at least you've repaid their bad advice with a dream crusher.  Take pride in the look on your father's face as he re-converts that world-class weights room into your "hang zone".  Bummer, bro.

It won't do you much good to steam over your parents' advice forever (although the steam really helps to make those lattes quite delicious!).  After all, who saw this curve ball coming?  You were born in America's second hay day.  With Ronald Reagan and God at the helm, nothing could go wrong in this country (Iran-Contra *cough, cough*, Sodom-Gomorrah *COUGH! OWW MY LUNG!!!*).  Who knew you could end up like this.  Hey, hey, you might want to take a break from reading, I think I hear some guy yelling over there about his cappuchino.

Things have changed indeed.  That's a vague statement, isn't it?  I'll clarify.  Odds are that by age 25 you will have comparable debt to your parents, and you'll STILL be living with them!!!  Even worse, you're finding out that the real wiz kids of this generation are in the tech industry, not the philosophy industry.  That alone has changed the face of "cool" and "sexy" as we know it.  Decades ago, you couldn't find a person who didn't equate these terms with red sports cars, dickheads, and yeah, mostly dickheads and half starved women.  What is cool and sexy these days?  Well, still all that, but more so, dammit, I'm such a good contrarian that I even outsmart myself sometimes.

I'll fix this.  K, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and imagine a stage with a black back drop.  Still with me?  Super.  It's 2010, millennium trois, part deux.  Base is bumpin' bumpin' bumpin'!  The crowd emits a squeal of excitement as a malnourished figure in blue jeans and a black mock-neck comes onto the stage with a, what the hell, is that a piece of glass?  Not only a piece of glass, this thing does the unthinkable.  It switches lights!  It even allows you to connect to other light switchers to interact with their switching lights.  Jules Verne never conjured up such a terribly cool device with such a terribly sexy creator and model.  Times have changed indeed.  Body by Auschwitz?  Nope, body by Jobs!  I guess if your parents had really loved you, then instead of saving for college they should have given you a busted-ass mother board and some rubber bands and told you to fix it.  That's what the loving parents did.

So now what?  You know all those second degree burns at the job are going to build on your rage until you can no longer force yourself to enter the building.  Suicide?  Don't be an idiot!  I can't believe you would suggest such a thing.  Oh, it worked for Foxconn, you say?  Well did you ever stop to think that Starbucks hired you precisely because you are angsty.  Get an internship for experience?  Ahhh, you're killing me!  Seriously, that was funny.  Maybe you thought "hmm hmm hmm.  Well, Time Magazine says that way more people have their bachelor's than in Mom and Dad's day.  Maybe I'll go for a post graduate degree to level the playing field.  hmm hmm yes yes."  Fool.  Only those who didn't learn their lesson the first time go back for a Masters.  Odds are you'll be back at your same job in 2 years in a state with lower pay.  Don't ask how I come up with these opinions, I just do.  Wise-acres.

After all of my berating you for your naivete, perhaps its time I give you some words of encouragement or guidance..........

No, I think not.  Don't get so mad!  After all, I'm in the same boat.  Even worse, sometimes I think about getting my PhD (shudder).

OK, well maybe a little hint.  Stop thinking about your certain future without money; it's not going to make you happy anyways.  And if you want to save the world, well, your neighborhood is the best and most appropriate place to start.  Now get out there and be somebody, you champion.

This weeks pleasant, or should I say pheasant (heh heh) picture is brought to you by Chris Jordan.  This guy is an awesome photographer who is changing the way the world is introduced to our many problems.  This particular photo is one of many bird skeletons photographed on Midway island, the plastic remains from inside their stomachs were left completely unaltered, and come from birds scavenging or food amongst nearby trash heaps in the ocean.  The exhibit, along with the rest of Chris Jordan's work,  can be found here:  http://www.chrisjordan.com/gallery/epu/

Sermon on the Bun

Much has happened over the past couple of weeks and I have been neglecting my baby.  Despite this, I have a bunch o' topics I want to cover in the future- Oil spill, political ads, my summer reading list, crabs (not crabs, but maybe a treatise on generational repetitions).  But my dear bravers of the Deluge, there are more pressing matters to speak of at this moment.

My friends, I have just had what many would call a "religious" awakening, and I wish to write you of this new-found joy so that you may become my followers in this journey to paradise.  OH DON'T GO RUNNING AWAY, I JUST WANT TO TALK ABOUT A BURGER!  Now you've ruined the surprise.

It was last Thursday to be exact, and my wife and brother and I were off to dinner.  The idea was to go to Saw's BBQ in Homewood, but because of "Auburn Engineering", as my Dad would say, the roads down here tend to, well, it seems as if they tied a piece of chalk to a jack rabbits ass to plan the roads.  It being Auburn University, that may not be too outlandish of a statement.

So, I got lost.  No, I don't have a GPS.  It's amazing what people will buy these days in exchange for their free will.  While I was trying to get my bearings, I spotted an unassuming looking restaurant to my left, called HAMBURGER HEAVEN.  I asked the fam if they would like to try this HAMBURGER HEAVEN, and we all agreed to give it a shot.

I will say that for a long time in my journey I was unaware what was happening to me.  I was blind and angry at a substandard university's graduates who had left me no alternative.  When I got to the counter, the fact that the man at the register looked like a preacher didn't even occur to me at the time.  I was a little discouraged by the picture of Paula Deen at the register with their hamburger, still no clue.  As ignorant as I once was, only fate could bring me to such realization, such enlightenment.

Biting into my hamburger, it was as if the hand of God had reached down from the heavens and slapped my momma down (southern term, don't get confused).  As the commingling of ingredients hit my taste buds, my pupils dilated and my eyelids sagged.  It was what it had said in its name: HEAVEN.

Just look at the buttery halo!!! I do not lie!!!   I ate that sucker in 60 seconds.  Some of you might wonder why I wouldn't stop to savor it.  Well dumb dumb, it's like how tweakers say a shot of heroin in their veins lets them experience eternity.  It was just 60 seconds on this cheap planet, this mortal coil.  It was an eternity with the universe, all through this bovine beauty.

I left HAMBURGER HEAVEN dazed, three quarters tard.  But this is not the end of my story, oh-ho-no!  As I went to work that night, all I could think about was returning the next day, for such an experience does not leave you a free human being (some of you are laughing right now, and its beacuse I sold my free will for a meat sandwich, and for such cynicism and blasphemy, you will be sentenced to an eternity in suffering.  In hell, they don't char grill their burgers, they microwave them.  Oh, and they're also vegan friendly.  Who's laughing now, you wangs!).  All night I drooled and drooled.  I also had a substandard breakfast to stave of my hunger.  I felt like a whore.  It was my lowest moment.  But HEAVEN would be calling soon.

As dinner time arrived, I was actually traveling the road to Damascus when a flash of light knocked my off my ass.  I saw THE burger in the sky, and it spoke to me, saying "John-Pierce of Fairhope, Alabama.  Why do you resist me?"  I cried a little, and at some point I realized I was driving in my car, and I could see HAMBURGER HEAVEN in the distance.  The sky turned lavender with the rays of the sun turning blood red.  I saw a row of cows bowing before the restaurant, I'm sorry, the temple.  They we're chanting something like "MOOOOOOO!  MOOOOOOO!".  I might not be 100% on that one, but I think that's what they said.  As I approached the temple, I glided across the floor where I was greeted at the counter by my Burger Bodhisattva.  I picked up the Grail in my hands, and I partook of its splendor.  At that moment, a revelation was bestowed upon me, and it was this truth:  I will never be a vegetarian.

Below you can see a "lustier" version of my message.  Children, cover your eyes!

Thank you for your time, and I'm glad I could share with you this important discovery.  Now for some announcements:

Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.- Matt Groening

So you read this far, one more thing.  My buddy just launched a website for studying, teaching, volunteering, and working overseas.  Do visit his site, and tell anyone about it who might be interested.  I'd put up a photo of my friend for all the single ladies who like a man who makes money, but he looks like a child pornographer.  I'll just post the website here:  http://www.gooverseas.com/
Go visit!