"My Shit's Fucked Up"
Warren Zevon on The State of the Nation
First Change of Many Going On
The playlist was formerly placed at the bottom of the post. Kinda silly thinking about that now. If I want you to listen to it as you read the post, maybe it should be at the top.
Stay tuned for some thoughts and feelings on change. And goals. and what we do with them. What is in your life that needs changing? if nothing, then what goals can you credit for that condition?
Do you use a soup-spoon or a salad-fork to swallow the silly-soliloquies I set forth?
I wrote the post below on November 23, 2021. It turned out to be the last post of the year. I say that because the final six entries of the journal were more like notes to a friend. My missives always have meaning to me, and after an entire year of posting, I can say with confidence that they have meaning to you too.
I’m not gonna change it. The post, that is. Not so my mind. I read it and thought, wow! (my mind, that is-not the post) I just learned the lesson of letting things ripen. I think it is a part of being in the moment. And it touches on the thought of brutal honesty. That lying stops when honesty starts. From inside out.
I just realized that I never concluded this post. That makes me happy. I didn’t worry about it. I didn’t obsess on it. I actually forgot all about it sometimes. But here it is. Standing proud and ready to post.
That something learned is this: a close friend recently provided a valuable insight into my readers' mindset. Or at least hers. Paraphrasing here, the gist was that the word-dioramas I create sometimes lack an active participant. The main protagonist, as it were.
Fascinating insight. Are these letter-pictures I draw just for me? How does my mind-sketch become something that means something to you? My reader. The consumer of the consonant and vowel chowder that I serve to your inbox every weekend?!
Year 2020 melded with 2021 and is now a math-burden when recalling memories from the before-times. The addition of two stuck-in-place years to our collective lifetimeline is forgotten at first. Then, like a serial killer, it attacks. We stop-short, coherence turning into confusion. When did that super-important-I’ll-never-forget-thing in my life happen again?
Oh, yeah. Before the Now-Normal. The 600+ lost days need to be accounted for when talking about that thing you did “just last year.” More like 2 or 3 years ago. At least we all have that “singular collective experience” old-timers reminisce about.
What is this, like only having three channels back in the day? It forced upon most of us a heavy-blanket of oppression. It tucked us into a bed of false hopes with a wet-feather lining. It made us afraid of the monster under the bed and the cacuy in the closet.
My friend’s feedback lit the spark of epiphany and made me relax. It seems like all I really remember people saying before the lockdown was “I’m so tired.” “I wish the world would slow down.” “I just need a day or two to stay home.”
Just like Hanks in Big, careful what you wish for.
Empty your goal-bucket
Here is how I made myself relax. And how it worked for an uptight-super-OCD-anxiety-riddled dude like me. I didn't post auto-obsessively on Friday. I didn’t feel that it was ready or that I was ready. It freaked me out. But I resisted publishing the post because doing it prematurely would have screwed me up more than not posting it.
Going forward, I relaxed my self-imposed rule of posting on Friday mornings. That schedule used to fit. Now it doesn’t fit. That is the change. We know that we are changing. We actively seek change. Sometimes, we accept change without acknowledgement that we are now beyond that change and looking at a new and different change.
What bogged me down is not changing my goals. Or, more specifically, not stopping to actually measure the goal achievement. I would goal-collect without ever dumping out the collection bag. Imagine going fishing, and you just keep catching fish. What a great day of fishing, right?
Now imagine going fishing the next day. You never emptied the fish-bucket from yesterday’s catch. Which was extremely successful. And, today, you caught even more fish. I imagine that bucket gets pretty smelly if never emptied. Turning success into rotten fish. Yay . . .
Empty your goal-bucket and count them. It feels good. If it doesn’t, maybe the goals need looking at. Or maybe you need looking at. In either case, the change you sought is now upon you. What you do with the results creates the next change.
Wish wisely,
Ric
This is the post I composed on November 23, 2021 and have not edited it.
Zip Code Is More Important Than IQ
It’s not a nurture vs. nature argument. It’s location, location, location.
I believe much in life depends on the zip code you were born in. In 2021, if you are a black kid born in 91108 you stand a much greater chance of succeeding in life than if you are a white kid born in 15929. Just sayin…
I call that classism. Big difference from racism. Now, the black kid from San Marino just may fail. Maybe he became a banker that embezzled money. Perhaps a stock-broker that frauds his clients.
What if, God forbid, as a doctor, he gets addicted to opioids and DUI crashes his Mercedes and kills somebody. It could happen. Or, he could be the most super-successful black dude in America, whatever he becomes. With that zip-code launching pad, I imagine he goes far.
What about the poor white kid? If, by sheer will, accident, good fortune, or God’s blessing, he might rise from his surroundings and become a shining example of all that is good about America. Maybe it’s athletics that propel him to fame. Perhaps military service turns him into a warrior celebrity.
Then again, the dramatic arts have a way of providing all that and more. Or, more likely, he fails and becomes a statistic. Functionally illiterate, mortally obese, drug-addled and chronically alcoholic, with multiple offspring from multiple women, unemployed, and government-depended. His life status is all but settled. He just needs his exit bag.
So, who is the better failure? Whom should we be most less-proud of? The super-rich black dude who had it all and threw it away? Or the opiod-addicted white-trash fulfilling his station in life.
Did the white guy fail? Or did he ever have a chance? Did the black guy overcome his upbringing? Or just assume his ordained rank in the social order?
What if we switch tribes? Huh? What do you mean? Oh wait. That's what I did.
Most likely, the black kid from San Marino is the child of an Indian or Pakistani or Nigerian immigrant. The succeeding generations' ascension up the social ladder is all but guaranteed.
The white kid is probably a 5th generation American. Each cohort a step below their parents in destitution, desperation and despair. Does that cycle ever stop?
In America, the scenarios above and their opposite are equally valid and possible. More than possible. They actually happen. Black people have occupied every level of society, arts, and government, including the presidency. So have white people.
Individual white people have been responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity. So have individual black people. Rich. Poor. Good. Bad. Winner. Loser. Sinner. Saint. And so?
So what does that all prove? To me, it proves we are all human beings cast in the image of God. With free will to choose good over evil. Or vice-versa. Check this one out about freewill.
In every facet of life it is more common than not to have differently colored colleagues, associates, neighbors, friends and lovers. We really need to stop with the skin color thing. The house of race-cards is literally collapsing under its own weight right before our eyes.
This is where we are at this moment in time.
That is child abuse, pure and simple. We have to recognize that we are too far gone already. Now, a black man marrying a white woman is called a race traitor. By blacks. Wasn’t it not so long ago black men and boys were lynched for whistling at white women? By whites.
Angry members of the black tribe call out these “race traitors” in public. With no backlash. Uh, where and when I grew up, that was called racism. Betraying their race because they married a person of a different skin color. What the fuck, man?
Or is that really it? Could it be that the father who spoke against CRT is actually a heretic? A black person not towing the tribe-line on skin-color issues. Because that is racism.
Racism has more political currency right now. Let’s break this down a bit. Before all this started, most people just kind of assumed all people with the same skin color basically thought the same thing. That’s how tribes work. See human evolution.
I mean, slavery is not a system based on individuality. But just look at all of the historical prejudice against certain other-people. When the Vietnam War ended and Vietnamese refugees poured into this country, did they face a racial backlash? The Cubans? Haitians?
Most Americans, being fat, dumb, and lazy to fit OUR stereo-type, had no idea the subtle differences among the Asian subcultures. Calling a Korean a Chinese or a Cambodian a Loatian is insulting.
Who knows the difference between the Hmoung people and their neighbors and the brutal history of repression and civil war their people have endured?
The “political monoliths'' of ethnic communities have always been overstated. The Catholic prejudice, Irish Need Not Apply, the Hispanic vote. Most famously in the recent cycle, the “Black Vote” propelled a certain old, straight, Christian, White male to the top job.
Because all white people are racist. Screeeeeech! Except some white people. Wait! What? Who? How do we get on that list?
White Allies - What the hell does that mean?
We have a new classification of white people. Whew. I was getting really worried that all this unity shit was getting us too soft in the head. Because of the large number of black people that actually like, love and intermingle on an intimate basis with white people, the race-card dealers needed a trump card. (Like how I did that?)
When this whole thing started, the race of the white dude with the gun was headline material. The race of the dudes who got shot was not. This led to much of the world believing the dudes who got shot were black.
That’s called a lie of omission. Like when the guy tells the wife he just went over to a buddy’s house, got wasted, and decided to make the right choice and stay overnight. She didn’t really need to know the hookers made a house call, right?
There is so much variety of opinion here on Substack, it is super-easy to find a link to tons of honest reporting. By that I mean truthfully honest, not just catering to my world-view.
I support all kinds of journalism here on Substack. I disagree with a lot of what Steven Beschloss writes. But I like his style and he presents his perspective as he sees it. He believes what he writes and so do his readers. I enjoy a smart other-take.
Another writer with a completely opposite point-of-view is Glenn Greenwald. I agree with a fair amount of his stuff. These two writers can cover the same story, and the readers of both would have more questions than answers after reading both of these articles.
Full Disclosure: I pay both of them $5/month to subscribe to their writing. I subscribe to eleven writers on Substack. I usually rotate among my favorites. I believe it is extremely important at this moment to support not only the views you agree with, but even more so, the views you disagree with.
It is only through true and honest disagreement that persuasion is born. The same passion that creates new life in the bedroom creates new ideas in the boardroom. Imagine a household in which you “totally agree” with every single thing your significant other believes in.
Now imagine a society in which everyone had to agree with the person in power. For four years you too could believe the same absolute ideas as the Bad Orange.
Isn’t that what some are asking of us now?
Now imagine a society in which everyone had to agree with the person in power. For these four years you too could believe the same absolute ideas as the old, straight, Christian, White male that holds all that power.
So this is where I ask you to pitch in. Help offset my subscriptions and improve my metrics. One click does all that! Think of the power dynamic you’ll enjoy for a few moments. I’ll gladly accept that form of patronage.
Don’t forget about my goal to increase my total readership, and of course, my paid subscriptions. That’s all in your hands and minds.
Thank you.
The Necessary Battle for Human Decency casts a large swath of the white population as irredeemable racists that the country would be better off reprogramming or disposing of. How that would be done we are not yet told.
Kyle Rittenhouse, Project Veritas, and the Inability to Think in Terms of Principles tacks an diametrically opposite course through the turbulent sea of bluster, blather, and banality.
Mr. Beschloss is a smart guy. So is Mr. Greenwald. Both are white. Both are male. What explains their membership in different tribes? Opposing tribes of white people no less.
They both are in tribes that contain black people, among others. Both tribes are composed of individuals of all different skin colors. To reiterate, two white men hold opposing views and identify with tribes that encompass large swaths of multi-racial audiences.
One tribe endorses a group-think based on skin color, or allegiance to a skin color. One tribe endorses free-thought, and allegiance to individual liberty. You decide which is which.
We Need A Roster Of White People - Sorted By Good And Bad
Listening to the news coverage last week was very interesting. Listening about how bad white people are in general. And how the system white people built using slave labor is only built for the success of white people. And bad for everyone else.
Mostly by black people. Especially a not-so-Joyful one. But a lot of white people seriously hating on whites too. Bad hating. And it's confusing. When black people leave the tribe, other blacks get pissed and take it personal. Just ask Larry Elder or Winsome Sears.
I can’t figure out if the white people hating white people left the tribe? Or did the hated leave the tribe? Were all these whites actually in the same tribe to begin with?
So, in what tribe are the whites who hate on other whites in? The same tribe as the blacks hating on whites? But, wait. So the blacks and whites hating on other whites are in the same tribe? But they’re different colors.
See. Totally confusing. I think we need a tribal roster and some tribal inclusion guidelines. And tribal updates on who got kicked out, who quit and left, and who got let back in.
In other words, who’s good and who’s bad? But wait again - who decides?
Check out a post I wrote on that very topic. Strange, huh? Again, not skin color. Tribal allegiances, not racism, are the problem. Classism and elitism pile on to help hate along.
I write about this very subject in the second chapter of the book about my crazy life I am working on. (If anyone wants to throw some advice, offer services, etc. my way of getting that project done, I am all ears!)
I met a dude called Island. His skin was the color of a chocolate covered macadamia nut. He was from Hawaii. And he ran with the whites. Another dude called Ghost ran with the Southerners, the Mexicans from SoCAL. An albino guy with yellow eyes. He said his mom was Mexican, and his dad was a dog. Whatever that meant. I learned that there were different sub-cultures of different colored inmates. And, occasionally, skin color was not the deciding factor in a race-segregated society. Ironic.
So that is where I left it last year. And where I pick it up from here. Thank you again for reading my words. That alone is worth more than most can know.
As we embark on this new year, my Craft is more important to me than ever before. I leave you with Art about Food and Music about History.
I think Warren Zevon captures the mood exquisitely in the title of my post and the first cut of the playlist. I love that Spotify has the lyric button. Please enjoy . . .
"My Shit's Fucked Up"
"My Shit's Fucked Up" Well, I went to the doctor I said, "I'm feeling kind of rough" He said, "I'll break it to you, son [Warren sings, "Let me break it to you, son"] Your shit's fucked up." I said, "my shit's fucked up?" Well, I don't see how-" He said, "The shit that used to work- It won't work now." I had a dream Ah, shucks, oh, well Now it's all fucked up It's shot to hell Yeah, yeah, my shit's fucked up It has to happen to the best of us The rich folks suffer like the rest of us It'll happen to you That amazing grace Sort of passed you by You wake up every day And you start to cry Yeah, you want to die But you just can't quit Let me break it on down: It's the fucked up shit
As I drive the freeways, highways and byways of LA and SoCal, a new feature here (an empty goal-bucket allows for more new goals) is LA Scenes. Saddle up and grab your go-bag, let’s hit the road.
Just wanted to say that I was really happy to see someone else listening to Joan Armatrading!