Combo No.1

I am sitting down with my friends tonight. They are in the box and they are from the seventies. I feel like I am taking my brain out of my head and putting it in a blender. It's liquid. And I like it. They sit in their basement and talk about nothing. Talk about getting laid, and making money. About nothing really. Nothing has any real content. I've been wacthing it for three hours. It's a Seventies Show marathon. And I'm still running. Not finished yet. Making good time. Haven't hit the wall.

Another episode is starting. They are my friends tonight. I must watch. They could be my friends forever. I could buy the DVD collection soon. Watch them on my death bed. Decorate my house like the show. Raise my kid the same way. Talk about nothing but the show. My friends could assume Seventies show identities and we could go to the Seventies Show Convention. We would all love Kelso. We would wonder how he got such high cheek bones? We would wonder why Mr. Foreman was such an asshole while his kids are smoking pot in his basement. We would think about Point Place. How cold does it get there in the winter?

What was that decade like as a young adult? I could remember watching Star Wars when I was a rug rat. How it was sold out and I had to sit in the isle. Remember the white copy rolling across the screen and the stars behind. Remember Elvis dying and how our mother's cried. Remember the Space Shuttle falling out of the sky and how we all had jokes about it the next day. Remember how we all were just a little more naive back then.

Remember how good it felt to not worry that much about your government's choices. About where the next meal was going to come from. About where your next billable hour was going to come from. Remember? That wasn't heaven. It doesn't even come close to my own personal definition of it. But it was much better than this extreme awareness that we are all trying to practice. Who are you to have a valid opinion? Your opinions have been programmed. Your opinions have been brought to you by a local advertising agency who sit in their war rooms forcing fried chicken down your hungry impatient throats at a new low low price.

Jade for President

Reality show flow. Three hours ago. I sat my ass on the couch and tuned it all out. Singers. Documentaries about race. Becoming a Super Model. Or going to space.

How can your life be turned into a show? System flow more indie bandwidth dial temple dragons. On candy tile garage pad lock all systems go.

I'm voting for my favorite model. I think super models could save the world. I'm thinking our President should be a super model. Sit there and be pretty and don't speak. Smile really big and show your bleached teeth and reconstructive surgery cheek bone temple pilots.

I'm hoping Jade will win now. She's a real super model. Like a super hero. Real. Just look at her photo shoot. If she only had super powers man. If she could fly and eat bullets. We could win the war. Sick our super models on the insurgents. Sick our super models on our enemies. Problems solved.

Repetition

I'm planning to be a hero now. I have a garage in my backyard with my dad's old weight bench. I started pumping steel. Looking in the mirror I listen to angry music and pretend to fight shadows. I need to hang a punching bag so I can practice what I would do if I caught a bad guy. I wonder who the bad guys are? Are they my neighbor? Are they you? What would make you do something to hurt someone? What would make you take something that is not yours?

When is that line crossed? Is it crossed gradually? Do you inch closer to that line daily? Or do you cross it daily? What is the line? Who defines it? Is there really a wrong and a right? Or is it defined differently for each person and each culture? I don't know or I know then I forget or I redefine it. Or all at the same time. Sometimes I'm liberal. Sometimes I'm conservative. Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm evil. Sometimes I'm plain confused.

When will there be point blank judgement? When will I look at something and know exactly where I stand, all the time? Never wavering. Always solid. Standing fast.

I know my little girl is an angel. She is pure. Perfect. Untainted. I can look at her and believe in virtue. Truth. I can look at my wife and know that what we have is meant to be. Real. Kismet. Cosmic. I can define wrong and right according to them. That all I want is the best for them. That they deserve something holy. Sacred. That through my love for them I can define myself. That I can look at them and know that something is real. Tangible. Concrete. I can hold them in my arms and know that they exist. I can hold them in my arms and know that I exist. Sticky. Sweaty. Flesh and bone. Family.

Neighborhood Watch

I ran down a pick pocket the other day. Pulled my U-Haul over and ran after the bloke. It was instinct. I didn't think. Just pulled the 17 footer packed with my family's belongings and ran after him. Didn't think about how I could have been shot. How he could have stabbed me. This was my neighborhood and this wasn't going to happen here. Not anymore. Things were supposed to be different now. My buddy who was helping me move told me to pull over, actually. I don't even know if I would have done it otherwise.

I didn't think after I started running. I ran down the alley and the girl who was screaming bloody murder about her purse being stolen was picking up her belongings and the pick pocket was sprinting onwards, out of reach. I ran by her. Just wanting to catch him. Make him pay for what he had done. This woman could have been my wife. She could have been anyone's mother. I ran faster. Put my all in to it. My buddy was a little behind me. I got close enough to see the guy really well. He turned around for a second and said, "What the fuck are you going to do?" I shouted something like,"Drop her money. Stop. Stop." I tried to sound full of authority.

I kept on running after him for about a block. I rounded the next block and I realized he was a good block and a half ahead of me by now. The guy was quick and lean. Looked like he might be able to play basketball all day, and I would be lucky to get a game to ten in. I stopped at the corner. Was a little overwhelmed at the whole thing and how quick it happened. My life could have changed if he had had a gun, but I didn't think about it.

After my buddy caught up with me, we looked down the block and people were poking around in the U-Haul. It looked as if someone had been shot and the driver ran the truck into the corner as half of a lane was blocked by the truck. We ran up to the truck and everyone was interested in why we parked the way we did. I told them I was trying to be a Hero. That I wasn't in good enough shape to run anyone down. That I needed to work out more and maybe I'd catch him next time.

As we got in the truck and began to drive off my buddy told me that the girl had been screaming Nigger the whole time. Something like, "Get that Nigger. That Nigger stole my purse. Get that Nigger." I couldn't believe it. He was closer to the girl because he was further behind. I couldn't believe I was putting my life on the line for this closed minded individual. To her it had quickly become an issue of white versus black. To me it was an issue of wrong versus right. Nothing but that. I was just trying to help out my neighbor in my neighborhood.

I could have left behind my wife and baby girl that afternoon. Sad that I had to learn this. But next time, I will let the pick pocket run off. Next time I will not pull over the truck unless someone is getting beat down. Unless it is life versus death. I would have possibly gotten her credit card and cell phone back. She can cancel the credit card. She can get another phone. But I can't get back my virgin curiosity to help a person in need. Next time I will question and not act. Next time I will think about her, and then think about my family. And the pick pocket can buy his bag of weed. No harm. No foul.

A Shitbag's Journal #1

New CQ today. Our all day mission to guard the 2nd floor hallway. Drill Sergeant Fernandez is on post downstairs. What a delight he is. We've still yet to phase. Something should happen soon. Either we fuck up or they're by the books and we get phased. Some of these soldiers don't look too together when they wake up. This is a Sunday so most soldiers are sleeping in. Shammers all the way, and blue falcons.

For some reason we have this blue falcon bit. A blue falcon is basically a buddy fucker, not literally but someone who's only out for themselves. A good example of a blue falcon is, for instance, this morning we have to report for CQ 15 minutes early. Now out of 7 soldiers to report, 4 were on time, 2 were 5 minutes early, and one was 25 minutes late. Now that's a blue falcon. You don't do that to your battle buddies. See your time isn't your time. We were to relieve the other shift, so those soldiers had to wait around until the relief came, after pulling an eight hour shift. That's a blue falcon.

I hear the Drill Sergeant talking downstairs. He seems pissed off all the time. Any question or comment coming from a soldier in training is responded in a generally piss poor mood. They all have the attitude that we should know the answers. I don't understand how it would be a question if we knew the answers. The main problem here is a lack of information or the propensity for misinformation. That's what makes us dumb privates. Maybe they try to keep us ignorant so they can continue to have the power? It's not really that they physically abuse us. It's not that they ask us to do impossible things here. It's the fact that they have the power. And they continually remind us.

See if you do something wrong you get smoked. A smoking usually consist of 20 minutes or so of good old fashion aerobic activity. Front lean and rest position. Move. The frogger. The bicycle. Flutter kicks. The crab walk. You see exercise could be fun if you do it yourself. But if you are forced to, it sucks. The same with this eight hour CQ detail today. You see I would usually sit on my ass for eight hours on a Sunday, but the fact that I'm forced to, makes it mentally challenging. Power. Control. All issues they make you deal with by throwing it in your face. Constantly.