Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about politicking, empathy, and stories.

"How do you feel about politicians using music in their campaigns? Ear-catching strategy, or shameless pandering?"

What's up you guys? Sorry to drop in on y'all like this, practically unannounced and whatever. I guess if you really want a blog entry out of me badly enough you'll ask me on a somewhat consistent basis for one, like the beautiful <not naming names> has been lately, or my <not naming names here either> does when it's really been a long time. And it does seem like I go awhile between entries nowadays...like I'm always startin' these things off with "I know it's been a long time, but..." and then I cheese out with the excuses. Whateva man.

Anyway, may as well start today with my own prompt for the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , even though I'm not a contestant this month and I don't like writing for my own prompts during official months (another constant theme in my most recent entries ). I won't judge this entry either, I promise. It'll just be in the 30DBC forum because that's the hole I crawled out of this morning.

So you guys know I like music. I love music. All kinds...well, almost all kinds. And I'm cool with it being used in so many different applications. I'll listen to my iPod if I'm making the one minute trip across the street to CVS, so I can have beats while I shop. I'll take it with me when I go to the church across my building's parking lot for lunch, because it's so much more enjoyable than socializing with some most of the people there...even if I plan on reading a book over my meal (because under normal circumstances, you should always leave people alone if they're 1) reading; or 2) listening to headphones; or 3) both). On the bus, or waiting for prescriptions to be filled, or wherever I am in between, so is my music. That's me.

And that's a lot of other people as well. In their homes, or jobs, or showers, or cars, or wherever they are, it don't matter. It's in commercials, movies, and television shows. It plays in the supermarket. Bands show up in bars. Downtown streets at Christmastime pump in holiday frickin' cheer. It's a great, wonderful time to be alive! This era of everywhere music!

But you politicians, like everything else you do, are trying to ruin it for the rest of us.

I understand it. The number one goal of a politician is to get elected/reelected. You want to prove that you're more popular than the next guy. You want us to think you care about things that are important to us. And you want want want the hip, young vote...presumably because you think we'll be around for awhile and that by winning us over you're cementing your legacy for as long as we're alive (which doesn't always pan out...ask any successful professional athlete who has wound up broke and/or in jail how that's worked out). So you do that by co-opting what you think are these quote-unquote generational anthems, and you present yourself at your rallies like a professional wrestler running down the ramp, flexing America across your back while threatening to suplex your partymates on your way to Corporate America's World Championship Belt. Not even realizing just how much of an ass you look like.

Arguably the most notable instance of this happening was the Clinton/Gore campaign of, I think, '92, when they came out dancing to Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop"   at the Inaugural Ball (which is worth watching for a young Chelsea Clinton at around the 19-second mark forgetting how clapping works...oh Chels, why did I have such a crush on you back then?). That kind of appropriation, I guess, is ok...I mean, the band is actually there, playing the damn song. Sure, they probably got paid a shit-ton of money for it, which made it an easier pill to swallow (or inhale, whatever your thing is)...but I doubt they would've done it if they also didn't endorse the Clinton brand of politics.

What we have now in 2015 though is an entirely different ballgame. A bunch of entitled white dudes The Republican party and its clown car of candidates seems to think they can just pick a song as a rallying cry, play it, bob their bobbleheads along to it, smile, and win over the masses. It's that simple! Instead, they look just as ignorant in this charade as they do when they open their mouths and claim platforms for "the people" without actually understanding who "the people" are that they should be trying to reach. There have been at least three different instances in the past few months worth noting:

Donald Trump using Neil Young's "Keep On Rockin' In The Free World"  ...which is funny because Young is Canadian, and Trump wants to close our borders off to Mexico, so Canada must be ok.

Mike Huckabee using Survivor's "Eye Of The Tiger"   in the blowback of Kim Davis' "I won't marry gays in Kentucky so jail me" hissyfit; also, not the first time the song has been used for political gains sans permission.

Our boy Trump again, this time using REM's iconic "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)"   and earning himself a strong, solid rebuke from REM's lead singer, Michael Stipe..."Go fuck yourselves, the lot of you- you sad, attention grabbing, power hungry little men." Brilliant, I say.

In the most basic of terms, what it boils down to is a copyright violation...using someone else's work to further your own agenda, without permission or proper compensation. If I were selling a product for profit and needed a quality professional picture for my advertisement, I'd hire a photographer. If I want to use a song in a television show, I have to pay the songwriter a licensing fee, and/or the appropriate royalties. Politics isn't much different. If you're gonna straight-up use a song as part of your campaign- as part of selling us yourselves as the answer to the world's troubles- you need to take care of where you got it from. You need to make sure it's ok. I'm not saying you have to trot out a bunch of aging rock stars everywhere you go like they're your geriatric back-up band, but can we at least get a band-approved statement that says you're not stealing their ideas to hopefully further your own? It's the decent thing to do...especially in creative circles, where the ends don't often justify the means.

Politics and decency though...what am I thinking?

"Neuroscientists have identified a ten-section 'empathy circuit' in our brains which, if damaged, can curtail our ability to understand what others are feeling. As only psychopaths have zero empathy, which means empathy circuit in their brain is missing, do you believe science may come up some day to fix the brain circuits of those people and cure them? Or does this seem like a wishful thinking?"

Nothin' like not bloggin' for two weeks and then comin' back to a good ol' science prompt. (For the uninitiated, the sciences of most kinds are not my strongest suits.)

In a general sense, it is my belief that science can (and probably already has) cure damn near anything. You name it, and it's been defeated in the name of science. The only problem is this: curing this isn't lucrative. There's less money to be made in the answer than there is in the prolonging of the question. And unless the solution to fixing a problem is to create a different yet related problem, there are so many truths that may never see the light of day because of the politics in the money-making machinery behind every great worldwide lie.

George Carlin, the late comedian, once said a great thing about knowledge, and how it relates to people working:

The truth is out there. It's a known quantity. But it's something we'll never see in our lifetimes, because The Man is tryna hold us down.

And before I spiral completely outta control and y'all think I'm crazier than normal, I think I need to reiterate that this goes for empathy and the identity of an empathy circuit   as well. If you're a conspiracy theorist you'll follow me...little bits of information leak out to the general population like this to tantalize us into thinking anything's possible. Criminals can be cured! We can teach the unfeelable how to feel again!! Well, maybe...kinda...Obama! South Gators football rules!! And then we all go back into our caves, and tomorrow's a new day, and your inbred cousin is still walking into walls because he hasn't learned how to use a door yet and you still laugh at him because you haven't learned that other peoples' misfortunes really shouldn't be funny but they sorta- no, definitely- are.

If we're just common people and we know there's a lot of things out there that we know better about, imagine what smart people, like scientists, know. Now, imagine all that they know, but aren't telling us...and then ask yourself why they aren't telling us.

Why would we want to give a convicted criminal the sense of empathy? In the for-profit criminal justice system, prisons make a lot of money filling their cells by keeping these psychopaths off the streets. The United States has a ridiculously high prison population. Overcrowding in correctional facilities is more than common. What stake do the prison corporations have in rewiring the criminal's mind with the intention of curing their lack of empathy? Even if it only worked in one out of every ten patients, that's a ten percent loss in revenue. That's like discouraging a repeat customer. The criminal justice lobbyists would never stand for it.

Then again, if you're asking me, I'll tell you that the real criminals- the true psychopaths- are the ones holding the elected offices and the suits that line their paths there with their green pockets, side deals, and winks and handshakes. Those people are the ones in need of an empathy circuit descrambling and rewiring. But do you think it's ever gonna happen? Yeah, right. I feel bad for ya if you think it will.

"'The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.'- Muriel Rukeyser. Write a poem, story or an opinion about this statement. Be creative and have fun."

Truth. We can believe all sorts of theories about creation and this or that, because what proof do we have otherwise? But all the technical jargon is boring, and no one cares once the eyes are glazed over as some boring-ass professor-type drones on about Big Bangs and philosophers and Jesus and the universe. We want something relatable...we want knowledge on our terms.

Trust isn't just knowing what's right and true, but being able to identify the truth within the significance. You might know of a restaurant, but if you want to know how their food is you'll ask someone else who's been there before. You want assurance from experience. That's why we have stories...to add color to the existence we know about but aren't entirely familiar with because to know all that would just not be fun. And what gets people movin' their asses and being excited about something? Fun. You don't want to know how the restaurant was built. You probably don't care about the cooks. All you wanna know is that the food they serve is gonna fill your belly up right. The important details- the higher priority, in your eyes- is what you seek to be fulfilled.

And why do we sometimes trust the stories of our friends more often than the educated truths presented to us by smarter people? Why is it more important that we believe certain whimsical facts, and not ones of a higher practical standing? Because we're only human, and all that matters to us is that our immediate needs are met. We want to know what we want to know as efficiently as possible. Point A to Conclusion B, please, and step on it! No time for origins and back-up plans. Just gimme what I want to hear, the way I want to hear it. That means Johnny Sixpack's neighbor's girlfriend's ex-sister-in law's dead roommate's opinion means more to me than Doctor Professor Huffnpuff's research-backed statistical data analysistoramalamadingdong. It means more coming from someone you know that's been there, even if you only kinda know them, as opposed to someone you don't know at all who's definitely been there and can tell you how, where, when and why. That's great and all, but it's not as relatable on a personal level.

Us humans are pretty great and damning like that. Facts! Ha! ! We want something that captivates our imaginations. We want worlds that aren't really worlds to become our world. The grass is always greener on the other side. We're human Mobius Strips   when it comes to what we want and how we choose to get it. We don't want to listen to someone explaining how babies are made, and we don't want to watch a baby being delivered...we just want to make the baby! That's all! Just the easy parts! The sweet meats and the low-hanging fruits. Save the facts for someone who gets paid to fact stuff. I'll pay more for someone else to do the real work. That's all we are!

The world is made of stories, because in the end, that's all we're willing to put in the effort toward believing.

And if the world is made of stories and not atoms, then what are we made of?

"Can't fight the future. Can't fight what I see.
People they come together. People they fall apart.
No one can stop us now 'cause we are all made of stars."
Lyrics.  

It's that magical time of year, folks...autumn is upon us, and so with the inevitable changing of the leaves comes the American tradition of the pumpkin spicing of everything you can fit in your fat, happy mouths. I finally broke down and went to a store this afternoon specifically because I had seen these recently and couldn't get the idea of how awful they might be out of my head.

There are no longer boundaries in place. If it is consumable, it will be pumpkin spiced, packaged, and sold for profit. Why? Because autumn, son. That's why. My snack this evening will be Kellogg's Pumpkin Spice Frosted Mini Wheats. And it will either be so incredible that I'll be tempted to email their customer service department, where some intern screening their emails will read and delete my pleas to make this cereal a year-'round treat; or it will be so spectacularly terrible that I won't even try to throw them out through the proper channels, like putting the box in the trash and then taking the trash to a larger can, where a maintenance man will then carry that garage down from the second floor to the dumpster in the back of the parking lot...I will actually launch the box out of my window like a cardboard and shredded wheat frisbee in the general direction of that dumpster. And if I'm lucky I'll do it right around the time some random girl loiters in the parking lot below, screaming one of my neighbor's names, because the savages in this community don't know how to respectfully let people know you're coming to see them, and the box will hit a power line on the way to the dumpster, causing the contents to rain down in a spray of electrified frosted amazingness that only the eyes and not the palette can appreciate. And I'll swear she deserves it too. Guess which way I'm hoping this taste test will end?

So I woke up Saturday morning to something really cool...if you haven't already seen "Note: Who wants to read an interview? *Bigsmile* ...", blue jellybaby put together some questions and I answered them for her blog  . Super thankful and appreciative for the opportunity! Kinda proud too, actually. Come for the info regarding some poems I've written and are archiving in spurts here at WDC; stay for my opinions on soulmates and pizza versus tacos. You don't want to miss that.

I keep seeing random posts here and there on Facebook that this week is Suicide Awareness Week, or prevention awareness, or something like that. I'm not gonna get up on a soap box about it today or anything...I'm not in a preachy kinda mood. I'm just gonna share (for what might be the umpteenth time, but I don't care) one of my favorite off-site blog entries about depression...fully illustrated  , and leave it at if you are having problems, please talk to someone, because there are people who care. To my knowledge, my inbox hasn't turned anyone down because they're feelin' some kinda way. Jus' sayin'.

I'm with ya. I know your pain.

And then sometimes you're just bored and you think you've seen all there is to see of the internet. But you haven't...not until you've wasted all your time here  .

And finally, as some of you might be aware, the NFL season kicked off on Thursday and included a full slate of games yesterday (Let's Go, Buffalo!  ). Maybe you're a fan of the sport. And maybe you're single, and need a little help talkin' to the layyyy-deeez. Well, you're gonna be glad you clicked on whatever link you did that brought you here, because I'm here to help. I personally happen to enjoy football, and I like seeing people happy together (as long as they're not happy where I can see them), so please, enjoy these NFL-themed pickup lines  , and please remember not to use them the next time you're out at the bar with your similarly loserish buddies on game day when the hottest girl you've ever seen walks in wearing the absolute tightest shirt ever to be graced by your team's logo. Laugh now, and thank me later, you manly men you.

Alright, well, this entry is long enough I think...plenty of words here to get me through at least another week or so of conversations with my <still not naming names> or that gorgeous <also not naming names> without being asked if I'll be blogging today or if I even write at all anymore. At least no one's asking me when I'll get married...it's nice and a little sad when you realize that other people have realized that that ship has pretty much sailed, sank, and failed to list any survivors. More time for me to watch football in my underwear and swear I'll catch up on all the things I owe people on WDC (a newly-reoccurring and equally unfortunate theme in these entries, as of late). Peace, I sing in the reaches, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!