Wednesday, April 22, 2015

A Perfectly Good Bad Mood

So today, I was enjoying a perfectly good, bad mood.  There wasn't any particular reason for being in a bad mood.  I slept well last night, and longer than normal.  Life is going spectacularly well.  My bowels have been moving regularly.  The cats are healthy.  Nevertheless, I found myself in the midst of a "blah" feeling day. 

At some point this morning, I identified the way that I felt.  I tried to change it.  I thought some happy thoughts.  I talked to some of my co-workers about the mood.  I listened to some happy music.  I mentioned the mood to my wife, via text message.  She offered some ideas on how to shake it.  Nothing worked.  I knew that I should keep looking for some good feelings, but I gave in and just accepted that I'd spend the day in a foul mood. 

Then I went to lunch and I read some positive things on Facebook.  A friend posted a meme saying something to the affect of "Your problems happen because life doesn't look like the picture you have of life in your head."  That hit home a little.  I saw something else that struck a chord too, although I can't remember what it was.  Then I felt guilty about being in a bad mood.  I hate it when things ruin a perfectly good, bad mood. 

My mood did change as the afternoon wore on.  I found some humor at work.  I got distracted from focusing on how I felt and it wound up being a good day. 

I suppose that is really the secret to feeling "blah."  If I don't pay much attention to it, it will usually pass.  When I feed into it, it tends to hang around longer. 

Now, don't get me twisted (how do you like that modern lingo kids?) I rather enjoy a good, bad mood.  By that, I mean that those moods that are gloomy, but not unhealthily so, are natural.  In the absence of really good prescriptions, most humans experience a mood that is less than unadulterated joy upon occasion.  I catch one at least once a week.  It rarely lasts all day.  I don't worry about it too much. 

I did however find it funny, that I would feel guilty about it today.  Sometimes it's shitty having so many positive friends.  Who do they think they are, ruining a bad mood.  A man can't even feel comfortable in one, without someone coming along and making him feel guilty about it. 

Thanks for nothing, you sunshine-y, rainbow producing, unicorn riding, perpetually smiling assholes. 

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Hero Cops: A Short Story

The following is an original short story, written by your angry writer. In today's world, it isn't that far fetched. I will be submitting this for publication. Feedback is appreciated.



  “Head or gut?” the police officer hollered to the gathering crowd.  “Head! Head! Head!” The crowd chanted.  The police officer nodded.  He turned towards a man standing next to his patrol car, his hands cuffed behind his back.  The officer swung his right hand, with everything that he had and smashed the handcuffed man in the face.  The man fell to the ground, his face spouting blood.  The crowd cheered.  The cop turned and bowed.  The crowd cheered louder.  
   
    After several seconds, the police officer knelt and took the handcuffs off of the man on the ground.  He helped him to his feet, handing him a packet of disposable towels.  The man took the towels and walked away unsteadily, wiping his face as he went.  The crowd dispersed, scattering in different directions.  The police officer finished writing his report, carefully noting the details of his punishment.  

    It all started in Harperton, OH, population 24,201.  In response to overcrowding issues in the county jail, the city council, on the recommendation of Harperton’s Police Chief, passed an ordinance that allowed law enforcement to immediately punish those caught performing misdemeanors.  It was controversial at first.  National news teams rushed to Harperton, to cover the first few instances of police officers punching small time criminals with their fists.  

    A cult phenomenon followed the law change.  Hundreds, thousands of people flocked to Harperton, bloodthirstily following the police around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the instant punishment.  Soon, other cities began to follow suit.  Major cities; Chicago, New York City, Los Angeles, all adopted similar laws.  Civil rights attorneys filed lawsuits, arguing that the laws violated the constitutional rights of the accused criminals.  The lawsuits were quickly dismissed.  Polls found that 88% of the public, supported the new laws.  

    “Head or gut?” the tall, well built NYPD officer roared at the crowd, “Head or gut?”  The accused, a small framed young woman, stood silently crying, her hands cuffed behind her back.  The throng of onlookers, numbering nearly a thousand, never hesitated.  “Head! Head! Head!” they chanted.  
   
The policeman, was none other than Jack “the Jawbreaker” Jameson, a 6’3” 225 pound hunk, of solid law enforcement.  He was becoming a crowd favorite in New York.  He turned towards the young woman, she stared at the ground, attempting to stifle her sobs.  She had been caught shoplifting from a local convenience mart.  It mattered not, that she was trying to steal formula.  No one cared about those things, only that the accused was immediately punished.  

Mighty Jack reached out, delicately grasping her chin in his left hand, lifting her head, so that she looked pleadingly into his eyes.  Jack sneered at her, smiled, lifted his right hand and slapped her across the face, with a powerful open handed slap.  Her lip began to bleed as she staggered back against the brick wall of the convenience mart.  The crowd roared its approval.  Jack turned, strutted back and forth in front of the crowd, his hands raised high above his head.  

A cameraman from a local news agency happened to be following Jack “the Jawbreaker” Jameson, on this particular day.  He was hoping to record enough footage of Jack’s punishments, to put together a story featuring him on the evening news.  He was suddenly overcome with inspiration.  He replayed the footage of the current punishing slap and quickly phoned a friend of his, a producer for a national news agency.  They set up an impromptu meeting at a nearby coffee shop.  A reality television show was born that evening.  A show that featured only amateur footage, recorded by crowds that followed policeman all over the country.  Every week, a reward was given to the person that submitted the best video, as voted by the audience.  A reward was also presented to the law enforcement officer that was featured in the winning video.  Realizing that they could make extra money with these bonuses, cops ratcheted up their punishments, played more to the crowds.  

The reality show, “Hero Cops,” quickly became the most watched show on television.  Three “sister” shows, all produced by the same cameraman and his producer friend, crowded the weekly TV primetime slots.  The cameraman and his producer friend, became overnight millionaires.  Thus, the most vicious cops in the country, became instant celebrities.  

The creators of “Hero Cops,” put together a list of the 50 most notorious policemen.  Actually 47 policemen and 3 policewomen.  They printed a set of trading cards.  The cards featured high definition photographs of the officers on the front and a list of their statistics on the back.
For example; Pete “One Punch” Albert’s card, listed the following statistics on the back; 5’11” and 196 lbs
12 years on the Tallahassee P.D.
93 recorded instant punishments
12 one punch knockouts
18 broken noses
3 broken jaws
1 fractured rib
Pete enjoys deep sea fishing and spending time with his third wife, Victoria when he is off duty.

    The trading cards sold out in less than 48 hours.  They were particularly popular with boys, aged 11-15.  A second, third and fourth printing quickly sold out too.  First edition sets began appearing on Ebay, some selling for upwards of $2,000.  

    Bobble heads were next, then T Shirts.  Within a year of the first airing of “Hero Cops,” merchandising was a billion dollar business.  The biggest celebrity cops, were earning over a million dollars a year in licensing rights.  People followed these officers everywhere, hounding them for autographs.  The best known cops, could sometimes expect a crowd of several thousand people to follow them around.  Local cities, struggling to cover their annual budgets, jumped on the money bandwagon.  They began to sell tickets to watch the well known policemen and women.  

    All over the country, young men and women in their early 20’s, enrolled in law enforcement academies.  They enrolled at such a high rate, that waiting lists of several years developed.  Every sadistic son of a bitch with a clean record, wanted to be a cop.  The money lured in the best boxers, the best cage fighters.   

    Of course, the increased money raised by tourists flocking to large cities to watch their favorite cops, the revenue collected from selling tickets to watch these cops and even money made from retail licenses sold to mobile souvenir vendors, enabled city police departments to hire more law enforcement officers.  New, younger, more eager, more vicious cops were added to the ranks every month.  All were anxious to make their mark, to find some fame.

Crime began to dip significantly. All of the credit for the decreasing crime numbers, was given to the new instant punishment laws.  In fairness, an increase in police numbers, a constant national eye on crime and a more vigilant citizenship all likely contributed to the drop in crimes committed.  But no one concerned themselves with fairness.  Anyone open minded enough to see the full spectrum was widely ignored.  

    In Toledo, 12 activists staged a protest outside of the downtown police safety building.  They wore matching olive green shirts, emblazoned with the words “Give hugs, stop the thugs!”  They stood with various poster board signs, signs that sported slogans written in marker.  “Stop the Violence!”  Brutality isn’t a Business!” The signs screamed.

 In short order, they were accused of disturbing the peace.  All 12 were lined up in a row, hands cuffed behind their backs, 12 cops facing them.  They were simultaneously struck in their stomachs.  Seven of them were women, three of which sagged to the ground.  One of the men, a long haired hippie type, cried uncontrollably.  The video was the award winner for the week on “Hero Cops.”  All 12 law enforcement officials shared in the weekly cash prize.  

    But the activism didn’t immediately go away.  Like every other level of activism, it is most effective on a small stage.  On a small stage, a small group of people can garner a lot of attention.  Thus, in Hopewell, NE, population 17,302, activism took hold.  An 18 year old high school senior, Christina Lowell, was found in possession of a marijuana joint.  Of course, marijuana was now legal in all 50 states at this point, but only if you were over the age of 21.  Christina was petite, perhaps 5’1” and maybe 100 lbs.  She was struck in the gut by a large, particularly barbaric policeman.  Two days later Christina died from internal bleeding.  

    She wasn’t the first fatal victim of the instant punishment.  There had been a few dozen each year.  But Christina was the valedictorian of her senior class.  She was radically gorgeous, a cheerleader and the editor of the high school’s yearbook.  Her mother was on the city council of Hopewell.  Christina became the face of those who had the courage to protest the instant punishment, the cruel savagery of law enforcement.  

    Christina’s mother, Linda, held a news conference in front of the small town hall building.  There were a handful of supporters standing behind her.  Each of them held a sign emblazoned with a picture of Christina.  In a short, concise, three minute speech, Linda announced that she would be gathering signatures, in order to petition ridding the town of Hopewell from instant punishment.  

    Ground Zero for the wildly popular, controversial law, moved to Hopewell, NE.  National reporters piled into the local hotels.  The town’s diners, bars and grocery stores were crowded with activists from around the country, flooding the town in support of overturning the law.  A reversal here, would hopefully be the start of momentum that the activists sought, to begin chipping away at the police brutality.  

    The producer and the cameraman, the billionaire creators of “Hero Cops,” invested millions in radio, television and print advertising.  They mailed complimentary T Shirts to every household in Hopewell.  They out invested the opposition by a margin of 10 to 1.  

    What the opposition lacked in funds, they made up with passion, with zeal, with people.  Activists tend to be an enthusiastic bunch, even if slightly misguided.  Reporters from around the country, recorded their news updates 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  Every major national news channel seemed to focus solely on the events taking place in small, Hopewell, NE.

    The day the polls opened, was a day of anxiety for all citizens across the country.  There was no middle ground on this issue, either you wholeheartedly supported instant punishment, or you vehemently stood against it.  Reporters boasted that pre-election polls showed a 10 percent lead in favor of keeping the law.  

    Every news channel in the country filmed Linda as she exited her local polling place.  She stopped on the front lawn of Franklin Elementary School and made a brief statement, appealing to any undecided voters and thanking all of her activist friends for their support.  

    The polls closed at 7 PM.  At 8:15 PM, it was announced that the law would stay in place.  The vote to keep the law carried 63% of the ballots cast.  Upon hearing the news, Linda walked out of a local bar, Hooliganisms, where her headquarters had been set up for the night.  As she left, she was confronted by a group of a dozen or more supporters of instant punishment.  She got into a loud and heated argument with a few of them.  The police were called.  

    Linda was accused of creating a riotous atmosphere.  The same large, sadistic cop that had struck her daughter Christina, ultimately causing her death, handcuffed Linda, her hands behind her back.  The crowd began to roar, “Head! Head! Head!”  The cop smiled, a sickening evil smile.  He reached back and punched Linda square in the face, her nose crunching under his fist.  She fell to the ground, barely clinging to consciousness, her face a bloody, unrecognizable pulp.  

    The face of the activist movement lay on the sidewalk, her face bleeding, the blood pooling 

around her head.  And the peace movement slipped away, drowning in its hero’s blood.  Instant 

punishment was here to stay.  The billionaires celebrated with a group of celebrity police 

personnel from around the midwest. 

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Don't Let Your Children Grow Up to be Free Thinkers.

Particularly on Easter Sunday, this may be the most important column that parents ever read.  It is the most pertinent advice that I can ever give other parents.

Start while your children are young.  Indoctrinate them with all of your beliefs.  If you practice a faith, indoctrinate your children in it as well.  Raise them to never question anything.  Teach your kids to always listen to their teachers.  Teach them to take the news that is reported, just as it is.  Teach them to trust their government.  Take whatever measures are necessary to make certain that your children are safe, secure in the little box of ideas that you pass on to them.

There is great danger in raising children to think for themselves.  This must be avoided at all costs.  If you allow your children to question things, they will grow up always questioning everything.  Free thinkers rarely find contentment in life.  They will explore "alternative" forms of spirituality.  They may adopt Buddhist philosophy.  They may become agnostic or identify as atheists.  If you do not teach them a firm foundation in a god of your understanding, they will eventually find the holes in religious ideology.  You can not allow this to happen.

Free thinkers will spend their lives and their fortunes, exploring the world over, looking for answers to life.  They will see the world as it truly is, a volatile place, full of diversity and unknowns.  They will realize that there is never any real security in life.  They will develop a sense of constant unease.  They may never feel as if they belong in groups of other people.  They will not be content to watch cable television shows, to work in 9-5 jobs, to mindlessly follow the steady diet of propaganda that mainstream media feeds.

If you allow your children to think for themselves, they will consort with undesirable people.  They may spend their free time with hippies, drug users, musicians, artists, writers, vagrants and hobos.  These are just a few of the undesirable people your free thinking child will be attracted to.  This can not be allowed.  You must teach your children to be ordinary, to fit in with the crowd.  Teach them to never make a scene, to not ruffle the collective feathers of life.  Teach them to be content with only what life gives, to never expect or desire anything more.  Teach them to know their role in life.

Free thinking people are responsible for all of the crazy things in life.  They, as a group, have brought us rock and roll music, marijuana acceptance, tie dyed clothing, body piercing, tattoos in the mainstream.  Groups of free thinkers have the audacity to believe that peace is an actual answer to many of the world's problems.  Everyone knows, that war solves most everything.  Teach your children this, so they will never question the many wars that our government starts.

Free thinkers believe that we are all one people, that diversity makes us stronger.  You must never allow your children to believe this way.  There is grave danger in accepting others as they are.  If someone is different than you or your children, they must be wrong.  Only your religion, is the true religion.  Only your political beliefs, are the right ones.  If your child doesn't know these things, doesn't embrace these things, they will start to believe that we can all get along, as humans.  If they believe this, you have failed as a parent.

I myself, was indoctrinated by a religious family unit.  My parents did all that they could, to bring me up in the right way.  But I am stubborn.  I did not listen, despite them not "sparing the rod," despite the groundings, the grave warnings.  I have paid the price, because I refused to adopt their beliefs without question.

I have spent my life reading books, listening to all forms of music.  I have explored museums in many places, studying the work of the world's greatest artists.  I have found myself fascinated with these social misfits, these painters, these sculptors.  I have attended live music concerts, many featuring musicians that have been publicly accused of being Satan worshipers.  I have danced to their music, finding freedom in their anti-war, anti-religion, anti-exclusive messages.  I have read the books written by Vonnegut, by Robbins, by all manner of illicit authors.  I have even explored the pornographic world.  I have allowed myself to explore sexual ideologies that fit into no religion.  I have discovered sexual positions other than missionary style.  I have tasted of the pleasures of oral stimulation, and I enjoyed them.

I have experienced the richness of diversity in life.  I have befriended activists, anarchists, atheists.  Criminals, the lot of them, disturbing the general peace, protesting the unfairness of our world.  I have stood next to them on street corners, disturbing suburbanites with our cries for peace.  I have sat with them in dark basements, smoking the marijuana with them, imbibing in all that is unseemly in our world.  Yes, it is too late for me.  I am beyond saving.  I have seen too much, to ever believe that life fits into a small, rigid box of beliefs.

But it may not be to late for your children.  Start now.  Be persistent.  They must not experience anything that strays from the beliefs that you are trying to pass on.  You can save them from a life of searching, a life of unease.  The only true way to feel secure in this world, is to let others dictate what you should think, how you should feel.  Isn't security what we all want for our children?