It’s Springtime, Kids!

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As Spring rolls on and nears its completion ushering in another Summer, I think it is important to stop and smell the flowers. To enjoy the sounds of nature, the birds singing, the bugs buzzing and clicking etc. etc. To look forward to extended sunshine and warmth and to feel alive again. I add that last part because even in mild weather, the Winters in New England are soul crushingly depressing. Skiing, snow, arctic blasts, snowmen, snowball fights, hot cider by the fire, hearty meals that stick to your ribs, short days and long nights, a silent landscape. All a pail of hot garbage juice. Blech. Springtime is no barrel of laughs either frankly but at least you know Summer is coming so it doesn’t completely stink.

Let us go over some of the trappings and effluvia of Spring that I can go without and some, that I simply cannot live without.

  1. Allergies: I believe in God and am actually very fond of God. However, I think it shows God’s hand a bit in terms of how God thinks of us to put us on an Earth that when it begins to rejuvenate and regenerate itself also attempts to kill us. This is also an issue I have with environmentalism. Why are we trying to save the Earth? The Earth hates us. It constantly tries to kill us with storms, mudslides, wild-fires, tornadoes, cold snaps, heat waves, earthquakes, sinkholes, volcanoes, sharks, bears, mountain lions, snakes, bugs, weirdo fish, venomous frogs, wild dogs, stampeding buffalo, coyotes, wolves, tigers, lions, and a whole assortment of flowers, berries and leaves that cause itching, irritation, hallucinations, loss of bowel function and eventually death. Yes, even berries hate us to the point that they want us to shit ourselves to death. So, the Earth? I mean yeah don’t litter but screw it. Anyway, allergies are the worst. Waking up feeling like you have a mild flu every day until it gets hot enough to cook the pollen before it gets a chance to waft off of the trees is not a joy that I look forward to. Allergy medicine never works. Claritin, Zyrtec, you name it; they’re all band aids on bullet wounds when it comes to navigating the deep Spring. Every year they attack my respiratory system with an energy that would make a caffeinated hummingbird blush. I would sigh to say “woe is me” but I would probably start a coughing fit that would require Last Rites.
  2. Birds: I usually don’t have a beef with birds, and I know I mentioned them in the beginning of this post, but let’s think about waking up a little later, whaddya say, fellas? The other morning, I got up because nature decided to call at an ungodly hour. After finishing my business and getting back into bed, I realized that at the tender hour of 4 am some little feathered beast and his friends had decided now was a great time for choir practice. It is pleasant and even rather lovely in the afternoon, while sitting outside reading or having a nice moment of quiet, reflective time. However, at that hour of the morning it is a downright act of violence to be that happy. The thing is they’re probably not that happy at all. They’re probably chirping to check to see who made it through another night without being eaten alive by something. They’re gathering the flock to desperately figure out where to find some free seeds or berries (the same ones that try to kill us are totally fine for birds, so again, thanks Earth!). They’re probably all having massive panic attacks at the thought of having to fly through another day without being attacked and eviscerated by hawks, owls, wind turbines and bored country folk with a lot of time on their hands and too many scatter guns. That being understood, it still sounds like they’re frolicking and telling inside jokes to one another about incredibly sweet little stories involving church mice and bits of discarded pound cake. At 4 AM, that chirping is about a welcome a sound as crying coming from what you thought was an empty attic. Birds… just cool it. At least until 6 AM. Deal?
  3. The Schizophrenic Weather: There is an old saying in New England: “don’t like the weather? give it an hour”. That is probably the most accurate commentary on this region that exists today. The early Spring is a mix of snow, sleet, freezing rain, plain rain and moments requiring shorts and flip flops. The end of the Spring is a mix of warm to hot days, rain, sun, usually decently windy and of course, frost and freeze warnings. Nothing says, “I’m a Yankee!” like grilling during the day and drinking beer from a cooler only to get your wood stove going that night and having a nice cup of coffee to warm up. Sometimes we don’t even get a Spring. Sometimes it seems like there is permafrost up until Memorial Day and as soon as June hits, people’s shoes start melting to the pavement and cooling centers go up all over. Last year, my town’s Memorial Day parade was a massive hit. The weather was perfect, and the smell of charcoal grills filled the air. This year, it is (at least as of now) shaping up to be more of the same. However, I distinctly remember Memorial Days where it was too cold and wet to even muse over venturing outside for anything other than maybe picking up some takeout. Even that is a stretch.
  4. Longer Days: This is a pure joy thing. I do not know a single person who prefers the length of the days in December to the length of the days in July. I have no idea why we even go back to standard time at the end of DLST. There is something so cringingly awful about getting up in the morning in the pitch black and then getting out of work in the afternoon and driving home in the pitch black. Longer days mean more time to enjoy being outdoors. It means more time to feel like you should be productive. Light is life and darkness is death. That is pretty heavy, I know. But face it, you know I am right. I don’t even like going to the movies because when the lights go down, I start to contemplate my own mortality. I start to wonder what movies they’ll have in the afterlife. Will there be a decent library of flicks, or will it be a perpetual Starz lineup? Then, inevitably, I start to panic and I scream. Then, as the ushers are attempting to forcefully remove me from the theater, I usually go limp, and they’ve figured they’ve accidentally killed me. Normally, I wake up but sometimes I go along with it and muse again about the entertainment in the netherworld. Will there be premium cable? Can I still watch the Yankees? It is usually around then I wake up in a strait jacket in a rubber room. But no, in all seriousness, it’s just nice to have natural light later into the day. I have found that folks who like when it gets dark early are usually introverts or depressives. I wish them Godspeed but as for me; let there be light.
  5. GRILLING!: I all-capped and exclamation pointed this one because as a dad, grilling is one of those things that is synonymous with fatherhood. Not really sure why once you have children your next burning desire is to desire to burn some steaks from time to time, but it happens. All of you single boyos out there, just wait. Even if you like to grill now, wait until you have your first kid. You’ll wake up holding tongs and a spatula and you’ll have no idea how they got in your hands. Problem with grilling, is it’s actually not as versatile as you may think. You’ll find yourself loathing the idea of another piece of grilled chicken. But then you’ll remember that grilling offers you the chance to cook over an open flame and to have a few minutes of alone time before the madness of mealtime with children begins and then you’ll don your apron in a split second. Of course, grilling isn’t without its controversies. Are you a charcoal person? Gas? Pellet? Or you could be like me; and have charcoal, gas AND a smoker on your deck. The key to mastering all these different apparatuses is simple; hours of mind-numbing YouTube research followed by kissing a picture of Aaron Franklin and subsequently explaining to your wife why not all lump charcoal is the same and sometimes you have to spend a little more. Does the food actually taste any better? Sure. Why not. The secret around my house is this; I really dislike smoked food. Why do you want your food to taste like a brush fire? However, it seems like a fun thing to waste your time on, so I smoke stuff from time to time. Again, is the food any better than if I simply seasoned it well and roasted it? Probably not but my family doesn’t need to deal with a cranky daddy, so they pretend it’s good. Love them for that.
  6. Clothes: My wife wears rompers, sundresses and assorted pretty girl clothes during the Summer. Good for me! I wear shorts, tee shirts and flip flops. Bad for the tri-state area. There is something so much nicer about navigating a day without 90 pounds of worsted wool, cotton and Gore-Tex weighing you down. I like getting home from work and throwing on whatever flotsam is hovering around the old dresser. I like having a farmer’s tan and I like the fact that for a couple months a year I look like I don’t live in a place where the weather is bleak enough to be the backdrop of a Scottish crime novel. But… There is a troubling trend in men’s fashion these days, however. For some reason, short shorts seem to be coming back into style for guys. This is a bad look. Think 70’s era basketball player bad look. No one wants to see some dude’s pasty, hairy thighs. I come from the generation where we thought shorts should essentially look like Milhouse Van Houten’s flood pants. Shorts should at least come down to the knee. They don’t have to completely cover them, but they should come down to the top of the knees. Any shorter than that and you look like you’re a French bicycle messenger. This isn’t a Wes Anderson movie, this is life. We don’t need your avant-garde aesthetic ruining an otherwise nice day at the park. Cover them up, gents.

There is a hell of a lot to like about the Spring and there is also some stuff to dislike. I think that if we spend more time outdoors and less time whining around the computer or cell phone, we will be a much more mellow and joyful people. But I mean let’s face it; what really matters is whatever we decide these days in a sense of self-righteous indignation anyway, amiright? So maybe just hit the snooze button on the whole damn season. Not me though. I’ll be the guy with the platter of mediocre brisket and shorts down to his ankles ready to greet you in and hand you a cold one.

It’s Springtime, Kids!

The Pilgrims Were Jerks

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Whilst discussing the importance of religious freedom today, the pilgrims became the topic of conversation. I suppose because of the time of year it was inevitable. I do not pretend to be an expert on the pilgrims. I have watched some documentaries and read some books. I’ve thumbed through William Bradford’s journal. So I can say that I know a little bit about them but again, far from an expert. First off; these people were ballsy. Plain and simple. I understand that they were basically religious psychopaths but you can’t deny that what they did took a hell of a lot of guts. They were much tougher than you or I and for that, they deserve a little street cred. The pilgrims were also a big bunch of ornery doofuses. So allow me to explain why.

1. Everyone hated them.


When they petitioned King James I for permission to sail to the new world and establish a colony, James couldn’t say “YES!” fast enough. They weren’t even living in England at the time! Let that sink in. That is how much this guy and basically every other English person hated these people. They were in Holland and apparently that wasn’t far away enough for James. At this time the Dutch were basically doing that thing you do when you are hosting a party and you want people to leave. You know what I mean? That thing where you start saying things like, “Alright well this was awesome, guys.” One time I literally had to tell people to go home. We had a party and no one looked like they were ready to leave so I straight up told my party guests, made up mainly of my friends, to go home. That’s basically where Holland was at with these folks by 1620. They’d only been there a few years but that was more than enough for people who think wooden shoes are a good idea to see these drips as a bad one. James tells them; ‘take a charter and go start a colony. If you are successful, great! More money for me and you people are across an ocean. If you fail, great! Failure means that you’re all dead and that’s A-OK in my book.” So they went to the New World.

2. The Mayflower / Lack of Imagination.

Here’s your choice. Two hours on the Mayflower or ten minutes in Hell? Honestly; it’s a toss up. There were two ships originally. The Mayflower and the Speedwell. The Speedwell started taking on water so the pilgrims that were aboard her transferred to the Mayflower. So it was overflowing with smelly, angry zealots. Fun. Apparently the Master of the Mayflower, Christopher Jones, even remarked on how they were shitty people. Stuck in the hold of a Dutch cargo fluyt with all the farting and burping and bad breath and sweaty pits of a group of people that no one in Europe would have pissed on if they were on fire, yeah no thanks. A little boy was born aboard the ship. They named him Oceanus. They named him this because they were on the Ocean and they were bereft of any sort of creativity. Don’t believe me? When they got here, they named every town after towns in England. They didn’t even attempt to come up with their own place names. Here is a short list of towns in my state. New London, Manchester, Derby, Redding, Greenwich, Norwich, Stratford, Bristol, Avon, Fairfield, Milford, Wethersfield, etc. No imagination whatsoever. Anyway, they were crappy travelers by all accounts. That smell though… I can’t even think about it without cringing.

3. They Had No Sense of Direction

They were supposed to land at the mouth of the Hudson river, which was the very northern edge of the Jamestown colony but they ended up in Massachusetts because like everyone that would eventually come from Mass., they were lazy and confused. Actually, the captain of the Mayflower basically just wanted to dump these creeps off of his ship so he could hightail it back to England. Can you blame him? Imagine being the captain of a cargo vessel that decides that it’d be alright to take a living cargo across the ocean. Now imagine that the cargo is going to spend the entire time telling you how you are going to hell for sneezing on the sabbath. They end up on Cape Cod, piss off the native tribes to the point where they have to leave within like a month. Sound’s about right. They head across the bay and BAM! Plymouth Rock, baby. The rest as they say, is history.

4. They Thanked God for Everything

What’s wrong with that? Well nothing, really. Although it becomes a problem when you start thanking God for things like the ability to rob graves and steal corn. “Dear Lord, thank you so much for allowing us to force a family into starvation next growing season. You are the best!” It is no secret that they were religious zealots but they took the whole “God wills it” thing to a new and disturbing level. They justified all of their shittiness on God willing it. I am fairly certain God wasn’t cool with nearly 90% of what these folks did but hey, it worked for them.


In the end it’s easy to crap on people 400 years in the past. They’re not around to defend themselves. We cannot take away the fact that what they did took real courage. Leaving everything you’ve ever known behind for a place far away that you know very little about takes some serious guts. For that, I doff my cap. Also, engraining the idea of freedom of and from religion in the bones of what would become the United States of America is pretty cool. So yeah I guess we can thank them for that as well.

But they were still jerks. Luckily some Catholics eventually came over and gave this place some spice.

To the pilgrims… you guys had some cojones. But man, you were jerks.

The Pilgrims Were Jerks

Two Years Later

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It has been two years and two days since I last posted on this blog. The last post was a detailed description of me running around my back yard dressed like an escaped mental patient for the benefit of my father’s trail camera. I suggest you read it as it is pretty funny if you like stories about morons doing moron stuff. In those two years, the trail camera has disappeared, most likely due to a lack of interest on my father’s part, my back yard has become laden with toys and I am still an undiagnosed mental defective.

Have I missed this blog? Yeah, kinda if I am being honest. I miss posting things. I like when someone says, “that was funny” or “that was interesting.” I am a simple man. I like when people like me. Which brings me to the meat and potatoes of this post: people either love me or hate me and the ratio isn’t particularly close. It leans heavily towards hate.

There are plenty of reasons to dislike me. Perhaps it is the fact that I am outspoken in my calling out of people’s irksome natures. Could be that in any argument, I tend to go for the jugular by the second statement. Possibly that I am a lot taller than most folks and I find that little fellas and little fellettes tend to be rather ornery. Listen, spokesperson for the Lollipop Guild, get mad at God for making your diminutive. It is not my fault that you’ve never heard the words, “hey can you move over? I can’t see over your head.” Also, it isn’t all easy going for the tall. For instance, I don’t think I could ever comfortably drive an Aston Martin. Think about that for a second. That is pretty rough.

I am guessing it isn’t my height or my acid tongue which tends to drive the masses away from me. Neither is it my odor. I take pride on not walking around with a miasma of plague-like funk emanating from my pores and clothes. Nay, dear reader. It has to be one thing and one thing only: my disdain for the idea of laying low. Let me explain. First off, I have mellowed greatly since I became a dad. I am too busy to go ten rounds with either friend or foe on the interwebs. Secondly, I have learned the great truth that arguing with someone rarely ever changes their mind. It is more like two fighters just trying to bloody the other’s nose before the bell rings to sound the end of a round. Sort of a waste of time, really. Lastly, when I do post or say something, I do not care what someone’s reaction may be. Not that I am completely misanthropic but the idea of people having to keep quiet as to not step on the proverbial toes of someone else is a new concept in modern society and one that I really don’t care for. Let me expand on that.

In the past people could navigate the relatively choppy waters of social interaction by simply avoiding certain topics of conversation. Remember the old, “no politics, no religion” agreement? Well that has well and truly gone out the window. It used to be that personal opinions about basically anything were kept in the home. When in social situations, “hot takes” were to be avoided because after all everyone had gathered for the purpose of enjoying themselves, not listening to someone’s laborious treatise on any given subject. Today, we spend much more time online then we do in social situations. In fact, due to covid, for the past couple years a lot of people have spent more time online maintaining a virtual profile than they have living in the world and maintaining a real life profile. So the rules have changed and now I know what basically everyone I am connected with on social media feels about basically everything. The problem is, I neve wanted to know any of this stuff. Now, I could simply scroll by and ignore which is what a lot of folks do in order to maintain their sanity but I have never claimed to be sane in the first place so I tend to dig.

In conclusion; big mouths including myself will always be loathed. The heat in which the loathing exists will be especially warm if what you are saying makes sense. People are incapable of admitting that any opinion other than their own is even worthy of examination. Of course you didn’t ask for my opinion but I didn’t ask for yours either. I am just playing by the rules that are constantly changing as we go. Cyber life today is one never ending game of Calvinball. Therefore, if me defending / attacking / criticizing / praising something or someone offends you; cool. Please let me know. I’m serious. I will listen to what you have to say, respond, and then continue living my life in the manner I so choose, saying whatever I’d like. It is not because I don’t love / respect / admire you. It is because this is Thunderdome. This is the world that we have collectively created. I am just trying to survive as are you. However, in the words of the poet E.E. Cummings in “I Sing of Olaf Glad and Big” … “there is some shit I will not eat.”

Two Years Later

I Pranced Around Like a Lunatic The Other Night

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Greetings, dear reader. Yes, you read that headline correctly but hear me out; I had a good reason. What do I mean by “prancing around” and more importantly, what do I mean by “lunatic”? Both excellent questions and both easily answered. By prancing around I mean I sort of marched around with a haughty expression in an exaggerated  and downright bizarre manner, back and forth in the my backyard and by lunatic I mean I was wearing a long white wig that I’d borrowed from my 13 year old’s Halloween costume, my father’s fedora, my wife’s fuzzy, shawl, blanket thingy around my shoulders all while carrying the Betsy Ross American flag in a truly patriotic and majestic manner. Think ‘Spirit of ’76’ if it were being acted out by a total imbecile. But why? Well, why not?

Last Christmas I bought my father a motion activated trail camera because when I moved my whole family to our current town I had no idea that I was in fact moving us to Yellowstone. Within the first week of living in our new home the police stopped by and gave us a packet of info about the local animals and what to do if we should encounter them. Here is a quick rundown:

Skunk: slowly back away

Raccoon: slowly back away

Possum: slowly back away

Fox: slowly back away

Bobcat: slowly back away

Bear: make a lot of noise, slowly back away, buy new pants if you survive

Mountain Lion: die with dignity

Anywho, we have heard a bunch of strange noises in our yard in the evenings and while we live in a woodsy enclave which some might call rustic, we are not rustic enough that the noises were made by meth addicts. Maybe they were. So I got him a trail camera. It took him a while to mount the thing but now it is up in all its glory. The first night it was on; bupkis. Nothing. Not a single creepy crawly of the night. Which while disappointing is probably the most desirable outcome. The next night however, I decided to give the old man a thrill. I discussed the idea with my mother and after some convincing she was on board. So I put on the most ridiculous getup I could piece together and I marched back in forth in front of the camera in the moonlight. Wondering the entire time what someone might think if they were to look out their window. Luckily, our neighbors are far enough away and we are separated by a good number of trees. That being said; if you do a three point turn in someone’s driveway in this town or walk your dog down a street you don’t live on there is a better than even shot that you will be Public Enemy Number One in the eyes of every single busy-body shithead on the Facebook neighborhood pages dedicated to the town and on Nextdoor.

So I did my thing. And boy o boy was I excited for the next morning. My parents have a gorgeous, separate in-law apartment attached to our house so it goes without saying that we are a close-knit crew around the old homestead. Cracking wise and playing harmless jokes from time to time on each other is the norm. When my family finally awoke and I related what I had done the previous evening to them, they were excited to see my father’s reaction. I made scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, coffee… the whole nine yards. This was a morning of TRIUMPH! And we were to eat like royalty. Or at least diner royalty. So mid-way through the meal we see my Dad come outside and walk towards the camera. We crowded around the large bay window that looks out over the back yard and waited in giggling anticipation. He opened the camera and was looking at the small display screen on the inside! Here it comes! AND THERE IT IS!!! He sorta… shook his head. I figured he was muttering something about me being a dork. I was pretty damn proud of myself. I couldn’t wait to confront him and see the look of jocular incredulity on his face when I began laughing like a hyena. I waited for him to return to the house and I went to head to their apartment the minute I heard their door shut. I knocked, smiling to myself. Walked in and asked “well… see anything interesting on the camera” in a truly shit-eating tone.

Quoth my father: “Nah, it wasn’t on. It was set for the wrong time cycle. I have to reprogram it.”

Fin.

I Pranced Around Like a Lunatic The Other Night

Halloween-tide

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It is that time of year again. The leaves are a vibrant rainbow of different shades of one color; orange. It is colder and it gets darker earlier. People are decorating their houses to look spooky. Pumpkins, which are basically fat weeds, are being sold for a dollar a pound. Girls are all wearing the exact same thing; leggings, boots, flannel shirts and Patagonia vests. All grasping their pumpkin spice lattes. Could it be? Yes, t’is. Halloween-tide is upon us and I hope you are all as excited as I. This time of year reminds me that it is only a few short months until Christmas and only a few short weeks until Thanksgiving. A real holiday. Children, I am a Halloween curmudgeon. But not nearly as bad as some other clowns.

I do not care for the holiday. I don’t dislike it. I just don’t go as batty for it as most. But recently, I have become more passionate about it because it seems to be a holiday where we decide to argue about what is appropriate. As in; what is the age limit for trick or treating? Should we postpone it when the weather is bad? Questions like that. Because, why not? In American today you can’t blow your nose without some asshole having an opinion on your technique, volume level and choice of tissue. When I was a child, I adored it. Free candy and the excuse to dress up as some sort of weirdo made me leap with glee at the first fall of a dead leaf. Now, not so much. Want some reasons why? Of course you do.

  1. Adults Who Are Too Into It: You guys, and you know who you are, are the biggest reason why I have no interest whatsoever in going all out. What a turn off. Blech. Grow up and don’t drag me into your bizarro Peter Pan complex. I am having a hard enough time navigating this wild thing called life on this crazy blue marble. No, I am not going to try to hang on to being 10 for one night a year for the rest of my life. When it bleeds into work, that’s when the fireworks really start to pop. I have explained politely at every single job that I have ever had that I did not intend to dress up for halloween and while it was fine that the staff had come up with a theme and that I might be the fly in the ointment that ruins it, I care/d very little. Trust me, I have ruined a lot of things before, this ain’t my first rodeo so no I won’t be dressing up as a cowboy.
  2. My Neighborhood: Three short years ago I lived in a neighborhood that was DRENCHED with children by 5:45 on Halloween. We would go through at least 5 or 6 bags of candy by 7 o’clock. Lot’s of little ones dressed up as bunnies and witches and shit. It was cute and I honestly loved handing out the candy. But NOW… ugh. NO one trick or treats on my road. Probably because it is, I suppose, a main artery in my town and therefore a little too busy to simply tramp up and down in the dark. It is also a hill and adults are lazy. The kids will run up and down the hill all night but with Mom and Dad in tow, that option goes down the drain. So the one joy that I had pertaining to the holiday was destroyed when we moved.
  3. Childless Adults With Robust Opinions: Don’t have kids? That’s ok no one says you have to have kids. But not having children and having a slew of opinions on how a holiday that is clearly geared towards children should be handled is just a bad look. Do you think you have a stake in the game simply because you hand out candy or used to go trick or treating? News flash, Skeezix; you don’t. Sorry, but no one cares if you think kids should be forced to either forego a holiday they wait for all year, one that they only have a limited time to participate in for that matter, or walk in a monsoon, blizzard or hurricane. So save it. Some people are unable to have children and I appreciate how difficult that must be. But this holiday isn’t about saving their feelings. It is about those of us that have kids. Sorry, not sorry. So stop shitting on our party just because you weren’t invited.
  4. Taking My Kids Trick or Treating: I actually like this one. But see #2. It means having to drive to a destination to trick or treat like someone from the hinterlands of (insert name of some oggyboo state).
  5. The Kids That Phone It In: It never failed. In the sea of kids flooding our porch there would inevitably be a group of teenagers not even trying to wear a costume. You know the ones. Dark hoodie, jeans and Scream mask. Most of the time the mast was up on their heads anyway. I guess it’s too much to actually wear the damn mask. This outfit gets you shot multiple times in my old city on any other night of the year, but I digress. I never give these guys a hard time. Most kids who are willing to walk around for free candy well into their teens without the decency of at least wearing a costume are capable of egging your house, your car or you. Why bother? These kids are clearly the products of broken homes, drugs, fetal-alcohol syndrome severe depression and assholism. Basically, future lawyers. So why screw with someone who can sue you down the line?
  6. Ghosts Are SUPER Active: I don’t know about you, but I only truly fear two things: bugs and my own grim death. Ghosts use Halloween to pull off some serious supernatural chicanery. This reminds me of my own mortality and the fact that one day it will be ME moving keys, spooking the cat at 2 in the morning, and going “mOOOoooOoooOOOAaaaahhhHHHhHH” in the attic. It’s almost like they know it’s Halloween and they drink a ton of coffee and really put on the “act”. If you don’t believe me, check out any haunted graveyard or house. They will straight up SPOOK YOUR ASS. Then you’ll come crying to me and I’ll be all like… told you so.
  7. The Monster Mash: that song is so stupid.
  8. The Food: Or lack there of. Any decent holiday has a traditional meal attached to it. Tgivs has tukey and stuffin’ – Christmas has… turkey and stuffin’ – 4th of July has burgers and dogs – Easter has ham and St. Paddy’s has coyote and cabbage. What does Halloween have? Bupkis! We used to get pizza just because it was easier than having a knife and forker while periodically running to the door to dole out the candy. Pizza is not a traditional meal nor should it ever be. Pizza is what Italians turn to everytime they are asked about their contributions to western culture and realize that aside from the Roman empire and organized crime the cupboard is pretty bare. However, it is DELICIOUS so it is an acceptable meal on Halloween. Just don’t go crazy and make it an every year thing.
  9. Aliens: So underrepresented on Halloween. What is scarier? A mummy hanging out with a Frankenstein or waking up one night on the examination table of a spacecraft with a bunch of guys frantically probing you? ‘Nuff said. I think we need to celebrate our alien brethren and sistren on Halloween not just warlocks and werewolves. I for one am no longer happy with sitting idly by while aliens are given the shaft. Which, ironically, is what they want to do to us. Maybe forget this one. They are basically intergalactic rapists. Yeah. Screw ’em.

Happy Halloween to you all.

Halloween-tide

Taking a Close Look at My Town

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I have neglected this blog for far too long. In fact, almost an entire calendar year. I had a lot on my mind. I was busy and I simply didn’t have time. So what has been taking up all my time you may be asking? Infectious disease. And let me tell you it is not pleasant. It is basically everything you think it is when you hear the words, “infectious disease.” I can’t even tell you how difficult it is to hang out with old friends when all they want to do is talk about their careers and their kids and all you want to talk about is infectious disease factoids and assorted infectious disease anecdotes. A living hell? You bet and quite frankly I’ve been having a rough time of it. When I decided to become an infectious disease buff I knew I would be trodding a dark path, however I thought it important to spread the word far and wide about “I.D.” as we infectious disease buffs call it. It is a labor of love so I am not throwing in the towel yet but in all honesty I am not sure how “in it” my heart is any longer. And call me lazy or self-conscious but I don’t know how many more times I can explain the same thing to the FBI without sounding kinda silly at this point.

Anywho; my wife and I were out driving around the other day. We decided to really examine the town we had moved to about a year and a half ago. Not going to tell you which town but think New England, bucolic, quaint, historic, sterile, puritanical, and stately. It is rather pretty in the Autumn and when it snows the Christmas lights on the ancient town green are truly something to behold. The Springs are mild. A little too mild, really and the Summers will melt your underwear to your thighs if you are exposed to the outdoors for more than a minute and a half. There are cute little festivals and fairs throughout the year. There are white Churches dating from the early 18th century. There are local stories about George Washington visiting an inn which is now a residence and encampments of soldiers on their way to fight the British Regulars. There are antique houses and antique shops and antique cars and antique people.

Sounds pretty cool, right?

Verdict: Sorta cool. it has its moments and overall it is tolerable.

You see, I grew up in a city. Albeit a relatively small city but a city nonetheless. In fact, I believe it is the fifth largest city in New England and the biggest city in Connecticut. So as you can imagine, it has been a bit of a culture shock and there has been a truly discernable adjustment period. Now some of you may read Yankee Magazine. Or have a serious interest in New England. Or saw Baby Boom once and thought to yourselves, “that looks so quaint.” Whatever it may be, let me peel back some of the pretty layers and give you some of the truth when it comes to what it is like to live in one of these towns. I do not hate my town in the least. These are just honest observations and I am sure I find some of them as bracing as I do because I am only just getting used to them.

  1. Peace and Quiet. I mean, yes and no. When you live in a neighborhood where everyone has a decent sized lawn, you can be assured of one thing; the sound of lawn equipment from sun up to sun down from late April to mid October. And these folks live in these towns because they have some cash but are not flush enough to move down closer to the coast and spend big bucks on house prices and property taxes. Which are pretty damn high in our town. But that is another story. So because they have some money, they tend to spend it on things like; industrial tractors and lawn-equipment only really utilized on golf courses and cemeteries. So there is no such thing as the innocuous sound of a distant riding mower. Instead, you get the sound and decibel levels of a C-130 revving its turbo-props at full tilt. On a number of occasions we have had to cut our discussions on “I.D.” painfully short and retreat into the house. So those are days during the pleasant weather months. Night time is different as it really is sort of creepily quiet. While unnerving it offers excellent opportunities for restful, sound sleep and long, intricate discussions on I.D.
  2. Friendliness. Well… us Yankees (and even though the rebs down south refer to anyone living above Maryland as a Yankee, a Yankee is a native of CT) aren’t exactly the nicest group. We just don’t really like anyone. That being said, the majority of us fall into two camps of extreme opposites. There are the, “I won’t thank you for holding the door open for me for all of the money in the world” jerks and then there are the, “thank you so much for holding the door open for me! Would you like a kidney? Or an even better idea, you look stressed so call me an ugly parasite and punch my jaw loose. Seriously, I don’t mind! Anything for you, big boy” crowd. There’s really no middle ground, “thank you” people. Which is fine. Our neighbors are super-friendly and as much as I am a total curmudgeon I can’t make fun of that. It was bracing at first however because I am not used to that and I really don’t know how to act around friendly strangers other than by smiling politely while frantically searching for an escape route. Still, this one is hard to explain to someone who is not from here because this issue is not native to my town. It is an issue that is sort of an epidemic which stretches from New Jersey to Maine. Much like an I.D.!
  3. Hicks. I have no problem with the fine men and women who utilize their back muscles and hands and get an honest day’s work done by the time I am having my lunch. If you are a farmer, tree-cutter, landscaper, etc. I salute you for doing a job that I would never do unless I was forced at gunpoint to do it. Not because I am incapable, but because I am a down-state, NYC Metropolitan area city boy who is rather dainty. I will never poop on the work that these people do. However, I will poop on the aesthetic that a lot of these folks, especially the men adopt. Your country-boy, Jeff Foxworthy worshipping, bearded, pickup truck driving, Travis Tritt listening, Confederate flag waving asses aren’t fooling anyone. You’re from CT, not NC. You know the type. The type of guys who still wear their cellphones in outside-the-belt cases and think that being a volunteer fireman is akin to being a Syrian White Helmet. The kinda guys who share memes that say things like, “you must be a special kind of stupid”. The majestic, North Eastern Hick. Their habitat is wide and varied but you can usually see them congregating around places that sell cheap hamburgers and Home Depot. They always smell like a wood fire and the married ones have those stupid black titanium wedding bands. Because nothing tells the world that you love your wife and your marriage like wearing a ring that looks as though it was made in someone’s spare time at the bottom of a coal mine. In the end, these dudes are harmless. Unless you consider spitting chaw into an empty Sprite bottle harmful. Which, it sorta is. Much like I.D.
  4. Culture. Yeah, if you want culture, as in arts and music, you are going to have to head afield. We have a library. So that’s something. I think some of the restaurant bars have karaoke once a week. There is a Summer concert series on the town green but let’s face it; unless it’s either a Tony Bennett impersonator or a Foghat cover band, no one in this town is flocking to the green. Here is the thing; the town also has its fair share of yuppies. You would think that youth and money would denote an underlying current of artistic and creative curiosity. This just ain’t so where I live. In fact, it seems to be a magnet for that one segment of yuppies who aren’t interested in those sorts of things. Which is disheartening but in the end it isn’t that big a deal. It would just be nice for someone like me, (a pretentious, pompous blow-hard) to be able to talk about things going on in town with no real intention of ever even bothering to check them out on my own. Much like I.D.
  5. Flora and Fauna. I don’t like the woods. They are creepy and that is why creepy animals live there. Things that will eat you or chase you or chase you and then eat you. We have bears, coyotes, bobcats, fisher cats, possums, raccoons, foxes and according to the police we also have mountain lions but I think that might be BS. Either way, I don’t want to find out. Our first week here we received a packet from the police department outlining all the creatures we may encounter. This is not optimal for a guy like me who is cool with cats, tolerates dogs and looks at people with pet birds and snakes like the absolute freaks that they are. So I keep a high powered rifle near the sliding doors that lead out to my back deck. I think it is illegal to discharge a weapon within the town but if it comes down to it I do not mind paying the fine if it means that I won’t be torn asunder by a rabid bear. Do bears get rabies? Another I.D. discussion to be had, methinks.

So that’s that. The town has great schools and is relatively safe so it is serving its purpose I suppose. The wife and I have already decided that once the kids are grown and out on their own we are putting the house on the market and high-tailing it back to the water where I grew up and she feels the most at home. It works for now. If you want to come check it out, don’t. We don’t want no outsiders coming around and making trouble. But if you would like to meet up and check out my newsletter on I.D. I think we can make that work.

Taking a Close Look at My Town

Goodbye For The Summer

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It is hard for a New Englander to look into the Summer whilst perched on the very end of the Spring and not see literally anything but a mountain of promise. So much hope. Plans to be made and goals to tackle. Vacations and days at the beach. Cold beer and hot dogs. Ice cream. Not worrying about sweating because every time you mention the heat someone reminds you of what awaits a mere few months down the line. The smell of spent black powder in the air after fireworks displays. It’s all good stuff. However, all that good stuff requires money. Maybe not so much the goals. I mean, that is unless your goal is to make more money so you can spend more money. This year, I am facing another two weeks of school on top of the regular year as I am teaching Summer school. Meaning; I have a bit more time to think about what I want to do and a bit less time to accomplish all of it. Therefore; I am going to compile a short list of the so-called, must do’s to refer back to frequently over the next couple of months. I will give you a few choice samples now and then as I have done for the past three years of this blog’s existence, I will shut it down until the school year begins anew in September. Here we go.

  1. Celebrate the 4th of July – seems like a no-brainer, right? Wrong. As a proud American I have been celebrating this holiday my entire life. I was born in July. As my mother tell’s the story; I was born in the afternoon a couple of weeks past the 4th. When the nurses had cleaned the goo off of me, they wrapped me in an American flag and laid me in my mother’s arms. As mother and baby shared a moment, I gently asked her, “pray tell, mother… am I too late for the 4th of July celebrations”? I then slowly pulled a small already lit sparkler out and began to gently hum “My Country ‘Tis of Thee”. “Yes, I am afraid you are”, she replied. At this point, I apparently became inconsolable and when the nurse called for the doctor to come in to see the abnormally large and ugly baby that could somehow not only speak, but speak in such a perfect, Richard Burtonesque way, I lashed out. I accused the doctor and nurses of witchcraft, knocked over the IV and sprinted towards the door only to come into contact with the business end of the good doctor’s riding crop, which he always carried. I woke up ten years later in a home for wayward patriots. But I got out! So as you can see, I like the holiday. This year I want to have a big cookout. But I want to cook something essentially American. I was thinking an eagle but I am pretty sure that is a felony. The next best thing? The animal that is most commonly associated with the United States, the majestic and delicious coyote. It shouldn’t be hard as the place where we live now is ripe with them. The only issue is that I am having a hell of a hard time finding really good quality ‘yote meat. And I am not much of a hunter. This is a problem. I figure if I can’t get any we can always just do burgers. I also want to light off some fireworks. Which are illegal in this state. But what kind of American would I be if I didn’t routinely break the laws that I thought were dumb. Bring on the 4th.
  2. Write The Great American Novel – I have a few Ideas. Admittedly, none are all that good. But considering what passes for movies, television and pop music these days I’ve realized that they don’t need to be. People like inspirational, feel-good, against the odds sorta bullshit these days. I figure if I write a book about some lousy kid who comes from a home where the parents are constantly fighting and the siblings are in a romantic relationship with each other and the dog is always trying to commit suicide and some bum keeps giving him really pithy advice which ends up shaping his life some asshole will read it. I’ll have a lot of veiled political references in it. I will decry the evils of whatever it is we are supposed to be pissed off at on the day I happen to write whatever chapter I am on at the time. The protagonist will overcome all hardships and I will make sure that the villain is really, really evil. Someone that the entire culture can all viscerally loathe equally. Someone like; the guy who killed John Wick’s dog. Or if I can’t come up with someone that awful on my own I will just attribute all the evil stuff in the book to a successful company that gives its employees time off for religious holidays. Ya know, real Nazi types. It will be one hell of a book and by the end of it you will have learned nothing but will have had all preexisting notions confirmed. Spoiler alert: if you believe in yourself, you can achieve anything!
  3. Piracy – this one may take a little more effort than I am anticipating but as my friend’s uncle used to say; if it’s difficult or even impossible but you think it’s worth doing, don’t plan or prepare, just go for it! He died very young. Anyway, I can see you rolling your eyes wondering to yourselves why someone would want to get involved in that whole piracy malarkey. I have no answer for you other than chicks dig pirates. I have a wife but I want her to dig me more. And if she digs me more than she already does or says that she does and then decides to make me all sorts of cool desserts to keep me home and off the rolling main, then I am all for it. Also, I need to make some extra cash and let’s face it, no one out there on Long Island Sound is even remotely prepared for being attacked by a pirate. I wouldn’t even need a cannon or gun or cutlass or anything like that. All I would need is a broken beer bottle and maybe a small, pointy stick. The swells out there on the swells would give up the booty tout suite the minute they saw anything even remotely threatening. How do I know this? I met plenty of boat-people growing up where I did. Trust me when I say that aside from actual working fishermen, there’s really no one out there to worry about. The only problem is… and I will say, it is a sail flattening reality: I don’t have a boat. So I will have to leave this one on the back burner until I can get my hands on something down the line. But this one is not coming off the list because a man can dream.
  4. Make My Own Fireworks – when I was a lad, my father let me purchase a Hawken rifle. Along with the gun, I also purchased caps, powder, patches and shot. I think I fired it once. Anywho, with all of that black powder hanging about I thought it wise to be careful with it. So I did what any careful boy would do. I filled the wings of my model airplanes with it, took them down to the beach and my friend and I shot roman candles at them until they went kaboomies. It was great fun. Incredibly dangerous and stupid but great fun. Later, we graduated to taping firecrackers together and twisting their fuses. So as you can see, I am pretty much an expert on fireworks. I want to make some. I don’t know how. But I want to make some. I’ll probably just end up buying them and then feel guilty when I fire them off. “You could have at least tried to make your own” will be rattling around my head while the rest of the family oohs and ahs at the multicolored explosions going off dangerously close to the neighbor’s roof and trees. Not today, brain. You won’t be pissing on my parade today, brain. I hate you, brain. Shutup, brain. Sorry, brain. Friends again, brain? No? Well fuck you too, brain. Anyway, that’s how I see that plan playing out.
  5. Fly A Kite – I’m running out of things.

Ok, that’s it. Have a nice Summer.

J.M.

Goodbye For The Summer

P.S. Ukraine Could Use Some Attention Right Now

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It has largely been forgotten by the majority of Americans that there is an ongoing conflict in Crimea. Why this is so can lead to speculation ranging from US-Russian political toadyism to just a general laissez-faire attitude towards the smaller and less worrisome countries of Eastern Europe. This, in my estimation, is probably the most realistic reason for the seemingly non-existent coverage of the largest land conflict in Europe since World War II. It just doesn’t seem like a good enough reason. So why doesn’t anyone on this side of the pond care? There has to be more to it.

James Kirchick has a piece over at National Review which discusses the history of Russian aggression during the cold war period to this point. It is a little long considering that the backbone of Russian aggression can be explained rather simply; Russian aggression is a product of a social philosophy which relies heavily on the appeal of heroic and nearly divine Slavic archetypes as a model for its political ends. When you believe yourself to be superior to all other people on your continent it becomes easy to do things such as annexing Crimea and sending armored columns into it to show the world that you mean business. Again, it is troubling that this action hasn’t garnered much interest in the United States considering the reasoning behind the action is almost a verbatim copy of the German justification of the annexing of the Sudetenland. Whenever someone argues that we have advanced to a point technologically where the overt crimes of the past can never be repeated to the same degree, I will forever refer to the Donbass and you should as well. The same air of heroic folklore hangs over the Russian psyche and compels it into different directions nearly all leading toward the same end: power. It is not nor should it be too foreign for us as Americans. We have our heroes as well and we are often apt to deify the past as a model for the present.

For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’thappened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet – William Faulkner, Intruder in the Dust

Faulkner describes the ability of the young man from the south to reach back into a past played out well before he was even a glint in his grandfather’s eye and hang onto a moment where greatness could be achieved. If you were to change the name Pickett to Nevsky and the date of July 1863 to April 1242, the sentiment of the passage would remain the same for the Russian reader. However, what would be different would be the explanation of the two people whimsically placing themselves in an ersatz heroic past as to why they were daydreaming about those particular moments. The American boy would tell you that his harkening was based on a love of home, the idea of protecting what one believes to be right and the gallantry of facing withering enemy fire and not flinching as a protest to perceived government aggression. The Russian’s explanation of their flight of whimsy would be mush easier to understand and succinct: slaughtering as many German bastards as I can with my bare hands. The Russian mindset does not feel the need to sugarcoat nor does it apologize for its rampant aggression. In fact, it prides itself on it. How would I know? My name ends in “ov”, I grew up around Russians.

This being understood, it then becomes easy to understand why Russia invaded the Donbass in flagrant defiance of their signing the Budapest Memorandum and with no fear whatsoever of NATO or the UN. First of all; why should they? England and the United States also agreed and signed the memorandum which essentially stated that after Ukraine Kazakhstan and Belarus gave up their nuclear arms these three heavy hitters would in effect protect the dignity of their borders and their sovereignty. Russia clearly had no intention of ever honoring this agreement but here is the kicker: neither did Britain nor did the US. The aim was to further establish stability in a region which was still reeling from the breakup of the Soviet Union by removing a large amount of nuclear ordinance. None of these countries ever pledged military support to Ukraine in the event of an invasion or threat to its borders because none of them were going to be too bothered if someone decided to start thumping artillery into Crimea. The Ukrainian people have only to look at the response to Russia’s invasion of Georgia in 2008 from both the United States and Great Britain. Let me save you the Google search: tough talk from Bush and Miliband and a few sanctions. While the conflict only lasted a little under a week it set a dangerous precedent of a lack of gravitas in western political reactions to Russian military aggression. Russia ended up with a blueprint for what it would begin six years later in Crimea: an escalation of a local conflict under the pretense of attempting to protect ethnic Russians and pro-Russian separatists in order to control a strategically and economically important area of another country. Imagine instead of physically taking money from your neighbor you force them at gunpoint to sign over their bank accounts to you while you explain that you are merely trying to protect them from their landlord. It’s sort of like that. Pretty lousy.

The fact that no one in the United States is reporting on this regularly is mind-boggling. You could make the argument that it is because of the much vaunted conspiracy theory of US-Russia collusion on an Illuminati-type scale that is forcing the American journalistic community to stay mum but you would be wrong considering the sanctions set against Russia for the 2008 Georgian conflict were removed by Obama about an hour after he took office. You could look to the fact that Americans have plenty to worry about here at home and therefore have no interest in what happens in other countries but, call me crazy, I think that is selling the American public short. Personally, I believe the ad hoc media blackout concerning the Ukrainian situation is due to the fact that once you scratch the surface of this thing, you really start to get a whiff of something rotten. This situation proves beyond a shadow of a doubt the following:

  1. The uselessness of the UN
  2. The neutered existence of NATO
  3. The failure of the United States to honor its pledge to an ally by a Democratic Administration
  4. The indifference of a president who is accused of being a Russian puppet
  5. Fear of Putin? (I’ll throw this last one in, because … why not?)

It is a shame that in America if you want to read about what is going on in a conflict that has claimed the lives of nearly three thousand civilians and wounded another nine thousand you have to search another country’s media outlets. But it is not surprising and none of this is all that complicated. Unfortunately for the people in Donbass, the reality isn’t so easily swept under the rug. Their reality is brutal, terrifying and incredibly politically relevant right now but we will hear less and less about it which will allow the casualties to mount. Our thirst for stories about porn stars and presidents leads to a collective complacency which can inadvertently extend conflicts. And that might be one of the biggest tragedies of this entire bloody mess.

J.M.

P.S. Ukraine Could Use Some Attention Right Now

Snapchat Pulpit

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It’s easy to decry the mind-numbing and temperament changing cons of social media as the downfall of modern discourse. I laid out my indictment here. However, there is another by-product of our desire for instant gratification in the ersatz worlds we construct online. Namely; the decline in numbers of people who identify as church-goers / religious.

Think about it. The life of a faithful person is filled with, or should be filled with; introspection, quiet moments, moments where they embrace suffering as a means to foster a deeper relationship with God, moments of pure charity and moments of either sorrowful or joyful prayer. All of these moments, while fundamentally similar in their goals theologically, are vastly different practically. The singular truth in commonality which binds them is time. These things take time. And let’s be honest, the payoff for these actions and moments while sometimes incredibly fulfilling and transcendent can often times leave much to be desired. That is when faith is supposed to take over to remind the believer that it is not the rewards they receive in this life which are to be coveted and sanctified in their own minds. Rather, it is what awaits us in Heaven which is to be sought after and fought for. This may seem easy enough to understand but it is a different story altogether when put into practice by a generation of people who are used to instant gratification.

The internet is not evil. It is not a tool of the devil. On the contrary, the internet, and its readily available resources are a gift for modern people wishing to learn, connect and discover a myriad of things they would not have had access to 25 years ago is truly fantastic. But like any other society-changing bombshell inventions, there are unwanted and unforeseen societal changes which accompany them. In this case, it is the complete loss of anything even resembling patience. When we condition our brains to getting used to having instant answers, affirmation and entertainment anything else which we have to wait a lifetime for becomes a goal to worry about only when we have reached an age where the technology has passed us by. We will worry about Heaven when we don’t know how to use our devices anymore. When our grandkids have to show us how to use the Christmas presents they purchase us as a photo-op novelty. “Check out grandpa and his new Ipad25! He’s so cute and so stupid<3”. 

A generation of people are growing up never having to wait for anything, really. And when they are forced to be patient, they reach for their devices like a frustrated Poe reaching for laudanum. It is no great shock that people are unwilling to sit in a church for an hour let alone wait a lifetime to receive an award. For this reason, not only does the global Christian community suffer, but the world as a whole also suffers. The world needs Christians. The major problem now; is that Christians seem to need the world more than they need their Lord.

J. M.

Snapchat Pulpit

No More Lawyers. Please.

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It is no coincidence that the overwhelming majority of our legislators in the past have been lawyers. This trend is down according to the ABA Journal. However, you’d never be able to tell if you, like myself and many others, turn to the internet for the majority of our political info. It would seem that the career perfectly suits the elected official as their primary reason for existence is to deal with the creation of new laws and the maintenance of preexisting laws. But that doesn’t change the fact that much like any other career-path which requires a good amount of expensive schooling and subsequent apprenticeship, a pseudo-confraternity forms organically from its membership. There is no clubhouse or secret handshake but if you read enough political punditry you will see just how thick the walls of their ethereal compound is. A compound that exists to keep plebs like you and myself gratefully groveling for the legal table scraps thrown to us at the base of the walls from their ersatz ramparts. Like legislators, a great number of pundits are also lawyers. Firstly, I would like to point out that I am glad, somewhat, that they are. If a journalist (cough, cough) is going to critique and analyze our lawmakers and the laws they create and argue then I would prefer that they at least have an idea of what is or isn’t legal. Honestly, having an understanding of the law is a prerequisite to be taken even remotely politically seriously even in passing among friends. I don’t pretend to be a lawyer or know even half or a quarter as much as a lawyer knows about the intricacies of law. I don’t have to be to have legitimate opinions and questions of my elected officials and their policies and here is the kicker; neither do you or anyone else.

If you spend any time on Twitter and are even the least bit political, I am sure you have seen posts from some bloggers/pundits (again, a lot of whom are lawyers by trade) which were incredibly condescending. The lawyer-clique online is as every bit as ruthless, judgmental and obnoxious as [insert memory of group of unbearable assholes from high school] that you can bring to mind. Here is how the process works:

  1. Blogger-lawyer Tweets
  2. Followers retweet, favorite and sometimes reply
  3. Blogger-lawyer has decision to make: choose the most unhinged and questionable reply to original tweet and completely dismantle the person via quoted tweet and snarky retort OR find intelligent, thoughtful and reasonable reply and reply reasonably. (either choice leads to final product)
  4. IF the blogger lawyer has chosen the first option: other lawyers smell blood in the water and then post to pile onto the rube who is currently receiving a legal beat down, eventually original blogger lawyer and blogger lawyers who have joined the ratpack begin to discuss original tweet and ignore all other incoming tweets. IF the blogger lawyer has chosen the second option: other lawyers post to answer the question of the initial reply, even if it has already been answered because let’s face it, if a lawyer can’t spend their time telling people that they are lawyers then what is the point of becoming one? See; veganism. Eventually, blogger lawyer and other blogger lawyers and plain lawyers who have joined the fray begin discussing the question and ignore all other incoming tweets.
  5. Repeat process ad nauseam.

Seriously; the politisphere of Twitter is one enormous, juridical circle-jerk. Am I bitter? Do I sound bitter? Are you thinking; ‘this dude must have been burned by some hot-shot lawyer on twitter’? Well I am sorry to un-butter your biscuit but I haven’t. However, we have all been burned by legislators and that is enough for me and you to have important opinions on the law. I don’t care if a bunch of lawyers want to get together and talk shop on the internet. What I do care about; is the intricacies of law and its power over ALL of us should dictate that the experts in the law not be massive tools when questioned about it. Imagine if a doctor said something like this to a patient, “ummm yeah… no that’s not how your chemo is going to work, chief… but nice try. *eyeroll emoji*”. Yet when it comes to questions of the law we are spoken down to regularly by legislators and pundits. Why do we allow it? Randoms on twitter aren’t the clients of blogger-lawyers nor do the lawyers have the responsibility to answer anyone civilly or even answer anyone at all. But what a pundit-lawyer has over a doctor is the ability to be an opinion maker or changer if they have a large internet following. And that is dangerous. They need to take that shit seriously. However, most of them have at one time or another made the famous cop-out statement: I don’t ask anyone to read my stuff, I just write and people read it. What a cowardly way to shirk responsibility for any by-products or fallout of their musings. All done with an air of snark that would make Regina George cringe.

I think it would be super-swell if we as a society decided that we were tired of allowing lawyers to think and operate as if their political poopers didn’t stink. The first and most important step is to let them know that we will not allow them to walk on proverbial water around us anymore by not electing them anymore. Let’s run and elect people who actually have an idea of how the world works. An electrician, plumber, teacher etc. may not know too much about the intricacies of law but I bet they know how much a gallon of heating oil or gallon of milk costs and what it’s like to worry about bills. And maybe those are the kind of people we need making our policies these days. Far more than we need lawyers pontificating about them.

No More Lawyers. Please.