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Plus ca change

I’m watching a program on TV called “Inside America’s Pot Industry” and I’m reading a book about Clinton’s first term called “Mastering the Presidency” and I’m struck by one thing in both cases.

Nothing has really changed for a long time.  Republicans have fought health care before, they have always been against health care and against rich people having to pay any taxes.  And the MSM has not tired of portraying Marijuana as some kind of evil weed.

“A jerry rigged irrigation system COMPLETE with plastic piping,” like that is something it took an evil genius to figure out.

They interviewed a family in northern California who were FORCED to move out because all of their neighbors were growing pot.  Not that they were threatened, or coerced, they just were really, really offended.

And the interviewer, a very attractive lady I must admit, saying to the guy who’d written books on how to grow pot, “You talk about this as if it’s normal, well I have to tell you, for me and a lot of my viewers, it is not normal at all” and I had to wonder, where did this woman grow up, what kind of a high school did she go to that she doesn’t see marijuana as normal?

For a long time now, it has struck me that the war on drugs, which really means a war on marijuana because if you’re caught doing heroin you get sent to a rehab program but if your caught smoking pot you go to jail, is rather like the attempted  repression of Bokononism in Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle.  Everybody does it, but it’s totally illegal.

The discerning reader may have ascertained from this that I am a fan of  marijuana.  This is true.  I smoke it regularly, with enthusiasm and in large amounts.  I feel that it has tremendous health benefits (reduces stress), social benefits (I never know how to start a conversation, but it’s easy to invite someone to smoke a joint) but mostly I just enjoy being high.  And that hasn’t changed for the last 35 years.

The Music in Your Head

Since my day involves taking kids to school and football practice and picking them up and bringing them home, I spend a lot of time on public transport.  I probably use it 4 or 6 times each day.

It can be a bit depressing.  As anyone who has lived in Prague for any length of time will confirm, people do not smile on the Metro.  They generally sit, looking straight ahead with as blank a look as possible on their face.

I suppose there is a logic to it.  It can be a bit obnoxious when large groups of boisterous people dominate the crowd.  When a group of football fans, or screaming Italian tourists get on the train it interferes with everybody’s peace of mind, to some extent.  Also, in a country with a long history of repression, masking one’s emotions may have become an inbuilt survival mechanism.

And, in fairness, the Czech flat face is no more of a mask than the American half smile which people are trained to use in public.

Still, it is depressing.  I had a thought this morning which makes it even worse.  I looked around and noticed many people with wires in their ears.  Sure, this makes a great deal of sense.  If you are forced to be on public transport for 45 minutes or an hour and a half per day, you may as well use that time to listen to music that you enjoy.

Which brings me to my point.  These people were, presumably, listening to the music they enjoy the most.  The music which is supposed to light your fire and lift you up where you belong.  The music that is supposed to put a smile on your face and a song in your heart.  The music that is supposed to make you forget your troubles, come on, be happy, and wash all your blues away.

Apparently, it wasn’t working.  They were hearing the notes and lyrics, and using them to block out the outside world, but the music was bringing them no joy.

For the most part, they were all pretty self contained and you couldn’t tell what they were listening to.  Sometimes I try to guess, based on age, gender and how they’re dressed, but I don’t have any way of confirming.  There was one guy there, though, dressed all in black and the music was up loud enough that it was bleeding out.  Some kind of thrash/punk/heavy metal/grunge/I don’t know, I’m old and all of those genres sort of blend together.

He, too, had a blank, non-commital look on his face.  I guess in that case, at least, it was a good thing.

Stupid Shit on TV

When my family goes out of town for the weekend, I always look forward to having a couple of days of quiet and relaxation.  But I’m always bored to distraction by the end of it and totally anxious for them to get back.

This weekend I’ve watched about 6 episodes of House, a couple of episodes of Joan of Arcadia which, not being a 13 year old girl I am rather embarrassed about, a bit of the History Channel but they do get oh, so repetitive (How many shows can you watch on the Untold Story of Jesus?  How many different ways can they find to say “we really don’t know doodly squat about this”?) and a couple of million cop shows.

I enjoy watching cop shows.  They are exciting, dramatic and interesting.  There is something viscerally satisfying about watching the evil, evil criminal getting slapped around or shot in the head.

However, I think cop shows are a symptom of a truly perverted society.  Almost every single one, with perhaps a couple of exceptions like Barney Miller and Mayberry RFD, are advertisements for a police state.  All drug users are evil pushers, selling heroin to children, whereas in reality the vast majority of drug users are pretty normal people who just like to smoke a little doober now and again.  The heroes violate suspect’s rights as freely as the crew of the Star Ship Enterprise violates the non-interference rule.  They break down doors.  They lie.  They break their word.  They beat the crap out of people and force confessions.

There was one I was watching yesterday that I found particularly offensive.  First, the detective who is the hero of the show is blind, which I find to be bizarrely unrealistic.  Then, four cops in one room seriously debated deliberately losing a piece of evidence that would exonerate the suspect of murder, because they were pretty sure he was guilty of buggering little boys.  They didn’t actually do that, but they let the blind cop beat the hell out of him in a locked room until he confessed.

Call me crazy, but I really don’t think cops should be allowed to beat up prisoners, and any confession obtained in that way should not be admissible.  Beyond that, though, the whole blind thing just made it silly.

Anyway, once the family gets back I will have to watch cartoons or some horrible Czech soap opera.  Still, if I have to complain about what’s on TV, it’s probably better that it’s not something I chose myself.

Stupid Shit on TV

When my family goes out of town for the weekend, I always look forward to having a couple of days of quiet and relaxation.  But I’m always bored to distraction by the end of it and totally anxious for them to get back.

This weekend I’ve watched about 6 episodes of House, a couple of episodes of Joan of Arcadia which, not being a 13 year old girl I am rather embarrassed about, a bit of the History Channel but they do get oh, so repetitive (How many shows can you watch on the Untold Story of Jesus?  How many different ways can they find to say “we really don’t know doodly squat about this”?) and a couple of million cop shows.

I enjoy watching cop shows.  They are exciting, dramatic and interesting.  There is something viscerally satisfying about watching the evil, evil criminal getting slapped around or shot in the head.

However, I think cop shows are a symptom of a truly perverted society.  Almost every single one, with perhaps a couple of exceptions like Barney Miller and Mayberry RFD, are advertisements for a police state.  All drug users are evil pushers, selling heroin to children, whereas in reality the vast majority of drug users are pretty normal people who just like to smoke a little doober now and again.  The heroes violate suspect’s rights as freely as the crew of the Star Ship Enterprise violates the non-interference rule.  They break down doors.  They lie.  They break their word.  They beat the crap out of people and force confessions.

There was one I was watching yesterday that I found particularly offensive.  First, the detective who is the hero of the show is blind, which I find to be bizarrely unrealistic.  Then, four cops in one room seriously debated deliberately losing a piece of evidence that would exonerate the suspect of murder, because they were pretty sure he was guilty of buggering little boys.  They didn’t actually do that, but they let the blind cop beat the hell out of him in a locked room until he confessed.

Call me crazy, but I really don’t think cops should be allowed to beat up prisoners, and any confession obtained in that way should not be admissible.  Beyond that, though, the whole blind thing just made it silly.

Anyway, once the family gets back I will have to watch cartoons or some horrible Czech soap opera.  Still, if I have to complain about what’s on TV, it’s probably better that it’s not something I chose myself.

The Eye of the Tiger

The Tiger is back!

He will be playing at the upcoming Masters Tournament in Augusta, Georgia and I hope he wins.  I hope he totally kicks ass.

I was never particularly a fan of Tiger Woods before the whole sex scandal.  In fact, I’m not a big fan of golf.  I’m not even a big sports fan, but golf is especially boring.  Watching a bunch of men walking around on grassy hillsides, occasionally hitting a ball with a club, and watching and waiting to see if that ball goes into a hole strikes me as a tedious and unpleasant way to pass the time.  There are few sports that seem more pointless to me.  (Formula One is more boring.  A bunch of cars driving round and round.  I could get just as excited by going out and standing next to the freeway.)

My wife tried to convince me to play once.  I guess she thinks it’s an upwardly mobile type of sport and she’d like to learn it herself.  It was when we were visiting my brother in Los Angeles and so she had allies.  My brother-in-law Gerald, who was a big golf enthusiast before he passed away, and my brother Ben (not the one who lives in L.A., but he was there).

So, we played 9 holes and I wasn’t very good, which didn’t surprise me as I am not a great athlete.  They all said “Eh, not so bad for a 1^st try” but I knew there would never be a 2^nd try.

Oh, I guess I should never say never.  If I needed to play golf in order to secure some huge business deal, or if it was a choice between playing golf and going to prison, I suppose I would play.  Mostly, though, it seems like a pleasant walk ruined.  Which is sort of the same way I feel about fishing.  You want to go fishing?  Fine, I’ll bring along a book, some sandwiches and something to drink and everybody will be happy.

Anyway, if Tiger feels his reputation was damaged by the whole sex scandal thingie, he is badly mistaken.  I was never impressed with his golf game.  But when I look at the pictures of Jamie Jungers, Holly Sampson and all the others, my admiration for the man soars.  Not just because he has greater stamina than is actually required for the game of golf, but because (unlike Bill Clinton or Hugh Grant) all of Tiger’s women (including his wife) are smoking hot.

The man is a winner, through and through.