Matt D's blog

Desolation Row

I wrote this epitaph a week ago:

Like the leaves in fall, the color of our world is about to reflect the soul of its tired, homeless, poor, degenerate, dirty, black, white, green and worthless children. Only when the child realizes his hands to be worth something more than what's inside them--that's when you'll see the foundations of capitalism begin to crack and fall under a tidal wave of desperate, possibly deadly, enmity. That's when the dust bowl will begin. And tall enemies will fall, meeting us on the ground, where all men will finally see themselves at equals; or as equally worthless.

My liberal convictions are pushing and shoving through a muck of false philanthropists, weakling Democrats, the smiling schemers and scavengers of a spoiled economy. I'm growing more unforgiving; uncompromising. How desperate I'd love to lead those irreversibly affected--the useless--into a cold, dank abattoir; where but a sickle silences those screaming, materialistic, retarded children of a supposed greater God or good. I'm losing touch. Little affections except for close friends and distant strangers I read about in the papers that I'll never meet: diseased, afflicted Africans dealing with a new daily holocaust that rings on a deaf world's door; the Arab world raped and torn apart by conquering corporations, left to emotionally degenerate like a sexually abused juvenile; struggling immigrants and exiles, escaping tyranny and apathetic governments to find a piece of freedom, colliding with xenophobic partisans. I pity them more than my neighbors, knowing these people have an infinite less of what I, or anyone in my country does. They also have an infinite less to live for, some might say. The world is so rotten and not even Superman could fix it. Growing up with such magical fantasies that promote an impossible utopian, American ideal are just as conditioning to the mind as growing up with bombs being dropped in the streets. Bliss can be made of either two things: ignorance or apathy. I have neither. I have little mind for my own generation anymore, believing the greater lot to be overindulgent delinquents with zero accountability. When faced with this reality, neither love or sex even seem appealing--as it involves trusting someone with my emotions--something that I have become very territorial over.

But, then again, maybe I've been working too much.

Scoundrels

"We're Americans first and bankers second," said John Stumpf, CEO of Wells Fargo [1], in an effort to reassure the public; in response to being grilled by a committee appointed by the House of Representatives last Wednesday. The banker could not lose any more credibility at this point, but I certainly hope that no person could ever consider pitying such faithless pathos of a supposed patriot.

"Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel," to quote Samuel Johnson [2].

Hopefully, whenever you hear declarations akin to Stumpf's quote they should reflect their actual worth: cheap and metallic; words that might be imagined when sucking on a greasy coin.

As to the cause for the recent plummet in the economy, it's best to use instinct and logic over politically-motivated reasoning, which usually comes out malformed. Take Steve Austria, Republican Congressman, who mistakenly blamed President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a Democrat, for the Great Depression [3].

Austria was explaining his opposition to the huge federal stimulus package backed by President Obama, he told The Dispatch editorial board: "When Roosevelt did this, he put our country into a Great Depression...He tried to borrow and spend, he tried to use the Keynesian approach, and our country ended up in a Great Depression. That's just history."

The date, however, associated with the beginning of the Depression was Black Tuesday, October 29th, 1929. That's nearly three and a half years before Roosevelt even took office, whose incumbency saw the end of the Depression. Austria later recanted these statements, probably upon googling, 'The Great Depression.' Bear in mind, he's only a 1st year Congressman, but its for reasons like this is why there will forever be freshman hazing.

So many are very, ridiculously misinformed with important history that shapes their critical perspective on current issues. A young woman argued with me the other day about how the bailout was overplayed in the media, citing that other government expenditures, including war, were far more costly. Considering the promise the bailout could offer, $700,000,000,000 is nothing compared to the last 20 years of war and defense costs. To rebut this claim, I ransacked the web in search of some literature that could explain the bailout numbers in a more tangible perspective (seeing how, as evidenced by this woman's claim, is not always in lieu), especially in contrast to war expenses. My discovery, the chart below, was both astonishing and horrifying. I hope this helps put things into context. These numbers check out with Bianco Research.

Voltage-creative-bailout-pie-smaller

No, it's not overplayed. No, it's not less costly than anything ever faced before in the US. And, no, it's not certain to improve any bit of the economy, much less continued longevity for the sole superpower in the world.

Misanthropic Topic issue #1

Cupid Cuts Deep -- Murders suspected of being committed by Valentine-themed, 'Cupid'

Orange County, Fla--
Police authorities in the Orlando-area have confirmed more than thirty-five individuals have all been the target of an elaborate plot to terrorize Valentine's Day shoppers with certain injury. The culprit, known to authorities as Cupid, had previously phoned-in bomb-threats to extravagant restaurants expecting a large return for dining lovers to promising several college and high school campuses with poisoned candy-grams.

"This is clearly some guy who hasn't gotten chocolates in a long, long time," grimly said Deputy Sheriff Ed Evans. When confronted with the scale of the scheme, officials believed it to be a large hoax until two unsuspected fatalities in the MetroWest-area reported conversation hearts as being their last meal. Jedidiah Roberts, Sheriff of six years, confessed, "I was still skeptical. Didn't think much of it, people dying from eating that crumby stuff until the toxicology report came in. It was pure arsenic. Still, I was skeptic there was any foul-play."

Several schools were shut-down amid the investigation, including Dr. Phillips High, citing an incident involving a singing, stuffed toy bear. Assistant Principal Gregory Slat explained that the bear was singing threatening lyrics. "Somewhat to the tune of, 'Oh yeah, baby, I'm gonna bite off your ears and claw out your eyes, wanna rape your sockets and ejaculate as you cry.' Ya know, just really not right stuff." The freshman, who has been asked not to be identified, said, amidst tears, that she found the toy bear inside her locker after class. "I thought my boyfriend was being real sweet, until I heard that and thought it was an awful joke." Roberts, again, reported that a device of malicious intent was later found to be implanted inside the bear that would have, "Blown that little girl into Valentine confetti."

Several more incidents are suspected of being in connection with the Cupid culprit, including boxed chocolates filled with razor-blades; cartoon-themed Valentine cards depicting graphic, violent threats; and a whole shop of roses whose tampered thorns are believed to test positive for HIV.

Authorities are focusing on prevention of any more injuries throughout the next few days, and no one has been detained so far for the alleged murders. Nutritional facts of conversation hearts are being reviewed by investigators to confirm that arsenic is, in fact, unnatural in the heart-shaped candies. "We have several suspects," affirmed Roberts. "But I don't think it's any of them, honestly. [...] We're really clutching at straws here."

Grits 'n Gravy

My one nightlife passion for the past year has been Grits 'n Gravy at Ibar (Orange/Washington) on Tuesday nights. I can't say I'm a regular, as I skip every now and then in favor of something I'm sure is unfavorable. I'm an irregular. Whenever I try to persuade someone to come check out a dance club blasting old school rock 'n roll, motown, soul and funk, I'm met with raised eyebrows and contorted expressions. Few can imagine dancing to it and having fun, apparently. While the music has been out-of-date for decades, the latest generation is suprisingly familiar with it by evidence of the strong college-aged following. I have compiled a bit of the usual lineup in the playlist below. You may notice that it automatically plays (if it's working).

Grits 'n Gravy playlist

Friday the 13th and Valentine's

Hello, world. I'm a new-born baby-blog and I'm still bloody. What better day to be born on, than on one of possible fatalistic fortune, yet on the eve of the holiday of love?

Now that the introduction is over, let's get topical:

Honestly, I don't understand why people are not more afraid of more legitimate dates to fear, like April the 15th (yes, that's when your tax return is due). Fear of Friday the 13th is so rampant, there's actually a psychological term for it: paraskavedekatriaphobia. While not a superstitious person, I do believe in Murphy's Law and the concept that God sets the same old tricks and traps, continually victimizing only those stupid enough to repeat them. Now when I am met with an open ladder in my path; a seemingly off iron sitting upright; a cute puppy with white froff in his mouth; or a naked girl in a dark room who says, "Mmhmm, with the lights off," I simply scoff, smugly turn my heel, shake my finger at the sky, "Won't fool me twice."

March 16th, however, is my bad luck day. It's just a fated pitfall of evil coincidences that I've learned to avoid rather than tempt. Every year it's different, and sometimes the actual misfortune is not recognized until weeks later, when it is connected back to the source of a March 16th event. I'll either lose a friend to enmity or betrayal; fail at some venture or enterprise; meet someone who will use persuasion to coerce me into facing a certain liability; and one time someone I grew to hate was even born on this date. Needless to say, I've learned. I'll be spending this year's March 16th indoors.

IMG_0880

The talk of the week has been Valentine's Day tomorrow. I still don't understand how the consensus could believe it's a holiday of commercialism, yet continue to--literally--buy into it. The one tradition I can't stand with this holiday is the conversation hearts. They are cute and clever, but the taste is downright malicious. Every year, like an Alzheimer's patient, I look upon them and coo at the candy's message before shoveling it in for a chalky bitterness. Apart from salacious paraphernalia to enhance explicit pleasures, does one really need even want any other love tackle? Choose your bait: heart-shaped chocolates; plush toys that sing or cuddle with a heart-shape in their paws; heart-shaped jewels; or some romantic evening to adorn something red, where your dish will be served in the shape of a heart.

Before you sink your teeth into such sweetness tomorrow, remind yourself that it was once believed that the heart was the seat of the soul. Although edible, love has no nutritional value. It is overwhelmingly pleasing to the tingling senses, yet only meant to be enjoyed, not digested. Savor the flavor in your mouth. Never chew on your lover's heart. Once you've got the taste in your mouth, swallow it down the back of your throat. He'll like that. <3