The World Of Tomorrow: The Nanny State

Having read Gabe and Todd's visions of the future, I am not quite as optimistic as the two of them. Gabe's view seemed the more optimistic of the two, and Todd's did allow for a window of optimism before returning to the same douche bag planet that we mostly are.

Without further adieu, I present to you the nanny state. Webster defines the nanny state as a government that is too controlling or interfering. In the things I've read and observed about the nanny state, it seems to be a people or a government prone to extremes and afraid of tension.

Tension is a state of moderation. It's the center of the spinning top. It's the point in which the most forces are tugging and pushing on you, and requires the most effort on your part to stay where you are. It's not the easy position to maintain, but it is ideal. A nanny state would occur in the extremities, where everything is fully one way, and there is no room for contradiction. Because in this state of existence everything is fully one way, the nanny state is forced to push everything in that direction so that they don't compromise their position. Often, the nanny state position or attitude is adopted in interest of “protection,” and like all protection, it's stemming from a source of fear. Though in the nanny state, it's more fear than interest of protection.

So that all sounds very negative and browbeating. But let me produce my evidence.

• Anyone remember a particular lady in a particular McDonald's that spilled hot coffee on herself and sued McDonald's (and won) when it's no surprise that coffee is a hot drink. What you should do there, as judge, is laugh at her, in court. Like literally point and laugh at her, and then ask her, “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND! GET OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING MY TIME!” and then the judge should personally kick her out of court with a giant novelty sized shoe that reads “court stompin' shoe.”

• When I worked at Gamestop, a little game I like to call Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas was removed from the shelves because someone found a hack to make the people naked. You might think, “hell yes! Remove that naked filth from our shelves!” but you're probably unaware of how this hack works. First, you have to buy the hard drive for the PS2, which is a paltry 100 dollar accessory, then you'd have to have the knowledge to make your PS2 a, essentially, mini PC so that it can browse the Internet. After you've done that, then you can locate the correct site with the correct hack. This was done in interest of “protecting kids” which is pure crap. Mostly, if your kid is playing GTA in the first place you've either failed as a parent, or your kid is an adult. Either way, they have cheaper and more realistic ways of finding real naked people. Meanwhile, Sony releases a game in which you have interactive sex with goddesses (I mean, just one part of the game, not the whole thing), but these same watchdog groups do nothing. Now, here's what you should do: probably nothing. The GTA hack is ridiculous to achieve as it requires an expensive accessory that most PS2 owners don't even have, and it requires a technological expertise that most people can't even muster together to use against their VCR's conspired clock blinking.

• American's are fat. It's like a national past time for us. And yet, so people would consume less, we address the symptom instead of the issue and make the fast food joints stop serving their larger sizes, when (mmmder), it just means that people will order more food. How about you address the actual issue which is this: America's lost her mind and her self control. How about you work on getting those back, eh?

• Smoking. OH HOLY FUCK THERE'S CANCER OUT THERE! SON OF A BITCH! Excuse my expletives (but I like that line). Essentially, this is the one issue in which the liberal and conservative views have coalesced in one unholy union. Smoking kills. Once again, we're addressing the symptom and not the issue. And how about those jackass Truth adds? Few things make me want to go on a brick-throwing-flipping-cars-over-and-lighting-them-on-fire rampage quite like a couple of asinine commercials that portray the tobacco companies as somehow having the arcane talent of bending the very will of the populace, completely negating the fact that every smoker chose to smoke. Additionally, there's the smoking ban. Doesn't that seem a little, oh, I don't know, freedom abridging? How about you let the establishments decide? How does that sound? Probably marvelous, as it should. Each establish decides, and then those Truth assholes should put their energy to good use. Tell people if they want to smoke, because you can smoke and die of old age before you die of cancer, to pick up pipes and cigars, or to stop inhaling, or tell the tobacco companies to stop putting so much crap in the tobacco. Seriously. American tobacco should be the best (a good portion of our olde timey economy was founded on it), but it has the greatest number of pollutants in it. Ridiculous.

• Offense. Tolerance. Holy crap is that a pain bigger than it's worth. Listen, if something offends you, evaluate the statement and confront the individual. It's possible that the thing they just said is true, and therefore, there should be some action of change on your behalf. SO CHANGE! If it was an asshat remark, then tell them to stop being an asshat like civilized people should. Instead, we have to go tell mom.

• Seatbelts

• Helmets
  Now those two are simple and lifesaving, but ridiculous. I mean, come on: helmets look ridiculous. Or the whole safety pad nonsense. That's just negating risk on an asinine level.

• There are also discussion of laws to prohibit you from eating, drinking, talking on cell phones, and even listening to the radio.

And this list is partial at best, and I'm certain every person who reads this will be able to add on to it, but I do feel it shows a trend that should inspire concern at the very least. Part of this nanny state is a lowering of standards. In 1950, the average high school graduate had a vocabulary of 50k+ words. Now the average graduate, if he can even pronounce graduation correctly, has a vocabulary of 14k+ words. As standards lower and responsibility is diverted from the people ACTUALLY responsible, systems have to be put into place to, mostly, protect us from our retarded selves.

Life should be about risk management, not risk avoidance, and the nanny state takes away that choice.

“Now class, take out your circles of paper and your safety pencils.” - The Simpsons

On The Topic of the Virtues of Smoking a Pipe

Today was, essentially, a wash. One of my best friends in the world was having his bachelor party, and I would have loved to go... except I had to work. Further, I couldn't take the day off because I need to take next Saturday off to attend his wedding. The plan then was that they would take off for the day to Glenwood to swim, as that seems to be the sort of thing one plans their day around when attending a hot springs. Later that evening when they got back, we would catch up at Leela's or Paris downtown, share a couple of pints and maybe a pipe or two.

Unfortunately, and I can't blame this on any of them (though there's an irrational part of me that would like to), they encountered automotive problems, and what should have been a three hour drive turned into a 4 and a half hour drive, and add on blizzard conditions. So, that's a no go for pints and pipes: they had to cancel. Bummer. So, I got all bummed out and depressed and trekked home.

It's 10 now, and I'm trying to think of some way to salvage my Saturday night, but nothing's coming to mind. Earlier in the day, my pal Arthur had made an offer to hang out, but I had to turn that down because I did not foresee my previous plans being canceled.

So, you know what I did? I sat outside, in the rain, and had a pipe, and what a glorious pipe it was.

I have what's called a "sport pipe." It's mostly just an apprentice made pipe with a shallow bowl that's supposed to last no longer than 15 minutes, but through some forces that are largely mysterious to me, this pipe lasted for 30. Truly a Hanukkah miracle, though not on par with a day's oil lasting eight.

At any rate, I sat outside, listening to the rain, the trains, puffing, and thinking. I thought about my friend David's birthday I missed and made the determination to buy for him his very first pipe and tobacco. He deserves it.

I thought about the Daily Dime and how I'd missed two days this week and really didn't want to miss a third, but didn't know what I was going to write about.

I thought about the day and what a bummer it was overall.

I thought about pipes, and what a curious tradition it is, but what a powerful one. I don't smoke mine too often, perhaps once a week, and that's usually in the company of others. I might smoke it by myself once every 5 or 6 weeks, and it's usually only at times, like tonight, where I feel an irrational depression, and I really want to pull out of it. And it's a panacea. It works, and I'm not sure which part of this causes the even feeling or the mellowing. I don't know if it's perhaps the scent, or the series of long breaths (which are smoke free, every one of them) i must take to stoke the pipe and keep it stoked, the fact that I'm forced to stop and be slow, to take time and think, or if it's something beyond that. Not to attribute mystical attributes to an object, but it's been my experience that it has a power to mold and steer conversation in a way that other smokes do not.

At any rate, I smoked my magic pipe (insert pot joke here. HA HA HA! YOU SO FUNNY!), and felt contented and happy. I came inside, sat down, and whipped out a true to real life story.

Let us seal these meetings
With the raising of a pint,
And the stoking of a pipe.

"You Realy Saved My Ass Back There.

Holy fuggin' crap. Last night, I looked at my review sheet for my history exam and wondered, "When are we taking this stupid thing? We have a paper due tomorrow, but what about the test?" So I wracked my brain trying to remember if we'd had a paper due last test day or not. There are only 3, maybe 4 tests given in the semester, so they're weighted pretty heavily. At any rate, I couldn't remember, and this morning when I got to class (I arrived 10 minutes late because the highway was determined to go no faster than 50 mph), my good friend Nicole turns to me and says, "there's no test today. She forgot to give us the whole study guide."

o rly.

ya rly.

So, apparently, God heard my question last night and decided to give me the most (apart from not having it altogether) satisfying answer. "That'll do pig, that'll do."

In other news, I met a fascinating young woman yesterday. We talked for a good twenty or thirty minutes about writing endeavors. She's short fiction turned poetry and I'm mostly short fiction. But we talked, and she was really cool. She said she'd bring a flyer to me for her "poetry feature" (not entirely sure what that is) next week and I gave her my blogger address.

Blogger address? What kind of stupid way of getting to know people is that?

I know.

Hanging at the Gym

So, one of my new year's goals, the one I've been the least successful at (though its unsuccess competes with my writing goal) was to run a few times a week. This goal had a two fold purpose: the more long term purpose of "getting in shape," which is a revatively nebulous goal but includes, though is not limited to, being in better physical shape. Pretty complex, huh? That's the more long term "overarching" goal, with a much more immediate one of being able to walk all over Ireland (since our time there will be mostly spent walking) without chaffing like a mugger fugger and without geting all winded and pouting like a wee school lass.

So today after school I'm going to the rec center to run for a minimum of 45 minutes, but as long as I feel is necessary. I even borrowed 10 bucks from my mom to do it.

In thinking on why this goal has been such a collosal failure for me, I've come to the conclusion that at this juncture I'm too timid to do my running outside and in gyms where the everyday joe and the stereotypical shallow gym butterfly (because that's all that are there, right?) can see me, and of course, ridicule me. Especialy the last two people I mentioned. At least at the rec center, the beautiful people aren't present, at least in their overwhelming numbers, and I can also swim if I want. Something I haven't done in years.

The ironic part is that since I've made activity my goal, my activity dropped from 2-3 times a week to roughly 3 times every 2 weeks, when my goal became five. I used to go to tae kwon do 3 times a week, and I've since stopped. A part of that is the available number of times I can go to tae kwon do, and the available number of chances I have to go since I've been more active in being church.

So, what I'm asking for is accountability. If you see me or talk to me, and if you otherwise give a damn, ask me if I've run or been to "fight club."

Why thank you.