Sunday, November 25, 2007
sunday confessional: thou shalt not hate (unless, of course, thou hast a really, really good reason)
A few days back, The Detroit News reported that the state of Michigan ranks third highest in the nation for hate crimes, and although some have pointed out that the way hate crimes are defined and reported from state to state unfairly paints Michigan in a poor light, 653 hate crimes in 2006 is still an unfortunately high and embarrassing number. Obviously, there's no good reason to humiliate and/or hurt someone, and it's unfortunate that so many people have such an easy time simplifying others to being little more than the stereotypes of our race, gender, age, religion and sexual preference. It's ignorance, pure and simple, and I'm embarrassed that apparently so much of it exists in my state.

However.

I would be lying if I said I didn't hate anyone and that there's never a good reason to do so. I despise violence of any sort, so I never think it's appropriate to react violently, however it would be a hypocritical of me to deny my own intolerances. Truth is, sometimes I find it perfectly prudent to hate someone else, and here are ten people (or sorts of people) who I will insist feelings of contempt are not only prudent, but appropriate.

1. People who follow traffic laws a bit too well
As everyone knows, certain stop signs are "stoptional" and speed limits are intended to be suggestions more than anything. Seriously, I got places to be and I'm most likely late, so let's pick up the pace already.

2. Cashiers who hand back your change placing coins on top of bills
Having been a cashier for several years, I can assure you that it takes absolutely no extra time to hand someone back her change first, bills second. If your cashier puts your change on top of the bills, she is being mean-spirited, probably hates her job, and is fully aware that she is unfairly taking her frustrations out on you.

3. Thomas Kinkade (the *ahem* artist, not the man)
I'm sure Kinkade is a nice enough guy, but damn him for trying to pass his assembly lined, mass-produced, uninspired Hallmark cards off as "art" while wearing a straight face. His work is utterly sanctimonious, and I hate each and every cobblestone, snow drift and warm glowing room.

4. Mitch Albom (the *ahem* writer as well as the man)
Having read them both, I can safely say that Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You Meet in Heaven are both trite, underwritten and terribly pretentious with no good reason for being so. Furthermore, I've been assured by a certain former bookseller I know that Albom is a total toolbox to anyone in the service industry, and that just ain't cool.

5. People who leave babies and pets inside their cars
If you need me to rationalize this one, than you're most likely evil and I just can't help you.

6. People who hold up the U-Scan lines at grocery stores by letting their children help scan their merchandise
I'm all for creating independent, capable and intelligent children, but not while I'm waiting in line behind you. Come on.

7. Ann Coulter
Honestly, I wish I didn't hate her because doing so is probably giving her exactly what she wants: attention. But still, how are you going to listen to someone say things like "We need to execute people... in order to physically intimidate liberals" and "We should invade their (Muslim) countries, kill their leaders, and convert them to Christianity" and not hate her, even if doing so is just feeding her already impressively large ego?


8. People who slip cilantro into my food, even after I specifically say NO CILANTRO!
Cilantro is a food item totally unrivaled in its awfulness, and to anyone who put it in my food, especially if I've requested that you not, well, you ruined my meal. That was mean.

9. People who put bumper stickers on their cars implying I lack any semblance of intelligence, patriotism, or common decency if I don't fully support both the war and my president
I see your Ad hominem and I will raise you one Glittering Generality, my illogical friend.

and finally,

10. Me, for being so downright cantankerous
Be nice, me. Most people are just doing the best they can. (All except the first nine examples, of course. Those people are horrid.)

Labels:



Sunday, November 11, 2007
sunday confessional: thou shalt not secretly appreciate overly sentimental drivel
I have a secret.
It's rather embarrassing.
It involves Bonnie Tyler.

See, on my iPod I keep a hidden, secret playlist. I've titled it "for singing" and that is exactly its purpose. I play it only in my car and only when alone and only when I'm in the mood to sing very loudly, very poorly and with my eyes closed. Practically every track is a song that - under ordinary, non-confessional situations - I would never, ever admit to liking unless I did so in a sarcastic, scoffing manner.

But the truth is that I do like them. Sincerely. Passionately. Completely unironically.

And unfortunately, I have nothing better to say this evening, and so I'm choosing to bare it all and share my secret, shameful playlist with you. So, *eyes lowered* here she is:

"Eternal Flame" - The Bangles
"Love Child" - The Supremes
"Son of a Preacher Man" - Dusty Springfield
"Don't Let Go" - En Vogue
"I Want to Know What Love is" - Foreigner
"Santa Fe" - RENT Soundtrack
"Bernadette" - The Four Tops
"Kissing a Fool" - George Michael
"Supersonic" - Oasis
"True" - Spandau Ballet
"Part-Time Lover" - Stevie Wonder
"Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" - The Temptations
"Africa" - Toto
"Faithfully" - Journey
"Blue" - Patsy Cline
"Islands in the Stream" - Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers
"We Belong" - Pat Benatar
And this last one, well, it's the pièce de résistance...



Now, the truth. You like me a quite a bit less now, don't you?


(P.S. - you really should watch that video in its entirety because there are ninjas, an army of flying choir boys with glowing blue eyes, robot football players, and seven other types of awesome. Really.)

Labels:



Sunday, November 04, 2007
sunday confessional: thou shalt not steal
(This may or may not become a November series. We'll see. We like to keep things experimental around here...)

To the best of my recollection I have only stolen two and one half things in my life: a hymnal from my elementary school's church, a smurf figurine from my Aunt Dacia, and a Little Miss Trouble toy from a cute and quaint Worthington, Ohio family-run toy store. I was six when I stole the hymnal, and did so because I liked one particular hymn ("We Are the Light of the World") and, for some reason, thought that by stealing the hymnal I could somehow take the hymn home. I stole the smurf doll simply because I - a card-carrying member of the smurf fan club - naturally coveted both it and my aunt's extensive collection of smurf figurines and felt she had more than she could handle. But the Little Miss Trouble toy I only half stole. That's what makes this story so tragic.

It was our first trip to this particular toy store, and it. was. awesome. Picture the F.A.O. Schwartz scene from Big but on a much much smaller scale and without people dancing on giant keyboards. I was five at the time and obsessed with the Little Miss/Mr. Men book series, so naturally I was delighted when I discovered a large bin full of Little Miss and Mr. Men toy figurines. I grabbed a handful of Mr. Grumpy, Little Miss Scatterbrain, Mr. Mischief, Little Miss Bossy and Mr. Impossibles and raised a proud, hopeful fist to my mom, inquiring if she's let me get them all. Of course, she said no. But I was allowed to get one, and so I selected my favorite - Little Miss Trouble.

(And by the way, I probably should have realized that choosing Little Miss Trouble from the bunch was a bad omen pointing to my future doom, by I guess I didn't know much about foreshadowing when I was five.)

I was happy with my choice but we weren't quite ready to go yet, and so I kept Little Miss Trouble in my tiny hand while I busied myself by digging through a basket of toy spiders and snakes. When my mom finally called for me, signaling that it was time to go, I looked down at my hand and panicked. Little Miss Trouble was gone! Crying, I searched and searched, but, alas, she was nowhere to be found. Assuming I dropped her in the snake pile and some other kid with excellent taste in toys found her, I finally gave up. Since there weren't any more Little Miss Troubles, I selected a Little Miss Sunshine toy, made my purchase, and off we went.

It wasn't until we were home and getting ready for bed when I made the discovery. Turns out I didn't drop Little Miss Trouble. Somehow, she ended up in my pocket. The force of my unconscious mind must have placed her there while I was playing with the snakes. Technically, yes - I stole her. I removed her from the toy store without payment. However, I never intended to steal her, so see? She was only half stolen.

Turns out my father didn't care whether she was half or whole stolen, and insisted that I return Little Miss Trouble to the store from whence she came. And so, a few Saturdays later, we returned to the toy store, me donning my most pathetic, sorrowful face in the hopes that the owner might decide against pressing charges. We left the car, walked up to the store's door, and then noticed the sign,

"Closed. Out of Business."

And despite being only five, I remember this next part very clearly. My father looked at me and with a voice as serious as death said, "Well, I guess this is all your fault. You stole that toy and, see? They went bankrupt."

And as improbable as is might sound that a 99 cent toy would spell a store's financial doom, I believed him. Guilt-ridden and unable to so much as look at Little Miss Trouble, I went home and buried her deep in my sock drawer. And to this day, I still can't enter a cute, quaint, family-run toy store without feeling like a criminal.

Labels:



footer