The Fuckit List

Let's be honest: if most of us found out we had months to live, would we really bolt for the airport and jump on a flight to Paris? Or climb Everest? Or strap on a loin cloth and retire to an Indian ashram or Buddhist monastery to sit in meditation in the hope of squeezing out some last-minute enlightenment? Expedia notwithstanding, it's probably just a fantasy that taking some romantic trip halfway around the world would set the stage for a final post-mortem epiphany. Not to mention the fact that, if you've got a few months to live, chances are there is some brand new medical component to your life, like a morphine drip or colostomy bag. And good luck getting that past the gatekeepers at the TSA. Chances are the daydream of gazing at the Taj Mahal would be replaced by some more mundane goal, like leaving a bag of flaming dogshit on the porch of some girl who dumped you or taking a whiz in the gas tank of a hated ex-boss. Still, the momentary rush probably wouldn't approach anything resembling peace of mind.

In the movie-- The Bucket List-- Jack Nicholson was rich enough to go tooling around the world in a private jet in search of meaning. Most of us don't have those resources. That's why I don't have a Bucket List. I can't afford a Bucket List. I have the poor man's Bucket List; i.e., The Fuckit List. A list of daily, mundane, annoying chores, worries, fears, and concerns that I would immediately drop if I got the dreaded "your test results are in, can you contact the doctor as soon as possible" message. The idea being that  a sense of ease might result from letting go of all the petty bullshit chores and concerns that plague our daily lives. Epiphany by elimination.

Fight with the significant other? Fuckit. Car payment lost in the mail? Fuckit. Work. Pilots. Scripts. Meetings. Pitches. Notes. Rejections. Who cares about getting a show on the air? I'm dying. Fuckit. Then there's being liberated from having to be nice to people you can't stand. In the course of the day-to-day you can't go telling everyone what you think of them. Too many hurt feelings and potential gunfire. But once mortality raises its ugly head and takes dead aim -- Fuckit! The day of the forced smile and the agreeable grin are over. Time to rediscover the cathartic pleasure of the well-deserved insult, the joy of the kick in the balls, or the child-like glee of the blaring car horn. What are they going to do? Insult me back? Shoot me? I'm dying. Fuckit.

Then there's politics -- the daily ups and downs of people jockeying for power. It's all become a carnival side show anyway. So much sound and fury, signifying nothing. Well, nothing to a dead guy. Who cares who's in power? Are they going to dig up my corpse or reconstitute my ashes just to tell me they're passing universal health care?  Fuckit.

And of course, there's the diet. You're probably wasting away from the disease anyhow, so why not eat like a pig? Get fat. Fuckit. And then there's drugs. The problem with disease is that most often the only drugs you get are the ones designed to heal you. When healing's no longer on the menu, it's time for the happy drugs. Who cares about having your shit together to go to work? There is no more work. It's playtime. Fuckit. Stay home, get a rocking chair, face it toward nature and get blasted. No reason to leave home and nothing to fear about getting too high. There's no DUI if there's no "D." Fuckit.

At the end of the day, I think the only shot most people have at an insight into the sheer joy of existence might come from letting go of the nonsense that consumes our lives as they creep in this petty pace from day to day and worry to worry. It's not just a "stop and smell the roses" thing. It's more of a "put down the checkbook or legal pad and run naked into the ocean, splash around, come out, dry off, get high, watch the sunset with friends and family, eat a huge meal with tons of ice cream, pass out, wake up, and do it again" kind of thing. We have this activity called a vacation wherein we're supposed to relax and change the patterns of our lives. That's why it's called recreation. It's "re-creation." Changing the rules to find a more pleasurable experience of life. Unfortunately, we only do it two weeks a year, and it comes under the heading of recharging the batteries for the purpose of going back into battle. The only way we know if we had a good time is to look at the pictures.

Come to think of it, Fuckit doesn't sound like a bad way to live, even without the death sentence. Though it's more easily said than done. Assuming you're going to live forever, or at least for another 30 years, forces you into a mode in which you have no choice but to deal with the daily bullshit. If there is a tomorrow, you're forced to worry about it. Where's the money going to come from? What's the property value of my house? Is my kid getting into college? Is my kid getting out of high school? The broken sprinklers, pool motors, roof leaks, toilet backups, busted appliances and work crises. The daily detritus we fixate over to the point that the things we crave end up eating us alive.

And that's the problem. We've structured our lives so that only the guarantee of impending death gives you the excuse to cut loose and live. And by that time, you're either such an emotional basket case or physical wreck that living is impossible. You can't live like you're dying tomorrow yet, to some extent, you should. I guess the trick is finding some happy medium. A balancing act between caution and spontaneity, fear and fearlessness, fret and frolic, sense and nonsense. Or maybe the trick is taking a moment out of the day to drag up some problem that's eating you up and, instead of churning your guts over it, just let it go, and see what happens.

It could be that the journey of a thousand smiles begins with a single Fuckit.

A JULY 4TH MESSAGE TO ENGLAND -- TAKE US BACK!

Another July 4th is upon us, where we celebrate our breaking away from English rule and establishing a democracy by eating nitrate-filled hot dogs, watching the All-Star game, and blowing up shit in the air, which makes noises and pretty colors. Somehow, like a kid who took dad's car on a road trip and wrecked it, we've made a shambles of the democracy our too-often-quoted Founding Fathers fought to establish. 

We've taken the declaration that "anyone in the United States" can grow up to be President -- a testament to our endless opportunities and open society -- and turned it into an "Any schmuck can apply -- No intelligence required" cluster fuck, epitomized by shrieking harpies who brag about our history but are too dumb or lazy to study it, disgustingly wealthy hypocrites, and random pizza guys.  

Our elections are swayed by vast media blitzes spouting jingoistic, pseudo-patriotic claptrap about "our freedoms," against a backdrop of waving flags and patriotic dirges, financed by super rich business types guarding their investments. And the vast number of Americans are too stupid to dissect the manipulation inside the message. And it's all been sanctioned by the highest court in the land, declaring that corporations are people, too. 

Culturally, we exist on a steady diet of intellectual junk food, as we devour the egomaniacal ravings of housewives, ho's, goombas, and fame whores, along with whatever might be the scandal du jour. Whether it's the comings and goings of some politician's dick, or the latest celebrity or dumb girl murder trial. We flit from one diversion to the next like hummingbirds sucking a flower dry then zipping off to sample another. 

We worship heroes, then revel in their fall from grace, only to stand up again and cheer at their redemption. 

We claim to value education, yet mistrust intelligence. 

We fancy ourselves as rebels, renegades and mavericks yet mistrust independent thought to the point of branding it as treasonous. 

We claim to cherish religion, yet can be easily lead to the notion that compassion for those less fortunate is somehow not only un-American but, remarkably, un-Christian. 

Our mainstream media is mostly toothless, mistaking softball questions of politicians for in-depth interviews, while allowing them to spout the party line without ever having to face the dreaded follow-up question, or an interviewer with enough command of the facts to put the lie to a talking point and call a politician on his or her bullshit. Though, frankly, there's little time for going into depth, as the producer is shouting in the on-camera person's ears that it's time to wrap it up and do the intro to the YouTube video of the waterskiing squirrel or the cat chasing the laser pointer up the wall. 

We fought for independence, but we're now like a child who ran away from home because he didn't want to go into the family business and found himself living on the street, hooked on meth and begging for spare change. We claim to cherish our freedom but clearly have no idea what to do with it. The people who fought for democracy two centuries ago were inspired by Athenian democracy and grounded in ethics, and philosophy. These were patriots. Now a patriot is some MILF who proudly mangles her historical facts, or a wacko musician with a soul patch who dresses in fatigues and runs around in the forest with a bow and arrow shooting bunny rabbits. 

Applied to our times, The Sprit of '76 poster depicting soldiers returning from the Revolutionary War would now depict a young kid drumming on the street for spare change 'cause the music program in his school has been cut, an army band drummer with PTSD who was dropped by his insurance company, and can't go to college 'cause there's no more GI bill, and a flute player with a head wound who can't afford medical care. 

And we think all this behavior has been sanctioned by a bearded super daddy in the clouds who created the entire universe but clearly loves us best. 

So, please, it's been over two-hundred years. Let us come home. We'll behave. No more revolts. We'll adopt the parliamentary system and take the universal health care. We'll make a fuss about the queen and totally lose our shit when some royals get married. We'll ditch baseball and football and go full-time soccer. We'll even call it football. We already know how to riot whether our team wins or loses, so we'll fit right in. We'll take English lessons and learn to speak it proper. Uh, properly. We'll drink the warm beer. We'll ditch our Fridays restaurants and rename them Hounds and Frogs, or Shields and Hamsters, or whatever you call them. And as a real gesture, we'll even give up the guns. And you know how much we love our guns. Without them, we'd have a much tougher time shooting each other over parking spaces. 

Sure, we know you've got your own problems. But you're a struggling adult, and we're just a flailing, out-of-control child. We need help. Guidance. We've been given too much freedom so we just run amok, eating ice cream all day, watching violent cartoons, getting morbidly obese, and then having a tantrum at bedtime 'cause we're all hopped up on sugar. We're fat, sloppy, lazy, and stupid. But we have a lot of land. And good dentists. Let us come home. We promise we'll be good this time. Take us home... Pleeeeeze...

BACHMANIA

Michelle Bachmann is a moron and totally batshit crazy. That's a given. Like her spiritual sister-wife, Sarah Palin, she thinks a magic man in the sky has anointed her to run for President. There are 7 billion people on the planet; yet, the magic man in the sky is so smitten with this little gal that he sent her a divine message to give it a shot. Because, as we know, God is a social, and anti-tax fiscal conservative.

Yes, it's fun to dismiss Bachmann as a one-woman gaffemobile: The founding fathers ending slavery. The shot heard round the world from Concord, N.H. It's surprising her teeth are so white considering the amount of time she spends with her foot in her mouth. But stupidity for the Tea Party is not a hindrance; it's a job requirement. To paraphrase Alfonso Bodoya: "Facts? She don't need no stinking facts." In fact, the mistakes play well with their crowd as the snide remarks and criticism simply amount to left-wing media bias and play to their anti-intellectualism.

Yes, it's a joke that she's running for President. But consider this: Bachmann isn't running for President. She's running for Vice President. Much like Palin would have if she'd gained any traction. But the GOP knows they can't take the White House with either bagger queen. But with a Romney type in the top slot promoting alleged fiscal responsibility and the nutbag in the veep slot dragging along the tea baggers, she can hit the hot button issues: intelligent design, traditional family, low taxes, a struggling economy. She can whip up her flock with crowd-pleasing cries like: PRESIDENT.... OBAMA....WILL BE A... ONE...TERM....PRESIDENT! She'll smile. They'll cheer. Meanwhile, her handlers will keep her away from the legit media just as Palin's have. Let the Ken doll take the tougher questions on the Sunday Talkers, while Barbie seduces the hometown crowds and tries to win over independents. If the economy hasn't recovered in any way that's promotable for the president, those people could get antsy. She can gaffe her way through the entire election. We elected W. twice. We're capable of immense stupidity, particularly when it's motivated by fear and ignorance.

The biggest fault that can be laid at the feet of the present administration is that they have let the Republicans define the narrative from day one. The birther nonsense. Obamacare. The town-hall protesters. Keeping the Bush tax rates. The present deficit ceiling fight. Each time, the GOP has drawn their line in the sand and the Democrats have accepted it as a given, instead of as an opening gambit in a negotiation. If the President doesn't take the upper hand and define the paying field, while simultaneously putting the lie to every Republican idea as a return to the very policies that nearly destroyed the economy, and in the harshest, most direct language, he may find that a number of disaffected folks on the left may join enough disaffected folks in the middle and that could be a national disaster.

This is a battle for the soul of America. Bachmann's war cry heralds a virtual return to the Middle Ages. Creationism taught in schools. No health care reform. No financial reform. Fighting gay marriage. Fighting any effort to combat climate change. Gutting Social Security and Medicare. And, finally, consider this: with eight years under her belt as a Vice President, she would be poised to make a somewhat legitimate run for the Presidency in 2020. We could be staring down the barrel of a 16-year W. flashback.

Ron Paul -- American Idiot

During the last presidential election cycle Ron Paul went on Bill Maher's show and advocated pulling out of Iraq, and I was momentarily intrigued by this atypical politician. Someone with the balls to run counter to those on his side of the ideological fence, and come out against war. Fortunately, as with most affectations, it was short-lived, as with more media exposure, Paul has proven himself to be one strange little Jiminy Cricket motherfucker with an Ayn Rand fixation so strong, he named his spawn after him -- Rand Paul -- him of the crazy eyes and the dubious medical degree. I bring this up because once again Paul has leapt into the 2012 GOP fray and is running around the country proclaiming his love for freedom. In almost childlike repsonses to thoughtful media questions, he lays back, as a cocky smile/smirk sneaks onto his lips, and wraps up the entirety of his message in one simple declaration:  "I'm for freedom."

So, what's wrong with advocating freedom? Nothing. If you understand the meaning of the word "freedom," which Paul doesn't. Coming from his Randian fixation, he makes the assumption that freedom=greedom; essentially laissez faire capitalism with everyone just doing whatever the fuck they want. And, as such, this is somehow built into our DNA as the natural extension of evolution's survival of the fittest. He has taken the Ned Beatty speech in Network and embraced it as an anthem. But this is not freedom. It's license. His juvenile understanding of "freedom" is on the level of a petulant child who stomps his foot, proclaiming: "I can do whatever I want and you can't stop me!"

The desire to break free from tyranny was the fire that launched this country. But the Declaration of Independence was soon followed up by the Constitution, based on providing for the general welfare, not just individual welfare. Had the all-too-often quoted founding fathers really been in favor of freedom as license, they would've stopped with the Declaration: "We kicked out the Brits. We're free! It's every man for himself! Get your musket, watch your ass, and let's go crazy!" Instead, they constructed a government grounded in principles of ethics and the knowledge that our lives are intertwined. They knew that freedom entails responsibility, based on the fact that we need one another for our mutual survival, and for happiness itself. It's the foundation of our concept of ethics and, by extension, our system of laws, and its genius is that it's grounded in the notion of enlightened self-interest. That an individual working to the extent of his or her abilities and talents without interference is the basis for that individual thriving and living life to the fullest. But we also place limits on individuals so that one person, group, or corporation can't run rampant over the countryside slaughtering everyone and everything in its path for its personal satisfaction.

In a recent, unintentionally ironic statement by Senator Lindsay Graham, speaking on the news about Medicare reform, he advocated income-testing for benefits as part of a program to make the program solvent. Graham stated: "the rich should pay their fair share." An interesting idea from a Republican. It made me wonder: "where was this same logic during the Bush tax cuts debate?" That has been the Democratic position throughout. It's not punishing the rich. It's asking those who make more to shoulder a slighter larger share of the burden for the mutual good. The same way a stronger person would take a greater share of the load in carrying a heavy object than a weaker person. It's based on an awareness of freedom as mutual responsibility. Good for the individual. Good for the whole.

Ron Paul, along with the Bachmanns, Palins and, frankly, most Republicans, advocate the notion that regulations of any kind kill individual achievement and hinder self-will and are somehow un-American and un-Constitutional. And because most Americans love having freedom smoke blown up their asses, no one, particularly in the media calls them out on it. In A Fish Called Wanda, Jamie Lee Curtis' character lectured Kevin Kline's brilliantly idiotic Otto, informing him that the central doctrine of Buddhism is not "every man for himself." Someone needs to take a minute to inform the modern day Ottos of the world that it's also not the central doctrine of the Constitution.

THE INVASION OF THE WHITE PEOPLE -- 2012

IN HONOR OF MITT'S RE-RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT

I'M RE-RUNNING A PIECE I WROTE IN 2007.

Riding what they've called the "Mitt Mobile," 96 white Romneys have invaded Iowa armed with a big, white family portrait. And that scares me.

First, let's get rid of the white elephant in the room. An extended family of look-alike white people from Massachusetts, many of whom went to Harvard, who play touch football and have almost identical twilight's last gleaming white smiles? Ring any familiar bells? The Mormon Kennedys? The political Osmonds? Of course there are no war vets to hang the campaign around, no profiles in courage, 'cause according to dad, the five fightin' Romneys are saving themselves for Mitt's campaign. Somehow, electing dad to the White House has become the equivalent of military service. Now, who figured out that equation? But that's not the scary part.

It's the goodness. That perfect, wholesome white goodness. Bible and scripture on Sunday. More scripture on Monday. Touch football. Staff tennis tournament with the championship played on the family court. Now before I'm branded some sort of racist, let me be clear: I'm white. It's nothing I'm proud of. In fact, white people embarrass me. More often than not, I find them clueless, clumsy, soulless, insincere, patronizing, reeking of privilege, occasionally bordering on rude and, quite often, fat. Not just that slightly overweight fat but the take-over-the-buffet-line-with-your-doublewide-ass kind of fat. And all that fat is often accompanied by massive stupidity. That good, old-fashioned "America's a great country 'cause we've got freedom of speech, so shut your mouth and stop criticizing the government" kind of stupidity. But even that's not the scary part.

I'll admit there are some good white people. I've worked with some. I live around them. Hell, my sister even married one. And I guess they've done some good things. But I was sort of hoping that the whiter-than-white perfect family portrait as campaign poster was something we'd transcended here in the 21st century, as some diversity entered presidential politics. Not just with race, and gender, but with every other aspect of life. Multiple marriages. Family problems. A little drinking. Drug problems. Maybe the occasional DUI. Imperfect candidates seem more human. And I want a candidate who's human. A dad who's gotten a call at 8 am to bail their kid out. Someone who's gone through the hell of divorce and climbed out the other side. A mom who's maybe had a drink or two after a hard day. It makes them compassionate. Like they understand the problems regular people have and might like to solve them.

So when I see this 60's Tide commercial photograph, I'll be honest--it scares the shit out of me. Because somehow the notion of the "I'm all-white, you're all-white" candidate is still lurking out there in the minds of campaign managers, which means it's still out there in the minds of Americans. Now, it's not Mitt's fault he's white. It's not his fault he's got religion. While, personally, I think believing that, some 18 centuries after his death, Jesus reappeared in upstate New York is a litmus test for insanity, if that belief gets you through the night, then go with god. And it's sort of nice he's got a big old family. But that big old family picture looks like a throwback to an older, Wonder Bread America, and sticking it out there as a campaign poster of the perfect, Bible-reading, touch football-playing family, as if it's a reason for people to vote for you is scary. Because it doesn't make you look like a man of the people. It just makes you look like a man of the white people.

Sarah Palin Hates America.

Did anyone doubt even for a nanosecond that political cocktease Sarah Palin would show up at the Rolling Thunder Rally not wearing leathers? Ever graceless, classless, and clueless, Palin kicked off her Rolling Blunder bus tour this weekend in D.C. by crashing an event for veterans, as the first stop in her national campaign to stroke the GOP thigh without saying whether she's going to put out. The ultimate political sycophant, she morphs into crowd-pleasing mode wherever she goes, even when, as in this case, she's uninvited. And predictably, the media has gone re-apeshit over her potential re-entry into the race. Some say she's in. Others, like Lawrence O'Donnell, who was dead-on re: Trump's grandstanding political abortion, insist this is nothing more than a PR stunt to reinvigorate her dormant profile.

However, speculation aside, for this woman whose ambition and intelligence are inversely proportional, there are 3 possibilities: 1) She's running. 2) She's not running but is simply trying to raise her stock price and speaking fees, stroke her ego and engorge her bank account. Or 3) She's testing the waters and possibly angling for the VP spot paired with a Romney-style "mainstream" Republican, thereby dragging the Tea Bagger support with her while bolstering her resume to set up a seemingly more legitimate run in 2020. Regardless, until she comes clean, the media will follow her tour like lions stalking a wayward gazelle, forcing us to endure many more months of Palinisms, along with her unseemly public mugging.

The thing is, even if she does run, she'll once again out herself as the colossal nincompoop she is, because she will have to deal with the legit media and their dreaded follow-up questions. Even if she agrees to be prepped for debates, her native stupidity will inevitably re-emerge. And even if, by some sick twist of fate, she wins the GOP nod, she will still have to go toe to toe with the president on a debate stage, where she will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. However, that won't happen. She'll never get the nod. She knows that. She can read polls as well as anyone else. So, then the question becomes more about her motivation.

Sure, to many Democrats, her possible entry in the race is a valentine. But, as Andrew Sullivan remarked, her raw ambition is something to be feared. Because deep down in the depths of her vindictive black heart, she knows she's not intelligent. Yet, that doesn't stop her. Somehow, she manages to wear her ignorance as a badge of honor, and through some sort of psychological alchemy, turn that ignorance into a kind of folksy wisdom that supercedes fancy book-learnin'. After all, Reagan was no brain surgeon and he managed to lead by blowing smoke up our asses. And Bush was no scholar, and he managed to, well, fuck up royally. But, still, he got the job and survived re-election.

Despite a stupidity even she's not too stupid to notice, she still thinks she deserves the presidency. And that is the proof that she hates this country, because she would willfully put its maintenance, and its safety in the hands of someone she well knows is painfully inadequate. Even George Will stated that she's unfit to hold the launch codes. I mean, I'm all for hiring the handicapped but not for the presidency.

Sarah Palin as President would weaken the country and send a signal to our allies, and our enemies, that we are weak, stupid, and vulnerable because we elected a fool. Granted, we've done it before. And survived. If you can call being attacked by terrorists and nearly plummeting into the second Great Depression "survival." Anyone up for re-living the Bush years?

Still, chances are she won't run. That this is all a Trump-like stunt. But the fact that she taunts the public with this steroidal Greyhound bus tour, dangling her candidacy in front of the country as if it's a gift she hasn't decided if they deserve, is not only the act of an egomaniac. It's the act of someone who disdains this country and its people. Someone who would willingly weaken the country by making a run for leadership. Any asshole can do that flagy-wavy thing, drop a few references to the 2nd Amendment and fob themselves off as an uber-patriot. But it takes more to sit at the desk in the oval office. She knows she's not up to the job. And, yet, that may not stop her. That's not a desire to serve; that's raw ego. Yes, it takes a massive ego to even entertain the notion that one is qualified to be president. But that has to be accompanied by a modicum of intelligence, compassion and, yes, humility.

Greed, ambition and stupidity are not qualities that belong on a presidential resume. A true patriot would want the best and the brightest leading this country, not the worst and the dumbest. And she would put the country in jeopardy just to satisfy her political lust. That is why she hates America. Or perhaps she just loves herself more.

Gil Scott Heron "Winter In America" (1974) -- RIP