New Species: Homo Touristas

Okay its officially summer now. Here on the island the beaches are covered with seaweed and tourists and both of them are starting to stink! The weed less so. I know that's a mean thing to say and I'm probably a mean and crabby old  dude for saying it but hey I kind of like being mean and crabby. I could lose the old part maybe. Then again being young in my case means being dumb and I've still got plenty of youth if you know what I mean.

There were some good waves the other day so I grabbed my boogie board and fins and caught some fairly decent waves. There really is nothing better than living by the beach. Whether I'm riding my bike, floatin on my cheapo pink inflatable raft, sponge boarding or just baking on the beach with a paperback mystery this is the life. I can't really blame the tourists for coming but they have passed the saturation level. The Seawall has ceased to function as a travel corridor. It is now a slow moving exhibit of the species homo touristas.

A number of years ago after some foreign travel I remember thinking that as a tourist I had to learn to wait in line and follow directions. I decided this was a pretty good approach to life in general. You know, that old "I'm just visiting this planet" attitude. I still feel that way. However I no longer see myself as a tourist, tourists are too disrespectful for me to continue to identify as one. I would like to see myself as some kind of naturalist. Actually that sounds just about right.

Naturalists aren't necessarily scientists but they have that sort of respect and awe that scientists have. My problem is I should probably have that sort of awe for my fellow human beings but I don't. I mean a scientist studying gorillas will spot some silver back with a huge belly gobbling termites and be dumbfounded and inspired. But when I see some hairy back tourist gobbling fried chicken... well inspired isn't the word. Some tourists are more fun to look at than others and there is nothing too scientific about figuring that out.

I am blessed to live somewhere so many people want to be, if only it weren't so easily accessible.





Russell

I call my dad pop

My dad is fading away. It's a long slow process. I feel sorry for my dad. In some ways I guess it gives us lots of time to prepare for his death. I just wish his suffering wasn't dragging out so long. Shit! I don't want my dad to suffer at all. I refer to him as dad but to his face I am just as likely to call him Pop. I like that way of referring to my father.

Pop has a nice friendly sound to it. My dad still has some of his sense of humor. I leaned over his bed and asked him if he was giving the staff at his nursing home a hard time. In a breathless whisper he said "yeah." I said "That's good I'm glad to hear that Dad." It may not be a lot but it's a joke we can still share.

My dad and I always joked around. Sometimes we would absolutely flog a pun to death! We would totally punish it! People listening thought it was torture. They felt like victims of some punish inquisition. Once we got started we just kept on racking them up. This kind of really dumb stuff is so cool. I would love to be able to remember every single stupid joke we made.

Dad almost got in trouble with the cops once over one his jokes. Our next door neighbors were avid Democrats and the ones across the street were dedicated Republicans. One election year they got into a serious signage competition. Their front yards sprouted signs like weeds, they even had big signs on the roofs of their cars. It was crazy! So my pop decides to yank their chains. He switches all their signs! The Dem's next door were now supporting the GOP and the Republicans across the street were now supporting the Democrats! It was really funny until the lady next door had a cow and called the fuzz!

A squad car showed up and soon the cops were knocking on our door. The neighborhood kids had narced my dad out! The neighbor lady declined to press charges once she found out it was my dad that had perpetrated this heinous act, probably because they played bridge with my parents.

Dad has played lots of jokes on people. He and I played one on my little sister that sort of backfired. She wanted him to beat with stick one time, probably over being teased by me. She selected one with a nail in it! Dad talked her out of that but did find a suitable board to whack me with. He made her wait outside a closed door while he clobbered the shit out of a sofa cushion and I moaned in mock agony. Then he brought her in while I pseudo whimpered. My baby sister had a satisfied smile on her face all she said was "good." We cracked up laughing! She wasn't too disappointed.

Man I love my dad! I am going to keep making jokes with him for as long as we possibly can.




Russell

Maybe After A Couple More Incarnations?

We are all guilty of it at times. It is probably the most dangerous of human traits. We hate it in others and yet it is absolutely addictive. What the heck am I talking about? Self righteousness. Self righteousness inspires people to bomb abortion clinics, to kill abortion providers, to put fatwas out on cartoonists satirizing Mohamed, to become suicide bombers, to run political attack adds, to engage in road rage, to condemn people, and a bunch of other evil stuff.

We are probably all familiar with the question, "Would you rather be right, or be happy?" The answer is obviously, "I would rather be right, in fact I want to be filled to overflowing with self righteous outrage!" The reason we never admit it is, we blame others for our self righteous anger. Anybody over age 12 should know better than that but, nobody does.

Nobody can solve a problem they fail to admit they have. We as a species need to come to terms with our proclivity for self righteousness. We will probably go extinct if we do not. I suppose what actually makes self righteousness fatal is our instinct to dominate. If we did not try to impose our will on others we would just be miserable but not dangerous.

I am working on this and have made some personal progress but I know I have a long way to go. I have pretty much given up on controlling, so my self righteousness just makes me miserable. Now I let go of it a lot quicker than I used to.

The other day I saw an interview with the Dalai Lama on my TV. His Holiness was asked who his favorite American politician was. To my surprise he said it was George W. Bush. The interviewer seemed taken aback. He asked the Lama why he liked George W. Bush so much, considering many of his warlike policies. The Lama replied that he did not like President Bush's policies but he really liked George W. Bush, he thought he had a charming personality.

I sure do have some ways to go! I doubt I will achieve the Dalai Lama's spiritual clarity for a few lifetimes at the very least. I hope we don't kill ourselves off before I get the chance!




Russell

Why Can't We Be Bad Friends?

According to one of my spiritual references anytime we judge another person we are actually condemning ourselves. I guess there is a heck of a lot of self-condemnation going on because there is certainly a lot of judging. I think I agree with that precept. I know my judgements of others have never led to any actual contentment for me. I also like the idea that judgement is self condemnation because self righteous people really annoy me. I hope that doesn't mean I am judging them! But I bet it does. Still don't you hate it when people make negative assumptions about your intentions?

I am no saint but in general my intentions are benign. I don't think that is at all extraordinary. I think most people I know have done some pretty regrettable stuff. I don't know anyone (well maybe one) who claims to always act from a pure heart. The thing is this, how can we ever be friends with anyone if we expect perfection as a condition of our friendship? I am not sure I would even want a perfect friend.

I know a few people that present themselves as role models for the rest of us. There I go judging again (progress not perfection as they say I guess). Anyway these role model people make me really uncomfortable. They are no fun at all! I liked the part in Huckleberry Finn where Huck resigns himself to going to Hell for being an abolitionist. He comforted himself by deciding he would rather go to Hell with Tom Sawyer than to Heaven with all those hypocrites.

So if you have glaring character defects and you sometimes act regrettably be consoled to some extent. I would probably like to hang out with you. Then again I'm not sure I should be associating with kind of people that would have me as a friend.



Russell

Suffer In Silence Please

The other day I was complaining about how long it was taking my elbow to heal after using it as a crumple zone subsequent to flying over the handle bars of my bicycle. This guy nearby says, "yeah as we age it takes longer to heal," then he chuckled out loud. So I slugged him. I'm not sensitive about getting old, I just don't want to hear about it, gawdamnit! I'm bald too, and I'm used to it now, but people that need to tell me I'm bald are pretty annoying. I don't need to tell them they're unoriginal cretinous dumb bunnies, so why do they need to tell me the less obvious fact that I'm no longer a child and have experienced significant hair loss?

Usually I am in better humor but I was irritable. I think it was because I was sick. I don't do sick well. I prefer to ignore it. The trouble with that is it doesn't work. You just wind up getting sicker. I hate sick people, including myself when I'm ill. Anytime someone starts going on about their symptoms I find myself considering euthanasia as a speedy and preferred solution for them. I have all kinds of sympathy in other areas. Whine about most stuff and I will listen absent mindedly and offer casual reassurance that it will all work out. In other words I'll be a reasonable facsimile of care and concern. On the other hand start complaining about your snotty nose, your diarrhea, your achy feelings and I'll start fantasizing about smothering you to death with a pillow. So there I am feeling miserable wondering how to put myself outa my misery. I didn't call anybody or ask for anything because shit I wouldn't inflict me on anybody when I feel like that.

Fortunately I am all better now. I even rode my bike today, by the time I got back my inflamed tendons were letting me know I still have some healing to go yet. I guess I need to hold off of yoga for a while yet. I tell you what though, you gotta push through this stuff or else pull the plug.



Russell

I Love Asian Surf Rock!

Every once in a while the Google folks decide to fart around with the design and mechanics of my blog. It annoys the hell outa me! Why are computer nerds never able to leave anything alone? have they never heard the cliche' "If it's not broke, DON'T FIX IT!!" I guess not. I'm sure these geeks are well intentioned, but shit man they are OCD about constantly picking at stuff. I bet none of them has had a scab for more than hour or two before they started picking at it. Yech! I apologize for that analogy.

Here's the deal; imagine you go out to start your car one morning and you don't even recognize it! That's what these infernal tinkerers are like, like someone completely redesigns your car without consulting you! One day it has a steering wheel the next it is controlled by a joy stick because some arrogant little nerd decided it would make your life easier! Which of course it doesn't (those dumb asses!) because now I have to learn how to drive all over again. Thanks a bunch Erkle!

Actually I like nerds, love nerd rock! My taste is quite bizarre. I heard this band that is totally nerded out and totally awesome. They're called the Surf Coasters and they are absolutely the best Japanese surf rock band you will ever hear. They are partially to blame for my recent bike accident. I mean with the MP3 injecting Asian surf rock into your brain how can you ride with caution? Okay any reasonable person could but face it that sort of stuff is impossible for people like me.

Fortunately I don't know anyone else like me. Now don't get me wrong. I like me a lot! I am one of my favorite people actually. Still a little of me goes a really long way. The problem with being an individual is that you may be an outsider. On the other hand how many cliques do you want to fit with? Have you ever hung around people that seemed to have the same conversations over and over and over? They are out there.

I guess they like the familiarity of the same subjects, the same jokes, the same thing all the time. Maybe they're right. Knowing exactly what your friends think and what they're going to say might be reassuring. The last thing they want is some nerd redesigning the conversation especially in a world where every time you go to a website you never know what you'll find. And as soon as you get used to it and know how to smoothly navigate it some jerk wad nerd changes the whole damn thing!


Russell

Field Guide To The American Peasant

My younger sister used to take ballet lessons (she was really serious and pretty good as a matter of fact). Her teacher was from Russia and had at one time been a famous dancer in Europe until an injury ended her career. She moved here with her mother some time after WW II. Her mother was from an aristocratic Russian family that fled that country when the Bolsheviks took over. Pretty interesting but the reason for mentioning all this is to get to this, this ancient Russian aristocrat once complained to my mom that American peasants did not even know they were peasants. She said that the peasants in Europe at least knew they were peasants but American peasants did not know their place in society. We all thought she was sort of charming in her way but nevertheless daft. I don't think that anymore.

That old Russian aristocrat was right. We don't know we are peasants but we are. The rich know it. The politicians know it. The banks, insurance companies and stores like Walmart all know it. Yet the American peasant remains clueless. Our whole system depends on the American peasant never figuring out that he is indeed a peasant. Once the peasant gets out of the bag there will be no getting him back inside. The occupy Wall Street movement is a peasant uprising. You will never hear the media calling it that because they don't want us peasants to know our true status, they know we would find it unacceptable. That is why Mitt Romney says he believes in two classes the rich and the soon to be rich, he thinks that kind of BS will mollify us peasants.

We probably have this kind of condescending treatment coming to us too. I mean we are the ones who refuse to accept the reality of our status. We support our aristocrats because we cling to Horatio Alger fairy tales of peasants becoming landed gentry through pluck hard work and just a smidgen of luck. Meanwhile we get nickled and dimed to death by the corporate aristocracy.

Jeff Foxworthy has that you may be a redneck if... routine. Here's the deal you don't have to be a redneck to be a peasant but if you are a redneck you are a particular type of peasant. America has a variety of peasant types. Maybe we need a field guide to the American peasant since they seem to be largely unrecognized.

If you work in the fast food industry you are a peasant. If you work at a factory you are an endangered species of peasant. If you teach school you probably don't believe you are peasant, this is especially troubling because you are very likely misinforming your students of their own peasantry. If you work in a store you are a peasant. If you anticipate get money back from your tax return you are a peasant. If you shop at discount stores you are a peasant. If you buy fast food more than once a year you are a peasant. If rising gas prices have made you think about your driving habits you are a peasant. Face it you are a peasant. The elite has thought of you this way for years. What are you going to do about it?