LoveBeans

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

I'm sitting down across the dining room table from Inga, trying to type up this week's blog when I realize that I'm in too good a mood to convey accurately how Biblically out of sorts I was at the time of the story I'm attempting to tell. Then, outta nowhere, Inga pipes up with this little nugget:

I'm a little acorn brown
Lying on the cold, cold ground
Everyone walks over me
That why I'm cracked, you see
I'm a nut in a rut. I'm a nut in a rut
--no author listed

No, she's not a mental patient. She's a K teacher and that's the poem the book says the kids will be talking about this week. (PS Keep the kids away from sharp objects till about Friday or so.)

Sidenote - Don't you wish you job was like that? Not Inga's. The kids. How friggin great would it be to amble into work Monday morning, seat yourself down at the big table in the conference room and hear the boss say, "okay, gang... as you all know the economy's in bad shape and no one's immune. We just gotta do our best to make it through this thing and hopefully we'll all get out of this in one piece. At any rate, let's talk about this week's poem: Little Acorn Brown. Jones, any thoughts? And hand me the paste while you're at it."

But I digress.

I bring this up only because it's given a vocabulary to the vibe I had goin' on this weekend. You see, a project I've been working extremely hard to help birth for the past year or so has recently been put on life support by the very people who were supposed to be paying for its post-natal care. What's more, it looks very much like they may be pulling the plug very soon. This would be the latest artistic abortion in the string of creative failures and near misses that litter my resume. Sure, many of my projects have made money and I've carved out a nice life for myself based on that fact. But by and large, most of what I do ends up lost by the time the project hits the shelves. (I dare you to care about THAT).

Anywhom, cut back to Saturday: It's midnight and I'm moping around the house, mumbling, scowling and generally being a shallow douche of a man when Inga tells me to open the pantry. I tell her I'm not hungry, but she insists. She tells me there's s surprise there for me that I was supposed to find on my own but she says it looks like I need it now. I can't blame her after all, considering the sheer amount of douchery I was wallowing in.

I do as she asks/commands and open the pantry. Nothing.

She tells me to dig. I do.

After a few seconds of upending Spaghettios, I find a small can of baked beans with a piece of paper pinned under the lid tab (yes, I like the easy-open cans - lay off). I unfold the paper to find a handwritten note - a list - scribed on one of Inga's many, many, many personalized stationary.

It's a list of things she likes about me. She didn't make it cuz she knew I was in a bad mood. It was already there, just waiting for me to need it.

Sometimes life throws you a bone.

But sometimes, it's lovebeans.

--F

"Little Brother" Theory

In 1949, British author George Orwell published the novel "1984" which is perhaps most famous for its portrayal of government as an ever-present eye, watching and surveying the populace, surreptitiously encroaching on the rights of the people while under the guise of a helpful entity who's always got its sights set on the greater good.

In doing so, the novel also gave us a term we have since popularized as the fear of a government SO over-involved in We The People's affairs that it crushes the privacy of We The People. This term is, of course, BIG BROTHER. The implication is that whatever you do and wherever you go, BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU.

Some people see this as cautionary tale; a sharp, satirical warning that We The People must safeguard our right to privacy, lest the powers-that-be take it away. Others have argued that this dark, Orwellian prophecy has actually come to pass under such policies as the Patriot Act etc etc.

But you know what? The old man was wrong.

I live in Florida, the source of 95% of everything that has embarrassed America over the past decade or so, and I can tell you this... when We The People get busted doing something illegal, short-sighted, stupid, unethical, immoral, evil or embarrassing... it wasn't government surveillance that put us on the news...

It was US.

The onset of the digital age has made it easier to record, publish and distribute media than it has ever been in the course of human history. Consider the fact that nearly every cell phone has the capability to record video and nearly every American has access to the Internet. Combine that with our growing national obsession with celebrity of any kind, and you've got a world that even George Orwell never saw coming. A world NOT where Big Brother is always looking over you, but where LITTLE BROTHER is always telling on you.

When Kramer got busted for using the N-word, it was Little Brother that told on him. When a Disney princess gets busted for sexting, it's Little Brother that tells on her. When Michael Phelps gets caught snorkeling in a very non-traditional sense, it was Little Brother that told on him. When a 22 year old decides not to wear undies to the club, it's Little Brother that tells on her. When an American Idol contestant has semi-nude "modelling" photos, has a profile on a gay matchmaking site or gets caught in drag makin' out with another dude in drag, it was Little Brother that told on them too.

TMZ is Little Brother. The Paparazzi is Little Brother. And guess what? Myspace? Facebook? And any other social networking site du jour? Everyone there may not be Little Brother, but that's sure as hell where he hangs out.

Big Brother doesn't NEED to keep an eye on We The People. All he has to do is wait. Sooner or later, Little Brother will have something to report.

So here we are, 60 years after the publishing of "1984" and the future has revealed itself - and talk about your twist endings. The ever present eye encroaching on our privacy wasn't some spooky, shadow cabinet, government entity after all.

It was We The People. And what's more, we've got video to prove it.

--F

"Brain Abs"? Really? THAT's what you came up with?

I'm saying it because I'm guessing that's what YOU'RE thinking. Why would you be thinking that? Because that's what I'D be thinking. And I consider myself a man of the people. And you people? You're my people.

I'm gonna give you a quick rundown about who I am and what I'm about. Why is this important? Well first of all, as we've already covered, I think it's important to you because it'd be important to me, and again, we're peeps, you and me. Besides, I'll be voicing a lot of opinions about a lot of subjects of varying stupidity here and it helps you decide how much weight to lend a thing when you consider the source. So, here's a rundown on your source - code named: Fantasticles.

Firstly, I'm a writer by trade, but first and foremost, I'm an observer; a student of human nature. Knowing and understanding human nature is the fastest shortcut to predicting the future with any degree of accuracy. I watch you people (by which I mean US people) from the sidelines. I try not to pass judgement to the extent that it's humanly possible, but at the end of the day, I calls 'em likes I sees 'em. Sometimes what I see is pretty, sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's important; many times, it's not. But most of the time, it's just amusing - to me at least (by which I mean you).

I study punctuation and grammar religiously, which is to say, I grew up with it, have a basic understanding and affection for it, but think about it seriously only about once a week and usually only when I'm in trouble. Besides, I have an assistant who usually helps me with that kinda thing. She won't be touching Brain Abs, though, so propare yoyrself fo rsome fabluous spellong.

I'm the kind of guy who gives credit where credit is due, even if I think the credit is due to a total douche. By the way, Kanye West has some great songs.

I've been told I'm a fan of the word douche, so chances are good that Brain Abs will feature it often. I am currently looking into sponsorship possibilities with Summer's Eve.

And lastly, I'm a guy who's spent too much time writing one kind of thing lately and just needed to brush up on my chops. Doing what I do for a living for too long will turn your brains to mush unless you can break the pattern every once in a while. So, like a muscle on the verge of atrophy, I've decided to give my brain a much-needed workout. My goal is to post something once a week at first and slowly work my way to posting something once a day. Hopefully, along the way, I'll manage to sculpt my spaghetti-like mind muscles into something that won't be embarrassed to go shirtless at the community organ pool. With any luck, by the end of this world wide net blog, my brain will be totally ripped, by which I mean YOUR brain, because again, we're peeps, you and me.

How do I know we're peeps? Easy. If you're still reading this, we're peeps. If not, we're not peeps after all. And you may just be a douche.

But don't fret, I'll still give you credit when it's due.

-- F