Posts from November, 2009
The world needs more of this.
We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.
I think it’s an interesting definition of self to identify your crushes out in the big, bad world. You are what you like, maybe?
My three archetypes, I think, are a fairly good representation, or mushing together, if you will (OH MY GOD WHAT IF YOU WON’T), of my husband’s most excellent traits:
1. Peyton Manning (Perhaps the most talented guy known for being a team player ever, and Tom Brady can suck it.)
2. Joel McHale (The perfect measure of funny, pretty, and jerk.)
3. Mike Rowe (Alternate: Bear Grylls. I’ll say I prefer Mike because I’ve never seen him eat a testicle.)
It used to be that reading this little written scream would’ve sent me into a verifiable rage of my own. Especially with phrases like “Register Closed” and “Can I put you on hold?” as prime targets. But here I am sitting comfortably, blood pressure unchanged, so wtf?
Well, I am going through the paragraphs quickly to make sure the words don’t send me off and away with emotions I don’t like anymore — but still, I’m pretty okay reading this stuff without the proverbial cartoon head explosion charted by a giant, shattering thermometer.
It’s a relief that most of these things no longer instill the rage evident in Fish’s words, and such a big deal for me to be calm enough now to manuever around the little annoyances* that are still killing him. I’m just surprised to find how comforting it is to have changed.
Now I just need to get better at walking around my own city, where at least three people every day still cause my heart to race like a thousand pound whale with legs, and my mouth to utter “asshole” seemingly without my input.
*Yes, there are some things that need changing — like the ones that imply that all of humanity is stoo-pid; condescension of all kinds needs rooting out. But on net, how much does it hurt to let the waves of false politeness roll over you and away? Not much, I think.
On Monday afternoon I heard some frantically excited crowd-screaming and sporadic clapping outside. At first I figured it was just another nothing I want to look at over in the park.
Turns out I was right about the park, wrong about wanting to look.
There was a stage set up catty-cornered to the intersection of Park and 17th, with piles and piles of pretty gift boxes set up, and a dressing room tent across from that. Okay, semi-interesting. Maybe they’re a big brand giving something away? Then where’s the big brand signage?
I kept it in the back of my mind to investigate, and ended up leaving my office for the front window another five or ten times to check it out. All but one of those trips found a bunch of pedestrians gawking at nothing on the stage, which I found curious, since they were still wooing at intervals.
Two girls stood off to the side, looking like they were maybe a little nervous to get up and say what had to be said. But the crowd was too small (and not angry enough) for a typical rally, and the stage was too well put together to be a charity event, and again, missing signage for a brand event.
The last time I went back to check was after a major howling, and while I missed the action, I now knew the source: it was “Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear!” Nobody looked poorly dressed enough to merit an intervention, but maybe I missed their target. What I didn’t miss was how the WNTW sausage is made.
I stuck around to watch as a producer stood on stage next to a camera, and instructed the crowd to agree. The masses nodded enthusiastically, some even shaking their heads horizontally in such thorough agreement. Then, he asked them to show their disapproval. Like tennis, all the heads went enthusiastically back and forth. Finally, he said, “what would you do with A THOUSAND DOLLARS??!” They all woo’d.
And that’s your B-roll, ladies and gentlemen.
I did notice that off to the side, Stacy and Clinton were super magnanimous minor celebs, posing for photos for many, many minutes on end with any joker who tapped one of them on the shoulder. They’d usually assume the same pose, flanking the stranger, their hands meeting happily behind the back of their photo friend.