I'm owned by conspicuous consumption, and so are you.

We are all machines. You might not realize it. Or you might just be in denial. But rest assured, if you're reading this, you are certainly a machine, just like me.

OK, perhaps this is a confusing beginning to an otherwise post-surgical-Vicodin-riddled post. Perhaps I've also been reading a Young Adult Novel entitled Feed by M.T. Anderson, which has pretty much blown my mind. (Yes, even despite the painkillers.)

The novel takes place in a futuristic America, where teens are able to take spring breaks to the moon, or underwater vacations, or even the family trip to Mars. 73% of the population receives a "feed" through a computer microchip implanted directly into their heads. Although the book was written in 2002, I pretty much equate it to having an iPad soldered directly to your cerebellum. Participants of the "feed" have a Google- or Bing-esque access to information, like it or not. They receive media and news updates; see banners of products, prices, and shopping suggestions when they're out and about; and they're able to send private mental chats to any other person in on the "feed." The devastating effect that the young characters experience is the densensitization to everything real happening in the world around them, ranging from environmental degradation (one of the last forests was cut down in order to build an "air factory"), to the elimination of intricate wording and even spoken conversation, to corporate greed and infiltration into everything. Corporations have taken over the schools; in fact, "School" is trademarked throughout the book, since the term is no longer public domain, but privately owned. Consequently, students didn't learn facts in "School (TM)" anymore, since any sort of information was available instantaneously through the feed. Students learned what was hip, what jobs would make them the most money in the future (no doubt corporatized), and the best way to decorate their bedrooms.

I'm on the verge of finishing this quick read tonight, and I haven't yet decided whether I like the book yet. I guess, since the general idea is so theoretically possible since the advent of contraptions like SmartPhones and iPads, I'm too scared by the concept to actually enjoy the book. I realized today that, although an extreme hyperbole, the general ideas that M.T. Anderson presses throughout his book have already happened.

I had nose surgery last Wednesday, and have been "taking it easy," as the saying goes, for the past four days. I've barely been out-of-commission for 100 hours, with the freedom to lay on the couch wearing as little clothing as I want, watching horrible TV shows, and eating a pretzels-n-vicodin mix all day long. I've been away from work for four days, and have another four days off. Starting on Friday, I started to go stir-crazy. I had been antsy, but on Friday afternoon, my mood notably shifted to agitated and irritable as I realized I missed being out and about. It didn't even matter where I was, just so I wasn't confined to my box of a condo anymore. It took four days.

On Saturday, I finally broke loose and drove myself to Jimmy John's for lunch, and then proceeded to Barnes and Noble (perhaps subconsciously to find a follow-up book to Feed to continue scaring the crap out of me?), and the simple task of driving to some of my favorite establishments and spending money brought me back to a normal state-of-mind. An $8 combo of a Beach Club, bag of Jimmy Chips and regular-sized Cherry Coke put me in a better mood, and after wandering through Barnes and Noble for an hour, and downing a $25 gift card on two new books, I was smiling and singing with the windows down on my way back home. That's all it took.

I couldn't help but think of our society's concept of conspicuous consumption and how our values system is based on what you have, and how much you spend. I felt good spending money. The books I bought were unnecessary; I've got various towers of unread books scattered throughout my condo, about 50 in total, yet it made me feel better to purchase more. The truth is we've all been programmed, in one way or another, to buy things we don't need, whether in the form of food, booze, books, media, computers, video games, clothes, whatever, to give our lives value. Deny it all you want, but every single person I know falls victim to this statement.

In the summer of 2002, I experienced "The Summer of Enlightenment" with very close amigo Dan Mirman. We read a few books on Buddhism and (yes, admittedly, how dorky is this) would take walks through Schmeeckle Reserve in Stevens Point, where we were living for the summer between college semesters, and discuss our new findings and how incredible we thought they were.  We were 21 and living the dream with perfect summer schedules; it just felt right I guess. But the main idea that I took away from Buddhism is that attachment breeds jealousy (which must be true, since Master Yoda exudes a similar quotation in Star Wars Episode II) and attachment is suffering. Physical objects will give you nothing in life.

Pulling all of this full-circle, I realize how badly I want to detatch myself from physical possessions, money, and, well, for the lack of a better word, "things." But the absolute truth is that our society has carved us into these machines to consume; to spend; to use; to own. Without these virtues, you're viewed as out-of-touch. Uncool. Irrelevant. And that really bothers me, which is why I guess I'm really struggling to accept the fact that I like this book. It's too true, and simply dichotomizes our society to a "T."

M. T. Anderson, you win this round.

A Royal Waste of Money

OK, I get it. I get that English royalty (is that supposed to be capitalized, like "Presidency" or "God?") is a big deal across the pond. I get that it's tradition. But I simply cannot wrap my mind around the idea why anyone cares.  Really.

Here we have two people getting married. The bride-to-be is considered a "commoner" by all means, albeit an attractive one, admittedly. Beyond that, I simply do not understand the hype, the money, the media coverage, and the overall importance of this occassion.

Wars are happening and political dissonance is occurring vastly throughout the middle east . Gasoline prices are nearing all-time highs. In Wisconsin, half of the state Senators are, or will be, facing recalls over King Walker's union-busting budget bill. Yet the local NBC news finds this wedding newsworthy enough to cover it every day. Yesterday bride-to-be Catherine went shopping at *gasp* a NORMAL store. Like, OMG and LULZ. Media is scrutinizing the invite list, because a sort of dictator from Bahrain is invited to the wedding but ex-PM Tony Blair was snubbed. Oh, the travesty.  Meanwhile, the lasting effects of the tsunami in Japan, and ongoing fighting in Libya and Syria, go relatively unmentioned on the daily news. Today, Milwaukee's TMJ4 news cut to a "live shot" of the to-be wedding scene; a black, unlit building with one outer light on. To quote and adlib Randall from the infamous Honey Badger narration, "Thanks for the update, STUPID."

I guess it all comes down to what people want to hear about on the news; they want the escape to something they desire but can't have instead of the doom and gloom of the reality before our faces. Maybe ignornace truly is bliss.

Green and Yellow Green and Yellow

The following is an account of my Super Bowl Sunday, February 6, 2011. As Ice Cube would say, "Today was a good day."

3:49: With two flicks of match heads against one another, I start the grill.

3:55: Ahhh, nothing like the smell of a charcoal grill in mid-winter.

4:40: Brats go on. Sizzzzzzzzle. With a Hinterland Pale Ale in the snowbank, snausages on the grill, and the Pack in the Super Bowl, life is good.

5:07: Brats come off the grill and immediately get dunked in Corona. Ahhh mamacita.

5:10: Dinner's almost served, woah, Sam Elliot (check), of Lebowski notariety, is doing the pre-game intro montage voice-over!  One thing dude...do you have to use so many cuss words?

5:12: Green and Yellow Green and Yellow.

5:15:  OUCH.  MOFO.  I put a huge knife through the tip of my thumb and leave a flap of skin as the tip of my finger.  Oh well, they just showed Christina Aguilera for the first time and she's lookin' h-a-w-t. Thumb hurts, but I'll live.  Hopefully no blood got on the onions.

5:26:  Food is served, wow, what timing.  Brats, soft pretzel bread, potato salad, cole slaw, pasta salad, chicken wings, shrimp, and taco salad.  Yeeeeee-yah, what a spread.

5:28:  Christina Aguilera. Yum. "Home of the"...what? Uh, pretty sure she messed up the anthem, but I can't stay mad at her for long.

5:43:  My mom inadvertently consumes a "hot" chicken wing because she thought it was a regular. Hilarity ensues.

6:02:  There is a score, and it's green and yellow!!! 7-0 Pack.

6:05: Harrison Ford, Cowboys vs. Aliens, really?  REALLY?

6:07:  Nick Collins INT for touchdown.  More high-fives all around!! 

6:08:  Ohhh, foolish Nick Collins.  As Lombardi would say, "Act like you've been there before."  Regardless, 14-0 Pack.

6:09: Eminem, "That's why I don't do commercials." And that's why you should continue to not do them.

6:12:  I am stuffed. And I only ate one brat!  Ugh.  There's like 3 lbs. of chicken wings left too, and we haven't even cracked the taco dip yet.  Nobody's touched the pound of shrimp, either.

6:17: I don't think I've L-O-L'd during one commercial so far.  BE. MORE. FUNNY!

6:23: Stillers are on the board. Nice to see the Packers D solidify and hold Pittsburgh on a 3rd down. I think I need some Mountain Dew, waking up at 5:01 a.m. today is starting to catch up to me.

6:33: The VW/Little Kid in the Darth Vader costume commercial takes the cake so far.  That'll be a tough one to beat. Another score from GB would be nice to put us at a comfortable lead, but at least the Steelers don't look too threatening at this point.  Holding penalty, thank you.

6:35: Did Troy Aikman and Joe Buck both intentionally wear purple ties today?  What are the odds that they didn't?  They had to coordinate that, otherwise there was some sort of crazy prop bet about what color tie they'd wear today, and both Buck and Aikman placed bets on their own tie color selection.

6:42:  Rapelisberger throws his 2nd interception. Pittsburgh, and especially Rothlisberger, do not look especially impressive so far.

6:45:  JENNINGS.  Green and yellow green and Yellow!  21-3 Pack with 2 minutes and change left in the first half, lookin' good so far!!

6:55:  The Pack are dropping like flies...Sam Shields and Charles Woodson head to the locker room within 5 minutes of each other...with the Steelers driving, a hold before halftime would be nice.

6:57: Hines Ward makes a somewhat impressive catch. Boo Steelers.  21-10 Pack.

7:00:  It's halftime.  Good thing, because we don't have any more D-backs to spare in the first half. Enter Black Eyed Peas.

7:11: Let It Go > Boom Boom Pow.  The sound of this halftime show is perhaps the worst sounding musical production ever.   > Sweet Child O' Mine with Slash. As sweet as it is to see Slash playing guitar, Fergie's singing is atrocious and well, you can't really hear Slash anyway since the mix is so terrible.  Ugh, Fergie, really, stop singing. 

7:22: Hmmm. Tough to not be too harsh on the ol' Black Eyed Peas, but that was probably the worst halftime performance I've ever seen. Since when is it cool to play literally 13 seconds of each one of your songs?

7:31:  Charles Woodson is out with a collarbone injury. Shields and Driver return to the game. Hopefully we can get it done without Woodson, but it'd be a little more comforting if #21 were on the field.

7:37: James Jones drops a pass that could have easily resulted in a 75-yard touchdown. Lost opportunity, indeed.

7:42: Steelers march right down the field for a TD. 21-17 Pack, but the momentum is shifting out of the Pack's favor.

8:31:  JENNINGS TD.  The game has simply been too tense to blog.  My dad is getting into his verbal "coaching the TV" behavior, I'm on the edge of my seat and my mom has said, "I can't watch!" about 9 times in the past 30 minutes.  Tense times.

9:12: Ladies and gentlement, your World Champion Green Bay Packers!  Game is over. The last 40 minutes have been tense.  Tense, tense, tense. The Packers' D prevailed, holding Big Bad Ben and the Steelers on a 4th and 5. Phew. I'm exhausted, and all I've done is eat all night.

Philip Martin Simms, I loathe thee.

My inexplicable hatred of Phil Simms has been brewing for years now. It's not that I disliked Simms as a New York football Giant. It's that I can't stand his voice. I can't stand his broadcasting. And I absolutely can't stand the way he says "him."

As an English teacher, small subtleties like this do tend to bother me, but usually I can let things like this go. People frequently, and annoyingly, mispronounce everyday words and phrases, like "for all intensive purposes," "I could care less" (then why don't you?), and the unnecessary phantom "t" ended to the end of "across." For the record, whenever I question people about that "t," they deny it, but I know they said "acrosst" the first time. The "t" -- it was there.

I know my hatred for Simms is rooted in the vein of senselessness.  The guy was a quarterback, and actually kind of a good one, and definitely did not go to school for English, speech, broadcasting, or communications. (FYI, that's a gross assumption, because a simple Google search would not yield an answer to what he studied at Moorhead State. Probably a major in "how to annoy linguists.") Throughout the course of a game, he annoys me perpetually with different inaccuracies in his speech patterns, generally sounds like Arnold Schwarzenegger (you know, it sounds like he's choking on his own throat when speaking but without the entertaining Austrian accent), but none of this eclipses the atrocity by which he pronounces the simple pronoun "him."  "Heem."  "Heem, Heem, HEEEEEM."  If there was an actual award for "Person Who Most Accurately and Consistently Substitutes the Short 'i' Sound For Long 'e,'" Phil Simms would be undisputed 12-time recipient.

Google was very telling, however, in why Phil Simms speaks in the manner that he does.  The dude's from northwest Kentucky, which, combined with the corner of southeast Indiana, takes the cake for, in my opinion, the most god-awful annoying accent and linguistic patterns known to man. I dated a girl (read: psycho) from Indiana once, so yeah, I'm kind of an expert. In this sad region of the world, people LOVE (yeah, that's caps and italics) NASCAR (or Indy Car, or Sports Motor racing, or funny-car, gas-wasting, hit-the-pedal and steer left driving, or whatever they want to call it), White Castle, firearms, and Merle Haggard. They also love to say "warsh" (as in, "I've got to warsh the clothes, then warsh some dishes, then warsh my car, and then take it out to the Indy Speedway, hit the gas pedal, and steer left), and neglect the entire concept of the "to be" verb form.  For example, something doesn't need to be washed, it just "needs warshed."  Something doesn't need to be heated in the oven, it "needs heated." Don't confuse this with any progressive tense forms, where it'd be perfectly acceptable to say that something "needs heating." No. Past tense all day, "needs warshed." I call this sort of speech "Kentuckianian."  But I digress.

Phil Simms really can't help the fact that he was raised in the third-world region of America. But I still can't stand the way he talks.

Another semester bites the dust...

With another semester in the books...the last semester...I'm left with a feeling of "what do I do with myself now?" Nothin' but time.

It's hard to remain patient when I'm basically waiting it out. Waiting for student teaching to begin. Waiting to interview for a job. Getting a job. Moving somewhere. Hopefully meeting someone. I wait. In the meantime, I read. Check my e-mail, again. Watch some TV. I feel as if something is missing. My friends all seem to be busy. I am busy. Er, was busy. I guess I would just do a lot better knowing that this waiting and devotion to patience will amount to something that will make me happy for a long time.

You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part.