Why We Hate -- Part 14

United Airlines calls to cops to haul a passenger off a plane because the guy adamantly didn’t want to give up his seat so that some United employees who arrived late to the airport and missed their connection could fly to their next destination. UAL’s mistake, their error, became the passengers’ responsibility when the customers were asked to “voluntarily” give up their seats because the airline had “overbooked”. Overbooking is some deep disrespect to the consumer. A few of the passengers, instead of hijacking the plane, left and waited for a later flight while this one dude says, “Hell no.” The poor bastard paid for a service and entered into an, apparently, complicated contract with the airlines and as a result of his alleged behavior he is manhandled, bloodied and dragged off the plane by the goonsquad.

There is so much to this story: Race, Class, Entitlement, Police Misconduct, Incompetency, Corporate Arrogance, and they are part of the overall narrative. Meanwhile, what struck me is that the CEO of United, Oscar Munoz, continues to defend the airline and says that “policy” allowed for the passenger to be removed by force; not ethics, not respect, not even the fact that the dude had paid for his ticket in good faith, but “policy”.

I wasn’t on the plane and the passenger may have been an asshole. I’m not defending him. I know for a fact that there are an almost infinite number of ways to de-escalate a volatile and aggressive situation and I believe that physical violence should not necessarily be the first option.

CEO Munoz, however, makes $6.7 million a year in salary and compensation and there are some things he hasn’t figured out yet.

Six million seven hundred thousand dollars and:

He doesn’t know what it’s like to fly on one of his dicked up, overcrowded, overbooked, insulting, unfriendly, threatening, incompetent, undependable and uncomfortable airplanes.

He is a member of a financial class that has been branded as the enemy of normal, common, working class, overburdened and oppressed men and women. Income inequality is real as hell.

Following dubious policy isn’t necessarily the right thing to do.

He has no credibility.

Oscar’s income may give him an illusion of authority but real people don’t give a shit about what he says because we really don’t care about rich people any more. Those days are ending; the days when money was respected and we assumed that the person with the fat paycheck had earned it and as a result we valued their contribution.

Nope.

Bullshit. We don’t trust Oscar and his buddies (many who are currently serving in government).

It doesn’t matter what actually transpired on the United Airlines flight that was “overbooked” because wealthy people are no longer trustworthy and their word is not reliable.

It’s a new world, everything is on film, professional journalism isn’t keeping up and we are making our judgments based on flimsy cellphone videos. I’m not in favor of all of that stuff because there are too many variables and it’s easy to manipulate the evidence.

But goddamnit, Oscar Munoz, revered CEO of United Airlines, is digging himself and his entire class of self-certified financial overlords into a deeper and deeper pit.

Read some history. Buy regular shoes. Fly coach. 

Missing the point can be fatal.

America's New Daddy

America, as represented by The Statue of Liberty and Columbia, is maternal. The presidency has, thus far, always been paternal (see: Mt. Rushmore and all the goddamn men who have ever occupied the White House).

Now, every four or eight years mom gets bored, tired of dad’s bullshit and she files for divorce. She dumps the old man and begins shopping around for someone different. We, the children, get to help her choose our new daddy. Mom gives us a list of possibilities and lets us vote on whom we want to drive us to soccer practice, teach us to fish, pay the mortgage and hire the help. Once in a while a woman’s name appears on the list, but so far the USA has not been willing to consider the idea of a mommy at the head of the table. Sad, but true.

Barack Obama was a cool dad, wasn’t he? He was African American and representative, funny, smart, hip, could hang, and he treated us with respect and some of us were super stoked to finally have a pop who liked decent music and acted like he cared about our welfare.

Still, mom wanted a fresh husband. Mom sometimes makes mistakes.

A few of our stepbrothers and sisters hated Barack. They were furious because he was black, he was too young, too smart, too good looking, treated mom as an equal, and looked better than we do in a swimming suit. They made fun of him and tried to trick him and a few of the assholes actually called for him to be put in jail or executed. I hate a lot of my stepbrothers and sisters. Stupid bullies.

The Stupid Bullies wanted a dad who was white and barked orders and made people behave. Mommy agreed and picked a really different guy than Barack. The opposite of Barack. We don’t know why the fuck mommy ever decided that this asshole was going to be our new daddy, he was kind of a clown, but he was also super rich and we figured, “Fuck it. Maybe he’ll buy us a new bike or take us to Disneyland.”

Right?

Well, nope, he’s turned out to be somewhat abusive, not smart at all, and it looks like mom is having second thoughts. We saw him naked and it was disgusting. She knows she’s stuck with him.

We miss Barack. He was fun, could tell a joke, a decent guy, and we miss him a lot. Some of us wonder if mom is losing it. We really want our old daddy back but we know that we have to live with the new guy, the big flabby shithead who doesn’t get us at all.

And I don’t think he’s going to take us to Disneyland.

Smart Stuff: Can’t Live Without It.

Today’s headline:

The CIA is using popular TVs, smartphones and cars to spy on their owners.

There are Smart Shoes (auto-lacing. Wow.), Smart Watches, Smart Glasses, Smart Washers and Smarter Driers.

I’m at the point where I can’t do my banking without the latest bullshit $800 smartphone from Apple or whomever.

Everything is so convenient. Not secure, no ma’am, but very, very convenient.

And Feature-rich. You can do so much. You probably don’t even know eighty percent of what your smart products are capable of. Read that manual, make that bastard sing.

Cable-ready Smart TV? Won’t miss the latest Academy Awards and ridiculous screw-ups. Big fun. The Superbowl? Every year see which corporate human product beats which corporate human product. Live press conferences? Get to see the latest corrupt dipshit blubbering from the Oval office.

Some kid made fun of my phone the other day. Again.

I have an old fashioned flip phone from before World War II. I told him to go fuck himself, but the culture is changing and I’ll probably have to get a goddamn smartphone, big data package, lotsa texting, alarms and a camera and direct access to pornography wherever I am. Join the herd.

“Oh, look honey, a text from our five year old granddaughter.”

How have I survived? Until now, if I’m traveling and I get lost, I look at a map or ask a friendly native. A few years ago in Paris, I kept running into people who were wandering around exhausted, peering into smartphones, and they put them down long enough to plead, “Can you tell me which direction the river Seine is?” Lost like hell.

If we’re hungry in Italy, instead of standing on a busy corner and browsing all the places within a six-block radius, reading Yelp blather, we walk around the block and pick a restaurant. I have never been disappointed in my choice. 

I’ll cave. I’ll sign up for another subscription, more bills, headaches, more calls to “customer service”, more ridiculous emails with terrific savings and offers, the chance that one of my devices may be hacked, unauthorized charges, accounts drained.

When I’m ready to buy I’ll have to ask for help from my younger friends, best phone, best company, best package, average monthly bill, and hope that for once I’ll get a straight answer. Not likely.

Why aren’t people who drink smart water smart enough to know that crap isn’t making them any smarter?

Stand behind them in line sometime.

"Nobody knew that health care could be so complicated".

            "Nobody knew that health care could be so complicated."
             D. Trump, President of the United States of America

Well, hell, you fucking moron, I did. I have a general idea that it is complicated. Know why? Because unlike you, I don’t have sycophants and bootlickers to make my doctor’s appointments and to pick up my scripts, to get a few nurses over to the house for a “treatment”. I don’t have underlings to clear the waiting room and guide me through any lab tests or medical procedures, to bring the physical therapist to the palace, to set up the dental hygienist in the downstairs gym. No, dipshit, I’m on my own. If I run out of meds I hope that I don’t get hassled at the pharmacy, that they have enough to fill a prescription (that’s a little piece of paper with the name of the medication, the dosage, and the…ah fuck off, you won’t get it). Have you ever spent hours on the phone with a bored “customer service rep” trying to figure out some arcane crap regarding payments and refills? Fuck, no, you haven’t.

 I don’t have some junior assistant or Melania to roll me over and insert my meds, no sir, I have to take mine with a glass of water at the same time every day and I have to remember all by myself.

My doctor is hassled out of his mind because of all the goddamn paperwork. My old doc, now deceased (probably due to stress) told me that practitioners were working an average of two hours extra every day and seeing fewer patients. They are burning out, so for sure they know how complex it is.

I live in terror that my “provider”, (another funny fucked up term), will not approve the next test, the referral to a Cardiologist or the Dermatologist because it’s really actually possible that the provider might refuse coverage based on some microscopic motherfucking loophole.

I don’t have a bunch of lawyers to guarantee I get what I need. Nope, I spend hours on the goddamn telephone every month.

You dimwit.

EVERYONE knows it’s complicated. Everyone who has to take care of themselves, who's responsible for their families and their own lives, everyone who is NOT part of America’s Chosen, that species of wealthy shitwhores who have never had to stoop so low as the rest of us, we who don’t have slaves and inferiors, vassals and minions that have carried us through every wasteful day of our privileged lives.

So, yeah, the fact that you didn’t know something doesn’t mean no one else does.

“It’s complicated”.

Yeah, for us.

Jesus, what a dope.

It Can't Go On

I was driving home and heard the “press conference” on the radio. I listened, I laughed; I was talking out loud, alone in my car.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Holy shit.”

“He’s nuts.”

“What an unstructured asshole.”

I caught myself and chilled out, focused on the road ahead.

I’ve heard a lot of crazy talk in my life; I’ve been guilty of it myself when I was drunk, coked, angry. I tried to convince people of shit I didn’t believe. It never worked. I was raised to doubt myself and had to work on self-esteem, honesty, and the clear articulation of thoughts. I’m still working but I heard a guy today who doesn’t have the ability, or need, to reflect.

He has never had to use words, so he sounds clumsy and stupid.

If he wants a banana he points to the menu and somebody brings him a banana. If he wants to get laid he grabs someone by the pussy and sometimes he gets what he wants because he’s a wealthy celebrity. If he needs a new tie he sends some schmuck shopping. He’s probably never talked to an auto mechanic in his life.

And here’s what I heard today.

He believes he is really, really smart. Super smart and funny and charming. It’s an unwavering belief. Christ, you can hear it in his tone; condescending, patronizing, cocksure. He will continue to sneer at average people, to laugh and ridicule you and me and anyone he views as weak: poor, old, disabled, sick, uneducated, marginalized.

 He’s convinced that he is vastly intelligent and knows more than his critics, absolutely convinced, not because he’s educated or he reads a lot or has been a close observer of life.

Nope, he believes it because it is his birthright to be smarter than everyone else.

Who, in his small, power hungry, needy, money-worshiping life has ever reproached him?  Everyone laughs at his jokes. He lives in a private world where normal interaction is rare and alien.

But he thinks he’s wildly smart. Uses words. Has ideas. And though he couldn’t articulate it, he may feel that he is Chosen, an ubermensch, godly, a separate and higher species, “The Rich”. Complete delusion. Out of his fucking mind with narcissism. Irrational. Fucker can’t even pretend to care. He doesn’t have to. It can’t go on. It can’t last. It just can’t.

Double Valentine

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She wasn’t smiling.

I looked up from the computer. “What? Yes, same to you.”

I pointed to the package she had set next to my elbow; a red heartbox tied with a thick cream-colored bow.

“What is this?”

“It’s your Valentine’s present. Open it.”

Shit. I didn’t get her anything. Again. Bella had always been tolerant and forgiving but for the past year or so I felt as though she was placing minefields and hazards in my life. I couldn’t get through a whole week without disappointing her and I was always guilty. Had she found out about Connie? No, impossible. I’d worked that out; never call Connie from home, immediately delete all emails and texts; our assignations were successfully accomplished while Bella was at work or away on business. No, this new failure was simply a result of Bella’s expectations and what she referred to as my pathological self-esteem.

Too bad I couldn’t just reach in my wallet and give her a couple hundred-dollar bills. A few years ago that may have worked.

I pulled the ribbon on the box and the top came away easily. Inside were several rows of chocolates with a different calligraphic ornament on each one. I think these symbols were supposed to communicate what flavors were contained within each piece of candy; orange, coconut, fudge.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care because I now remembered that I had not bought anything for Connie, either. And if anyone was going to be disappointed about being forgotten on Valentines Day, it was Connie.

She called it “Valentime’s Day.” With an “M”. Jesus.

Bella shifted, waited for my response. “Thanks. Nice. Candy. How sweet. Ha.”

Another stupid holiday and I felt like a fucking moron.

Bella looked at me, her eyes flat, a slight smile.

“Hang on, I have to go down to the car. I have something for you, too. Really. Happy Valentine’s day.” I didn’t try to kiss her.

Excited, big smile, I dashed out the front door and down the stairs to the carport. I made a lot of noise opening and slamming doors, rummaging in the trunk. I swore loudly.

When I came back in the house I was empty-handed and breathing hard. Bella lounged on the sofa with a copy of Vanity Faire.

“Goddamn, you know what? I forgot your present at work. No, don’t look at me like that, I remembered, bought a nice present last night, but I forgot it on my way home.”

Silence.

“Look, I’ll be right back. I’ll go by the office and pick it up and come right back. Hang on. No problems. Happy Valentine’s day.”

Before she could speak I was backing the car down the driveway. Shit.

I knew what I had to do. Find a place that sold flowers, of course, perhaps something else like candy and a big stupid card. Then I’d have to buy two of each and drive like a madman fifteen miles to Connie’s house and drop off her presents, candy, flowers, card, big kiss, a little groping, no, no, I have to get back, love you; turn around and make it home before dinner to present Bella with my token of appreciation and respect.

This was going to kill me.

A New Driver's License

Last week I had to get a Driver’s License because mine expired while I was out of the country. I’d been dicked around at the local Motor Vehicle Department because, they said, I didn’t have the proper documents. A license, a passport, mortgage statements and utility bills weren’t enough. They sent me home and I didn’t know what else to do. I mentioned it to my friend Tim and he said, “Let’s go to Questa. It’s easy up there.” I didn’t believe him but we drove 20 miles north and pulled into the empty parking lot. I thought they were closed. Nope. Ten minutes later, with the same documentation, I had a renewed license with a nice photo. I didn’t even have to take an eye test. I was in shock. Local government that works for the consumer.

During the procedure they ask a series of questions: Is this you? Have you been arrested for DUI? Are you a citizen?

The last question was: Do you want to register to vote or change your political party?

Well, hell yes.

And holy mackerel, I am no longer a Democrat. Just like that, after fifty years, a few keystrokes and I’m an Independent and I feel like I just got sober. A huge weight has been lifted from me. I may have added ten years to my life. No more money from me, DNC, you lying, cheating creeps. No more stupid emails or robo-calls. Seriously, does that shit work? Probably does, on the “We Are The Chosen” wing of the party. Weak.

In advance, I wish none of the following were true because I dislike the current so-called administration and its supporters, apologists and asskissers more than I ever thought possible. They are the embodiment of corruption and immaturity. The clowns in Washington are not alone; the same kinds of people are in power or trying to get in power everywhere. Sometimes they win. And we know why they win and why they will continue to win, don’t we?

Things have changed and the Lib Dem’s timeworn system stopped working about 20 years ago. The Democrats have to get much, much tougher and put their old ways in the ground. Did they not notice that evil fucks like Karl Rove were being successful? Did they care so much about their image as well-mannered, educated, clever financially secure saviors of the future that they wouldn’t learn from their opponents and from their own mistakes? Wow. Better get it together pretty soon or it will be too late. Hope not.

As of November 9, 2016 political thought flipped on its back but many of the Democratic opposition are still trying to work within an archaic system. The following is a list of replacement conduct and new definitions for outdated terms that will need to be adopted if the Dems want to regain some power in government, save face, grow their brand and enter the world of reality.

Manners          =  Elbows out, take up space, talk loud, disregard others.

Logic               =  Emotional reactions based on childish inclinations.

Facts               =  Unnecessary and a waste of everyone’s time. Grow up.

Fairness           =  Set traps, cheat, blame someone else.

Hygiene           =  Plastic surgery, Rogaine, implants

Truth               =  Lie your ass off and your supporters won’t care. Ever.

Patience           =  It’s for the weak. Threats are more effective. Follow through.

Respect           =  Ridicule all challengers without mercy.

Ethics              =  Get what you want regardless of the cost.

Kindness         =  Don’t waste time with it.

Education        =  Critical thinking is treason.

Resistance       =  Indicates enemies who must be crushed.

Compassion    =  Obsolete unless there is monetary recompense.

Legal                =  Rules for the weak and pathetic.

Government    =  Potential for huge rewards based on services rendered.

There you go; a new system of conduct for the modern activist, a gift from me to the remaining Democrats.

Go ahead, continue what you’re doing and see what happens. Peaceful protests and hats and crafty signs, Facebook outrage, online petitions, prayer, high dudgeon, tears, chants, Instagram, Twitter, Linked-in, Gofundme, begin organizing for 2018 or 2020 or 2024 or whatever. Not for a second will your aggressive and treacherous antagonists listen or care. Get dirty. Give up the ancient image of well-groomed dignity and be willing to take some heat, lose friends, sacrifice the grandchildren. If not? More of the same.

I can say this because I now have a clearer perspective.

I’m an Independent.