Sign O' The Times

I like to have background noise pretty much all the time. Even when I practice. My mom never got over my habit of having a sitcom or such playing on TV while I was working on a Bach partita or a Beethoven sonata.

"How can you concentrate with all this racket going on?"

I didn't know what how to answer her because I couldn't figure it out myself. Recently, I read that people with ADD generally do this sort of thing. Do I have ADD? Who the hell knows? And what does it matter?

All this preamble to explain why I was searching for old sitcoms on Hulu. Found one from the 80's and got excited because I love Tony Danza. So, here's the premier episode of a show that wouldn't have even been considered in today's social climate. Take a wild guess as to why.



Society suffers, and we become less than we could have been, when half of the population is considered potentially guilty simply for the fact that they possess XY chromosomes.

A sad and thought-provoking post at Free Range Kids.

We Shall Overcome

Yes, I am an artist. Just like you.

And I think that's where our similarities end.

No, I don't agree with your Marxist world view.  Nor do I believe that "the man" is my enemy.

And yet, here you are, assuming that I will nod enthusiastically while you spout your moronic nonsense.

So, you don't like rich people?  Who do you think is in a position to support the arts, you numbskull?

Surely, it's not your neighbor with 3 kids from 3 different baby-daddies, now living in a run-down apartment with her current man of the month.  You know, the one who makes minimum wage at a low-skill job and with supplemental help from the government (aka tax payers, aka people like myself), barely makes it to the end of the month before her bank account totals $10? The one whose TV spends more quality time with her kids than she does?

Do I really need to point this out to you?

It's those with discretionary income who attend plays and concerts, pay for music and dance lessons for their children, donate money to visual and performing arts programs, who invest in works of art.

And now you're going to patiently explain  how government arts programs help controversial/visionary/new/struggling artists get a foothold. I don't know. Should I even attempt to look like I'm listening to your tired rhetoric? Which you think is completely new to me, and will convince me of the error of my thinking?

You live in a dream world, my dumbass friend. When the government pays for your art, committees of people get to tell you what is acceptable. In other words, they can censor you if your output does not fall in line with their agenda.

But, I have a feeling you're not averse to censorship. As long as the "right" things are censored.

Carry on, then.

Just one last tip. Gluing random objects onto canvas isn't revolutionary.

http://www.machinepolitick.com/?cat=169

What Is This Thing Called Love?

I've thought about this in great depth. I've taken into consideration the opinions of others, from ancient philosophers through modern scientists, poets, musicians, wise men and fools. I've even had this guy in my head since the 90's:



Not only is this one of the best songs ever for working out to, it is also currently the 62nd best-selling single of all time in Germany. No small potatoes, that.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I hadn't quite nailed it. And then it hit me like a lightening bolt. Man, did I feel stupid. It was right in front of me all along. Of course!

You know you're in the company of your soul mate when you find yourself dancing together like you're suffering from an inner ear disorder and he's trying to keep you upright. Or sitting on a sofa, with your man's arm awkwardly around your shoulder. Or in the back seat of a car, with stiff smiles frozen on your faces. Then there's the obvious, walking on the beach at sunset. I kind of already knew that one.

The thing that really rocked my world was learning that when you find true love, from that moment on, you move in slow motion. But only when you're together. Also, music plays constantly. Even when you are laughing hysterically on a boat. Or on a balcony. I guess the head-rolling laughter is a pretty  integral component of twoo lub. The best part of all, which must be the clincher that you have been blessed by a miracle, is that the two of you are always surrounded by a halo of backlighting.  Amazing, right?

Thanks, eHarmony. You laid it out for me, clear as day. Over and over. On tv. On the radio. On my computer screen. In fact, it's kind of hard to avoid you. Now that I think of it, you're like that guy that stalked me in college. Only, you don't leave love letters and flowers on my windshield. But, there's still time for that. After all, we'll be together forever. Right? Right?

There's just one tiny, little thing. Microscopic, really. It's probably nothing, and maybe I shouldn't even mention it. It's ... well, I don't know.