I will admit something kind of embarrassing and frustrating.  I am losing, or have lost, a portion of my hearing.  I am not getting any younger (yet!), I spent several years in very loud rock and roll bands, and now, it seems, I am paying the price and/or learning the difficult lesson the rest of the aging trailing edge boomers already know.  When my children talk to me on at crowded fairs in a high voice with a lot of background noise, I can’t really understand them.  I have to ask them to say it again.  And sometimes again.  And maybe one more time.  When I’m in a car and there’s a lot of traffic noise, and my friends in the back of the SUV are chatting, I have to take it on faith that they’re not mocking me.  I know people are talking, but I can’t hone in on what they’re saying. 

Obviously there’s not much I can do about this.  I know a few people with hearing aids or who have difficulty hearing. They were born with hearing loss.   I don’t think my problem is serous enough for an electronic device–it’s mostly situation specific.  It can get very frustrating, because you can feel stupid saying “Pardon” and “What?” and “What was that again?”  And what’s more frustrating if the person does repeat it, and you do understand, it’s usually not “disconnect the blue wire or the house will explode” or “I must have you–now!” but some lame everyday thing that makes you wonder why you bothered to ask them to repeat it. 

Anyway, welcome to middle age.  It’s awesome.  I said–it’s AWESOME!

There are some things I don’t understand about the supposed priorities of personal hygiene.  They include:

1. Washing your hands after using the urinal.  Now I have nothing against washing your hands after doing #1, but I do have to go on record as saying that, as a 40-something male, I think I have pretty standard bladder control, meaning when I am moved to void my bladder, my willie does not spin about like a broken hose, spraying the restroom and my fellow occupants with lemon-yellow urine.  I rarely, if ever, pee on myself.  And yet, if you move from the urinal to the door, you are often given “the look”, as if you are unclean.
2. Which begs the question–why is it so “unclean” to touch your nether areas, requiring a scrupoulous wash and dry, wasting water and paper and landfill resources, whereas the other regular stuff you do all day, like scratch your head, rub your nose, itch your ear–that’s no big deal?  Is it just the (hopefully mistaken) Puritancal impression that one’s nether regions are naturally covered in filth from our organs spinning pell-mell and soaking ourselves with waste which we then never bother to clean?
3. And while we’re on the subject:  Of course I understand the necessity of washing up after performing #2 (though I guess you could make an argument that you are using a natural barrier of paper, etc.).  However, if I’m not mistaken, before you begin your washing up process, you usually have to rearrange your clothing, buckle up, etc.  And if your hands are so choked with filth, shouldn’t you also immediately throw your clothing into the wash?  Because you know you’re going to touch your pants again sometime during the day..

This has been…Brad’s Notes on Hygiene.    Next up:  Expectoration.

So today I’m driving in my car and see this license plate in front of me: PERFEKT.   And all I can think is “Well, why not “PERFECT”?  And someone gives me their e-mail address, and it’s “supergirl7502″.  Why not just Supergirl?  Well, because Supergirl0001 through Supergirl 7501 were taken, of course.  And I get an e-mail from GoDaddy saying that all dot net address (fastandbad.net!!) are half off.  Well of course they’re half off!  Because they suck!  Who in their right mind picks their second choice?  I mean, if it’ something trivial (like vanity plates, or e-mail addresses, etc.), for God sakes–get what you want!  And if they don’t have what you want–think of something else!!  Use your imagination.  For example, when I finally swallow my pride and get my vanity plates, I’m sticking with my initial choice (“RETARD”) — or nothing!  Because if you take second best, honestly, what are you telling the world — I care enough to advertise that I can’t get what I really want so I’m happy to settle for a lame substitute?

As Dave Edmunds sings:

Cool is the rule

But sometimes bad is bad

It’s hard to be outraged these days. It’s hard to stay angry. Not that there’s not stuff to be angry and outraged about.. To the contrary! There’s so much stuff, most of the time it’s just easier to give up, look the other way, turn on the television… After all, who wants to be angry all the time? That will just make you upset! However, being the guy I am, I like getting mad, I like knowing that life is not fair and reminding myself that everything is not hunky dory in my plastic suburban cocoon. To that end, I’ve been reading and listening to:

1) TALK TALK by T.C. Boyle. This is another great book by T.C., about a deaf woman pulled over for a traffic infraction who ends up in jail because of a case of identity theft. This book, which I am “reading” on my iPod on the way to work, just makes my blood boil! The things that happen to this poor woman should not happen to anybody! Isn’t it tough enough just being deaf, without having to spend the weekend in jail on a case of mistaken identity because the courts are closed, and the lawyers are playing tennis or asking for a $50,000 retainer for something that is not even your fault!” I literally felt like jumping through my car system and beating somebody up. So far this is a great book, totally interesting, very compelling, and a real reminder of how unfair things can be if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.

2) IN PERSUASION NATION by George Saunders. This is the 3rd book of GS short stories, and he just keeps getting better and better and stranger and stranger. He previous themes of theme parks in decline and alienation have gotten weirder (the title story is front the point of view of a bag of Doritos) and more emotionally affecting even in their strangeness (the best story is about a man who keeps his dead parents in a state of suspended-life in his house without informing them that they are actually dead, just because he misses them so much). The outrage is these books is the way they directly confront what’s going on in our daily lives today and take it to it’s logical conclusion–such as the story where a man is forced, under penalty of bodily harm, to watch holographic television commercials he would have otherwise been exposed to if he hadn’t been hurrying to get his grandson to to theater on time. It makes you sick!

3) Graham Parker is one the crankiest rock and roll singers of all time. He knows what’s wrong with world and he’s not afraid to say it and he’s not afraid to keep saying it until you get it through your thick skull. And he’s catchy, and he’s soulful, and he’s funny, and he’s romantic–and he’s angry! And he can’t understand why you’re not mad about it, too. Like he says “Soul Corruption” — “They want you to trust in the power they’re wielding/You might as well jump from the top of a building” His most recent CD is SONGS OF NO CONSEQUENCE, and he’s got a lot of excellent points to make about the media, and the shallowness and superficiality of a world where people just take exploitation and corruption as business as usual. He has one particular quatrain that sticks in my head when I’m doing the dishes:

If you wanna make the deadline
Make sure your line is dead
If you’ve got any bright ideas
Keep them in your head

It’s an outrage!, I tell you.

Look, I don’t care if you have a cell phone–I have one, too. I don’t care if you use it in the car, although everyone knows this is not safe, you are not paying enough attention to your driving, you are going to get into an accident and kill someone (preferably yourself) blah blah blah. I don’t mind if you use your cell phone at work and take it to a corner and talk in a loud voice so everyone hears the personal, mostly boring details of your pathetic life (because it’s fun to mock you later when you are not looking.)

No, what I hate is people who talk on their cell phones while they are performing supposedly “mundane” taks like buying Starbuck’s coffee, picking out jewelery at the Department store, etc., etc., ad naseum. Why do I hate this? Because there is another person right across from you trying to politely do their job, and you are treating them as though they don’t even exist! Like they don’t matter! Like whatever insignifcant thing you are yabbering on about is important enough to just totally ‘dis another human being who is going out of their way to make your existence a little bit more pleasant!

It’s not like these people I see if front of me are yelping into their Razrs’s are performing brain surgery by proxy or walking someone through pulmonary resusicitation while they get their Venti Half-Calf Caramel Latte supreme! Oh no! It’s like “Really? Huh? She did? Uh-huh. They did? Ohmygosh. Wait a sec — can I look at that one? — They did?” Yargghhh!

Have some respect for the people around you, especially the people who doing their level best do to a service job. Do you think these people make tons of money? Do you think their life’s goal was to get you a fresh Orange Julius? Would it hurt you just to put down the frickin’ phone, say “Hello, how are you?” and “Please” and “Thank you”? I mean, doesn’t politeness make the word a bit more pleasant and the day a bit easier to get through?

As far as I’m concerned, salespeople should refuse to serve you until you put your frickin’ phone down and give them your fuill attention. You want their full attention, don’t you? You want them to be polite, right? Then do unto others as you would like done unto you. I’m also in favor of forced euthanization of rude people, but that’s for another post…

So I’m driving my daughter to her Grandma’s today, and I needs some gas for the Bohemoth, and there’s this car ahead of us in line, and they’re taking like, forever, and then the guy gets out of his car after getting something, and I look at him and I’m suddenly hit by a flash of recognition–he’s me!

Short haircut? Check. Land’s End shirt and Dress Pants? Check. Cell phone clipped on belt? Check. Somewhat in shape (or at least not embarassingly out of shape)? Check. SUV? Check. UM Bumper sticker? Check (sort of–I went there, anyway… Now I can’t afford the bumper stickers!) Then he strolls into the gas station to get a coffee–just like me! (excepting the fact that I would not be caught dead with a cup of gas station coffee, nor would I make a fellow human being wait 5 minutes in line for gas at 7:25 in the morning when he’s trying to get his daughter to her Grandma’s and then has to get back into car and drive to work).

But anyway — It struck me. I’m just like everybody else.

Ah, well. I guess it could be worse. I could be just like The Unabomber.

DeathForecast.com – Death Forecast

A few weeks ago me and my buddy Paul went to see the wildly overpraised Sarah Silverman movie JESUS IS MAGIC (though, truth be told, her rack cannot be praised enough). The movie is comprised of some pretty funny “shock” one-liners, interspersed with bad musical numbers. During these musical portions, the sound in the theater would drop out almost completely. I got up from my seat and told the ticket taker “Hey, the sound is dropping out.” We watched the rest of the unfunny comedy and the problem was not fixed. No one else from the audience went out to complain, even though the music was a good 50% of the movie. After the movie I went to the cashier and asked for our money back because of the sound problem. She said it was just a problem with the print they were given, and they couldn’t give us our money back. I said Gee, if there’s a problem with the movie, they either a) shouldn’t show it, or b) should have a warning sign at the ticket desk, like the sign they had warning about the foul language in JESUS. She just shrugged, of course, so I asked for the Maager, a kid with dreadlocks and piercings who of course gave us a free pass for another show. I mentioned to him, very politely, that they should either not show the movie or put a sign up. He gave me the shrug.

Then. two weeks, later, Paul and I decide to go see another movie, the excrutiatingly unfunny Albert Brooks LOOKING FOR COMEDY IN THE MOSLEM WORLD. The ticket booth guy was on his cell phone. They give us a ticket at the snack bar. They don’t say thanks or anything, they just hand me the popcorn. The movie starts, It’s not framed–it’s too low, so you can see the boom microphones that are usually cropped out. I go out and tell the ticket person. The movie continues. They don’t fix it. There are subtitles in the movie when Indian people speak. But you can’t read the subtitles because the movie is framed too low. No one but me has complained. The movie is so bad, I don’t care, I just want it to be over.

I need to get a new car – my lease car is expiring. I go to my regular Dealer and ask for a quote on an SUV and a van. “Ah, you don’t want the van! It’s being discontinued.” Over a few weeks of looking at vehicles, he’ll never quote me the van. I get so frustrated I go to another Dealership of foreign cars. I call before I come, explain I’m looking for a van, what features I want, what my price range is. I make an appointment to see the salesman. When I get there, has the salesman run any numbers? No he has not. Does he know how much it will be for the DVD player extra for the kids? Nope. Instead, he wants me to sit there while he plays around on his PC to get the numbers. After 15 minutes, I beg off saying I have an appointment, and give him my nummber to call me with the details. Does he call? What do you think? I ended up going with the SUV, which I pick up tomorrow.

So, todays’ question is — does anyone give a sh*t anymore? Does anyone care about anything? The creators dont care–they know the movie isn’t funny, they know the car won’t last. The sellers don’t seem to care, the customers just seem to accept it. What is going on? I’m not rude when I ask for money back–I’m very polite! I’m not rude when I ask for the movie to be framed–I say, Excuse me, will you please have this fixed, please? I’m very straightforward about my car requirements–I want to put my iPod in it. Is this so much to ask?

When I answer the phone at my corporate job, I am polite, friendly, and try to solve anyone’s problem with a minimum of hassle, and make sure whatever problem they had they don’t have again. I mean, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Apparently I must be behind the curve or something… Because I guess the new deal is, hey, F*ck it.

25 Hottest Urban Legends

At least once a week a friend or acquaintance sends me an e-mail about some Internet rumour that simply MUST be true. And you know what? It never is! So please please please – check Snopes before you send stuff out! It’s almost like people would rather believe some wild-ass rumour that the currently despicable state of our government and world. But that’s for another post. Otherwise this place will start to look like KEVINWOLF.COM…

OK look, I’ll admit it–I’m getting old. This year I’ll be, what–45? And I’m good with that, honestly, and I don’t care–after all, there’s nothing I can do about it, right? I mean, I can’t exactly petition the court to stop aging or something. And I’m still able to, you know, with no problem. But I tell ya–nothing makes me feel older than getting bugged about that old people cranky stuff you used to hear your parents complain about while you rolled your teenaged eyes, and realizing — hey–they were right! Two cases in point:

I was at the Optometrist (look–my eyes were always bad–it’s not because I’m old, alright?), and the girl behind the counter (and let’s face–they’re all girls to me now) says “I’ll get you glasses, Brad.” And then I wait and she comes back, and says “Here are your glasses, BRAD”, and then “Do you want to pay cash or credit, BRAD?”

Hey look! I know my name is Brad! I’m familiar with my name. But you know what–don’t call me Brad! What? Do I not like my first name? Of course I like my first name–it’s my friggin’ name, fer Chrissakes. But what I don’t like is YOU CALLING ME BY MY FIRST NAME WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME! You can call me “Mr. Parks” or “Sir”, but don’t address me by my given Christian name in a transparent attempt to be “friendly” or “personable.” It’s rude! It’s impolite. And you know what–it doesn’t make me like you. In fact, I feel quite the opposite! You don’t even have to use any greeting at all! You can just say “I’ll get your glasses,” or “Here are your glasses.” Would that be so hard? Would that require so much effort?

But try to explain this to someone (usually a “young” person), you before you even speak you can sense the telltale eyelid tremors as their orbs roll back into their heads. So I don’t even try! Because they don’t understand! Because civility in our society has gone to heck in a handbasket!

Second example: I’m at the Podiatrist this weekend (no, it’s not because I have old feet), and rather than having the office doors closed like ever other Doctors office, the doors are all OPEN, so you can see every other patient, their bare, disgusting leg-end appendages, and also hear their conversations “Oh that — that’s a blood clot, Mrs. Haversham” And my 12-year old nurse comes in to check the medical history I filled out and to type things into the computer, and she asks me all these questions that I really don’t care about, but you know, anyone who wants to can hear my answers, about whether or not I have diabetes (and no, I don’t–that’s something for old people), all this after I’ve filled out a three page “privacy form.” So finally the teenager says “OK, please take off your shoes and socks and wait for the Doctor.”

So finally I can’t stand it any more and, rather subtly I thought, I say to the recent high school graduate, “Hey, are all these office doors left open?” and she says “Why, yes they are,” and I say “That’s funny, because in most Dr. offices, the doors are closed for privacy,” and she says, in perfect teenager-ese, “Yeah, but..” and finally I can’t take it anymore and I say “Yeah BUT WHAT?” And i know at once, I’ve gone too far… Because her eyes have widened and she looks at me with the familiar signs of OLD PEOPLE FEAR. Like, What on Earth is this geezer going on about. And she actually puts up her hands and says “Well, uh…” and pauses, and says “Would you feel more comfortable if I close the door?” and I say, as politely as I can muster, “Well, yes” while leaving off the “OF COURSE I WOULD! WHO THE HELL WOULDN’T?? Would you like me to come with you to the gynecologist office next week?”

I know they’re girls. I know they’re young. I know some of them are quite fetching. But you know what — I don’t care! I’ve got a pretty wife at home, and a prettty daughter! There are a lot of pretty girls in the world! They keep making them all the time! But what we seem to be in drastically short supply of is polite pretty girls with manners! Yarg!

Now where did I put my cane..