Turf Wars at Bars: THE Pressing Issue of Our Time

I just came back from 90 West, a bar approximately 450 feet from my apartment. Why do I live 450 feet from a bar you may ask? Exactly.

But I did hear something that astounded me when I was at the bar a few minutes ago. First off, this bar is small and quaint, but has a very loyal following. It's kind of like the Moe's from The Simpsons. Same 8 people there. Same smell of skunked beer and arm pit. Oh, and this one dude, Chris (complete Type A personality, firm handshake, loud, probably obnoxious, my guess works in sales or retails douche bags as a side project) goes, "this beer tastes like ass." Ha Ha...how does that dude know what ass tastes like?* Probably the same guy who says, "lick my balls, faggot!" Contradiction of terms, possibly?

Anywho, so the female bartender (who'd I'd definitely bone) starts talking about why they don't serve hard liquor. Her theory was that they don't serve hard alcohol because it would start turf wars between bars. Basically, liquor gets you sicker. And if someone such as myself who is new to the bar shows up after a rowdy 90 West crowd is 8 shots-a-patron deep, I'd get my ass kicked.

Apparently, territory and turf isn't specific to just gangs out here. I don't get that. If the bartender's theory has any truth to it, I think it speaks to a greater truth about ourselves. A truth that is full of individualism. A truth that leads to ego, and eventually, to comments like, "this beer tastes like ass."

But there is another truth out there I think. A truth about our desire to help. A desire to see the parts work together for a greater whole. Just as negative begets negative, I believe the opposite is certainly true. I know the opposite is true in fact. Everytime somebody tells me they read this thing, I'm inspired more and more. We're designed to work and live and play and yes, fornicate, together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6J3OD4Z0UQ

*it tastes like maple syrup

My Dog Got Offered Sex This Morning

Seriously. The time was 7:14am. I was by the mulched area with the plants that enter the storage place next to my apartment. Seconds later, an Asian man appeared with 2 dogs. My dog pulled from me with strength, a habit she doesn't break when greeted by other animals. I pulled back in defiance. Or was it jealousy?

My daughter is Minna Cross. My pit bull mix. A 2-year-old renegade of a dog. She has energy, can be a hellion, but is sweet as can be. A truly beautiful animal. The 2 dogs walking by...also quite beautiful. The 1 animal was a brindle, just like mine. Kind of like the Cincinnati Bengals' Mascot.

The man and I exchanged kind, semi-awkward conversation, and after about 20 seconds of broken, unassertive Asian-accented conversation, the gentlemen asked if my dog was spade. I guess I said she was a she at some point during our brief encounter, or he had been eyeing up my animal for a while, watching me walk her on a regular schedule, following Minna during her daily routes to relieve herself, standing outside my shower. Who knows, really? Nonetheless, he jumped on it, and posed the statement, "I'm looking to breed my dog."

I awkwardly chuckled, and said something equally on-point, "Oh ok." Good work, comedian.

It took me a few seconds as I walked back to my apartment gate with animal feces wrapped in the LA Times newspaper until I realized this dude had just propositioned my Minna Cross for sex. I guess he didn't proposition her for himself. That'd just be way too Alabama. But he propositioned me - for Minna - for his dog. I wondered if somehow, with only 3 more degrees to go, we could connect this audacious proposition to Kevin Bacon.

Thinking back, I feel quite honored. I mean, Minna Cross is my kin. I did birth her. Or paid $100 from a kennel. Because, to own a good looking animal is a true feeling of pride.

PS- If this article didn't make you laugh, just take a brief look at the tag words I used.

Pop Music With Teeth

I saw this line in a blog I frequent. And sometimes when you read or hear or say a great line, a line that captures complex, ambiguous thoughts in a precise and succinct way, you're only left repeating it.

"Pop Music With Teeth."

"Dissection. Exploration."


And Layers.


Pop is a layer. A sometimes simple, yet necessary and seemingly complex layer to pull off well. A fun layer. A happy layer. A layer meant solely for entertainment. A layer to get caught up in and lose your brain for a few minutes when it starts running in circles.

Music With Teeth. A smart layer. A thoughtful layer. Deeper meaning. Thoughtful, insightfulness. Saying something that matters because pop and culture have a long ways to go before they meet in a harmonious and productive place.

This doesn't go just for music. This goes for everything. Especially art.

And I'm starting to fall in love with art. Music, comedy, even acting (the real acting--not the shit Vin Diesel does). Before, I liked art. I'd take it to a Chili's. Have a couple drinks. Maybe take it back to my place and see where things go. Now, I love it. Meaning now, I'd take it to The Olive Garden. Possibly caress its hair and pour it cheap Merlot before attempting an 11th grade-style finger bang.

But I love art. Above all, it truly is an exploration. An exploration that starts with the mind and flows through all the senses. It baffles me and fascinates me. It's like, that's what humans -- with all our grand and limited capacity -- were meant to do.

"The Strenuous Life"

I've been skimming the news lately and there seems to be quite a fire raging over the various healthcare proposals looking to make significant changes to our current system and grant access to many more folks across the nation. Actually, not so much the actual proposals, but more uninformed rage over the possibility of significant change and progress.

SO, to uninformed rage and eratic, angered dialogue, I'm sorry, but I'm going to go take a piss and forget about you.

Ok, now I'm back. Feeling a bit lighter after excreting the bile of Coors Light in my bladder, I think I'm ready to turn my thoughts towards a term made popular by a Teddy Roosevelt speech entitled, "The Stenuous Life."

Roosevelt says, among other things in the speech:

"I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of the strenuous life, the life of toil and effort, of labor and strife; to preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shrink from danger, from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph."

Furthermore, so fascinating to me is that this comes out of a Darwinistic belief that death lumes around the turn of any corner of our lives.

Personally, this hits home so to speak. Since, I was little (which was quite little seeing as I'm now only 5'8") I've always had a distinct concept of my own mortality. I remember the first Gulf War. Seeing the news on tv and fearing that I was going to get attacked in my own home by the Iraqies. I was 5.

As absurd as that sounds, this is exactly what 5 year olds in Iraq say. And unfortunately, it is a very real fear. Then and now. This is why "the strenuous life" matters. This is why knowledge is important. This is why every major and minor concept to our lives has to be looked at with a moral and ethical conscience. Not concepts derived solely or primarily from self-interest. Sometimes it isn't easy. But if we don't, we slowly decay. Ourselves and our future inhabitants. Our lives are by happenstance, no matter what you may or may not believe. We're completely random and probably quite lucky when compared to other organisms. It seems to be quite a disservice to the randomness of life, that spawned us which spawned, among other things, Nintendo DS and Ipods, to pollute, pollute, pollute.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amwVyRH2B8A

The Best Marketing is to Not Produce Crap

I don't claim to be an expert on anything. I'm decent at hitting a punchline, probably better than the average hack comedian. I can run fairly fast, again faster than the average jogger pushing a twin stroller with a dalmation by his side. There are a couple things I can say with confidence I just know that others don't quite understand. Kind of like the Time Warner guy who comes and installs your internet. He does this within minutes with unfettered success and now you check your email and include crass remarks within your blog without having an idea where the hell the dude drilled or what cords connect to what. He knows what to do and how to do it, leaving you flabberghasted and yet, extremely satisfied. Are you listening ladies? I'm referring to oral sex.

Nonetheless, the proclamation of expertise is a blurred one to say the least. It's like every other book at the front of a Borders is either from some politician or a self-help 'expert.' Books about making money, picking up women, losing weight, and marketing are, themselves, a beautiful example of the double-edged sword that is capitalism. Producing a product. Marketing that product. Having people buy that product. But do the people get something out of it?

My answer: it depends. I've read several of these books (for free from the pubic library--and yes, my library ironically had the "l" stolen from the front of its building) that seem, at least to the simpleton I may very well be, convoluted information on bringing in complex and unrealistic systems of organization and structure into my daily life. Given I'm sure the reality of implementing this type of advice depends on the person, situation, goals, etc., I can't get around one major main idea that seems to at least be hinted at but rarely called out in many of these books. This main idea: Don't Produce Crap.

Find something you like and get good at it. Work hard and try to work smart. The systems of organization don't make sense to a lot of the people who buy it and/or offer practical implementation techniques. Even if they do, it has to be simpler. Much simpler. They don't need an expert's manual. They need a beginner's manual. We all need beginner's manuals for the things we do most of the time. When we have some talent or are considered at least decent at something, that's when we turn to reference manuals. Not books in pretty hard covers that overpromise, oversell and overmarket (and will often times tell us to do the same thing).

So to all who follow a passion, it is very easy to get caught in the trap of compensating for a lack of skill by overly marketing. In some cases, for the business men and women and comedians, you may make some money and/or become as famous as Bob Saget. But believe it or not, I suspect from a truly outsider's point-of-view, those have there slight downsides. The way to overcome is to produce work that people truly value. That's it. When the product you produce finds value in the hands or heart of others, then reach for that reference book at your local pubic library.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." Leonardo DaVinci

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcDCvQbOdig