Ringin' His Bell

Benjamin Golden was a Taco Bell corporate employee who was caught on video slapping and assaulting an Uber driver. If you watched the tape, you'd think he should get prison time. I don't fault you for feeling that way. The guy is a jerk.

What I'm curious about is the social media's piling on of this crime. How much punishment should this guy get? It seems nowadays we aren't happy unless the guy kills himself. The name "Benjamin Golden" will most likely not get him far in future job interviews. And to a lot of you who saw the footage, you may say "Great! Let him fry." But you seem to also be the same person who believes alcoholism is a disease. So...are you in essence punishing someone with an ailment?

Again, I'm not saying it's good or bad, it's just that we have a tendency to really let our outrage get in the way of figuring out none of this effects our life in the least. It only comes down to the Uber driver's well being, which I am happy to say, survived this attack.

It's pretty vicious, to say the least, but I can't but feel a twinge of hypocrisy in who we decide to put under the flames of social pariahs.

Show Us Your Ass!

So there’s this internet chick named Essena O'Neill about 18 years old from Australia who is talking about how the perception of her life on social media has been a total fraud. That what seems like “the charmed life” she leads is nothing but a fabrication of lies and trying her hardest to make people believe she lives an amazing life, when in reality, she has been cultivating her image through social media. In other words, her fame takes work to pretend to be famous. Ahem…DUUUUUUUHHHHH…

With 750,000 followers on Instagram (most likely started with filthy pervy codgers like me), I would say, the proof is in the pudding. And now with this new whine, I would say she’s primed to hit over a mil by lunch this afternoon. What great promotion, I’d say. I’d also say…bitch, go manage a fucking Lit’le Caesar’s pizza place and come whine to me about what you’re doing. A TON of people would love to do what you’re doing. I mean, kids your age, since old crusty women, flaming old queers and or shitbags like me don’t have the energy to keep on this charade the way a 15 year old does for three years until they’re legal.

I guess what she’s really saying is that being famous isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. If you think about the work that is involved, I can see why it would melt her brain. People who see you in person probably are shocked to see how normal you look. Or that people will make harsh comments, solicit sex, and all sorts of devious behavior done behind the comforts of a keyboard (like blogging for instance).

You do have to wonder what piece of life lesson an 18 year old must have to dole out to people twice her age. The answer: none. As the bad lieutenant once said “show me your ass.” Did he really care he stopped two teen just sitting parked in a car? No. Did he want either to share their opinion? Nope. He just wanted to masturbate in front of them while high on heroin.

So....18 year old Australian chick with a hot body who struggles to maintain B.S. identity…show us your ass!!

Cardiac Cats Back In The Light

Aaaa…the black and orange…conjures up what?...Hallowe’en? Maybe…this year, if you’re a football fan, may remind you of a jungle cat that’s been obscure to most NFL fans.

Sorry for talking football, but are the Cincinnati Bengals for real?

This is the first time in their history that they are 7-0. This is close to 50 years of first being founded. That is insanely futile. But what can you do. History is not kind to us or our fans.

Speaking of which, I found the biggest Bengals bar in Los Angeles. When they beat the Steelers on November 1, 2015 to go undefeated, I was at 5 Line near Glendale. It was amazing to see so many of the orange and black represent. For the longest time I’d sit silently at Pat’s Cocktail in Valley Village, CA being the ONLY Bengals fan. Now, we all united. And it was great to see so many age groups represented. From babies to the elderly, this was Bengal territory. Which I can only describe as the Bengals Embassy. Grounds specifically for us. One thing I will say…there are stunningly beautiful Bengal fans there. I’m certain they are actors but I saw one that looked a supermodel and another that was clearly a stand-in for Olivia Wilde. I was proud to see pretty girls wearing Bengals gear. Especially as I just got back from Cincy, it softened the blow of being back in Los Angeles. Even more humorous that I heard a recipe for Skyline Chili standing outside with the Bengal faithful.

I love my Bengal peeps. We’ve all suffered too long. It must be a great sign we’re coming out from hibernation…somewhere. But, as a typical suffering fan…I’ll wait till January to buy into ‘em. Until then…

Who Dey!

Happy Hallowe'en

Damn, I wish I was a kid in the midwest during this time. People got crazy over it in Ohio. As the leaves fall, and in the distance you smell burning leaves (mostly from me burning them), you see homemade graveyards, cobwebs on bushes and goofy skeletons. It's really everyone attempting to do everyone else in curbside freak out. Kids get nuts over it. Kids who aren't teens. My 16 year old nephew is a jerk about it. He doesn't give a hoot. I guess that's the nerd in us, and the jock in him.

I love Hallowe'en. Except in Hollywood. It scares me out here, because everyday is a freak show. So, it's really just a normal day. I know...hack joke. But it's true. I work at transvestite prostitute (say that three times fast) corner, so it doesn't freak me out. But it's really a moment for bad behavior. Which I wish I had the energy and motivation to participate in. Instead, to me, it's mostly about seeing all the creative costumes out there.

I visited a friend's Mom back in Ohio. She use to cook Thanksgiving dinner for me and her family. She didn't fuck around with it either. Big meal, coma afterwards. Anyway, she leads a ghost hunter thing. They visit haunted Cincinnati. That town is seriously crazy haunted. And I don't even believe in ghosts. There was this building called the City Barn. Apparently, this was a place that stored equipment for city maintenance. That meant horse stables (as they were needed to pull heavy gear up hills):

photo by Robby Virus "

"Front view of the City Barn building in the Avondale neighborhood of Cincinnati, located at 3516 Vine across from Glenmary Avenue. Built in 1896 to house the horses that pulled the horse-drawn trolleys. Now it stands abandoned."

 

Now I'm not saying all old buildings are haunted, but a musty smelling building that's been abandoned does conjure up odd feelings. As does the cemetery that happens to be down the street and is from the Civil War era. I think that's why I love the Civil War so much, the lands battles were fought on still exist. It's beautiful and scary. I wonder if any tramp out here ever dressed as a sexy Confederate. Not much is sacred anymore.

The Return

As I sit by the terminal on my out of Cincinnati, I look back at the fun times I had in this town. The swervy trip I took with my high school bud Kurt through Cincinnati historical sites. All the way down through downtown and thereabouts. Saw the rebirth of the area. Really really beautiful.

I made a road trip up to Columbus in a rain storm. It brought back memories of going up to see high school friends who went to college early. Also got to drive past the Horseshoe. The site of the undisputed National Champions THE Ohio State Buckeyes. But more importantly, got to burn some time with my friend Shayne, who was a big part in making bad moments in high school so much more tolerable. I kicked around a bonfire with my parents and oldest sister. To which, we barbecued chicken wings, and breaded Tyson chicken strips (this is a nutty sister). Then drove to Northern Kentucky to see my Dad's old business partner's daughter whom I've known since 3 years of age. Then a jaunt to the historical town of Lebanon, where Ashley filled me in on her family, whose Mother would share Marlboro Mediums with me. We both downshifted to Lights. Then just quit. I smoked cigars while doing yardwork at my sister's home. But more importantly, I spent a great deal of time with my niece Kayla. She is the sprite of a girl that doesn't understand the harsh realities of life yet. Nor do I want to vomit any of it. She is a princess in a castle and at 5 years of age does not conclude their situation. If I could, I would throw all my money towards her growing up to be this princess. Something I'd not been able to do with my own history. But it doesn't help. I saw this in my 16 year old nephew. A boy who had two sets of kin fighting for his attention. And then disappearing into adolescence. I don't blame him. Teens now are much more sophisticated and NONE of it has anything to do with me. I do my best to integrate my wisdom, but that's for him to figure out now. I argue with my sister that he will find his way. It took me a while and a ton of back and forth with Mom, but we eventually learned to respect each other, as we dodge landmines together.

In a sense, life is adding people to a boat dodging mines. The more people you add the more work you have to do to shift the tides to dodge these disasters. Coordinating it all, you start to gain the experience to figure it out. Until, it's just...over.

Adios to Cincinnati for now. And Happy Hallowe'en to the rest of ya.

My Old School

Sorry, not the Steely Dan classic.
I drove by my old high school last night. It's very different now. Re-vamped into a monster building with state of the art shit. I recognize so very little of it now. It use to be pretty bare. Though we only graduated with a few over 100 senior kids, lessee that's roughly 400 in the entire school back in 1993. Now we're talking that many in one class. So they had to expand. More kids means more money...I guess. Indian Hill High is still crazy wealthy snobs. Designer clothes, with luxury cars. You look through the halls there are the typical preppies that you could pick out like they were from the 1980's. Though class warfare wasn't like it was when I grew up, it still seems to make a difference to the have-nots. I wager.

The one thing overall is that we'r so removed from it now. Closing in on 23 years away, it seems like longer. It's hard to remember everything we went through in two decades, but a single year also changes the dynamic of the person you are. I caught up with so many people now, and for the most part, we've all settled into our lot in life. A lot have families now and are immersed in those things. Some continue to be on the fray of putting those years behind them. I understand. The sensibilities of high school must come to an end at some point. I look around my own home that I grew up in, and what started as a place where I re-live history is now a place I fight to remember who I was then. Those memories don't come to me. Neither do the emotions that go with it. It use to. But it doesn't anymore. I think the further you are from it, the longer it may take to excise it from your life. Then you can move on. I think the first step was to let go of the boozing. This seems to stunt one emotionally. Why wouldn't it? Just surprise many more didn't lean on it to dull the memories. Good memories? Maybe...but for the most part, I think we're still trying to make heads or tails of it. Even if it means through our kids.

I know everyone has moved on with their life, and the ones I've met don't look back too far. It's probably best not to. What is best is to enjoy the time you do have with who you can, when you can.

A Child's Perspective

My niece Kayla is 5 years old and surprises me with the most interesting observations sealed in complete sentences. Children pick up your speech patterns and regurgitate. It's very adult for her to speak this properly, but, in truth, more than likely she is mimicking you.

I realize a lot of people love their young family member, as I do. The vacant, sometimes curious but open faced big eyed smile when pressured for homework, really does a number on your toughness. The learning curve is impressive, as their little heads and brains absorb the world they live in.

The day before, I'd been hanging out with Kayla while watching over her to do homework. I spotted a odd drawing on the floor. It was a bunch of brown lines criss-crossing each other. To which I asked what it was. She told me it was a snowflake. Instead of placating this nonsense, I briskly told her that snowflakes are not brown. They are, at the very least, blue. She looked at the drawing for a little bit. Then as acknowledgement of my opinion, proceeded to grab a blue crayon and fill in blue lines in between the brown ones. She seemed content to fix the issue right then and there. I thought nothing of it again.

I went to visit my sister again today. To which Kayla had just come home from school. She was bouncing around the living room. My sister gave me her weekly homework to do with her. Kayla disappeared into her room and darted back to me with a drawing. It was a brand spanking new crayon drawing of strictly blue lines criss-crossing each other. To which I understood to be a snowflake.

It is bizarre what an effect you really have on children, whether you realize it or not.