What's The Point

One question: what's the goddamned point of all these? I mean, there are 6 billion people on the planet. What's the point? What's the point of our existence? Is there a point at all? Or are we just here randomly, for no reason whatsoever? I've been working my butt off half my life. For what? For a measly salary so I can buy food and feed myself. And I feed myself so I can continue working... to buy food and feed myself. It's a vicious cycle. This cycle will never end until I die. Then what? I DON'T KNOW. We're born, we live, we die. Story of everyone's lives. What's the point? God, if you're real, and you're really out there, you better answer this question. And don't you give me that crap about creating us so that we can worship and adore you, because that's just plain unfair and you know it. And if you're not real, then I hope some smart-ass scientist will read this and answer the question. I just want to know what the point is, if there is one. And if there's none, then we're all fucked anyway.

Rev. Rick Warren / Author of The Purpose Driven Life

This is an excerpt from the AlterNet.org article, "The Thirteen Scariest People in America". For the complete write-up, go to http://alternet.org/story/43586/

Scariest Proselytizer:: Rev. Rick Warren / Author of The Purpose Driven Life
by Greg Beato

It's not just Rev. Rick Warren's taste in casualwear that makes him so frightening, but that's part of it. Warren, the author of The Purpose Driven Life is a megalomaniac who disseminates his brand of evangelical Protestantism with the tireless zeal that Ray Kroc used to market Big Macs. His book has sold about 30 million copies worldwide since 2002. Saddleback Church, which he founded in Lake Forest, California in 1980, attracts more than 20,000 worshipers each weekend. His "seeker-sensitive" approach to the Gospel courts non-believers with rock music and other pop culture trappings. His sermons soft-pedal sin in favor of strategies for dealing with stress and marital discord.

A self-described "stealth evangelist" who believes in a "pluralistic America," Warren peppers The Purpose Driven Life with quotes from the very unholy likes of Anais Nin and Bertrand Russell. He champions progressive causes such as ending global poverty and AIDS, and he has teamed up with Bono and the U.N., to combat these scourges. Many conservative evangelicals condemn him as a neo-liberal. Fortune describes him as "secular America's favorite evangelical Christian." Warren, 52, who has PowerPointed the way to salvation for President Bush and Rupert Murdoch as well as Coca-Cola and Ford, says he's not right-wing or left-wing but rather "for the whole bird."

And, in fact, this may be true, as long as that bird is heterosexual, anti-abortion, gay marriage, embryonic stem cell research, euthanasia, "the tyranny of activist judges," and is completely committed to Christ.

Do secular liberals who applaud and enable Warren know that he aims to recruit "1 billion Christian foot soldiers" who are willing to do "whatever it takes" to turn the entire planet into a purpose-driven Kingdom of God? That his Purpose-Driven Ministries, he says, has trained more than 400,000 ministers and priests in 162 countries?

Typically, demagogues who dream of making the whole world conform to their single, uncompromising vision wear gaudy military uniforms that give them an immediately threat-ening veneer. Rick Warren, on the other hand, favors Hawaiian shirts decorated with large pineapples. Be very afraid.

Cell Phones? Hell Phones!

I completely agree with this write-up from Wired.com. Click the link and read on...
http://www.wired.com/news/columns/0,71814-0.html?tw=wn_index_28

A Prison With No Walls

In "The Matrix", Morpheus tells Neo that he is a slave. That he was "born into bondage, born into a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch. A prison for your mind." That's where I am in my life now. In a prison. I may not be in the matrix, but I am definitely in a place where I am held against my will. Where I am not free. Where my every action is questioned, my every thought scrutinized. I am bound and tied, yet there are no shackles or handcuffs. As with the matrix, I can't touch this prison. I can't smell it nor taste it. But I can definitely feel it. It's THERE. And I AM IN IT. Will I ever be free of this prison? I hope so, for my sanity's sake. For that is all I want in life, now: my freedom. To quote Alice in Chains (again), "I'd like to fly, but my wings have been so denied".

Oh to be free of myself,
With nothing left to remember,
To have my heart as bare
As a tree in December...
- Sara Teasdale, from "Flame and Shadow"

Enough With the 'One God' Stuff

In the world today, one ancient religious ideology, monotheism, stands out as especially dangerous, repressive and loony. (http://alternet.org/story/42025/)

Down In A Hole

by Alice in Chains

Bury me softly in this womb
I give this part of me for you
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers
In a tomb… in bloom

Down in a hole and I don't know
If I can be saved
See my heart I decorate it
Like a grave
You don't understand who they
Thought I was supposed to be
Look at me know a man
Who won't let himself be

Down in a hole, losin' my soul
Down in a hole, losin' control
I'd like to fly
But my wings have been so denied

Down in a hole and they've put all
The stones in their place
I've eaten the sun so my tongue
Have been burned of the taste
I have been guilty
Of kicking myself in the teeth
I will speak no more
Of my feelings beneath

Oh I want to be inside of you

Down in a hole losin' my soul
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
Down in a hole, out of control

I'd like to fly but my
Wings have been so denied

Irresponsibility and Trust

I have this friend, but I don't think I can call him a friend any longer. You see, we used to live together under one roof. My family was occupying one bedroom, his family was occupying the other. Now this guy, he's not a bad person, per se, but he is very irresponsible. There was a time when he didn't pay his rent for two whole months (or was that three?), without informing me, the real estate agent, or the owner. One day, out of the blue, the agent calls me up and says the rent has only been partially paid for the last few months. We split the rent 60/40, you see. Of course, the owner doesn't care how we split it, as long as it was paid in full. Which, obviously, was not. We've left the place now, thank god. But the turnover process to the new tenants hasn't been completed yet. Now, the agent informed me that this guy didn't pay his rent again for our last month there. And he hasn't even given back the access card to the back door of the condo, the keys to his room and to the main door. Both the owner and agent are pissed. Problem is, they're pissed at ME. They're telling me that it's MY responsibility. One other thing: the guy, my so-called friend, used chewing gum to stick his movie posters on the wall. Chewing freakin' gum! That's gross, stupid, and even illegal in some countries. How could he have done this? I took him in because I trusted him. Look where that trust led me to.

Post Script: to the people who used to stay in his room before he did, I've never apologized to you guys for being such a dork. I'm sorry. I don't even remember what the feud was about, but I sincerely apologize. It was pointless and childish of me. Looking back now, I wish you guys never left. It was much more ordered back then. Not to mention cleaner. If you're reading this, you know who you are. For those not in the know, one of them's named after a place in northern Italy, one has a nickname that sounds like that round toy with a string attached to it (no, it's not a top), and one of them's, well, cool. ;)

Newfound Eyes

I'm looking at my three-year-old son. He kinda reminds me of Dexter, actually. Maybe because they're both small and cute, and there's mischief in their eyes. But that mischief is harmless. What's actually there is innocence and awe. Everything he sees is a wonder. A parked car. A crawling snail on the sidewalk. Dripping water from an old airconditioner. He appreciates everything. He's happy when he's jumping on the bed, or taking a cold shower, or talking all this gibberish. I guess all kids his age are like that. Unlike us old folk, we're all so jaded. Been there, done that. We have so many, yet we want so much more. How I wish we could have the eyes of a child. Because to them, even repetition is something new. Maybe we can learn to just sit down and appreciate LIFE. Yes, I'm a pessimist, but there may be hope for me yet. And that goes the same for you.

Journey Of The Broke

That's JOB to me and you. It's the journey most of us take not out of choice, but out of necessity. It's about surviving through this world, and being broke while at it. Most people with jobs are broke. No matter what your job is. C'mon, admit it. You work your ass off the whole month, swallowing what little pride you have so you can hold on to that precious job, waiting until the end of the month (or the beginning, or the middle) for your wages. Once you receive it, what do you do? You pay your bills. The rent, the electricity, the water, the cable, the internet, the phone, and Lord knows what else. Some have "better" jobs, so they can afford to pay two phone bills, a monthly fee at the gym, the spa, the salon. And don't get me started on the credit card. Why, if money is the root of all evil, then the credit card is the water that feeds it. So after paying off everything, we enjoy what little we have left and spend it on things we don't need. And we're happy. For a while. Then we continue to work, burning away precious time for our companies that aren't even half grateful, while waiting for the next paycheck. It's a vicious cycle. Most people do it until they die. I've a feeling I'm going to be one of those. We all hate our jobs, but we all need it. We're dependent on it, because we don't know better. It's been said that the solution to this is to start your own business. I'm not talking about sidelines, selling pastries to your co-workers and such. No. I mean real business. The problem with most of us - including me. Heck, especially me - is that we don't know how to start, or are too afraid to leave the comfort zones of our jobs. We need to get out of our shells. We need to think outside the darned box. We need to see with a new pair of eyes. I'm not trying to give advice here. If you're one of those rarities that actually love their jobs, then kudos to you. It's more like I'm convincing myself, because I'm one of the fearful. The fearful, pitiful, pathetic lot in the journey of the broke.

Captain Jack vs Superman

I don't know about you, but I didn't like Superman Returns. Call me old-fashioned, but Christopher Reeve is the only Superman for me. That Brandon Routh guy is just too pretty for my taste. Yeah, maybe he got Reeve's Clark Kent down to a tee, but he's just not believeable in those tights. Then, there's Kate Bosworth, who's not worth a damn if she's not blonde. She may be nicer to look at than Margot Kidder, but, man, her acting sucks. Heck, I prefer Teri Hatcher's Lois to Kate's. Too bad she's now old and stuck in Wisteria Lane. Finally, there's Kevin Spacey, who was underused, underused, underused. Too little screen time. What a waste of talent.

Now, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, is something worth watching over and over again. It's the complete summer blockbuster. It was just plain FUN. You can never go wrong if you've got Depp on board. That man can act. Capt Jack can kick Superman's red butt anytime in my book. (Which is what Capt Jack will likely do, kick someone in the ass then run away!) Yes, I admit, the first 30 or so minutes didn't make a lot of sense. The plot was pretty hard to follow. I mean, how did they get in that island full of cannibals, anyway? But from there, the fun starts, and so does the story. Having a convoluted plot is better than having no plot at all (you listening, Bryan Singer?).

Okay, okay, I'm no critic. But it's MY blog, so I'll write whatever I want. I've seen a lot of those so-called critics on the telly, and I know now why they chose those careers. It's because they're too ugly to be actors, that's why! They loved Superman Returns, they didn't like Dead Man's Chest. Who cares? Not the movie-going public, that's for sure. But I still read their critiques. They amuse me. I even have a link to critiques in this site. In the end, though, I watch what I want, no matter what they say. To each his own, right?

(When it comes to The Da Vinci Code, though, I have to agree with them critics. That movie stunk to high heaven!)

In The Beginning

Here it is. The very first post. And I'm clueless. The last time I wrote a journal was back in the early 90's. Besides, this isn't really a journal. It's a... well... I don't know what it is! The nearest description (aside from the one provided above) is that this is a place where I'll rant and rave, and let the whole world know about it. That's right. I'm going to pick my brains off, and I'm letting you, dear reader, pick it off with me. But first, I need to hit the sack and catch some Z's. See you real soon!


Side note: I'm currently listening to Velvet Revolver's "Fall to Pieces". This band rocks. Will Supernova be like them? If they pick Magni, they just might. Out!