Well, they finally did it. They shut down my favorite place in the entire universe.
The Scottsdale Drive-In.
It was, incidentally, also the only thing in Scottsdale that I loved and/or respected.
The drive-in is the absolute best way to watch movies. We'd sneak in pizza, soda, bouncing castles, and the occasional endangered species.
I read about why the drive-in shut down. Since they didn't make money off of the movies, they had to make up for it with their concessions. And they didn't. That's when I realized that the drive-in shut down because of me.
It was really kind of a humbling experience. You see, I learned something about myself today. I learned that the movie industry is full of money hungry vultures and douche bags. I guess that's not really about me at all. I mean, I kind of learned that I should support the places I love instead of going there for the atmosphere. In the end, I suppose I'm the real vulture douche bag.
Sadly, it took something I love being taken away from me to realize that. Did your eyes get a little watery there? Neither did mine. I suppose it's difficult to mine for emotions when you're writing from a Starbucks.
Seriously though, Starbucks is an attractive succubus.
As I sit here enjoying the free Wi-Fi to compliment my cold glass of free water (I didn't even have to use my gift card!), I've realized that's it's all about independently owned businesses. The bigger we let these big companies get, the fewer cool places we'll have to go to. The truth is big companies are the reasons all of our jobs are going to China and India. And we all complain about it like we don't have a choice, but we're the ones who are financing these companies every time we buy something from them.
Small companies and little shops make me realize that any one of us can do the same thing. Big companies make me feel like a slave who does what he's told. The American dream isn't getting the cheapest price at Wal-Mart. I'd like to believe that the American dream is about finding your niche, doing what you love, and establishing yourself as a creator rather than a consumer. It's about becoming an individual who thinks for themselves and buys popcorn from the local drive-in.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The iPad 3
The Ghost of Christmas Future is about ready to knock down my front door with a barrage of television ads and gingerbread lattes. And he'll knock louder and louder as the days go by.
There will be traffic accidents, screaming customers, fist fights, road rage, credit card debt, layaway plans, obligations to buy gifts for people at the office, and then suddenly... there will be an awed hush on Christmas day.
Stores will be closed. Parking lots will be empty. Schools will be abandonded. Streets will only be trickling with a few randomly distributed cars as they make their way home. Smoke will rise from chimneys. The smell of fresh baked ham will permeate neighborhood streets. And for a few hours the animals will contemplate taking back the cities as their own land.
Then the next day there will be traffic accidents, screaming customers, fist fights, road rage, credit card declines, gift card declines, returns, regifting the things we got from people at the office, and then suddenly... we'll make some new year's resolutions to be better people.
And we do all of this because of one day out of the year.
Christmas, like the iPhone, is just another example of how controllable we humans are by the power of suggestion. I'm actually quite certain that if the devil were to come to Earth he would manifest himself in the form an iPad 3.
I've known some pretty cool Jehova's Witnesses who really opened my eyes. They told me they give gifts to each other on random days just for the hell of it. And I said to them, " Wait... you give gifts out of appreciation instead of obligation? What kind of fucked up religion is that?"
There's no law that states we will have our citizenship revoked if we celebrate Christmas on another day. We celebrate on December 25th because everyone else does it. We just do it because retailers tell us we should. God forbid we buy gifts for our friends and family any other day of the year. Jesus might come down from heaven, ripping his clothes off of his body in an Incredible-Hulk-like display of rage, and throw down the script he had written entitled "Earth!" to show us where we fucked up our lines.
That would never happen, of course. Christmas isn't about Jesus.
There will be traffic accidents, screaming customers, fist fights, road rage, credit card debt, layaway plans, obligations to buy gifts for people at the office, and then suddenly... there will be an awed hush on Christmas day.
Stores will be closed. Parking lots will be empty. Schools will be abandonded. Streets will only be trickling with a few randomly distributed cars as they make their way home. Smoke will rise from chimneys. The smell of fresh baked ham will permeate neighborhood streets. And for a few hours the animals will contemplate taking back the cities as their own land.
Then the next day there will be traffic accidents, screaming customers, fist fights, road rage, credit card declines, gift card declines, returns, regifting the things we got from people at the office, and then suddenly... we'll make some new year's resolutions to be better people.
And we do all of this because of one day out of the year.
Christmas, like the iPhone, is just another example of how controllable we humans are by the power of suggestion. I'm actually quite certain that if the devil were to come to Earth he would manifest himself in the form an iPad 3.
I've known some pretty cool Jehova's Witnesses who really opened my eyes. They told me they give gifts to each other on random days just for the hell of it. And I said to them, " Wait... you give gifts out of appreciation instead of obligation? What kind of fucked up religion is that?"
There's no law that states we will have our citizenship revoked if we celebrate Christmas on another day. We celebrate on December 25th because everyone else does it. We just do it because retailers tell us we should. God forbid we buy gifts for our friends and family any other day of the year. Jesus might come down from heaven, ripping his clothes off of his body in an Incredible-Hulk-like display of rage, and throw down the script he had written entitled "Earth!" to show us where we fucked up our lines.
That would never happen, of course. Christmas isn't about Jesus.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Humans are the Bees' Knees
We humans think we're pretty impressive.
We've sent men to the moon, split atoms, and created jelly beans that taste just like fingernails.
We feel pretty confident that if an alien race were to visit Earth we would be the first living thing they would want to make contact with. But what if as soon as the hatch of their flying saucers opened up, our people ran to the alien creatures to barrage them with questions and Mexican blankets only to be silenced?
"Hey, we appreciate the warm welcome, humans, but we're actually here for the honey badgers."
We tend to think we're the most advanced and intelligent lifeform on this planet, but it's on a human scale. I'm sure every lifeform thinks it's the most important one. Sure, we were probably all awe struck when the first airplane took flight, but I'm pretty sure the other millions of other lifeforms on the planet didn't notice (except for the migrating geese that found it more of an annoyance). To me, that represents complete and utter insignificance.
Let's imagine for a moment that a bee wasted its valuable time learning English and was able to have a discussion with a human.
Bee: "What'd you do today?"
Human: "Well, I drove my polluting Lexus to work where I then made sales calls from my iPhone 4 to people who probably don't really need to have what I'm selling. Then they bought it with the money they made from their job because they feel they need to spend money on possessions that will clutter their house until they die. Then their family will throw it all away or sell to someone else and the cycle will repeat itself. What did you do today?"
Bee: "I left my colony, in which we all do equal parts and don't pay a dime, to fly around the air all day and stop to suckle nectar from the occasional flower and spread pollen in order to pollinate other plants in the area. Then I made honey and slept like a baby that had slipped into a bee-sting-induced coma."
Human: "Are you accepting applications?"
Bee: "I'm afraid we're looking for someone with a different skill set."
We've sent men to the moon, split atoms, and created jelly beans that taste just like fingernails.
We feel pretty confident that if an alien race were to visit Earth we would be the first living thing they would want to make contact with. But what if as soon as the hatch of their flying saucers opened up, our people ran to the alien creatures to barrage them with questions and Mexican blankets only to be silenced?
"Hey, we appreciate the warm welcome, humans, but we're actually here for the honey badgers."
We tend to think we're the most advanced and intelligent lifeform on this planet, but it's on a human scale. I'm sure every lifeform thinks it's the most important one. Sure, we were probably all awe struck when the first airplane took flight, but I'm pretty sure the other millions of other lifeforms on the planet didn't notice (except for the migrating geese that found it more of an annoyance). To me, that represents complete and utter insignificance.
Let's imagine for a moment that a bee wasted its valuable time learning English and was able to have a discussion with a human.
Bee: "What'd you do today?"
Human: "Well, I drove my polluting Lexus to work where I then made sales calls from my iPhone 4 to people who probably don't really need to have what I'm selling. Then they bought it with the money they made from their job because they feel they need to spend money on possessions that will clutter their house until they die. Then their family will throw it all away or sell to someone else and the cycle will repeat itself. What did you do today?"
Bee: "I left my colony, in which we all do equal parts and don't pay a dime, to fly around the air all day and stop to suckle nectar from the occasional flower and spread pollen in order to pollinate other plants in the area. Then I made honey and slept like a baby that had slipped into a bee-sting-induced coma."
Human: "Are you accepting applications?"
Bee: "I'm afraid we're looking for someone with a different skill set."
Monday, November 7, 2011
'Tis the Season
I don't know about you people (and I'm not saying that because all of my readers are black), but I'm getting a little tired of having Christmas thrust in my face like a stripper's money-hungry, pine-scented crotch the day after Halloween.
We're now celebrating Christmas for a full two months before its calendar date. That's one sixth of the year that is devoted to Christmas. During the Christmas season, I'll get two oil changes.
I predict that twenty years from now the Christmas season will begin immediately following Labor Day.
Christmas is by far the most greed-fueled holiday in the entire Milky Way galaxy. When I think about Jesus and the things he taught us, I don't remember the part about punching someone in the spleen in order to get the last Call of Duty game. It's ironic that we celebrate the birth of someone who taught us about love, compassion, sacrifice, and forgiveness this way.
I'm not even a religious man, but I know hypocrisy when I see it. That's why I'm proposing a new set of rules for how Christmas is to be celebrated.
1. Instead of presents, we will exchange children for the day and force them to act out scenes from 'Total Recall'.
2. Instead of cutting down trees to put in our living rooms, we'll hang up pictures of Katy Perry made entirely of macaroni.
3. Instead of Christmas music, we'll only be able to listen to recordings of great political debates reenacted by Patrick Stewart and Oscar the Grouch.
4. Instead of putting lights on our houses, we'll stick catnip in our pants.
5. And instead of kissing someone every time we step beneath mistletoe, we'll cover ourselves in chicken broth every time someone says the word 'cynicism'.
We're now celebrating Christmas for a full two months before its calendar date. That's one sixth of the year that is devoted to Christmas. During the Christmas season, I'll get two oil changes.
I predict that twenty years from now the Christmas season will begin immediately following Labor Day.
Christmas is by far the most greed-fueled holiday in the entire Milky Way galaxy. When I think about Jesus and the things he taught us, I don't remember the part about punching someone in the spleen in order to get the last Call of Duty game. It's ironic that we celebrate the birth of someone who taught us about love, compassion, sacrifice, and forgiveness this way.
I'm not even a religious man, but I know hypocrisy when I see it. That's why I'm proposing a new set of rules for how Christmas is to be celebrated.
1. Instead of presents, we will exchange children for the day and force them to act out scenes from 'Total Recall'.
2. Instead of cutting down trees to put in our living rooms, we'll hang up pictures of Katy Perry made entirely of macaroni.
3. Instead of Christmas music, we'll only be able to listen to recordings of great political debates reenacted by Patrick Stewart and Oscar the Grouch.
4. Instead of putting lights on our houses, we'll stick catnip in our pants.
5. And instead of kissing someone every time we step beneath mistletoe, we'll cover ourselves in chicken broth every time someone says the word 'cynicism'.
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