"To shrink from challenges, is to shrink one's soul."
"Faith, carries one on through times of no security in one's understanding, capabilities or resources. One should therefore, strive to run on faith as little as possible."
==Murdock
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Avoiding paradoxes, ignoring the Folds of Life
We do things in life, mainly to avoid paradoxes. We avoid paradoxes, and we ignore folds.
Some people, some poor damaged ones, seek out life's paradoxes in the form of what we allude to as, "drama". They seek it, they crave it. They Think they have to have it. They don't. Zen masters have been trying to tell us that for years, as have Buddhas from time immemorial.
Be calm.
Look about you. See what there is to see.
Take origami. It is an art form that exists simply of itself. A painter adds paint to a medium, a canvas; a sculptor chips away and off of his medium. Origami, takes of itself and that is all there is. It is natural. It is a simple thing, to fold paper. But if you seek out the most creative orgami on earth, you will be amazed by the form and structure, the creativity and detail that can be involved in something so simple. In hundreds of folds, or one; one being as complex in many ways, as a hundred.
It is a utter paradox, that to simply fold some paper, you can create a paradox.
We choose to avoid paradoxes because it complicates life and we typically have little enough time to devote to ourselves, without adding to it, by making life more complex with the addition of yet another paradox.
However, much of the beauty and value in life has much to do, with paradoxes. And folds. Things you avoid, things you ignore. We do not see much of life around us, and that is a shame. Why? Because, I do not think we were designed to be that way.
You see, we need to have time in our lives, in our day to day living, where we can look, simply look, and see, and yes, simply see, both the fascination around us, and the beauty that surrounds us; everywhere. At all times.
You can fold not just paper, but many, many other things, like Human proteins, even space; theoretically anyway.
I'm not saying that we should go out and seek paradoxes. There is after all, a reason we avoid them. What I'm saying is that we need to "pay more attention".
Think about that phrase a moment. To pay, attention. It's inherent in the dynamic. We do need to pay for our time in giving attention to things. To pay, is to take from one area of our lives, indeed, even as in money, currency, filthy lucre, to pay for our being able to do something else. You pay for gas, so you can drive your car. You pay in losing time, to be able to notice things you do not usually have the time, or the energy, the luxury, of examining; experiencing for your pleasure.
All I am saying here, is that we really should pay for it, take the time, make the time, adjust your life in order to live more. Just as we should not live beyond our means so that we do not live in debt, also we should live with the allowing for the time to seek out life's paradoxes; to observe the folds around us and how to fold things in interesting ways; to make new things, to learn new things, to feel new emotions, to enjoy life more.
Seek the paradoxes. Find the folds.
Some people, some poor damaged ones, seek out life's paradoxes in the form of what we allude to as, "drama". They seek it, they crave it. They Think they have to have it. They don't. Zen masters have been trying to tell us that for years, as have Buddhas from time immemorial.
Be calm.
Look about you. See what there is to see.
Take origami. It is an art form that exists simply of itself. A painter adds paint to a medium, a canvas; a sculptor chips away and off of his medium. Origami, takes of itself and that is all there is. It is natural. It is a simple thing, to fold paper. But if you seek out the most creative orgami on earth, you will be amazed by the form and structure, the creativity and detail that can be involved in something so simple. In hundreds of folds, or one; one being as complex in many ways, as a hundred.
It is a utter paradox, that to simply fold some paper, you can create a paradox.
We choose to avoid paradoxes because it complicates life and we typically have little enough time to devote to ourselves, without adding to it, by making life more complex with the addition of yet another paradox.
However, much of the beauty and value in life has much to do, with paradoxes. And folds. Things you avoid, things you ignore. We do not see much of life around us, and that is a shame. Why? Because, I do not think we were designed to be that way.
You see, we need to have time in our lives, in our day to day living, where we can look, simply look, and see, and yes, simply see, both the fascination around us, and the beauty that surrounds us; everywhere. At all times.
You can fold not just paper, but many, many other things, like Human proteins, even space; theoretically anyway.
I'm not saying that we should go out and seek paradoxes. There is after all, a reason we avoid them. What I'm saying is that we need to "pay more attention".
Think about that phrase a moment. To pay, attention. It's inherent in the dynamic. We do need to pay for our time in giving attention to things. To pay, is to take from one area of our lives, indeed, even as in money, currency, filthy lucre, to pay for our being able to do something else. You pay for gas, so you can drive your car. You pay in losing time, to be able to notice things you do not usually have the time, or the energy, the luxury, of examining; experiencing for your pleasure.
All I am saying here, is that we really should pay for it, take the time, make the time, adjust your life in order to live more. Just as we should not live beyond our means so that we do not live in debt, also we should live with the allowing for the time to seek out life's paradoxes; to observe the folds around us and how to fold things in interesting ways; to make new things, to learn new things, to feel new emotions, to enjoy life more.
Seek the paradoxes. Find the folds.
Encyclopedia Dramatica
Have you heard about the Encyclopedia Dramatica?
Its acerbic,satirical, base, sometimes nauseating and occasionally quite funny.
But it could be worth a look if you are looking to kill some time.
Hard to say it better than Wikipedia.
"Encyclopædia Dramatica is a satirical open wiki built on MediaWiki software. Launched on December 10, 2004, it satirizes both encyclopedic topics and current events, especially those related to or relevant to internet culture. It is also associated with the internet subculture Anonymous. The site's "elaborate trolling culture", chronicling of internet trolling, use of content with shock value, and criticism of other internet communities have all gained media coverage and commentary. Some of the content on Encyclopædia Dramatica has been called "flamingly racist and misogynist", sexually explicit or otherwise disturbing, including uncensored material taken from shock sites.
"Encyclopædia Dramatica was founded in 2004 by Sherrod DeGrippo, also known as "Girlvinyl". It characterizes itself as "[d]one in the spirit of Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary". The New York Times has characterized the wiki as "an online compendium of troll humor and troll lore" that it labeled a "troll archive". C't, a European magazine for IT-professionals, noted the site's role in introducing newcomers to the culture of 4chan's /b/, a notorious Internet imageboard. An author has said that it is a platform from which to initiate "exchange between the sensitive and the cruel" in order to achieve the "joy of disrupting another’s emotional equilibrium" because it "intentionally disrupts online communities" whose members have an "emotional investment" in them. Encyclopædia Dramatica defines trolling in terms of doing things "for the lulz" (for laughs), a phrase that it qualifies as "a catchall explanation for any trolling you do.""
Its acerbic,satirical, base, sometimes nauseating and occasionally quite funny.
But it could be worth a look if you are looking to kill some time.
Hard to say it better than Wikipedia.
"Encyclopædia Dramatica is a satirical open wiki built on MediaWiki software. Launched on December 10, 2004, it satirizes both encyclopedic topics and current events, especially those related to or relevant to internet culture. It is also associated with the internet subculture Anonymous. The site's "elaborate trolling culture", chronicling of internet trolling, use of content with shock value, and criticism of other internet communities have all gained media coverage and commentary. Some of the content on Encyclopædia Dramatica has been called "flamingly racist and misogynist", sexually explicit or otherwise disturbing, including uncensored material taken from shock sites.
"Encyclopædia Dramatica was founded in 2004 by Sherrod DeGrippo, also known as "Girlvinyl". It characterizes itself as "[d]one in the spirit of Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary". The New York Times has characterized the wiki as "an online compendium of troll humor and troll lore" that it labeled a "troll archive". C't, a European magazine for IT-professionals, noted the site's role in introducing newcomers to the culture of 4chan's /b/, a notorious Internet imageboard. An author has said that it is a platform from which to initiate "exchange between the sensitive and the cruel" in order to achieve the "joy of disrupting another’s emotional equilibrium" because it "intentionally disrupts online communities" whose members have an "emotional investment" in them. Encyclopædia Dramatica defines trolling in terms of doing things "for the lulz" (for laughs), a phrase that it qualifies as "a catchall explanation for any trolling you do.""
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Catholic school, uniforms, reputations and explosives
I sat in the eighth grade Holy Rosary Catholic school class in Tacoma, WA, wearing my Catholic school uniform, and wondered; how had I gotten here? I had been abused by these "nice" kids, beaten by the ancient Nun who was our teacher and Principle and abused by the alter boys (no, not in that way, either, nor did the Priests, ever).
I looked around the room. Everyone wore the standard dress, dark blue sweater, black slacks (or immensely ugly skirts for girls, except for their length which a few of the more attractive girls were always trying to raise the hem on), black patent leather shoes, white shirt.
It was supposed to be the great equalizer, wearing the same clothing throughout the entire school. No one was better than anyone else. It was a grand design, a wonderful concept. There was no concern about gang violence back then, in our Parish anyway. No concern about someone getting killed over what they were wearing. Just that thought that no one was better than anyone else. Someone should have told those kids though. Because it was quite apparent some kids were better than other, or thought they were, or most certainly, had more money than others.
Of course, the rich kids, all had about five or six complete outfits; when their clothing got worn out, it got replaced. The poor kids all had but one set of the uniform, which they wore every day of the school year, if at all possible, and year after year until it was either too out sized or you were told you could no longer wear it, wherein it was given away, sold, or handed down to the next sibling line in line, again, if at all possible. Those kids were easy to spot. Their shoes were scuffed, their sweaters had holes in them, which the kids tended to keep their hands over in order to hide their poverty, and which usually made the holes grow even bigger with time.
In reality, there really was no equalizing accomplished by way of wearing a uniform. It only ended up making us all look like dweebs. And embarrassed the more poor kids in that they couldn't adjust their wardrobe with whatever they had available, or whatever hand-me-down they could acquire from an older sibling.
I'm not going to argue the use of uniforms relaxes the issues with gang signs, or physical abuse. I had plenty of physical abuse in that uniformed school.
I had been in seventh grade, having gone through public school from the beginning. But my little brother, five years my junior, started in Catholic school (I have no idea why) from the beginning. When I had problems in public school we gave thought to my moving to a Catholic school where I'd be more protected and comfortable.
I had gotten in a little bit of trouble in public school, you see.
A guy in 7th grade gave me a few firecrackers. Seems his dad went over to Idaho to pick up illegal fireworks for the 4th of July. So, bright one I was, a friend and I went out into the football field, to the other side, by the street, away from the school building, at lunch, no one around, and we lit the device, threw it into a pile of sawdust and it went bang. We laughed. Walked back to the school building, an old brick thing from the medieval times.
As we were walking up the stairs, the Vice Principle was coming out the huge, double, thick wooden doors. We said, "Hi." Trying to be nice. He said, "Hi boys." We all took a few steps, continuing on. Suddenly, he stopped, I think he made the connection, explosion, no one in the field, two boys walking in off the field, kind of a no brainer now that I think about it, but back then, we were amazed at his super powers of reasoning.
He drug us both back to the office. He went through our lockers. He talked to the other guy first who walked out looking dejected and I assumed he gave me up. I was escorted in to his office. Now, the Vice Principle, was a hard assed kind of guy, I liked the Principle far more. He pressured me, used all kinds of weird techniques, like asking me where I got the firecracker. He said, "You know firecrackers are against the law, right?"
I said, "No, I didn't. They aren't against the law." I assumed acting stupid would help my case. He said, "You don't believe me? Would you like to hear it from a police officer?" I thought, cool, yeah, I'd prefer to get this kind of information from a direct source. Really, that was what I was thinking, I had the best of intentions. He said, "Okay, I'll call them." He did.
"Hello? This is the Vice Principle of Stewart Jr. High school (I was there 1967-70). I have a young man here who does not believe that firecrackers are against the law. He wanted to talk with a policeman about it. Okay, here you go." He handed me the phone.
"The officer said we have a real trouble maker here." My face dropped. "WHAT?" I thought. 'Here is what we will do, you tell me where you got the fireworks from, and that will be the end of it. Of course, I will want you to tell your mother to expect a phone call from." He drilled me until I gave up a name. And that, was the end of my Jr High school career in public school. Until, I had earned my way back from the abyss, that is.
The next day I got to school and was told by several kids my life was forfeit. They said if the kid I got the firecracker from, if his dad got in trouble with the law over this, over my giving him up (of course I tried to put blame on the other kid as the snitch, but it didn't work), they were going to beat me up every day of my life from then on. After a few altercations, and my being increasingly stressed out about going to school day after day, my mother asked me if I wanted to leave school. 'Oh yes,' I thought.
Speaking of my mother. The day that happened with the Vice Principle, I went home and no one was there. My mother called pretty soon to say she was at her girlfriend Virginia's house. So I told her what happened. Honestly. That the VP said he'd be calling her. So she recounted what I had done that was so terrible. She verified that I was careful. She understood my reasoning, then she broke up laughing.
'I thought, how cool. My mom is so cool.' Then she caught herself and said Mom stuff, like oh I suppose I shouldn't laugh, but you were careful, still, you shouldn't have done that and don't do it again, okay? I said, no problem, no more explosives at school. That was the end of it. Other than my waiting on the VP to call.
Well, finally, he did. A week later and was he pissed. I got home from school and my mom told me what happened. He called and said he had told me for my mom to call him (he didn't say that). She told him I had immediately told him and that she had been waiting on his phone call; that what I did, really wasn't that big a deal and they made far too much over it, and proceeded to read him the infamous riot act.
My mom had always said that if her kid were wrong in something, she'd be the first to admit it; but if her kid wasn't wrong, or was being treated badly, she'd be right in somebody's face over it. I thought the VP had treated me underhandedly. Seems my mom thought so too.. So should she have punished me? Well, I never did it again. Isn't that the purpose of the punishment? I felt more loyal to my mom and was willing to not do whatever she wanted.
I never did anything like that again. Until High School, but I didn't blow off anything at school ever again.
But my life was on the line and I was tired of being stressed out every single day so I said, yes, finally. She called. I was there. They asked, is he a good boy, we only take on good children. I was starting to feel good about this. She made sure from my mom I would promise to be good and on my best behavior. And I tried.
But, my experience was, I never had as many fights in school, ever again. Thank God, I had been fighting Karate tournaments for a couple of years. So I got the uniform, started going to the same school as little brother. And duly got teased, abused, battered, set up, and berated for a solid 8th grade year of school. I was resented and rejected by the alter boys because I refused to join them as I was head alter boy at St. Joe's, something they never understood. So when the alter boys, all the 8th grade boys, got a day off from school for a field trip, I had to stay with the girls, who either wanted nothing to do with me, or vice versa.
Legend tells it, by the way, that years later was carried kicking and screaming out of the home the Nuns lived at, to go to the old Nuns home. She, my friends, was really odd.
One time, the boys all go in a circle around me, about twenty feet across, and took turns throwing the basketball at my head until I was so sick and in pain I was going to throw up. They wouldn't stop, so finally I said, "That's it, I've had it, I'm outta here." I walked off to walk home. They yelled at me in fear, "HEY, you can't leave, you'll get in trouble!" I said, "Oh yeah, watch me." I walked home.
Another time, my mother came to pick me up, there must have been about six inches of slush on the ground. My mother pulled the car up in the school yard as it was all part of the parking area. My little brother got in. The kids were all about, milling around, heading out, waiting for rides. I was about to get in the car, my mother standing by the driver's side door, when a big old slushball hit the seat and exploded all through the car. I turned around, everyone was laughing. I felt at the time, like I will put up with all the abuse, all the humiliation, but once you bring my family into it, that's it!
Little did I know, one of the two kids involved in the pushing incident, had been riding by on a bike, and he threw it. But with all the kids laughing and jeering, boys and girls, I simply grabbed the closest kid. I started yelling at him, "Who did it!" He responded by taking a swing at me. I grabbed both his shoulders by his shirt. He took another swing, I couldn't believe how bad he was at fighting (remember I'd been going to the dojo for years, nearly every day of the week sometimes). He hit my shoulder, sad really. Then he did something stupid, he tried to trip me. I was very good at not getting tripped in a tournament fight. So I showed him how to do it.
But when he hit the ground, I was so pissed off, and this was the only time this ever happened in my life, I was so mad that I hit him in the head while he was down. It felt so good, the release, that I hit him in the head again, and six more times, before I could realize I was counting my hits and not going to stop. It scared me so bad, all that year of abuse by these kids, that it all flooded out into this one kid that wasn't the sole reason for all of my woes. I stopped. Stood up, looked around, everyone was quiet, not a sound.
I walked away. I got three steps and heard him get up. Now, tournament fighting gives you a 6th sense. And I knew, he was about to jump me, so I threw a back kick, directly into his center, taking out his testicles perfectly and he went down again like a wet rag. After a few moments, he got up, and yelled at my mom: "Your son is a dirty fighter!" And he shambled off behind the church, where I heard later by a kid that went to him, that 1) he was going to jump me, and 2) I got him really good with that last kick. From then on these kids backed off from me a bit and my reputation for years to come was sealed.
By time I graduated, I had their respect and fear. Rather than go to an all boys Catholic Prep school, Bellarmine Prep, I opted for 9th grade back at the same Jr. High school. But things were different. I had a rep now. Once I hit High School the following year, more of the boys from 8th grade were there and told people, "Don't mess with him, I've seen him do damage repeatedly" and so was born, my reputation that followed me through High School and beyond. Thanks guys.
As I said before, I never blew off any more fireworks at school, ever again. I only possessed; a couple of Black kids, our school was half black and the lowest income ranking in Tacoma, picked me up as I was leaving the student lounge (which only they year before you were allowed to smoke in, you could see the burn marks on furniture), carried me to the back wall of the lounge, slammed me against the wall up off my feet and said, "We hear you have fireworks, give us some." So...I did, but told them, brazenly, do NOT use them on campus; I've had bad experiences with that."
When I came to school the next day, I was called into the Principle's office. I had no idea why. I sat there for a while, then Principle Willie came in. I didn't like our VP; I had known him from the Jr High experience, so I was pretty happy it wasn't him, regardless what was going on. Willie (who had a great Flip Wilson act and did it at every reasonable chance, and very well, indeed) sat across his desk, folded his hands, smiled and said, "Okay Murdock, what is it this time." I liked this guy, everyone liked this guy.
"I said, I have no idea."
He said, "Something about fireworks?" I thought, "Oh, crap, not again. And I didn't even do anything this time.' He said, 'Two young men were caught blowing off firecrackers on campus yesterday and they said they got them from you." I sighed. Then I told him exactly what happened. But I said I found them, this time. No one to tell on; no matter what, after my last experience, I wasn't snitching on anyone. I told him they forced them from me, and I was only taking them home, that I told them not not use them on campus.
He was cool, as always and said, "Tell you what, gather up all remaining firecrackers and turn them in to me tomorrow and we'll just forget this ever happened, okay?" See, he was the coolest, and really, that's all it needed. He had far worse things to deal with at that school. We had a guy pulled from gym class, from the locker room, for robbing the bank across the street once. I feared for my life walking down a hallway alone. I'd had some run ins with the Black kids who all seemed to "have attitude".
So, I gathered up what was left from people (none) and gave him half of what I had left, the next day. He looked in the brown paper bag and said, wow, that's a lot; and looked at me like I wasn't a lost cause after all. He was always such a gentleman when we had dealings and we grew to respect one another. As for the VP, he always sucked. Straight laced, hard assed, tall, thin like a Doberman Pincher.
So, do uniforms help? I don't know. Are explosives at school bad? Yes. Can Catholic private schools suck just like public schools? Yes, but Catholic school can really help one's reputation.
I looked around the room. Everyone wore the standard dress, dark blue sweater, black slacks (or immensely ugly skirts for girls, except for their length which a few of the more attractive girls were always trying to raise the hem on), black patent leather shoes, white shirt.
It was supposed to be the great equalizer, wearing the same clothing throughout the entire school. No one was better than anyone else. It was a grand design, a wonderful concept. There was no concern about gang violence back then, in our Parish anyway. No concern about someone getting killed over what they were wearing. Just that thought that no one was better than anyone else. Someone should have told those kids though. Because it was quite apparent some kids were better than other, or thought they were, or most certainly, had more money than others.
Of course, the rich kids, all had about five or six complete outfits; when their clothing got worn out, it got replaced. The poor kids all had but one set of the uniform, which they wore every day of the school year, if at all possible, and year after year until it was either too out sized or you were told you could no longer wear it, wherein it was given away, sold, or handed down to the next sibling line in line, again, if at all possible. Those kids were easy to spot. Their shoes were scuffed, their sweaters had holes in them, which the kids tended to keep their hands over in order to hide their poverty, and which usually made the holes grow even bigger with time.
In reality, there really was no equalizing accomplished by way of wearing a uniform. It only ended up making us all look like dweebs. And embarrassed the more poor kids in that they couldn't adjust their wardrobe with whatever they had available, or whatever hand-me-down they could acquire from an older sibling.
I'm not going to argue the use of uniforms relaxes the issues with gang signs, or physical abuse. I had plenty of physical abuse in that uniformed school.
I had been in seventh grade, having gone through public school from the beginning. But my little brother, five years my junior, started in Catholic school (I have no idea why) from the beginning. When I had problems in public school we gave thought to my moving to a Catholic school where I'd be more protected and comfortable.
I had gotten in a little bit of trouble in public school, you see.
A guy in 7th grade gave me a few firecrackers. Seems his dad went over to Idaho to pick up illegal fireworks for the 4th of July. So, bright one I was, a friend and I went out into the football field, to the other side, by the street, away from the school building, at lunch, no one around, and we lit the device, threw it into a pile of sawdust and it went bang. We laughed. Walked back to the school building, an old brick thing from the medieval times.
As we were walking up the stairs, the Vice Principle was coming out the huge, double, thick wooden doors. We said, "Hi." Trying to be nice. He said, "Hi boys." We all took a few steps, continuing on. Suddenly, he stopped, I think he made the connection, explosion, no one in the field, two boys walking in off the field, kind of a no brainer now that I think about it, but back then, we were amazed at his super powers of reasoning.
He drug us both back to the office. He went through our lockers. He talked to the other guy first who walked out looking dejected and I assumed he gave me up. I was escorted in to his office. Now, the Vice Principle, was a hard assed kind of guy, I liked the Principle far more. He pressured me, used all kinds of weird techniques, like asking me where I got the firecracker. He said, "You know firecrackers are against the law, right?"
I said, "No, I didn't. They aren't against the law." I assumed acting stupid would help my case. He said, "You don't believe me? Would you like to hear it from a police officer?" I thought, cool, yeah, I'd prefer to get this kind of information from a direct source. Really, that was what I was thinking, I had the best of intentions. He said, "Okay, I'll call them." He did.
"Hello? This is the Vice Principle of Stewart Jr. High school (I was there 1967-70). I have a young man here who does not believe that firecrackers are against the law. He wanted to talk with a policeman about it. Okay, here you go." He handed me the phone.
Stewart Jr. High School, Tacoma, WA (5/47)
"H-Hello?" I said, hesitantly. The cop went on to tell me the law. I thought, I was being very nice. I thanked him and said goodbye and gave the Vice Principle the phone. He talked to the cop. He said something about the cop thinking I was a smart ass (how insightful). I was shocked. Then I was more shocked at how this went after he hung up."The officer said we have a real trouble maker here." My face dropped. "WHAT?" I thought. 'Here is what we will do, you tell me where you got the fireworks from, and that will be the end of it. Of course, I will want you to tell your mother to expect a phone call from." He drilled me until I gave up a name. And that, was the end of my Jr High school career in public school. Until, I had earned my way back from the abyss, that is.
The next day I got to school and was told by several kids my life was forfeit. They said if the kid I got the firecracker from, if his dad got in trouble with the law over this, over my giving him up (of course I tried to put blame on the other kid as the snitch, but it didn't work), they were going to beat me up every day of my life from then on. After a few altercations, and my being increasingly stressed out about going to school day after day, my mother asked me if I wanted to leave school. 'Oh yes,' I thought.
Speaking of my mother. The day that happened with the Vice Principle, I went home and no one was there. My mother called pretty soon to say she was at her girlfriend Virginia's house. So I told her what happened. Honestly. That the VP said he'd be calling her. So she recounted what I had done that was so terrible. She verified that I was careful. She understood my reasoning, then she broke up laughing.
'I thought, how cool. My mom is so cool.' Then she caught herself and said Mom stuff, like oh I suppose I shouldn't laugh, but you were careful, still, you shouldn't have done that and don't do it again, okay? I said, no problem, no more explosives at school. That was the end of it. Other than my waiting on the VP to call.
Well, finally, he did. A week later and was he pissed. I got home from school and my mom told me what happened. He called and said he had told me for my mom to call him (he didn't say that). She told him I had immediately told him and that she had been waiting on his phone call; that what I did, really wasn't that big a deal and they made far too much over it, and proceeded to read him the infamous riot act.
My mom had always said that if her kid were wrong in something, she'd be the first to admit it; but if her kid wasn't wrong, or was being treated badly, she'd be right in somebody's face over it. I thought the VP had treated me underhandedly. Seems my mom thought so too.. So should she have punished me? Well, I never did it again. Isn't that the purpose of the punishment? I felt more loyal to my mom and was willing to not do whatever she wanted.
I never did anything like that again. Until High School, but I didn't blow off anything at school ever again.
Lincoln High School, Tacoma, WA
As I said, my mom asked if I wanted out of that school. She meant the Catholic school my little brother went to. Which I never wanted to go to, although I was head alter boy at our tiny Slovak church, St. Joe's, a few blocks from the more massive, Holy Rosary Parish Church which had far more money and resources. But I had served at old, kindly Father Joe's funeral and was loyal to the small underdog of a church. And wearing a uniform? Uh, no.
Holy Rosary Catholic Church, Tacoma, WA
But my life was on the line and I was tired of being stressed out every single day so I said, yes, finally. She called. I was there. They asked, is he a good boy, we only take on good children. I was starting to feel good about this. She made sure from my mom I would promise to be good and on my best behavior. And I tried.
But, my experience was, I never had as many fights in school, ever again. Thank God, I had been fighting Karate tournaments for a couple of years. So I got the uniform, started going to the same school as little brother. And duly got teased, abused, battered, set up, and berated for a solid 8th grade year of school. I was resented and rejected by the alter boys because I refused to join them as I was head alter boy at St. Joe's, something they never understood. So when the alter boys, all the 8th grade boys, got a day off from school for a field trip, I had to stay with the girls, who either wanted nothing to do with me, or vice versa.
St. Joseph's Catholic Church, Tacoma, WA
Once, I was by the corner of the school, two of the boys came up to me, one hung back by the corner, kept looking around the corner, the other boy, harassed me into pushing him, then he fell, on purpose, I didn't push him hard enough, just as the head Nun, our Teacher, the Principle, Sister Rogers, an old and hardened old bat. As she came around the corner, they both immediately started saying I push that kid down for no reason. I tried to tell her what happened, but hey, two against one. Right?Legend tells it, by the way, that years later was carried kicking and screaming out of the home the Nuns lived at, to go to the old Nuns home. She, my friends, was really odd.
One time, the boys all go in a circle around me, about twenty feet across, and took turns throwing the basketball at my head until I was so sick and in pain I was going to throw up. They wouldn't stop, so finally I said, "That's it, I've had it, I'm outta here." I walked off to walk home. They yelled at me in fear, "HEY, you can't leave, you'll get in trouble!" I said, "Oh yeah, watch me." I walked home.
Another time, my mother came to pick me up, there must have been about six inches of slush on the ground. My mother pulled the car up in the school yard as it was all part of the parking area. My little brother got in. The kids were all about, milling around, heading out, waiting for rides. I was about to get in the car, my mother standing by the driver's side door, when a big old slushball hit the seat and exploded all through the car. I turned around, everyone was laughing. I felt at the time, like I will put up with all the abuse, all the humiliation, but once you bring my family into it, that's it!
Little did I know, one of the two kids involved in the pushing incident, had been riding by on a bike, and he threw it. But with all the kids laughing and jeering, boys and girls, I simply grabbed the closest kid. I started yelling at him, "Who did it!" He responded by taking a swing at me. I grabbed both his shoulders by his shirt. He took another swing, I couldn't believe how bad he was at fighting (remember I'd been going to the dojo for years, nearly every day of the week sometimes). He hit my shoulder, sad really. Then he did something stupid, he tried to trip me. I was very good at not getting tripped in a tournament fight. So I showed him how to do it.
But when he hit the ground, I was so pissed off, and this was the only time this ever happened in my life, I was so mad that I hit him in the head while he was down. It felt so good, the release, that I hit him in the head again, and six more times, before I could realize I was counting my hits and not going to stop. It scared me so bad, all that year of abuse by these kids, that it all flooded out into this one kid that wasn't the sole reason for all of my woes. I stopped. Stood up, looked around, everyone was quiet, not a sound.
I walked away. I got three steps and heard him get up. Now, tournament fighting gives you a 6th sense. And I knew, he was about to jump me, so I threw a back kick, directly into his center, taking out his testicles perfectly and he went down again like a wet rag. After a few moments, he got up, and yelled at my mom: "Your son is a dirty fighter!" And he shambled off behind the church, where I heard later by a kid that went to him, that 1) he was going to jump me, and 2) I got him really good with that last kick. From then on these kids backed off from me a bit and my reputation for years to come was sealed.
By time I graduated, I had their respect and fear. Rather than go to an all boys Catholic Prep school, Bellarmine Prep, I opted for 9th grade back at the same Jr. High school. But things were different. I had a rep now. Once I hit High School the following year, more of the boys from 8th grade were there and told people, "Don't mess with him, I've seen him do damage repeatedly" and so was born, my reputation that followed me through High School and beyond. Thanks guys.
As I said before, I never blew off any more fireworks at school, ever again. I only possessed; a couple of Black kids, our school was half black and the lowest income ranking in Tacoma, picked me up as I was leaving the student lounge (which only they year before you were allowed to smoke in, you could see the burn marks on furniture), carried me to the back wall of the lounge, slammed me against the wall up off my feet and said, "We hear you have fireworks, give us some." So...I did, but told them, brazenly, do NOT use them on campus; I've had bad experiences with that."
When I came to school the next day, I was called into the Principle's office. I had no idea why. I sat there for a while, then Principle Willie came in. I didn't like our VP; I had known him from the Jr High experience, so I was pretty happy it wasn't him, regardless what was going on. Willie (who had a great Flip Wilson act and did it at every reasonable chance, and very well, indeed) sat across his desk, folded his hands, smiled and said, "Okay Murdock, what is it this time." I liked this guy, everyone liked this guy.
"I said, I have no idea."
He said, "Something about fireworks?" I thought, "Oh, crap, not again. And I didn't even do anything this time.' He said, 'Two young men were caught blowing off firecrackers on campus yesterday and they said they got them from you." I sighed. Then I told him exactly what happened. But I said I found them, this time. No one to tell on; no matter what, after my last experience, I wasn't snitching on anyone. I told him they forced them from me, and I was only taking them home, that I told them not not use them on campus.
He was cool, as always and said, "Tell you what, gather up all remaining firecrackers and turn them in to me tomorrow and we'll just forget this ever happened, okay?" See, he was the coolest, and really, that's all it needed. He had far worse things to deal with at that school. We had a guy pulled from gym class, from the locker room, for robbing the bank across the street once. I feared for my life walking down a hallway alone. I'd had some run ins with the Black kids who all seemed to "have attitude".
So, I gathered up what was left from people (none) and gave him half of what I had left, the next day. He looked in the brown paper bag and said, wow, that's a lot; and looked at me like I wasn't a lost cause after all. He was always such a gentleman when we had dealings and we grew to respect one another. As for the VP, he always sucked. Straight laced, hard assed, tall, thin like a Doberman Pincher.
So, do uniforms help? I don't know. Are explosives at school bad? Yes. Can Catholic private schools suck just like public schools? Yes, but Catholic school can really help one's reputation.
Seattle's first openly Gay Bar Shelly's Leg and Tugs (Beltown and Belmont)
Bauman died November 18 at her Bremerton home. She was 63. Her obituary in Seattle Gay News is available here.
On July 14, 1970, Bauman was rushed to Harborview Medical Center after being struck by an antique cannon, used as part of a parade in Pioneer Square. The owner was cited for not getting a permit and attorneys for Bauman, then 23, filed a $1 million lawsuit against the cannon owner in King County Superior Court.
Also named were the proprietor of the Brasserie Pittsbourg restaurant and the Pioneer Square Association that promoted the event where the cannon was fired.
Bauman accepted a $330,000 settlement in April 1973 and with the money was co-owner of Shelly's Leg � a bar advertised as being "provided for Seattle's gay community and their guests."
Seattle had gay bars before, but Shelly's Leg was noted for being open about the bar's intention. Seattle Gay News also said it was the city's first disco, opening on Nov. 13, 1973.
It took the place of the former Grapvine Tavern and a KOL-AM deejay, Burl Barer, spun records there two night a week. Read a January 1974 Emmett Watson column about Shelly's Leg here.
On Dec. 4, 1975, a tanker truck crashed hit a guardrail on the southbound viaduct and dumped 3,700 gallons of gasoline. Shelly's Leg had about 150 people in it when the crash occurred at 1 a.m. Patrons left the bar, which was near the viaduct, out a side door as windows were shattering. Read more about that incident here.
The bar lasted until 1979, and the sign declaring Shelly's Leg a gay bar is now at the Museum of History and Industry. Read more here.
From Seattle PI Check out this article as it has some cool archived stuff on it.
I had grown up with my mother's best friend and her kids. One of them was Patrick who was a part owner of Seattle's Tugs Belltown bar. I had never been in it but I heard a lot about it. I hadn't really known Pat was gay, until after he died of the usual suspect back in those days. A sad thing, as both Pat and his younger brother Gary were both very cool people (as is their sister who had offered to go to my Senior Prom with me even though she was already old enough to drink by then; but what a picture she would have made on my arm as they were all very attractive people; but I declined because I had hoped for the possibility of a romantic tryst that night and I figured, no chance with such an older and sophisticated woman, but that story, for another time).
I don't know much about the bar as it was before my time to get into bars if I remember, and I might not have gone in there anyway, but had Pat invited me I would have. If I knew more about Tugs, I would give it its own article just out of respect for Pat. Tugs Belltown has a profile on Facebook. I'm getting the feeling Patrick was involved with the Tugs Belltown bar.
Patrick Harrison and David Hecker - Owners
The articles below is more than I ever knew about it.
From Wikipedia:
"In the late 1980s, another gay bar, Tugs Belltown, moved up to the Hill (corner of Pine and Belmont) and became Tugs Belmont where underwear parties were held. In this new venue, it played a key role in Seattle's burgeoning and sexy fringe theater scene. Possibly the first bar[citation needed] in Seattle since before the Prohibition era to host regular theater performances, in the early 1990s it was the primary home of the Greek Active Theater, founded by sex columnist and Capitol Hill resident Dan Savage (working pseudonymously as Keenan Hollohan)."
Here's more:
When I got to Seattle in 1991, Tugs had moved up the hill to Pine Street and Belmont Avenue, and no one that had been to Tugs Belltown thought very much of it. Post-1991 arrivals, though, loved the place. It was home to notoriously sleazy underwear parties that so offended the Washington State Liquor Control Board that it threatened to shut Tugs Belmont down. The threats stopped after Cal Anderson, Washington State's first openly gay state legislator, showed up at one of Tugs Belmont's underwear parties in his legislative underwear and chatted up the inspectors sent by the WSLCB."
both above paragraphs from Silenced Majority
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Aim to Misbehave
In the film, Serenity, Mal (character, Capt. Malcolm Reynolds) says that some day the government will try to make people better again (after having failed unbelievably badly) and that has to stop. This was said during his Miranda speech near the film's end.
This has a real world correlation. If you look about you, you can see it happening now. The US Government and not only the US government, but most governments, I think, merely as a process of their development, do this. They are there, set up to run the country, to be a force for good, but in the end, they always seem to try and fix everything, and everybody, just to justify their positions.
Part of the problem there is that every job, every manager, every company, every government position, has to justify their position. If not to themselves as it should be, then to some higher authority. They have to produce, and in that, lies the rub. They cannot just be in their job, waiting for the next thing, they have to always be doing something. So sometimes, the invent things. Sometimes they do indeed think they are helping. But in the end of what they plan, and execute, they find, and sometimes they don't even find this out, that they make things worse.
And so, things are thought up, and carried out, that should never have been started in the first place.
Other times, its just delusion, or focus too much on something that really isn't anyone's business. People have problems with boundaries, especially, when put in position of "caring for" others. As we need commissions and authority to oversee that things are done, so also we need advocates to protect us from our own protectors. Special interest groups, factions, religious groups, and others, many of which are merely a local minority, get things pushed through and instituted to where other people who have no voice, or think they have no voice, are put down, incarcerated, or at very least, abandoned.
Sometimes, as Mal says in Serenity, you have to aim to misbehave. At times you need to just do what is right, and tell no one; cover it up, forget about it. Other times, you need to push through your own agenda, to correct what has been incorrectly put into practice. But this is far harder.
What we do need to do, if nothing else, however, is the see when these things are happening, and Do something about it. You may receive no thanks, or even suffer for it at times. But if everyone started doing that, I think in the end we would have a better living environment; or at very least, things would be invigorated enough that things will fall about in far better order. People would become more fluid in their motivating things to correctly run.
How can we do that? As I said, try to do what is right, even if you have to be quiet about it. When possible, speak up, speak out. Push for change, push for people to be forced into being intelligent, thoughtful, effective.
And one more thing, remember, we do not, what the common man running things. The last thing we need is Joe the Plumber as President. We want the superior man. Or the superior woman. Gender is unimportant. What is important, is that we have those who can most functionally and intelligently think. To be proactive. To be persuasive. To stand up, get things done, even through the sad, sick, thick morass of common foolishness and yes, for a big part, those of the current Tea Party configuration. Some of them are intelligent and mean well, but there seems to be far too many who are not of that persuasion.
So, try to think things through, beyond what is nominal and on to what is superior and try, to make things just a little bit better. Or, a lot bit better, if you feel so disposed. Go for it.
This has a real world correlation. If you look about you, you can see it happening now. The US Government and not only the US government, but most governments, I think, merely as a process of their development, do this. They are there, set up to run the country, to be a force for good, but in the end, they always seem to try and fix everything, and everybody, just to justify their positions.
Part of the problem there is that every job, every manager, every company, every government position, has to justify their position. If not to themselves as it should be, then to some higher authority. They have to produce, and in that, lies the rub. They cannot just be in their job, waiting for the next thing, they have to always be doing something. So sometimes, the invent things. Sometimes they do indeed think they are helping. But in the end of what they plan, and execute, they find, and sometimes they don't even find this out, that they make things worse.
And so, things are thought up, and carried out, that should never have been started in the first place.
Other times, its just delusion, or focus too much on something that really isn't anyone's business. People have problems with boundaries, especially, when put in position of "caring for" others. As we need commissions and authority to oversee that things are done, so also we need advocates to protect us from our own protectors. Special interest groups, factions, religious groups, and others, many of which are merely a local minority, get things pushed through and instituted to where other people who have no voice, or think they have no voice, are put down, incarcerated, or at very least, abandoned.
Sometimes, as Mal says in Serenity, you have to aim to misbehave. At times you need to just do what is right, and tell no one; cover it up, forget about it. Other times, you need to push through your own agenda, to correct what has been incorrectly put into practice. But this is far harder.
What we do need to do, if nothing else, however, is the see when these things are happening, and Do something about it. You may receive no thanks, or even suffer for it at times. But if everyone started doing that, I think in the end we would have a better living environment; or at very least, things would be invigorated enough that things will fall about in far better order. People would become more fluid in their motivating things to correctly run.
How can we do that? As I said, try to do what is right, even if you have to be quiet about it. When possible, speak up, speak out. Push for change, push for people to be forced into being intelligent, thoughtful, effective.
And one more thing, remember, we do not, what the common man running things. The last thing we need is Joe the Plumber as President. We want the superior man. Or the superior woman. Gender is unimportant. What is important, is that we have those who can most functionally and intelligently think. To be proactive. To be persuasive. To stand up, get things done, even through the sad, sick, thick morass of common foolishness and yes, for a big part, those of the current Tea Party configuration. Some of them are intelligent and mean well, but there seems to be far too many who are not of that persuasion.
So, try to think things through, beyond what is nominal and on to what is superior and try, to make things just a little bit better. Or, a lot bit better, if you feel so disposed. Go for it.
Skip and Go Naked (a drink) - Tower Records 1981-82
This is a lot about the Tower Records Tacoma store in the 1980s; the old one, not the one up by the Tacoma Mall entrance. Skip and Go Naked parties. Kind of like the Shandy on steroids, before I even knew what a Shandy was back then.
I had gone for a job at the Record store but got hired by the manger of the next door Posters Store (a head shop really). I was out of the Air Force, no more wife, no job, started college and thought I'd see my childhood dreams through. Like working at a record store. So, I stopped by Tower Records, figuring I didn't have a chance in Hell at a job there. Everyone wanted to work there.
Notice it no longer says Posters
To set the atmosphere, I started at Tower working at the Posters store in 1980, next door to the Record store on 38th street in a shopping center parking lot where across from us was a great tavern called, "Mom's"; what a great place.I had gone for a job at the Record store but got hired by the manger of the next door Posters Store (a head shop really). I was out of the Air Force, no more wife, no job, started college and thought I'd see my childhood dreams through. Like working at a record store. So, I stopped by Tower Records, figuring I didn't have a chance in Hell at a job there. Everyone wanted to work there.
So, I was talking to a woman in front of the Poster store, trying to get courage to go into Records, and I asked her about the Record store. Once she knew I was looking for a job, she started asking ME questions. I didn't realize at the time that I was being interviewed for a job at the Posters Store. So she hired me on the spot. Easiest job I ever got. I mean, I didn't even know I was in the process of getting a job there.
After I was hired, Record store employees would come over to talk, purchase (we'd "write them up", indicate their purchase and employee number and they'd get a discount) and on occasion they'd off-handedly mention that they were having or were about to have a "Skip and go naked" party. I was always envious.
Eventually, I did end up working at Records. Another long story how that came about, let's just say our new manager fired my room mate who was the current interim manager, then fired me, the Records manager obviously hated that guy and hired me on the spot when he heard I'd been fired; he knew it was probably for no reason. "That guy" (Posters manager) had been demoted from Seattle to Tacoma and no one had much nice to say about him. He pretty much fired every one eventually and hired new people. Mostly really overweight scary women. I kid you not. It was horrible because trying to get by them behind the counter with VERY little room was simply miserable on several levels. And these women all had really bad attitudes, simply not Tower people as I understood it.
And so, we did indeed sometimes, have these parties.
Tower Tacoma Tacoma Store #188 1980s back room
Someone would get the blender we kept in the back room, mix it up and we'd all grab a big red "kegger" cup and get a drink, then head out on the sales floor ("the stage" I liked to call it as you felt you were on stage all the time) and of course, we'd keep working. I can't remember if we were supposed to not take it out on the floor, but I do remember being out there with it.
`
Sales floor of Tower Records Tacoma Store #188 1980s
I think that we could if we just kept it under the front counter at the cash register and at least TRIED to be discrete about it. We were professionals after all so we didn't act drunk, or we'd hang out in the back room till we got more professional and could go back out on the floor again. But then we had that famous Tower attitude that we ruled this domain and were certainly there to help you, but don't push it too far. I'll have to talk sometime about the shoplifters situation.
Anyway, I do however, remember one annoying
customer, Mr Middle-Class (or Mr Buzz Kill) in a cheap suit, I think his name was. Just an ordinary family guy probably going to Church on Sunday, who asked me at the register if I had alcohol in that there red cup?!
"Uh, Yes sir, its a Skip and Go Naked, the
manage..r is
mak--ing them in the uh, back, want one, pal? okay, we never actually said that. However, I did have a woman I was supervising, years later, at the Seattle Tower Video store, I caught saying to a customer who was being an ass to her: "Fuck you very much, Sir and have a very nice day!" She said this cheerfully. He cheerfully (and obliviously) thanked her, took his purchases and left with his wife. I was stunned. I said, "did you just say what I think you said?" She said: "Yes, of course. Why?" Of course, I said intensely and quietly: "You CAN'T say that to a customer!" She said: "Why not? I say things like that all the time. Has anyone ever complained?" I said: "Well, no, but...." She said: "Well then, what's the problem?" I said: "What if someone catches what you said?" She said: "Oh, they never will. They never have, had they?" I said: "No. But....if they do, you know what I'll have to do?" And she said: "Not to worry, you'll never have to deal with it." And, ladies and gentlemen, I never did have to deal with it.
Getting back to Mr. Middle-Class thinking I had alcohol at the register of all things....and I had thought I was being so discrete, too! So, I tried to be nice, but he kept ragging me and there was a line of people waiting to purchase and so I finally just said, with just a tiny bit of force behind it: "Do you want that album?"
We stared at one another for a moment or two while he thought about it and he got the hint, paid for it, left, and we never heard another word about it.
Some years later, at the new Video store, in the same location as the old Posters store, the boss allowed us to bring alcohol as we all had to work that night, late and all through the night. We had a blast. But, we had to do recounts of stock too much. For obvious reasons. We paired up, and everyone counted racks of videos. We drank as much as we wanted. Everyone pretty much did what got them comfortable in that respect. All racks were counted at least twice to assure accuracy but there was one rack, the "Haunted Rack" we called it by end of night; we had teams counting that rack thirteen times before we got a duplicate number indicating accuracy. For at least a couple of hours, no matter how we counted that rack of videos we could NOT come up with the same number twice. I really have no reason how that could have happened. Once we hit end of night, early AM really, the manager, Mark, said, "I'm glad we all had fun, but I think we all agree, we're never having alcohol for another inventory ever again." And we didn't. But at least everyone knew (and agreed on) why.
Some of the bands doing in store appearances at Tower stores could be really jerks (Cinderella for one, what pompous asses they were, I thought the employees were going to mutiny and kill the entire band one day),
Years later at the Seattle, Mercer Street Tower Video, the Playboy Playmates were most excellent. The stories I could tell. I was lucky(?) in that I got a unique perspective, having worked at three of the types of stores at three locations, in two cities, and one store space in two iterations of a version of store. Yes, I think that's correct but sounds funny, though. :)
About the Skip and Go Nakeds:
One friend said: "I like the fact that you use the empty can from the frozen lemonade concentrate as a measure for the gin!"
Now the recipe that was used at Tower Tacoma back in the 80s (if not also before that):
In a blender fill with Ice
8oz (frozen) pink lemonade concentrate
One cheap beer
Using the empty lemonade container, fill with cheap Vodka
Blend all together.
Skip and go naked....
According to GroupRecipes website:
"Skip and Go Naked. A Connecticut drink from the 70's. Sounds awful-tastes absolutely delicious. Won drink of the year. You will skip [they did taste pretty good and maybe you'll go naked, too]."
GroupRecipes says:
Ingredients
- One can of frozen pink lemonade
- One can full of gin
- One can of beer
How to make it
- Blend in the blender on high.
- Be in a safe place. Wear a helmet if necessary.
- ENJOY!
Other people's comments on that site about SAGNs:
"Whoa baby...these are wickedly powerful. To all peeps: First of all, don't start drinking these on an empty tummy. I did and by the second drink, I really started listing to one side. Fortunately I had assistance to right me - and act as a prop. And its probably good to sip them slowly, otherwise the naked part will be incredibly easy - but the skipping part will become a definite challenge. Heh."
"I used to be involved with the named drink in the early 70,s and it was mixed in a garbage can, larger quanities, as you can imagine, and included melted sherbert ice cream, additional liquor, and all mixed together with a canoe paddle... man!!! the good ol days!!"
"Skippies!!! These are great. Don't drink them sitting down, you'll discover gravity the hard way when you stand up. Also - use a pilsner or "Export" style beer - something like a budmiller..."
So, drink up!
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