Common Mountain – Page 3 – Views from the third rock out

Where Are You Now Colin Kaepernick?

I recently got into a short discussion with a cashier at the supermarket checkout. Being chatty I found out she was 20 something, married, childless, and trying to work herself through junior college to improve her life. Since the store was celebrating the NFL playoffs with “Jersey Day” for their workers, we got into a discussion of football.

She told me “I don’t watch anymore because of the kneeling for the anthem.” Internally I blew a gasket, because the issue that the kneelers were trying to highlight – the fact that our society’s institutionalized racism means young men of color get killed in police altercations for existing while not being white – needs as much discussion as possible. But I held my tongue and wished her a nice day

What she said made me think of Colin Kaepernick the 31 year old quarterback who started the anthem kneeling in 2016, now banished from the NFL for openly having a peacefully displayed opinion about racism in America. Conservatives re-framed the issue as respect for military, but even so, the flag is not synonymous with the military and their job is to protect the shining ethos (which includes free speech and the right to say “This is wrong!”) that the flag symbolizes.

For decades 75% of NFL rosters have been comprised of African American males who largely come from this nations poorer areas, but the league is controlled by white men in their 60’s and 70’s. There are two principal owners in the NFL who are not white, but no African American owners. The owners are disproportionately huge Republican contributors. It’s a given that the owners’ outlooks are the key reason why 75% of head coaches are white. With non-guaranteed contracts, a 100% injury rate and the color dynamic, the NFL resembles a modern day plantation, but with better wages.

I got to thinking about how the current Super Bowl Teams – the New England Patriots and the Los Angeles Rams – would fare if their respective quarterbacks got injured. Would they be appreciably better with Colin Kaepernick, of African-American ancestry, than with the number 2’s they currently employed? The Patriot’s backup, Bryan Hoyer, defines a mediocre, albeit lucrative, career. His QB rating never climbed higher than 59 ( the wonky QB rating tops out at 158.3) and he’s slower than molasses. In four years seasons, the Rams backup has thrown a total of 53 passes and rushed for negative 12 yards. He’s such a nonentity you don’t care that I haven’t given you his name.

While Kaepernick ‘s QB Rating was woeful during the two years that the team around him was dreck, he had three years in the 60’s and 70’s before that. 50 Percent of starters in 2018 had a QBR less than 60. Also Kaepernick is a dual threat, running for over 2300 yards, 13 rushing TD’s and a 6.1 yard per rush average. Both of the best teams in football would be better with Kaepernick as their number two. That’s not supposition, that’s just fact. NFL fans are idiotically crazy over the sport, but oddly silent about this tidbit. How would a team like the Jacksonville Jaguars have fared if they employed Kaepernick as their starter instead of a guy with a mid-forties QB rating?

It’s almost a certainty that if a white guy had Kaepernick’s stats some team would be employing him, because Kaepernick could help them win. What does this say about the NFL and the tenor of our society? Like most fans, I did not turn off the TV this weekend in protest. Perhaps that’s all the answer that the powers that control the league need.

Retirement Weed

In the long civil war over marijuana, retirees are weighing in. Older Boomers are tuning in and smoking weed like they still have acne to worry about. I come from the “ME”generation 70’s where teenagers basically smoked pot like it was air, so I get this return to youth.

But old dudes who railed against weed as a gateway drug – to what? snacks? – are the highest growing new adopters per age group. There is finally a cutting edge trend boomers can take the lead on, getting stoned and checking their portfolios. Alta-cockers are cool again with their vape pens. Of course some just can’t figure out the technology, and must surreptitiously ask their grandchildren for help – “Don’t tell mommy it’s our secret!” – because they raised their children lying about their youthful smoking and proclaiming weed akin to devil worship. Of course retro smoking is an easier technology to adopt. But no one smokes weed anymore, now it’s called “flower” in legal dispensaries. Can we just call them Pot Shops in states like Massachusetts where adult weed recreation is legally condoned? Anyway, I’m sure older folks will appreciate a little edible too, because marijuana is fun no matter the vehicle of consumption.

Being legal for recreational use, as it is for now 25% of the country’s population, has a lot to do with this trend. What would Abby Hoffman and other dead sixties icons say if they rose up and watched our seventy year old set saying – fuck it I’m lighting up and binge watching FOX NEWS. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when a couple of older dudes try the drug for the first time and start giggling about arch supports and why they should take a trip across the country to find themselves.

Interestingly, just like in my 1970’s stoner experience, studies show older woman are less likely to adopt this trend. All this sounds like the teenage-hood boomers had once and now, after years of telling their children that pot is terrible, want to return to.

These trends are bound to get even more pronounced with polls showing over 60% of the country favor legalization and corporations lining up to reap the profits. Since I’ve met several wonderfully progressive people who have severe doubts about legalization (mothers especially and I get your concerns) that means that a decent proportion of the Trump coalition supports legalization. You see, we can agree!

Data even shows some pronounced health benefits. A recent study shows older folks who ingest use less anxiety, depression and opioid medications, which has saved Medicare about $165,000,000 every year. A study projects half a billion in Medicare savings every fucking year if the drug were delisted as a “schedule one” drug federally and legalized medically throughout the country. Opioid deaths in states with medical weed are down 25% or more.

I’m not stupid enough to say that cannabis doesn’t have its down sides. I don’t want my airline pilot to get high any more than I want them drinking. I don’t recommend doing intellectual work stoned. Though I know a few people who’ve spent careers going to work high and no one seemed to notice, their professional pot heads and, like the disclaimers say, don’t try this at home. Some people will abuse it because that happens with every legal vice. And don’t smoke and drive, please. It’s the last clarion call of the pot civil war for the intransigents now that the myths are falling. This issue is following the path of marriage rights. It took forever to get civil unions and domestic partner insurance, the equal of medical weed. Then as the public realizes who caress, let anyone get married for love (so sweet!) and as the simile goes, the same path of public acceptance leads to legal weed.

But for retirees who want to do some chilling out, please smoke, it’s far better than the other shit you’ve been doing and the more of you there are out there, the more states that will legalize weed. When that trend hits Alabama we’ll know the long pot civil war is over…

Toxic Green

I grew up spreading herbicides and pesticides on my family’s lawn. My parents’ modest yard was my responsibility and I lovingly achieved a lush green by recklessly dumping some of the most toxic chemicals modern science has brought to market.

Even though Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring before I was born, none of us realized that her work on DDT was applicable to our parents’ bit of green. When our spreader was out of commission, I threw herbicides and pesticides on our lawn by hand, and decades later can recall the chemicals’ slightly sweet smell. I never even wore gloves. According to the EPA, Environment and Human Health, Inc. (EHHI.org) and the radicals at Duke University, homeowners spread 10 times the amount of chemicals and fertilizers per acre of lawn than farmer’s spray on their fields. We love our monochromatic lawns and companies like our lawn supply buying habits.

I grew up on Long Island where most of the four million residents rely on well water. In the 1970’s I first read reports of nutrient run-off from lawns contaminating the island’s well water. Soon after those initial findings came alarming reports of drinking water contamination from herbicides and pesticides. Since we’ve known for over forty years that our love affair with monoculture lawns is threatening our water supply, you’d think something would be happening by now.

Sadly nearly nothing has been done to stem the tide of pollution. The EPA hasn’t even begun investigating many chemicals commonly used in the USA that have already been banned in Europe for years because of threats to drinking water. Over 13,000 chemicals, many of them pesticides and herbicides, are registered for use in New York. Over 95 percent have not been adequately tested, or tested at all.

Without thinking about the consequences, we pour these maybe/probably harmful products into our bit of the earth. This behavior creates patches of green so toxic that nothing can survive but the grass itself. Then we encourage our kiddies and pets to roll around in it. The sad thing is, lawns are merely a fashion statement announcing a family’s economic achievement. The greener the lawn the higher the station. Without our fully understanding it, lawn’s mimic almost every fashion statement. Just like wearing Prada shoes with uncomfortably high heels when a nearly identical but more sensible pair from Macy’s would suffice, folks will suffer a bit to look good.

Of the 32 pesticides most commonly used by lawn care companies in the USA, 13 were banned in other countries, 17 are known as real or potential carcinogens, and every one of them poses a threat to drinking water, non-targeted insects (think about the devastation to bees in recent years) and other areas of the environment. Our yard’s fashion statement just might give someone we know cancer.

There are many benefits to not using chemicals on the lawn. Since I don’t use herbicides, my lawn has so much clover I can hear the bees buzzing from the house, and in early May my lawn sports broad patches of Ajuca’s pale purple flowers. When the ajuca are blooming it’s as if I have a lawn and a flower garden rolled into one. I think that’s a very pretty fashion statement.

My Christmas Confession

Some of my earliest memories include arguing with my all-too-patient mother about god and religion and sadly I never took the chance to adequately apologize to her for her troubles. I’m not a spiritual person gifted with faith, preferring to rely on what physics, math, and chemistry can explain. Of course, this rules out my believing that little green, grey or purple aliens are out to get us for our beautiful planet. They certainly may be, but without proof I’m content to believe that they are just watching our craziness.

To summarize, no belief systems, no spirituality, no belief in the beauty of paganism that was cut short by the patriarchal religions springing from the Judeo-Christian mélange.

Embarrassingly I am addicted to Christmas movies and I cry during nearly every one.

There are three plot lines that these movies can contain, and each one is a bit like winning the lottery:

There’s the widow(er) still in their child rearing prime who have lost their significant other to accident or illness. They must have a one amazing child and they must heroically abandon themselves to the needs of said child. Most importantly, no dating during the regulated movie mourning period, usually two years. The mourning period allows the lead to regain purity, especially a female lead. The child involved is never more than ten and never under five, so they’re aware but lack any hint of sexuality.

There’s the never married work-a-holic who is returning home wealthy but unfulfilled, usually with a divorce in the background if they are double xx chromosome to drive home this so not subtle subtext. They almost never have kids and the unfulfilled trope usually gets echoed by a long suffering mother or a sweet as Mary Poppins Grandparent. The work-a-holic must find that the cosmic love interest they hate at first is actually sweet as cinnamon toast, once they come to know them within two to four weeks. Then they need to overcome one more story hurdle before they will live together without a care in the world. Yeah, the work-a-holic’s always that rich.

Of course we have the timeworn tale of the prince from another land who meets a woman after he’s injured or stranded by a storm. By the way there has never been a princess in this role in the history of movies, a president’s daughter is acceptable but everyone knows female royalty remain at home, legs secured against entry. The woman who the prince falls for must be somewhat of a loner, but loved by everyone. She’s bright, witty, never has a bad hair day and loves both children and dogs. Invariably, in the prince’s small European country everyone speaks American English except for the mean spirited autocratically inclined woman that the prince is supposed to marry. She speaks in aristocratic British or a Czech accented English.

Sometimes a mother must die prior to the story starting, but if death does come during the movie it’s usually an incredibly old side character whose death informs the main character’s journey. Sometimes there are monetary troubles, but these are usually papered over by a stroke of luck, or the love of a good man. Trope never seems to get in the way of a tawdry Christmas tale, or my crying while watching.

Sadly, when I watch alone the tears can go on for half an hour, including when I am fast forwarding through commercials. Watching me cry during these maudlin flicks has become an irresistible spectator sport for my family. Thank goodness I’ve kept this secret from my friends.

My distributor of choice for my addiction is Lifetime. The other major purveyor of pablum, Hallmark, is too sappy and too religious for me. Plus Lifetime has “more realistic” story lines that even allow a woman to be divorced without the ex being an alcoholic or an inmate. And better looking leads. I may be a romantic fool, but I am still a man.

During the average holiday season I probably watch all or part of twenty five movies, ranging from maudlin to execrable. If there is a recovery program for treacle, please let me know because I need an intervention.

On Anger at the Latest Mass Shooting

Right now a burning anger spreads through me. On the morning after, as the news now puts it, “the latest mass shooting in America” I have to say this out loud to the crazies who demonize people for not wanting a discussion about sensible gun regulation and education – Shut up. My anger is really directed at those calculating assholes who mine hate for money or power and don’t care about the cost.

Unfortunately, America’s gun violence crisis goes on throughout the year. Poorer neighborhoods suffer from the effects of gun violence every day. Though when a poor non-white person dies from a gunshot wound not inflicted by police, their death gets a minute or two on the nightly news, maybe a post like mine, and then another needless tragedy is forgotten. TO be fair if the victim is a child, especially a girl, we’re moved to the pity and anger we should always feel. The most telling thing about gun violence inflicted on residents of modest means is that we accept it with a shrug, because our attitude has become “nothing can be done, let’s move on.”

What makes gun violence transcend this new cycle? White, male, anger-filled morons who deliver spikes of evil that we can’t ignore. The response on the left remains hand wringing because we don’t have a coherent answer to gun violence. Please let me know if you have one. From the right we’re served dumbass ideas like arming teachers or rabbis or whoever is the latest victim. They seem to believe we live in a world where the sane thing to do is turn every home, church, school and movie theater into a “hardened” target.

If only everyone packed an Uzi, America would be safe.

Ask an Afghani how that theory is working.

The policies that allow more guns and more gun carriers are the policies that lead to ever more murder of innocents and that leave us vulnerable in our coffee shops, our pizzerias, and our houses of worship, especially black and Jewish houses of worship. From my perspective, we need to amend the second amendment to read – “You can have a gun, but congress or your state or city government can regulate the sale or purchase of said firearm and all weapons related accoutrements.” Guns are American as apple pie, football, and kicking indigenous people off the land we moved them to after we kicked them off the land where they were living before Americans arrived. But there’s no such thing as the unlimited right to own a weapon. I think all but the truly disturbed agree that people don’t have a right to own a grenade launcher, or a tank, or a bazooka. So, by extension, we don’t have the unlimited right to any weapon we chose.

An aside on the meaning of that tricksy second amendment. It was an attempt to ensure that the rich of the seaboard were protected from the settlers and the Native Americans of the interior. The amendment was aimed at protecting those living along the Atlantic seacoast from those they were screwing over, not to allow your weird uncle to fondle the thousand automatic rifles stashed in his living room.

Since second amendment reform is certainly dead on arrival, we need sensible reforms passed by our elected representatives. Sensible measures include clip size reductions, outlawing bump-stocks, waiting periods for gun purchase, and eliminating loopholes like the sale of guns without background checks at “trade shows.” However, the Republicans and their acolytes in the right wing press whip up their crazy fan club to buy guns and spew hate whenever someone speaking like me is elected. It’s so great for their brand and winning elections, they’re willingly turning aside from the truth so they can’t implicate themselves as abettors in the murder of innocents.

The saner elements in society need to start talking together about finding solutions to gun violence. There are solutions. Take Canada. They love guns, ranking third in gun ownership in the world. But they have less than 20 percent of the US gun deaths per capita.

Perhaps we should investigate how other countries approach gun violence and have a true national debate on how America can take what works around the world and adapt it to our society. Australia went full on “we’re taking your gun away” about a decade ago and in their schools there are no active shooter drills because they have so little of that going around.

Could you imagine that?

Floggin’ the Cutie

“Influencers” are the new big thing. Whether you blog, or Instagram or whatever flavor of the far too many social platforms you prefer, becoming an influencer is the goal. I have nothing against getting paid to post. Getting paid to write remains my goal, albeit more like a day dream of a city on the hill I am running towards, sweat dripping from my body like a saltwater river (I have a glandular problem regarding sweat – it’s really kind of disgusting) but can never seem to reach.

Being an influencer isn’t by definition totally shmucky. For instance, if you blog about fashion and highlight that cute bag from Cafune or Cayunas, that’s free advertising baby. I’m all for a writer getting their something something. But when influencers don’t say they are getting paid to flog a product in their review that smacks of shmucky, and deceit. However, influencing the sales of a brand without letting your suckers (er, readers) know what you’re doing is a perfect match for the modern internet, which is often a sea of bullshit masquerading as content.

That said, I did come upon a wonderful phenomenon recently – flogging the cutie. This has nothing to do with masturbation, that’s flogged enough. I’m talking about turning your pet into a money maker. The brilliance of it is inspiring, and of course shows how insipid our culture is.

Here’s the video of my pet sleeping and snore-farting! So cute!

I prefer cats doing things with a snarky look, like the one where the cat pushes the coffee cup off the counter with a deeply satisfied expression while the owner says “Stop it cutie-kins!” and then squeals with delight because she knows the video is fucking awesome. And that video was fucking awesome each of the three times I watched it. Whatever the companion animal cutie, flogging it makes perfect sense. We feed and tend to these cuddly parasites so the least they could do is pay some of the freight.

When I heard that the most popular pet posts raked in 10-15 thousand dollars per vine or gram or tweet, my mind reeled (the social platforms should just merge and become Institwitface and put us out of our misery). First, no farting Chihuahua video should earn over ten thousand per fart, that’s just sick. Second, how can pictures of animals you wouldn’t want to maintain in your home be so appealing that you’d wait outside of a person’s apartment hoping to see the celebrity Chihuahua-Dachshund mix take a shit on the sidewalk? I kid you not, some people do.

I have no internet savvy, plus my cat is too old for active cuteness so I could not pull this off. But it does bring to mind some pets that one would think are too niche or too weird for this kind of monetary return. Would anyone want to see a hamster running on the wheel? How about a snake coiling around its human host? Remember that the snake just wants warmth and food, not love, because it’s a snake. How about watching a nice little goldfish – call him Alfred – swimming in the bowl? There is probably a niche for each of these examples of flogging the cutie. Still, if you want to make real coin I’d stick with three gold mines of cutie: First; cats with flair – we cat lovers love that flair, especially with a little kitty sarcasm or brutality thrown in; Second, small dogs because even cat lovers think small dogs are cute; Third, parrots. Why parrots? Humans love to chatter on about nonsense like flogging the cutie and a parrot saying anything is kind of cute. Think of a green and yellow bird saying “dishrag” – think about it – you smiled internally.

My advice, if you have the companion cutie, flog it.

Maybe/Because

Though glimpsing your own truth seems a mighty tricky business, the silliness of starting a blog for redemption in an age where bazillions of blogs are ignored everyday has my scent all over it.

But one thing I know for sure, I am the king of the futile act. I’ve spent thousands of hours working on songs no one will ever hear. I’ve written novels that no one will ever read. So what’s one more self-centered project with a near certain patina of futility clinging to it?

Maybe it’s just that when you’ve succeeded at nothing, you grasp any hope of changing that dynamic and of looking at your reflection and saying – “ Oh yeah, I’m fat but when your fat and successful it’s sexy!”.

Maybe it’s because the kids moved away and will never return – though I’d have left our boring little town too – and I want them to be impressed and to understand that my selfishness did result in something worthy of a childhood spent putting up with me.

Maybe it’s because I wish I had given more to the kids.

Growing up the child of a failed pot-addled artist has its downsides. Like never having money for a real family vacation, or a great restaurant meal.

Maybe it’s because I did so many stupid things as a parent and I have no good way to apologize for my actions.

The epitome of my parental technique occurred about 25 years ago. I missed my daughter’s piano recital in the most self-centered way imaginable – after arriving early. When I read the program I found out my daughter’s recital would come after thirty other recitals performed by four to eight year olds gleefully torturing tempo and the melody. That’s a lot of forced clapping and smiling. I figured I could leave for a bit, drive around getting stoned and make it back with plenty of time to spare. First I have to admit, I arrived high and then left to get higher. Second, due to lots of practice I can smoke and drive because my knees are expert at steering.

I still remember running into the library as all the chattering parents and children were walking out. All the recitals over, my ex and my little girl waited with withering looks. I reeked of weed and missed opportunities, feeling sick and petty, knowing I’d butchered her first, and as it turned out only piano recital. Would my seven year old daughter have given up on the piano if I’d done the mature thing and stayed for all mind-numbing ninety second recitals performed by thirty other children? Probably not, but that hasn’t stopped me, or her, from recalling the wound and flailing me with the tale of my own careless selfishness.

My intention with this project is to write as honestly as possible, while trying to be brutal only to myself. Hopefully I’ve reached that low bar.

Hopefully every once in a while someone will let me know that I wrote something interesting. It doesn’t even have to be a full piece, I’d take an interesting paragraph. Let’s be honest, producing a memorable phrase in a run-on sentence would make my day.

I’d feel tremendously accomplished if someone laughed while reading my take on the world. Yes, I’m that needy.

As you can no doubt diagnose already, I’ll delve into some personal baggage best left uncovered, cause if I expose some bone the post should at least reach interesting. But I’ll also explore politics, culture, sports and science. Religion bores me and I know nothing about the arts but that won’t keep me from those subjects too. That format should be free ranging enough to build absolutely no following in the narrow-cast culture we swim in, but this is my take on the world and I don’t care about what a good narrow-cast format would be. Whatever my “maybes” and “becauses” the goal remains producing something you, dear reader, would recommend because it made you pause, and could even say “It’s funny” too.