What, Me Worry?

At my core, I am an optimist.

In a month, I will be thirty-six years old. In two months, I will be a father. Sometime this summer, Rachel and I have to decide if we will remain in Korea for a third year, move to another country where she teaches ESL and I play stay-at-home dad, or return to the U.S. It's a lot to consider in a short span of time.

Maybe we'll stay in Korea and watch as the Republicans steal another election and the United States begins continues to disintegrate under the heel of corporate political influence. Maybe the Democrats will win and, emboldened by a perception of weakness in America, terrorists will strike again and again within our borders. Maybe a third-party candidate will rise from the stink of Nader's failure to... ha-ha, just kidding.

At my core, I am an optimist. I have read too much science fiction to be anything else. Asimov's Foundation and the 30,000 year sweep of psychohistory, Roddenberry's Federation of Planets, Heinlein's long-lived residents of Tertius led by Lazarus Long: these are the shining examples of mankind's destiny where the only problems are The Mule, the Trouble with Tribbles, and finding Time Enough for Love.

The smudge on my rose-colored glasses can be found in other science-fiction: 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 are the two best known examples of Dystopian futures. There are thousands more in short story and novel forms. All carry a central message: man will destroy himself. For all the invasions from Mars, killer comets, solar events, for every galactic calamity to befall the Earth, there is always a character who sells out the human race on some scale, large or small, for personal and usual temporary gain.

I say again: at my core, I am an optimist. But, I am disappointed in people. I see the potential in our human race. I see the wonder-filled futures our greatest minds have imagined. And I see us pissing it all away... just in time for my boy to grow up in a world that has failed.

Elitist Scum: That's Me

First, a brief rant. Then a comic!

Complaining about the state of modern music is like pissing in the wind. You poseurs who swallow everything corporate-rock radio spews at you can keep your Linkin Park and Seether. The music is created on an angst assembly line and has no merit. NO MERIT!

I have had (and read) arguments about how crappy rock has become and the chief defenders (read: apologists) always return to one of two points. The first: "That's just your opinion." Sure, it's just my opinion, but that doesn't make the music any better. Those bands still suck. Their music is still predictable. The albums won't grow on you if you listen to them repeatedly. At best, after a decade of hanging on to that Avenged Sevenfold CD, you'll have a shiny coaster and memories of puking up your guts at so-and-so's keg party.

The second point is just ridiculous. It usually goes something like this: "It's music for teenagers. Think about what you listened to when you were that age." This is just bullshit. I could handle it if that was true, but I have listened to these radio stations and, in between advertisements for strip-clubs and happy hour at the meat-market, most of the callers are in their twenties or older. If this is music for teens, it's time for an entire generation to grow up.

Man, I feel old after all that. Anyways, here's the comic (from xkcd). Click it for the big version.



BTW: The new Wilco album is kicking back:



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Listening to: Farmer John- Premiers [foobar2000 v0.9.3.1]
via FoxyTunes