Dan Kant's "The American Commandment" Speech

The first book I ever wrote was in 2006. I wrote it on the job, by hand, in my spare time. It will never be released because its by first actual book and ain’t all that.  But, there was a part in it that I always loved and since I’m scrounging for things to do, I’m putting it up.

Daniel Kant was a modern-day speechmaker, like the ones that existed back in the nineteenth century.  They were spoken-word performances, but charged, political, and people loved it.  There was a lot of other shit going on, but the book led up to the last speech he ever wanted to give, and it was about the balance between the rich and the poor in America.  I reread it and I still liked it.  It fit the insane tone of the book.  You would not be surprised there a lot of details that remain oddly relevant in 2020.

(Update: I had completely forgotten that this was the third book I'd written. There's two previous completed projects in my file that I blanked on.  Oops.)

I fixed a couple typos, but here it is:

             “Good evening!”

             Applause.  Woo’s.

             “I was called a liberal twenty times in the last week.  Everyone used it as an insult and I thought that was funny. Liberals used to be rough types.  Hard-edged, fringe rogues with ideas that scared the crap out of banks, churches and governments alike.  But a tiny era from 1967 or so to 1970 or so changed that perception.  The image of the sly revolutionary was replaced by flowers and pot and peace signs and tie-dye and whining.  Liberals are now synonymous with hippies.  The right regards their cultural opposites as worthless, gutless and irrelevant.”

             “Maybe hippies are.  But liberals aren’t.”

             “The liberals of today are all over as they’ve always been, and I suspect the twenty-first century culture of sex, violence and materialism have made their mark.  Like the devout leftists before them, they ate and drank at the table for a while until something made them sick.  They might not bemoan big business, they may even want in on the action.  These are the types that perish for what they love, they burn for their beliefs.  They place forks in the road of human progress.”

             “Political debate doesn’t get in the way.”

             “If the conservatives left well enough alone, their opponents on the public stage might actually be hippie types.  But they ridiculed and giggled at the concepts of peace, love and understanding.  Now, I think liberals have to avoid the soft approach.  They are backed into a corner.  Creating segregated groups of people in a single society is never a good idea.  Liberals are divided from the right and they are distanced in the public eye.  This time around, the left side wants to be heard and preach the traditional morals of peace, responsibility and liberty and the right side wants them to shut the fuck up.”

             “So, what now?  Liberals in different times are known as revolutionaries.  The left creates change, it is in their blood.  Because of this, I am frightened.  As long as there is a place at the table where conservatives and liberals, rich and poor, the powerful and the powerless can speak to one another we always have hope.  That’s why America’s system is shaped this way!  Opinions should be heard and discussed and dissected.  The doors should never be shut. There are a few victories, but the conversation always goes on.”

             “This is much better than the alternative.”

             “What is the alternative?  Well I’m just an annoying citizen, one who was, until very recently, poor. I have a confused and socially virginal mind.  I have a theory and I base it on something that I hesitantly call “The American Commandment”.  It is a single line etched in the minds of each American who was ever born, and it is essential for the balance of any capitalist society.

“I’m sure all of you heard the real version of The Little Red Riding Hood.  The wolf eats Red and her Grandma and a huntsman saves the day by cutting open the stomach, then they eat the wolf, Red marries the hunter and she’s fitted with a wolfskin wedding veil?  Kay, I added some of that…”

“The point is that there are sometimes pieces of stories and sayings and morals that are left behind by history for one reason or another.  There’s only one I’m going to talk about and it’s the last thing I’ll ever talk about out loud.”

“The arguments we have all boil down the same thing.  I’ve heard advocates for peace, racial equality, sexual equality, kid’s rights, gay rights, more guns, less guns, anti-death penalty, pro-abortion, feed the hungry, get the government out of my face, help us be strong united county again.  One million causes.  Because we are a capitalist society, everyone knows what the root of the solution is.  I guess addressing it is considered a crime in some places, and debating it is rude.  Just like sex is a taboo subject in many circles, the topic is still very real and an important part of human life, let alone American life.”

“I speak of money.  This is a matter of dollars and wealth.  We value money above all things. Look around and be honest.  Our lives are about who has money, who needs it, who thinks they can get it and who wants to keep what they have. Any problem I mentioned can be solved with more money, one way or another.  I’ve heard people say certain things can’t be solved with money.  Don’t believe that.  All that means is you won’t find anyone willing to pay for it. The poor need money for basic necessities and the rich believe they should keep what they earn, inherit, or make off of interest of what they earn or inherit. I hear both sides and they make damn convincing arguments.  The only sticky wicket, the only monkey wrench, is the numbers themselves.  There are 330 million people in this country and less and one percent of a percent have half the wealth.  That is an issue.”

“So if we are honest and we admit money is number one; outshining love, kindness, tolerance, children, respect, the golden rule, family decency and happiness (all of which are free) then the poor must know their place in this value system.  They believe they know their place.  They are controlled and limited.”

“But here’s what everyone has forgotten.  The Commandment.”

“Back to my analogy.  I apologize because metaphors have never been easy for me.  The wealthy have half of the commandment spinning in their heads.  The commandment is a statement made by the people of a nation.  The middle class, the poor, the powerless. The powerful know the first four words of the commandment and use it as a legitimate reason to ignore, and even hate the poor. It’s short, but it is what they truly think of when they see Democrats and social programs and intellectuals who want to change things and scholarships and free lunch and free healthcare plans and public school.  They look at the poor with all its sincerity and genuine need, their fellow man, and all they can hear is:”

“Give me your money.”

“These are the first four words of the commandment.”

“The poor ask for equal playing fields.  They ask for dignity and help.  They ask for the smarter, the luckier and the happier to be treated like equals. The wealthy can’t stand the fact they are expected to pay for any of that.  All the Have’s hear is:”

“Gimme your money.”

“That is why there is suffering.  That is why the system breaks down.  That is why things don’t work around here.  It’s that thought and that belief.  It is a half-truth, a half- belief.  The poor have failed to remind them of the rest of it!  It is the Poor’s fault everyone!  The rich only hear what they want to hear anyway, so it is the duty of the poor to remind the rich why on God’s green earth they should pay taxes and support those less fortunate!”

“Taxes exist to fund the government. Wealthy people know that.  Not just the DC guys pissing money away on missiles that never go anywhere, but billions of other dollars in tax money go to all the stuff we need.  Power, police, phone, fire fighters, emergency techs, teachers, sewer guys, sanitation, lunch ladies, day care, elderly care, medicine and a shitload others.  Lemme hear it if you are one of these people!!!”

Enormous applause.  They shook the stage.  My heart was a hummingbird eager to break through my chest.

“But those in power hear only: Gimme your money. Give me your money.  Like poor people are children asking for a cookie after school.”

“As for the wealthy, I’m sure when they go to church, if they go, there is a sermon or two about charity and loving thy neighbor and being Christlike or obeying the book or some shit.  If Christians were Christlike there would be no poor or war.  But I don’t know if the poor are waiting for that ship to sail in anymore.  I have a feeling less and less people are buying that old time medicine.”

“Remember, this is Poor’s fault.  I mentioned numbers.  They have numbers.  So do we.  Lots of them.”

“I want everyone to hear my final point.  I want all those smart phones and the MP3’s and the soundboard recording and that camera for the internet link and all you nice people to hear this.”

“This first part of the Commandment is indeed: “Gimme your money.” The last six words that have fallen from memory in our fat and bloated society are much more dramatic.”

“The second part is:”

A pause.

“OR WE WILL FUCKING TAKE IT!”

An eruption.

“I’m serious as a goddamned triple bypass.  You want to say that I don’t live in the real world?  Look around.  Look in the faces of the bored and confused and depressed. We’re in America!  It’s not supposed to be better than this and here we are!  Scared and tired and sad all the time.  If what I speak of is insanity, then that is where we live every day.  A state of insanity.”

“Think ! Think! Think!   Why would people with money ever give their money away?  For what reason other than the government initially set up laws to take it from them.  Why take the money at all?  To placate the poor!  The budgets for Social Security and education alone are staggering.  If we only care about money, you know this is not done out of the kindness of their hearts.  It’s done to keep the peace.  It is to keep you and me punching the clock and making them money. It is a carrot or a stick.  Money is the brass ring or whatever bullshit analogy we’ve adopted to silence ourselves when we realize our lives are meaningless.”

“What power do they have that we don’t give to them?  Tell them their money is worthless or take it all, it doesn’t matter. What is to keep us from taking whatever we want when we want it?  The laws, the rules? What are you afraid of?   Cops, security, the army?  All those folks will be right next to you.  If they don’t abandon their posts it will only take a few minutes.  Once they see they are equally as screwed over and desperate and they’ve swallowed even bigger lies they’ll stand shoulder to shoulder with family and neighbors.”

“What about the law, Dan? As far as the law, what is the goddamn point of the law if you are hungry, sad, fearful, and pissed off all the time?  It’s just paper!  It can be changed!  Do you think it is money or law that keeps the peace anyway?”

“As far as the daily feelings of the rich, you can’t base an entire socioeconomic system to keep a tiny segment of the population from feeling bad they have money.  Too bad, poor you.  You’re wealthy.  If you want to stay that way, you pay taxes.”

“Your possessions are only illusions.  They are only yours because the rest of us have agreed not to take it from you.  That is a contract.  That’s how it will always be.  It is the price of a civilization. You don’t like it; we’re coming for your stuff. Now get out.”

“Is this a threat?  You’re goddamned right it is!”

“The threat is not new, it’s always been there.  We’ve just been rocked to sleep with shiny objects and pretty pictures and fluff to forget about it for a while. Television, cheap gadgets, cars, dumb movies, caffeine, beer and sugar serve as distractions.  We all know this or have a vague idea of our addictions.  But the cards seem so stacked against us and the allure of mediocre aimless Americana is so strong.  It still does not change a thing.  It is a tradition to fleece the poor.  What I speak of is equally traditional. The threat is very real.”

“Sooner or later, it will happen.  You have to see it coming.  Those who have the means to feed, clothe and help those who don’t have the means will have to make a decision. How much are you willing to pay for stability? Our society is a concept.  An idea.  An idea can be accepted or rejected. Humans must have a reason m a vested interest to accept the concept.  These laws that keep the fabric together will be respected if they work.  If they don’t, the concept is useless.”

“The alternative is something entirely more horrifying, but still real.  It has happened many times in human history, and it’s sure to happen again. Prevention is possible, but like a life- threatening virus, terrorism or natural disasters, it has to be faced. It must not be ignored.”

I took a sip of water.  I received applause just for that.

“I’ll only be another couple minutes.”

“I’m talking revolution.  Not the John Lennon kind or the Black Panther kind.  I’m not talking about rock and roll here.  I’m talking France, 1789.  I’m talking millions of pissed off people storming affluent neighborhoods because they are ill and all the medicine is being held ransom. Houses and cars aflame because they are starving or unemployed.  Do you understand how these things begin?  By those who feel useless and have nothing to do!  Are we that far? Are we getting close?”

“One crisis is all it takes.  One financial disaster and those without ample resources will be in the streets. Maybe it won’t even come to that.  Maybe it will be one man; one father. He watches someone he loves, someone he is responsible for, so sick and dying needlessly because he lacks the correct insurance coverage, or he was laid off, or injured, or unlucky. The medicine is right over there, in that building, just waiting for a high bidder.  Maybe he can’t handle it any more, maybe he himself is sick or desperate or hungry or even worse, bored to death?”

“People are poor because they are poor!  Why does it matter!?” I screamed.

More applause.  I wanted to bail right there.  I felt the crowd rumbling and they approved.  I sucked the marrow out the last bone of anger I had and all was left was the little blonde girl in the Pacific Northwest.  If nothing I said ever mattered again I didn’t care.  I wanted to collapse.

“Maybe this father hops a fence.  That’s it.  Right into a warehouse or a store or an estate.  He figures he has no other options so he grabs what he needs, maybe someone gets in his way.  But his baby is starving and dying, and the owner is trying to protect his property.  What would you do with someone who got between you and your starving child?”

“YOU’D FUCKING KILL HIM! THAT’S WHAT YOU’D DO AND YOU KNOW IT!!!”

“And who of you would convict him?  This is where the line is drawn for all of us.  This is where civilization stops cold and nature looms it ever- present shadow.”

“Then more and more people would get the same idea as the father and it would be bedlam before you know.  First the police would do their duty but eventually they’d figure out they are just arresting their own kind, the underpaid and the mistreated and the incredibly bored to death.  Maybe a change, even a violent one, is better than wasting away at the TV, growing fatter and sicker and dumber and wishing that something would happen. People would stop caring about burning the flag, gay marriages or welfare cheats in a second.  Maybe it wouldn’t be America anymore.”

“If the rich stand in the way of your baby dying, your loved one starving or they refused to grant you a bit of dignity, all your notions of a work ethic and the nuclear family dissipate like firecracker smoke. ‘Society’ and ‘country’ and ‘America’ and ‘laws’ become just words. You’d do whatever you’d have to do, and those with money need to know that.  They need to remember it.”

 “The people.  Us.  Everyone you see.  We aren’t in charge. We aren’t in charge, but we are the keepers of the kingdom.  This is our country.  We let them have it.  But it is an old agreement.  An ancient deal.  They must live up to it.  Every so often we have to rattle the cage .”

“To those who are frightened or find me hilarious I can only say this is a natural as the tides rolling in.  Snowfall.  Birth and death.  The few must protect the needs of the many, and now you remember why.”

“I’m getting tired.”

“To those who have things, just be fair. Give in.  Give up some of your money.  Yes, that’s how it works. Not all. Some. It’s not rude to ask someone to do something with their money.  Don’t want to help?  Then don’t call when there’s a fire or you need a doctor or a teacher or a cop or someone to fix the plumbing. Don’t expect protection from our enemies. You don’t need anyone’s help, apparently.  You have money and that’s the American way. What’s yours is yours.”

“I hope your right, because in the other scenario, your goddamned head is on a pike.”

“Give up the money!!!!”

More Memory Stuff (The Mandela Effect)

Are you familiar with the completely fabricated and ridiculous idea behind ‘The Mandela Effect’?  If you are uninitiated. I’ll walk you through it. 

Several years ago, in the meme-heavy internet world that we live in, there were people who believed at one point in their lives that Nelson Mandela had died before his actual death in 2013.  Upon news of his death, the internet came alive with ‘I thought he was dead already’ comments.  These were so pervasive that other collective brain farts were brought to life.  A lot of people thought the cartoon called the ‘Berenstein Bears’ instead of the ‘Berenstain Bears’.  There was the notion that the comedian Sinbad starred in a genie movie in the 90’s, which wasn’t true.  These ‘false memories’ became such a trope that there were theories (sometimes tongue-in-cheek, sometimes not) that we as a society were living in an alternate universe where Mandela lived longer, and the cartoon was always known as The Berenstein Bears.   

My analysis ends there.  Why?  Because it’s not worth noting. This is all ridiculous bullshit. The truth is, you probably have a shitty memory.  Or, at the very least, our bar for a good memory is much higher than we realize. 

I also cannot fathom the size of the ego that would even conjecture that the entire universe is wrong and that I’m right, there’s no way that the information in my mind is wrong.  I realize that a lot of people had fun with the Mandela Effect, but the fact that such a thing even exists shows the lack of our ability to evaluate the information we have stored.  Or, we simply are so full of ourselves that we’ve forgotten to simply admit ‘Yeah, I don’t know’.

All cards on the table.  I have a great fucking memory.  It’s my strongest attribute and my most powerful tool to trick people into believing that I’m smart.  I can barely add and subtract, I’m not mechanically inclined whatsoever, I wouldn’t know a sound business strategy if it punched me in the face.  But I remember.  History. Geography. Scientific factoids. State capitals. I remember every movie I’ve ever seen in a theater; who I was with, and where we saw it.  I probably remember your birthday.  I remember the personal information you’ve told me.  Yes, even that conversation we had 25 years ago.

When I was a kid my parents always told me to remember where we parked.  My dad called me from the bar on Friday nights to have me answer trivia questions and presumably win him a bet or two.  I crushed Trivial Pursuit when I was 10.

How the hell do you remember that?  Do you sit around and study this stuff every day? I don’t have room in my brain for all of that.

And it’s not perfect.  I don’t have perfect recall by any means.  That sounds like a nightmare.  I forget shit all the time.

I didn’t understand the depths and uniqueness of my memory until I was much older.  It is exceptional.  Most of the little gifted kids I grew up with had the same thing, some didn’t.  Not being able to remember the little bits and pieces of life is perfectly normal.  That’s the marking of a normal memory.  Just because you can’t remember the name of your classmate from high school doesn’t mean you have Alzheimer’s around the corner.  You’re normal.  The brain tosses these things aside.

             Did I know Mandela was still alive? Yep.  Did I always call it the Berenstain Bears? Yeppers. I pay attention.  I read.  I can pronounce s-t-a-i-n.

 But I’m constantly asking myself, after reading a news blurb about a celebrity death: Wait, I thought I heard that this guy died already.  Well, I was wrong. Not only am I wrong about a lot of stuff that I thought, you are too.  Collectively we’re been wrong about some major things over the last few thousand years or so.  We’re not dumb or trapped in some interdimensional backward world.  We’re just wrong. Look in the mirror and admit it when you’re wrong.  It might feel like it's going to be the worst thing ever.  It’s not.  It feels alright.

Be wrong with me, won’t you?

My 20 Favorite Stand-Up Comedians Of All The Times

I’ve been a fan of stand-up comedy since I was 15.  It’s all I gave a shit about in high school and my GPA reflected that.  Turns out that I really loved writing it more than performing it, and I’ve never stopped writing it. I’ve seen dozens of performances live, collected tapes and CD’s, and watched five million comedy specials since the late 80’s.  I have a list of my 20 favorite stand-up performers based on their careers on stage.  There’s no real order, but you can figure out who goes where.

 (Individuals have been left off of this list if they’ve been accused or convicted of sexual assault and/or converted to right-wing mouthpieces. Screw you guys.)

David Cross – I’ve decided that if I had made the leap to try and become a professional back in 1990, this is one of the guys I would have tried to suck up to. I would have failed.  Surly, sarcastic, brash, intelligent and a cantankerous asshole when he wants to be.  All the things I aspired to when I was 18.

Todd Barry – He actually writes and tells jokes.  He has a point of view but there aren’t a lot of traditional joke writers anymore and no one has his patient cadence. 

Richard Lewis – Retired, I think.  Back in the late 80’s and early 90’s, this geezer had an energy to his shows that were so fun.  Marc Maron said that they don’t have Jewish comedians like this anymore because they have medication for this type of frenetic anxiety and depression. Kind of a shame.

Maria Bamford – 100% original voice.  Absolutely one of a kind in every way possible. Open about her mental illness struggles and gives you a peek inside her chaotic brain.  I’ve taken all my kids to their first stand up show and this was my daughter Emily’s inaugural experience.

Randy and Jason Sklar – You know why this brother team is on the list? Because they’re fun.  They look like they are having fun up there and that’s a serious skill when you’ve been saying the same shit over and over.  Plus, they took a picture with me:

John Mulaney – Noob on the list. Unbelievable how gifted this guy is at such a young age.  Get in early.

Dave Chappelle – Speaking of being gifted at a young age.  I saw this guy on Comic Relief when he was 19 and he was already a seasoned pro.  He’s one of the few all-time titans who achieved his own voice, becoming a comedian and social commentator while remaining funny. 

Jim Gaffigan – Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remain a ‘clean’ comedian and stay funny for decades?  There is a select group of people who can suck the marrow out of any mundane premise and make it all gold.  Still haven’t seen him live. Tickets are too pricey.

Paula Poundstone – She is the first comedian I ever saw.  In a shitty club in Orlando, and she crushed. Her 80’s specials are engrained in my brain.

Dave Attell - The closest thing we ever got to a Gen-X Don Rickles.  Fast on his feet, dirty, and a pure joke writer.  I took my oldest son Nick to Attell for his first show.  He lost his mind.

Bob Goldthwait – Bobcat has 4 careers.  80’s stand-up star, lukewarm comedic actor, indie film director, modern club comic.  First major name I saw live and he clashed with the redneck audience that paid to see him.  Lifelong punk attitude and native of Syracuse, New York, like yours truly. Minus the punk attitude.

Andy Kindler – Honestly, sometimes this guy is number 1 on my list.  Truly.  Absolutely no one does what he does.  He deconstructs the actual stand up experience, the jokes, the audience, the other comedians.  It’s more performance art and it all comes out of the mouth of a cranky old man.  He is known as a comedian’s comedian, which means only funny people enjoy him.  Again, it’s a shame.

Ellen Degeneres – You read that right.  Don’t give a shit about her talk show or even her sitcom.  Ellen was one of the most remarkable stand-ups in the 1980’s.  Even better than a lot of her male counterparts. Having a voice is so key and it seems like she had it the whole time. If you have to separate into categories…greatest female stand-up ever.

Bill Hicks - I’m one of the few people who was actually a fan of this guy before he died of cancer in 1994. Had his albums on cassette. Part lonely political comic, part paranoid stoner.   Some of the stuff doesn’t age as well, and when I think of him, I wonder what he would have been like if he had time to grow. 

Dana Gould – Stalwart comedian who was also a writer for the funniest show of all time, The Simpsons. He comes from the first generation of nerds and weirdos and has also dipped his toe in political commentary. My son Holden’s first show.

Paul F. Tompkins – Belongs on the list because of a unique voice and confidence on stage.  I’ve enjoyed probably 1000 hours of his improv work in the last 10 years in podcast-land so it did color my opinion, too. An attitude of ‘if you don’t get it, that’s your problem’.  Love it.

Chris Rock - Now we’re hitting my Mount Rushmore.  There is only one successor to George Carlin, and it is Chris Rock.  A millionaire, yet still needs to get specials out there. He needs to still perform. There are at least one or two undeniable brilliant observations per stand-up set. There are jokes, but there are big ideas behind them. Sometimes he’s just talking to us, and that’s what makes him like Carlin. 

Patton Oswalt – Patton was created in a lab when I needed a comedian to speak directly to me.  I would have tried to befriend him too if I put myself out there in 1990 but he would have thought I was a hack and told me to fuck off. The godfather of nerds, social commentator, writer, father, husband, fat guy.  Seen him twice.  Will see him again.

Richard Pryor - I mean, come on.  The funniest comedian of all time.  Legend.  Hall of famer.  He helped define what a stand-up is and what he could get away with.  If you haven’t gone back and checked him out, pay attention to when he gets into story mode.  He breathed life into every character, each with a unique voice.  You’re listening to a story about eleven different people and Pryor is the voice they’re coming from. He also anthropomorphized animals and everyday objects. It was rhythmic; musical. It all started there.

George Carlin – Pryor is the funniest comedian of all time; Carlin is the best comedian of all time.  A machine of writing, observation, social commentary, wordplay, language study, fart jokes.  He could do everything.  (Except relationship stuff.  Ever notice that?  He skipped that shit.) Hours and hours over forty years.  Insane work ethic.  He also evolved over time.  Straight-laced club performer, hippie stoner comic, 70’s drugged-out waste, reinvigorated political commentator, grumpy old man, enlightened old man. His later stuff was aimed directly at Americans in general, whom he thought could have been so much better.  Some bristle at his later stuff that is ‘mean’ to the audience, but I think we need that.  I don’t think we’re ‘soft’, as much as we need to not take ourselves so damn seriously.

Another reason I’ve always loved comedy.

Welcome To Anxiety, Everyone!

I never thought to compare a lifetime of anxiety to a global pandemic but…what do you know?  Here we are.

I have an entire lifetime of people telling me to chill out or calm down or relax.  Now, I finally have something for them that they can relate to.  It is this.  The uncertainty, the restlessness, the discomfort…that is anxiety, folks.  There are a few differences which I would like to clarify, but this may be the closest you get to what it feels likes for us every day.

I’m not skittish.  I’m not a worry-wort.  I don’t need to man up.  I have a complex set of chemicals in my brain that fire uncontrollably in the face of stressful situations.  You have them, too.  But mine are excessive and long-lasting.  I can’t count to ten and they subside.  They are so intense, so enduring, they eat away the strength of my heart.  They’ve caused me to lose my hair more rapidly.  They invite other physical problems in an effort to compensate for what the anxiety is doing to me.  It’s why I have to take pills.  I don’t want to.  I have to.

The primary difference is that this virus outbreak will be over at some point in the future.  We’ll look back on it and have memories of being cooped up in our houses and wonder why toilet paper is the central creation of western civilization.  Anxiety doesn’t end.  Talking about it can create it.  I feel tense right now as I write this.  No shit. The muscles in my left arm are tight just because I’m tussling with the beast in written form.  Anxiety doesn’t fuck around.  It feeds itself.             My life is a never-ending challenge to take it easy.  I need to do anything: walk, read, nap, work, watch a movie, talk with friends and family, read some more, write down all of this bullshit, just to stay ahead of anxiety.  I can’t give it anything to nibble on.

Before I was medicated, it was ten times worse.  I actually can’t bring myself to write about it.  It’s that bad.

The internet is full of people trying to describe what to do if you have a love one with anxiety.  My wife and I have been together for almost 30 years and she still doesn’t know.  I’ve tried to explain it to her, but she’ll never get it. Not really. It’s hard to understand because it is illogical.  It’s emotions run amok.  So, I have to just tell her and everyone else what not to do around me.  It’s not that bad. 

First, I don’t give a shit about the news.  Because of the wide reach of media, I will find out what I absolutely need to know no matter what.  The minutiae, the day-to-day updates, are inconsequential and fuel for my anxiety’s fire. Second, anxiety is a real thing.  You can’t see it or touch it, but it is real.  When I’m feeling it, it has to be dealt with and there is no need to wonder why or how it appeared.  Especially why.  It is an involuntary response to unknown stimuli.  I don’t have words to give it form and definition.  I just feel like I’m having a heart attack and my nerve endings are trying to leap out of my fingertips.  Happy?!

What do I do? That’s the thought of millions of us during this unusual and stressful time.  That is as close to the central question of anxiety as I can think of.  What do I do?  Am I doing enough?  Am I in danger?  Are my kids okay? Will my mom be alright?  Do we have enough money?  Where are my good socks?  Imagine all of those with equal weight all the time.  Yeah, it sucks pretty bad.

For those of us with it, take your meds, breathe, get exercise when you can, lean on your distractions.  You’ve trained for this. If you are trying to weather this anxiety storm for the first time, you have no recourse but to be patient and understanding.  Leave your preconceived notions about manliness and gumption and John Wayne horseshit at the door.  Be nice.  Be there for someone.  And keep doing that forever, while you’re at it.

My Anxiety Files - Episode IX and Holiday Turkeys

             No spoilers, but in the end, do spoilers really matter?

             We may have witnessed a minor cultural shift.  It could be a genuine change in the way my generation behaves from here on out, or it could be merely a blip on the radar and my ego is blowing it out of proportion.  Assigning significance to just about everything is the American way, so at least I’m being consistent.

             The reviews and reactions to Star Wars - Episode IX are in and they are mixed. ‘Mixed’ is the modern euphemism for ‘we can’t decide if this sucks or not’.  It is messy and problematic, but I still enjoyed the experience.  Buried inside that idea is something that us Gen-Xers, now in our late forties or so, should fully understand.  We grew up on a steady diet of pop culture, and it really doesn’t matter if it was good then, or it still resonates today.  It was fluff made for fun and to sell toys.  Did you have fun?  That’s all that matters.

             The split on Episode IX isn’t like the last movie.  There were a bunch of white nationalist, racist, Trumpy pieces of garbage that had a problem with women in space movies and one of them have the audacity to be born with an Asian heritage. The movie wasn’t great, but it was still a coherent movie.  Ep IX is a dizzying barrage of Star Wars stuff.  Even people who love it agree it felt rushed.  I did.  But I wasn’t upset by it.  Why?  I understand these truths:  I’m forty-seven.  I was entertained. Most Star Wars movies aren’t A-plusses anyways.  But I loved them, and I will continue to do so. 

             As an adult, I can use the metaphor of a holiday dinner.  Everyone has had the experience of a shitty Thanksgiving, Christmas spread, or anniversary dinner that didn’t go over well.  The oven broke down, the stuffing was underdone, the potatoes were gummy or your dog jumped onto the dinner table and humped the turkey.  It was a meal you looked forward to, and it was disappointing.  You get older and you laugh at these things because its all you can do.  It's funny.  You know you’ve had wonderful meals before, and you’ll have wonderful meals in the future.  You don’t stop having holiday meals because this one sucked.  You just throw that turkey out.

             I’m not an apologist. If you want to hate on Episode IX, there’s plenty to pick apart.  That’s fine.  I just don’t want to do that shit anymore.  I had a blog post a week ago that detailed all my nitpicking about the prequel movies.  I started that in my twenties, and I don’t want to spend another moment of brain time dissecting fluff.  There is an entire universe of books, comics, and games that tell other Star Wars tales that are pretty damn good.  As for picking apart this stuff or superhero movies or TV shows with crappy endings, I will announce my retirement for giving a shit.  Any criticism will be for fun and conversation, any consumption will be purely for the intent for which it was intended. 

             It’s also not a cop-out.  I’d be making excuses for the movie if it was a cop-out.  I have no excuses to make, nor do I care about copping out.  I am moving on. Rising above.

             The rest of this piece could be about nerd culture, fandom, the cultural obsession with distraction, the need to pay closer attention to the things that matter, unplugging, and a dozen other possibilities.  But it’s not.  Nothing I say about any of those things really matter and that might be my point.  It’s about me, and how I deal with the giant culture that surrounds me.  It makes me ill most of the time, but there are things about it that I love.  I don’t want to leave it behind.  But I have to adapt and grow as a person, and that includes how I engage with it.

             Isn't it better to take it for what it is?  Leave the significance at the door?  We're adults.  We should be able to tell the difference between a nourishing meal and cotton candy.  Do we need a debate on whether the last serving of cotton candy was better, or they had better cotton candy twenty years ago? 

             I honestly believe I would have walked out of the theater the same way if the movie was a solid A+.   “That was fun.  It’s over now.  What’s next?”

My Anxiety Files – Keepin’ Busy

My friend grew up living next to his grandparents.  I saw them all the time and I remember one afternoon in the late 80’s when we were bullshitting around, I saw my friend’s grandmother sweeping her driveway.  It was apparently a regular thing. She kept a clean house and part of that was to sweep the leaves and dirt from their driveway.  This time, I saw her take the leaves to the end of the driveway and into the street.  Then, she started to sweep the street in front of the house. 

“Uh, dude, your grandma is sweeping the street clean?”

“Eh, she’s keeping busy.”

I remember that phrase used a reason for so many things over the course of my life. It always confused me.  I was curious about everyone’s motivations, and when someone spent time with a seemingly pointless task never made sense to me.  

(You already see my problem, right?)

To me, keeping busy meant wasting your time and wasting your time was an outright sin.  I had this notion that everyone had a clock ticking and to piss away even a moment was spitting in the face of nature and life itself. It was my struggle with the concept of ‘should’.  Now, of course, this thought process never left my brain and made it to the active stage.  I frittered away so much time in my life, to think of it all would be overwhelming.  I made too much out of time; like I needed to be doing the ‘right’ or ‘productive’ thing.  In reality, I was paralyzed by the analysis of it all.  It’s something I still deal with and truly remains my biggest regret.

To combat this, I adopted my own little mantra.  I say to myself: “Own your time”.  That’s it. It’s all I can do.  It happens to me nearly every day, especially during downtime.  Do I write?  Do I read?  What do I read? Do I watch a movie?  Can I watch something I’ve already seen?

If I truly own my time, if I deem myself as the only owner, I can make the determination and the decision is final.  There is no ‘should’. 

For those of us with anxiety or depression or have brains that like to wage war on us, keeping busy is essential.  I’m late to the game on this.  I wish I would have understood this a long time ago.  It absolutely does not matter what you are doing with that time.  If your ego is telling you that you need to do something important, I think you’d already be doing it.  There is no shame in screwing around.  One of my favorite authors of all time, Kurt Vonnegut, said: “We are here on Earth to fart around.”  If this doesn’t apply to you, then you are already doing something important and you wouldn’t take the time to read a dumb blog.  For the rest of humanity, I think keeping busy might be a good thing.  If not for achieving new heights of civilization, then for self-care.  For your health.

What’s better, worrying and ruminating about one terrible thought and regret after another until you can’t function, or playing some PlayStation 4?

I have such a difficult time on the weekends these days.  I feel like I’m still in a mode that my circumstances don’t require.  It was Dad/Survival mode.  I’m tense about money, frazzled about house stuff and work, and the pressure is on.  But those days are over.  I’m actually not in that mode anymore. I’m in a different mode that I don’t fully grasp.  It’s one where I get to dictate what I do with my time.  It's foreign and strange and I don’t fully understand it.  It’s not determined by my responsibilities to others.  It’s for me, and I’ve never really done it before.  I have the ability to keep busy in any way I choose.

Yes, I understand I figure certain things out decades later than most.  That’s why I have a blog.