Losing our sense of proportion

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about. I’ve been hearing Republicans bang the drum for less regulation of big business. Personally, I’m for less regulation, but I think those bastards in big business can suck it. I’d like to see less regulation for small and medium-sized businesses. Here’s my thought process, the amount of regulation you should be under should be in direct proportion to the amount of hellation you can cause if you screw up.

For instance, here in Texas, if you were a mom who wanted to start a small business from you home baking fresh muffins and selling them to your family and friends on the side to make some extra cash – forget it. The requirements you’d have to meet in order to do it are beyond crazy. And that applies to church bake sales, 2nd graders’ lemonade stands, farmers’ market stalls and your friendly neighborhood tamale lady. Say the worst happened and the muffin mom made a bad batch, how many people could she really hurt? A dozen? Two dozen? On the other hand, a Texas company like Enron faced so little regulation that they were able to nearly bankrupt California by creating an energy crisis, and then bankrupt the retirement savings of thousands of Americans who were invested in Enron stock.

I can’t help but think the balance of the scales is somewhat off. In an age where Wal-Mart thrives, mom and pop stores crumble. But somehow, I’m supposed to feel sorry for Wal-Mart. We should all just leave Wal-Mart alone. Sorry. No. I think those bastards can take care of themselves. I like small businesses. I think America was a better place when there were more of them. We cut big business big slack, but make it nearly impossible for the little guy to get a break. It’s like walking past a homeless guy to hand Donald Trump a dollar.

Not LOL

So. Tracy Morgan and the homophobic rant. Wow. I’ve read some of the verbatims from the routine, and it seems pretty hate-filled. Granted, tone can make things sound different than they read on the page. But still. It sounds like an episode of “When Comedy Goes Wrong.” See Michael Richards.

The thing is comedy has an ability to illuminate peoples’ anxieties, hypocrisies and pre-conceptions. Many comedians work that line really closely, between discomfort and laughter. But comedy is also many bullies’ weapon of choice. Couching a putdown as “a joke” and if you can’t take being attacked, it’s your own fault. Many of the edgier comedians work a line of anger into their routines. When you combine that high volatility of anger and race or sexuality or gender, things can go wrong. It’s a risk you take when you’d rather be Richard Pryor than Jerry Seinfeld. I think that the fact that the audience was really uncomfortable is a measure that probably Tracy Morgan’s routine crossed the line. Sometimes it’s only a vibe, as hard as that is to define, that makes the difference between “I can’t believe I’m laughing at this” and “I want my money back.”

Hopefully, this will end up having a positive result. It looks like the LGBT community is standing up to this instance of bullying in an assertive manner. And for the most part, comedians are intelligent, reflective and sensitive (the ones who aren’t don’t usually make it very far). And if they are able to work with Tracy Morgan in a way that discusses the issues he was talking about in an open manner, it might have a positive influence on relations between the black community and the gay community. Something that years of people calling out black basketball players for using the word “faggot” has never been able to achieve.

And for Tracy’s sake I hope he’s able to get this figured out. My gay friends are some of the most rabid consumers of standup comedy I know. I mean they consistently go to comedy clubs and theaters to actually see standup comedians. I’ll just say it. The gays love the standup. And they are a pretty sophisticated audience who can tell the difference. If they can take the kind of s### that Lisa Lampanelli dishes, they do know how to take a joke. And when it’s just not funny.

Because her lips are moving

So, deep in the heart of media navel gazing, I’ve seen several headlines that boil down to, “Why are we so fascinated with the Casey Anthony story?” I can’t tell you how much I’d like to say “Who’s ‘we’, pale face?” And that the media is asking themselves why they can’t stop tracking every sordid moment of this case. But the truth is, I’m fascinated too. And I’ve done some thinking about why we (me, the median and millions of people around the country) are so hooked on this story.

The one thing I’ve come down to is – just about everybody has a Casey Anthony in their lives. She’s that person who will lie and lie, sometimes apparently just for the sake of lying, until she is absolutely cornered with bare, dead facts staring her in the face. They just seem to have little to know association with the truth or even reality, just sowing seeds of half-truths and bald-ass lies until they just can’t get away with it any more. Whether it’s to make themselves looks better, feel better, save someone else’s feelings, manipulate a situation, or it’s just how they’d like things to be and if I say it it’s true, the result is the same. They make the people around them nuts.

And I’m sure there are all sorts of psychological reasons: borderline personality disorder, magical ideation, psychotic break. Or maybe they’re just kind of fanciful. Or an asshole. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a way to fix them. No matter what they are nearly impossible to deal with on a routine basis. And the only sure cure for the effect on your life is to stay as far away from them as humanly possible. And that’s hoping they aren’t tied to you by blood.

But if you’ve ever felt the bizarre world that your life turns into when you have one of these people stringing a non-stop line of bull around every lamp post, then watching Casey Anthony’s load of crap get pulled apart, lie by lie, by a trial lawyer is incredibly . . . cathartic? Satisfying? Like cosmic justice. How many times have you wished you could line up a jury of peers and just present the case in a court of law of why you don’t believe a word that some fabricator says? To be able to tear down the house of cards like Perry Mason and have someone (other than you) say “Guilty!”

Most of us never get that satisfaction with a pathological liar that has firebombed our lives. And, actually, I think even if Casey Anthony is presented with irrefutable truth, she’s never going to admit what she did. But even so, there’s a feeling (shared by the cops, the prosecutors office, some of Casey’s family and former friends) of “get her!” Just for once. Just to have the truth revealed to the rest of the world.

Tin Cup

I hate paying bills. And it’s not the handing over the money. I’m cheap, but I’m okay with paying my way. It’s just the whole act of writing the check and sticking it in the envelope. Or first remembering that I have to pay a bill, then finding my check book, then finding a pen. Then writing it out. Then finding a stamp. Paying bills on-line is marginally better. And god bless whoever invented automatic payment. Why everyone can’t just do that, I don’t know. I have one bill that charges an extra (get this) $25 a bill to do it one line. Pirates! Stupid pirates too, since having on-line bill pay like quadruples your chances of getting your money on-time and with a hint of a smile.

I remember when I was a kid, and this shows what happy, innocent times the 60s were in suburban Texas, my Mom just had this little cup in the mailbox with change in it. Any time an envelope came with postage due or COD, the mailman would just take it out of the cup. Easy. He never took more than he needed. He never had to walk up to the door to get money from her. And nobody stole the cup out of the mailbox.

You know, life was a lot easier before they went and started to make things easier.

The Man in the Mirror

Okay, now that I’ve seen Rep. Weiner’s wife (and let’s face it, he can kiss his first name goodbye along with his reputation) the mystery deepens. She’s stunning. And evidently really smart. And kinda rich. He married up. Waaaayyyy up. A year ago. Evidently he got the 7 month itch. What a schmuck.

A friend was talking about the Wal-Mart mirror yesterday. She says Wal-Mart must sell a special mirror that every time you look in it you think you look fantastic. It explains the “People of Wal-Mart” website. I also think it explains Britney Spears, uhm, fashion sense. Evidently Rep. Weiner has been looking in a Wal-Mart mirror and thinking that he’s too much man to waste on just one gorgeous, glamorous, smart and well-connected woman. He needs to spread a little of that jelly around. Welcome to Wal-Mart.