Things I don't understand - #2

Why bust on MC Hammer they way they do in the media? I don't understand that.

For those of you who don't recall, MC Hammer was a pop/rap star in the 1990's - had some hits, made a ton of money and then went bankrupt, and now lives around Tracy, CA.

Now, he's starting up a YouTube.com-type niche website called DanceJam.com, planning to collect and share dance moves all around the planet. Good idea, bad idea, who knows? Reading in The Record newspaper today (I'd link to the blurb, but I don't see it online, only saw it in print), there's an article reporting this event, but every other sentence is taking a potshot at the once-was Hammer or setting up such a barb. It snarks at how he's 'taking time away from doing nothing' to take up his new endeavor. Ouch!

Why pick on Hammer? He was one of the most positive pop figures of his time, exhorting his audience to use their brains, stay away from dope and make money by earning it. Now that he's back in the papers, they still take every opportunity to swing at the balloon-panted media pinata.

Sure, he made his money and lost it. I don't know how he lost it, I've never done the research. Honestly, I was never a fan. As a teenager, I heard: "...can't touch this..." until I developed a facial tick. But I certainly never saw him convicted, arrested, Hell, even accused of anything deserving such constant derision; but every time his name's in the paper, they take another whack. They whoop on him so bad, I'm pretty sure Ike Turner's last words were: "Damn, take it easy on a brother."

As I recall, one of Hammer's albums was named: "Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'em." Sounds like fair advice for the other side as well.

Douche bag

I'm so bored with beer. I need a new intoxicant.

It's a little bracing to realize that I require an intoxicant, but once I made peace with it, I can move on to other things. Most things seem so damn dull. Maybe this is why people sky dive, mountain climb or marry ugly girls. They can't afford decent weed.

Come to think of it, I can't afford good weed either.

Maybe I just need to find something to cut through the callous, crack the shell. I would think one would find an interest or activity that is so absorbent that one would fear external intoxicants for their distracting effects. Not me. Love, hate, fear, pain... meh. French, camping, exercise, art... meh.

I probably need therapy of some kind, but even the several stabs at that - attempts to untie my cognitive knots - have availed me so little.

I read/see/hear about poor people - real poor people, like: "West African, can't-find-anything-to-eat" poor, not "can't-afford-a-new-video-game" poor - in the media, people who wish for years to have half the opportunities I have, the belongings I have, the life I have. I feel like a real jerk, whining in my pseudo-private techno-journal about the minuscule angst that rules my thoughts. What a douche bag.

Maybe what I need is the limitations that make these modest achievements and possessions seem so untouchable. Maybe that's what this past year has been about: loss, and the constant prospect of even more loss. It's probably a large part of the lesson I'm supposed to have learned. Instead, the most noble and insightful question I've come up with is a choice between beer and pot.

Yeah. Douche bag, for sure. I need to get my head right.

This post is not at all what I sat down to write, but I feel better having thought this "out loud," so I'm going to post it. It's odd, disjointed and probably not appropriate for public viewing, but it's also personal, and still seems like the right thing to leave "up." I think I'll go find something constructive to do.