Battles Fought

There's this cool guy in Regina. Yeah, I say this, as in singular. Anyway. He runs an anime shop located in downtown Regina. Like an action hero, he wages a one-man war against the municipal government.

He decries how downtown is dying. Unlike most revolutionaries, he's actually had some response. The Mayor came down to talk with him, and based on his accounts, his reply was little more of a "Well....well...oh Jesus...fuck you!"

Then Prairie Dog featured him as "The Sexiest Reginian." For this, the owner got p.o.ed, made fun of it on his website. So then Prairie Dog actually responded to him, saying it was the people who voted for him that made the decision, and that like every independent magazine, they fought the power as good as any one. In a gesture of generosity, invited him to respond on his website. To which he said, "Oh, I was making fun of Prairie Dog readers - how could they be so stoopid!"

Maybe it's because he blames downtown b/c no one comes down and rents anime.

There's better selection at a new comic book store that opened a couple blocks from him.

Maybe he should open a new one.

But, in his defense, he's a nice bastard. He doesn't usually enforce late fees for anime rentals. I have turned a three day rental into a week long.

Maybe he should just stop whining. But eh.

Random lyrics of songs I'm listening to organized slightly.

MY POOR ASS REVOLUTION
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat. C'mon baby, eat the rich in the year 2525. I don't give a fuck. It's gonna happen. But because the revolution will not be televised I'd get elected on Friday assassinated on Saturday buried on Sunday. Every day is like Sunday. When I fall back down you're gonna help me back up again. But let's forget it for the meantime, because it's not interesting. I don't mind if you forget me. I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in.

DITTY DEALER
If I could shimmy like my Sister Kate I'ma blast you in Compton and rob you in Miami when I pull out my deuce deuce. Sitting here lazing, drinking straight out the 8-bottle, ya better bring your gun pal. They say we won't make it far because we're real niggaz riding in a car.

They say music is the buddha of love.

I Am A Nerd

I hate myself for being a nerd. I know too much about Marvel and DC. I can recite facts about them, characters origins, how they've evolved, artists, writers, and other minutae. This about superheroes instead of Shakespeare or Virgil. It's not even avant-garde - superheroes are fascist pop. "Submit to law and order, or I'll beat you up!"

It used to be that more people read Shakespeare. But then education was democratized, because we started trying to make it easier, because we wanted to listen to the students, because we lost our youth, because we all started losing our innocence, because everyone could read, including the f---ed up shit. Now Peter Rabbit is studied in university.

Does that sociology theory work at all? Is it even a quarter-baked?

This information is meaningless, because it prevents meaningful discourse into the greater nature of anything. Who the fuck cares if Batman could beat Superman? There are two reasons it drives people: The DC reality is more important, more exciting, more vibrant than their own reality. Or, they go for the question underneath - nature vs. nurture? Intelligence vs. force? Which is more important, more powerful?

[UNIMPORTANT SIDETRACK - YOU CAN SKIP THIS]
(Batman nurtured his gifts and got smart, Superman was born with powers far beyond those of mortal men - although now it comes from the sun and was activated in his teens, trying to turn his power into an external source rather than an internal strength.)

But even if it's the second - nature vs. nurture - let's discuss it straight up, rather than about two fictional characters.

Re: Superheroes are fascist pop. (Sorry about bringing this back up. I love this sentence. Makes me seem like I'm smart, I do believe.)
The question of whether or not the idea of superheroes are inherently fascist is a "glass-is-half-empty/half-full" question. I myself personally don't believe it, (even though I acknowledge the question of superheroic fascism, as this seems to me the kind of thinking that equates all policemen as fascist.)

You have to ask what would Superman do if there was no Lex Luthor. If there was no crime, would he still beat up criminals? Or would he just leave them alone? Because one of the hallmarks of fascism is that the war never ends. The fascist state creates war in a vaccuum. But, if no one committed any crimes (in itself a form of fascism, obviously - "I want that money, I take it.") would Superman continue to beat up people?

That's why superheroes are inherently reactive - superheroes don't seek out supervillains. Luthor comes up with the plan, Superman stops him. Superman doesn't create the war, doesn't invade Poland, doesn't make Lex Luthor melt with his heat vision before he can make his doomsday weapon, he defends Poland, saves the world from Lex Luthor's weapons.

Superman patrols for crime. Is he looking for a bad guy to fight? Or is he looking for an innocent bystander to save, even if it's by beating up a criminal who will eventually hurt people?

If it's the former, he's fascist, obviously. Latter, he ain't.

What I Did Since I Last Spoke

Monday: Recovered from work, watched Trailer Park Boys. Good show, true blue collar coolness, even if it can get a bit sentimental at times.

Tuesday: Went to work. Didn't work fast enough.

Wednesday: Got a zoot suit jacket for 15 dollars. I like that: I like old clothing, bowling shirts, those times when being a man wasn't about trying to be a man, but about being one of the guys, drinking, then hitting your wife, like in I Love Lucy. I like to think that I've achieved that level of comradery, without the feeling that you're being excluded. Gangster without the violence. Style without sex. Am I making sense?

Saw Batman Begins. On the way home, I went to the most dangerous intersection in town. I've been freaked out about it, because my family's been telling me to be careful about it. There's lightening without rain, and in a bit of melodramatic cosmic fallacy, I think that something dreadful is coming at that intersection. Death by Toyota or Ford or Bavarian Motorwerks.

While I'm going through it, I hear my brother yell, "Aah!" I stop, and reverse out, not thinking that this isn't the best step to avoid death, but rather, DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH AH AH AH!

Then it turns out he was yelling because my lidded ice cream fell while we were taking the turn. I got angry at him.

And I'm still alive. Hurray.

Bad Mojo

I work from 11 a.m. to 4 a.m. At least, that's what I'm scheduled. It usually goes longer.

And for this, something ugly, tragic, and bestial happens.

I hate this job like it burned my balls with gasoline while transvestite hookers were laughing at me and masturbating with pictures of my family. That much. It sucks, but I have to contribute to college.

Basically, I cut open boxes. Last night, I worked pet food. You don't know stink until you smelt rancid Friskies. They looked like entrails ought to look.

I was told to work faster. I have gone to a year of college, and I know I'm more educated than my boss. I stay overtime to finish the job. That's bad.

I usually work until after 5. Around that time, the sun also rises.One of those impossible things, those things that go against nature, sense, and beauty, one of those notes in the "There is no God, no order, no happiness, nothing but fucking and killing" column, has happened because of this job.

Seeing the sun rise means failure for me.

Bah times infinity plus one.

Extra special bonus points for this reference:
Or a dream that’s tryin’ to tell me something.
Or will I ever stop thinkin’ about it.
""O un sogno che tenta dirme qualcosa. O farà io mai ferma pensare di esso."

My Co-Workers

There are certain phrases that indicate class. For example, high class:

"I rather think..."

Low class.

"all of yas."

That little gem was spoken by Ray, my night manager. Balding, mustached, bad posture, kinda fat, that kind of guy who makes everybody look better by comparison. I call him, "Sir." After all, only the people who work for him will call him that. And after I'm rich and famous, I'll tell him to hurry up with my groceries. He's getting his revenge in advance. The scales are balanced.

Anyway, not much to report. Lot of old guys and young guys working there. One guy's gap-toothed, a la the Mountain Man from Deliverance, only in sweats. Another reminds me exactly like Tommy Chong, only less carefree and with shorter hair. Chris.

Another guy swears loudly, every night we work there. Bruce Baker. Described as a short, bald, chubby guy by another co-worker. Another guy I don't know, wears a Call of the Wilderness shirt with the wolves on it (fashion faux pas bar non, but in a loveable, blue collar way - not the Hot Topic trucker hat kind of blue collar wear, authentic blue collar). Anyway, enough of this - I am a dedicated follower of fashion, but a writer first and foremost...

I was working with him unloading packets of sugar. He's old enough to be my dad, but he works as fast as my 19 year old body. Keep in mind, I don't exercise, but anyway. He gets to mentioning how he doesn't use sugar in his baking.

"Oh, you liked baking?"

Turns out he wanted to be a chef. Imagine an artist having to settle for working in an art store.

"Stay in school, kid. This place eats people up."

I tell him I'm taking school in the biggest city in the country thousands of miles away.

"And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight"
Et quand il tire sa droite de slip en nylon volant augmente tendu