We actually already know why this is but...

...for the sake of commiseration, let's ask it rhetorically:

Why is it that the most ignorant, foolish and, often, flat-out dumbest people you meet are the ones most inclined to be condescending, offensive and otherwise boring asses?

Most people start to think they're smarter than everyone else at about age twelve or so. If they're lucky, by the time they hit thirty they know better. Some people don't. Ever.

Sorry if that's a bit cryptic (or painfully obvious). It's just that intellectual snobbery has reared its mewling, self-inflated head on several occasions recently and it's sort of a pet peeve of mine. Belittling others for the sake of one's own beliefs, ego or just plain amusement seems an adolescent, pathetic, destructive behavior to me.

Let me paraphrase a saying I picked up somewhere. I have no idea of the source, but it goes something like, "If you can walk into a room full of people and point out five or more whom you consider assholes [or stupid, unfriendly, judgmental, unimaginative, etc.], if you look in the mirror there's a good chance you'll find one more."

As with most of these old chestnuts this can be interpreted a couple of ways. My interpretation is basically that other people probably aren't the problem. It could be you.

It's about respect. It matters how you treat people. There's no such thing as the "mindless masses" and you will never win an argument with me if it is predicated on this notion or includes it as an assumption. I will stop listening to you immediately and start looking for any excuse to walk away from you. Joking around is cool, but when you start trying to build a case around it you will lose me every time.

If you build a life around it, well...best of luck to you.

Peep.

I'm not back to my old ways. Heavens, no. I've just been trying to learn some very basic HTML and stuff to get a certain website looking spiffy again.

What website?

I thought you'd never ask.

Here. Have a look for yourself.

I still owe you that piece on the legendary KING DIAMOND. Don't think that has slipped past me. Oh, no.

Until next time...

Speaking of Places Where Things Went Down

Here's a few lousy camera phone shots of the Hampton Beach strip from a recent excursion.

The Roaring Heavens

If you're in the vicinity of Londonderry, NH this evening and you happen to spy a bald guy in a rocking chair out on his front porch, smoking a cigar and smiling at the intense thunderstorm playing out overhead, feel free to swing into the driveway and join me.

There are few things in this world I enjoy more than a good storm. The more dramatic, the better. No matter where I am or what I'm doing I am usually overcome with the need to stop and watch at even the slightest hint of thunder.

Don't even get me started about power outages.

Anyway, my neck of the woods is under severe storm watch right now. I'll try to get some pics if it pans out.

Yeah, that's all I got. Stay tuned for a piece on one of my all-time favorites in the world of metal: King Diamond. Or, as I like to call him, The Evil Bee Gee.

Dear Barbaro

Below is an excerpt from the transcript of a cross-examination conducted by Dr. John Dolittle in the trial of Rational Human Beings v. The American Public and the American Media, et al:

DR. DOLITTLE: Good afternoon, Mr. Barbaro.

BARBARO: (nickers)

DR. DOLITTLE: You are, in fact, a horse, is that correct?

DR. DOLITTLE: For the record, would you please oblige the court by scraping your good hoof on the floor once to indicate a response of "yes" and twice for a response of "no".

BARBARO: (scrapes the floor once)

DR. DOLITTLE: Let the record reflect that Mr. Barbaro has responded in the affirmative.

DR. DOLITTLE: So, being a horse, it can be safely assumed that you neither write, read or speak the English language nor any other human language, for that matter. Is that a correct assumption?

DR. DOLITTLE: Again, please scrape your good hoof on the floor once for yes and twice for no.

BARBARO: (scrapes the floor once)

DR. DOLITTLE: The response is one scrape, indicating "yes".

DR. DOLITTLE: In fact, your understanding of human communication is limited to a relatively small spectrum of spoken, er, "suggestions" and non-verbal cues, yes?

BARBARO: (scrapes the floor once)

DR. DOLITTLE: The response, again, is "yes".

DR. DOLITTLE: Thank you, Mr. Barbaro.

DR. DOLITTLE: It's fair to conclude then, that the outpouring of sympathy regarding your recent misfortune in the form of cards, letters, flowers, gifts and ceaseless media coverage is of no meaning or value to you whatsoever. Do you agree with that conclusion?

BARBARO: (whinnies, scrapes the floor once)

DR. DOLITTLE: Again, please let the record reflect that Mr. Barbaro has scraped once, indicating "yes".

DR. DOLITTLE: Thank you, Mr. Barbaro.

BARBARO: (snorts)

DR. DOLITTLE: I have no further questions, Your Honor.

Slaps in the Face All Around

Over the weekend I witnessed several events which, had those involved been children, would have warranted a sharp slap across the kisser from a parent or guardian. In general, a large percentage of the population seemed to be on its worst behavior. Here's a rundown of some of the lower points:

Incident #1
I witnessed a road rage incident involving two adult males. One was an elderly gentleman (presumably the "wiser" of the two). The other was a bit younger and considerably larger. The incident began as a verbal exchange but quickly escalated to the point where the younger man pulled over, got out of his car and strode out into traffic (charging blindly in front of the vehicle in which I and my wife were traveling, I might add) to approach the older man's car.

Now, if you know me at all, you know that I have a long-standing "zero tolerance" policy regarding shenanigans. Noting the younger man's size, demeanor and trajectory, I quickly calculated a high probability that his intent was to strike a blow to the older man. In order to defuse the situation, I leaned out of the car and loudly advised the rampaging motorist to take it easy. This worked flawlessly. My booming, authoritative voice unnerved him and he ceased his advance, though the verbal exchange continued for some time after we passed the scene.

Incident #2
WalMart. Don't ask.

There were actually two incidents here but I'll get to the other one in a minute. The first was a 40-something woman throwing a minor tantrum in the parking lot when her approach to the many bargains in the sprawling WalMart was impeded by an elderly gentleman (not the same guy as in Incident #1, but the common denominator is not lost on the author) who was having some difficulting angling his Lincoln into a parking space. The woman quickly lost patience with the old man's grueling 18-point turn and threw her arms up in the air in a melodramatic display, only to storm away in what can only be described as a "huff".

Come on, lady. The guy's, like, 133 years old. Give him a break.

Incident #3
Inside WalMart.

Well, technically we never made it inside. This occured in the garden center.

Again, don't ask.

The scene:
The lethargic WalMart associate attending the garden center is approached by (get this) an elderly gentleman with a question. Here's the dialogue:

Old Guy: "Excuse me, are you the garden expert out here?"
Garden Lady (in a voice thick with annoyance and retail ennui): "Not really but whaddya need?"

Garden Lady needs to turn in the vest and smiley face button or cheer the fuck up. Her attitude alone is an offense punishable by several sharp slaps to the face and possibly a headbutt to the chest.

Incident #4
I didn't witness this one personally but my wife did. Apparently a group of siblings ranging in age from about 8 to 17 were gathered in the food court of a local mall causing quite a disturbance. First off, they were all dressed in identical denim shorts and tank tops (aka, "wifebeaters"). That's the first infraction. The second was they were being generally unruly, cursing loudly and making every effort to create a spectacle.

Then they decided it would be fun to harrass the woman handing out samples from a popular Japanese restaurant. They started out by repeatedly calling her attention to the fact that they were eating food from said restaurant. Okay, not overly offensive, but certainly annoying. The real coup de grace was when they finished eating, pushed all of the remaining food and refuse across the table and said to the beleaguered woman, "We're finished eating your fucking food. You can clean this up now" and then walked away laughing.

Here's a message to those kids and their parents: I have an extra special, nuclear slap in the face set aside for each of you. That slap in the face is accompanied by mandatory sterilization so that no more of your ignorant spawn can litter the earth.

These are just the most grievous of the transgressions that were witnessed. There were many other, smaller and more commonplace infractions. Suffice to say that the general level of mischief and poor behavior was unusually high and, I believe, exceeded acceptable levels.

Consider yourself on notice, world: I have my eye on you and my iron fist is poised to set you on a righteous path again. Smarten the fuck up.

More Evidence

I don't even need to say anything about this picture:

Maya, sensing the wickedness, bravely places herself between evil and yours truly.

Photographic Proof of the Evil Nature of Cats

I just had to add this supplemental post today to share with you a picture I recently discovered on my digital camera:



This is a picture of one of my cats. Her name is Esmé and she's not usually allowed in the room where she is seen in defiant repose, glowering menacingly and with demonic glee.

You'll notice that the shot is a little blurry. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but my hands were trembling uncontrollably when I took the picture. I felt overtaken by an almost palpable horror, even though the pale green, infernal orbs weren't visible to the naked eye at the time.

I accept full responsibility for having left the door to that room open, but I'm sure that I'm not alone in finding the resulting supernatural change in her demeanor to be disturbing and a little frightening.

When you factor in that Esmé makes a nightly effort to fall asleep on my face, it all adds up to my mortal peril. Perhaps even immortal peril.

Fits and Starts

I want to talk about creativity a little bit today. This is something that's been on my mind a lot, especially now that I've given myself the somewhat mixed blessing of yet another outlet. I say somewhat mixed because as great as it is to have a new thing to work on, it's still something you have to work on. Well, for me, anyway. Sometimes (for some more than others) the material comes so easily, other times you have to spit in your hands, grab the ax handle and start chopping.

So, I'm in a band (plug SUMO here). I'm mainly the bass player but I also do a fair share of the songwriting and the lion's share of the lyric writing. SUMO happens to be in the throes of a rather extended writing & recording process which is pretty ambitious by just about anyone's standards, let alone that of an unsigned band running a small studio in a spare bedroom of the guitarist's house. We have this mountain of songs--a few nearly complete and the rest just sketches--and this great, big concept we're working toward and there are times when I look at the amount of work that needs to be done and get a little freaked out.

Not too long ago I hit a major roadblock with the lyrics. Just one of those things that happens to everybody, blah blah blah. I don't want to bore you with whining about how hard this is to deal with, etc. because I'm of the opinion that creativity isn't all that hard, really. The deal for me with creative block is not that you run out of ideas but that you lose the feel for your own unique process.

Let me try to make more sense than that. I'm writing off the top of my head, here (which is a great exercise, by the way).

So, I know the correct mental state and proper attitude and even some actual techniques that I require to accomplish something creatively. When everything is synched up properly, this leads to really productive times; I have plenty of riffs, plenty of lines, plenty of concepts for the videos we might one day be lucky enough to make and all of that. It's a little bit of a balancing act keeping all of those conditions in place (again, speaking just for me because not everyone's balance is so delicate). The trick is not to think to much about all of that stuff and just let yourself ride the wave as long as possible, and discipline yourself to push through shaky moments.

Sometimes, though, you get knocked off balance by something. This is when I get blocked. What tips you over and makes you lose your groove? Name it. Whatever creeps in. Life. Job, kids, lawn, mortgage, flu. That's the outside stuff. Inside stuff includes doubt, fear, panic, and any other emotion that can't get pushed aside. There's one other thing, though, and this is what got me last time: not coming up for air.

When it's time to take a break from something, one way or another that break is coming. You can use your willpower and discipline to push it off for a while (again, some people can do this better than others) but eventually the break will come. Imagine driving a car until the gas runs out, coasting for a while, then getting out and pushing, and then finally coming to that big hill that makes you realize it's time to stop. Well, that was me.

The good news is the break can be really short. A day, even. Take the pressure off, get some rest, some new perspective, maybe get drunk and then...well, okay, sober up before you get back in the car but you get the idea.

The most important thing I've learned from going through this--which happens also to be the first thing I always forget--is that you can't let the frustration rule you. Don't get into that cycle where you start thinking everything you do is shit and you're a hopeless failure. I mean, do that for a little while if you have to but just don't get stuck there. It's pointless and kind of dumb and more than a little of it is just self-pity. Break some plates or something and move on.

Anyway, I didn't mean for this to turn into an advice column when I got started but I warned you that this blog was going to be all over the place for a little while, so there you have it.

Take it easy.

Lackadaisical Grasshopper Bested by Jumping Spider

LONDONDERRY, NH - In a gruesome display of irony, a local grasshopper was killed sometime in the early afternoon of Monday, July 3rd by an unusually large and agile jumping spider. The circumstances surrounding the killing are still under investigation.

The victim's family reported that the deceased had been "feeling ill and a little sluggish" in the days leading up to the attack and may have been resting at the time. Eyewitnesses refute that claim, stating that a prolonged and stunningly acrobatic chase occured, with the spider displaying what one witness referred to as "crazy tenacity and sick-ass moves".

The spider was not available for comment.

Up and Running

I need to extend my thanks and appreciation to my friend Chris Brogan for helping me get the feed issues sorted out. Everything appears to be in order and The Hill is now readily available to subscribers.

I encourage you to check out Chris' main site chrisbrogan.com and check out all the cool stuff he's working on, including several topical podcasts and a brand new creative content development company called Grasshopper Factory.

Between all of that, his day job and being a husband and father of two he's a pretty darn busy guy, which makes his assistance all the more appreciated.