New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

I don't head out to NYC for another 6 weeks. Still, I already have tickets for The Daily Show, Spoon, LCD Soundsystem, and Arcade Fire. The last two are performing together on a Saturday afternoon on an island that is an old abandoned train station.

My oh my, what a wonderful adventure this will be.

Ah! My Arm!!!

Last week my friend Tony and I watched the Ecuadorian edition of Man vs. Wild. Not only was it the most depressing episode of the show I've seen - Bear finds shelter, Bear build ladder to reach shelter, Bear watches ladder shatter as it drops into Amazon, Bear has no shelter, Bear gets rained on, Bear can't find food in rain, Bear stuffs shirt with grass to stay warm, Bear stays up all night getting rained on while wearing shirt full of grass, Bear travels down actual Amazon on log, Bear whittles bow and arrow, Bear finds burrow, Bear scares animal out of burrow, Bear readies bow to kill said animal, Bear breaks bow while hunting animal, Bear watches as animal escapes, Bear has cut hand from bow disaster, Bear again has no food, etc - but more importantly, Tony made a profound, prophetic, downright stunning observation on the state of American culture as we watched Discovery Channel promo its summer celebration of fear for the 12th time that night:

"Dude, we as humans devote an entire week of our lives to sharks. That's fucking ridiculous."

Ridiculous indeed, Mr. Strowd, ridiculous indeed. It's such a simple statement, but with an eye of scrutiny and a body teetering on the age of sobriety, this became the very definition of American excess. I don't think my parents were sitting on their couch back in the '80s contemplating the future implications of cable TV, but rather complacently happy just watching low budget Bananarama videos and drinking wine coolers and calling it a night. Now, we're a society full of movie marathons and Big Gulps and oversized condoms that are sold in oversized bundles for the real men out in the world.

But from an alternative perspective, perhaps this is the singular statement that exemplifies just how great America is. I mean, sharks are pretty sweet, and so is TV, and the combo of the two is pretty much a rarity among the rest of Earth's inhabitants. But I think squirrels are pretty fucking sweet too, so until I see Suburban Rodent Mania Month on Animal Planet, I'll take Bear and the rest of Discovery can shove it.

The Race Begins

"It is a travesty that Osama bin Laden remains at large nearly six years after the 9/11 attacks and appears to have found new sanctuary to operate freely in the Afghanistan-Pakistan border regions. The Bush administration and most congressional Republicans would rather stubbornly stick with a flawed strategy and fight a war that senior military leaders say cannot be won militarily, than adapt to fighting the enemy who attacked us six years ago."

-Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid

If there was ever a comment that expressed my views of the current political sphere so simply this would be it. America is in its 11th hour, and if the change we need to happen is going to happen it must be now. I've found myself becoming increasingly more aware and more responsible for the future of our country this summer, and I have made a commitment to get my feet out on the campaign trail in January in support of someone who can readdress the problems we have neglected both abroad and domestically because of an administration trapped within a singular objective.

YouTube debate, I'm all yours.

42 Democracy

I present my Fourth of July...

Field day games are not directly associated with patriotism, yet something in their tender aggression seems to be the very embodiment of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Life comes from the youthful invigoration of oversimplified lawn games, as relays and hula hoops transport participants back to the days of kindergarten simplicity. Liberty is represented by the freedom of getting messy from a round of tug of war and not worrying about showering afterwards. And as for happiness, nothing screams joy quite like a water balloon colliding with your heat-worn face.

At least, that’s what my roommates proclaimed, as our Stratford Hills apartment spent the nation’s 231^st birthday putting that theory to the test. Subsequently, 42D’s Fourth of July Field Day Kegger Barbecue Blowout Bash was centered on the idea of kiddy games. The aim was to make our forefathers proud, ensuring guests rekindled not only their pride in the stars and stripes but also in a simpler time of adolescent freedom by replicating the spectacle of primary school field day. Admittedly, the small plastic cups in hand at our event weren’t exactly as virginal as watered-down juice, but otherwise, the premise was exactly the same as it was 10 years ago.

The journey began at Party City, a consumer haven that profits off the business of patriotism and other flavor of the holiday season concepts. After the purchase of color-appropriate dinnerware, 1,740 feet of crepe paper and a scale model of Lady Liberty, we were off to design the proper balance between America and fun time. As the feat was nearly complete, our neighbors, a retired couple from Florida, broke their usual quiet and commented on the lovely job we did covering our ceiling in red, white and blue streamers. Clearly, we couldn’t have been more in tune with the American spirit, and we were proud of it – paying tribute to our compliments, we affectionately bestowed our apartment with the pet name of “42 Democracy.”

Yet the true party was not within the walls of our little Chapel Hill legislature, but rather outside them. Game referees sported red, white and blue leis and branded an officiating stick found earlier in the woods, while the participants arrived in the suggested attire of old shirts and well-worn bathing suits. Predictably, most clothing was soiled by the end of the first game of the afternoon – the egg run relay, a balancing act between spoon and hard shell that usually ended in disaster. Though I failed to claim a victory in the relay, my eye was on the prize all afternoon; for three straight tournaments in my earlier years of public education, I was a repeat winner as the jump rope contest king, and I was looking to keep my streak alive somehow.

As games such as the shoe kick and the sponge bucket relay came to an end, others claimed the title I so badly wanted. But finally, with the water balloon toss, my partner and I inherited a superhuman ability to catch flying liquid-infused latex and took the title of first place. Yet no matter who won, all of our American soldiers did their best to win the prize and make their country proud with victory. The favorite battle of the day went to the mummy wrap, a toilet paper body-wrapping game that resulted in such self-described fashions as haute couture and bohemian chic. And though only one winner could be crowned, the lawns of Stratford Hills were a market place of ideas alive with the creativity and freedom George and company so highly valued. But ultimately, the reward for all was the American tradition of gluttony and excess in the form of a generous cookout complete with hot dogs, Gumby’s pizza and homemade apple pie.

Finally, after all the balloons were burst and all the bellies were full, guests moved inside for the official awards ceremony. All received certificates of excellence in exchange for their efforts, but winners claimed Dollar Tree prizes for their victories. Julia Yarwood, the winner of the egg run relay, received a bottle of roach killer. Tony Strowd, winner of the three-legged race, claimed a NASCAR paint by numbers, and Kate Finneran, captain of the winning sponge bucket relay team, won a giant inflatable alligator pool toy, which she quickly named Carlos. But all in all, it was here that the true colors of our nation finally flew high. For no matter what we establish as our goals – a yacht for the Mediterranean, a college fund for the kids or a cheap field day prize – the American dreams lives on. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness persists, even when the bombs are water balloons and the soldiers are in Tar Heel territory.

It was a happy birthday, indeed, but an even happier occasion for those at 42 Democracy.

*It should be noted that this was written while still in "party mode" on the night it was completed for my features writing class. I made an A on it. It was the highest grade in the class. So suck on that, JOMC 227.