A Worthy Cause

Oh, my.  How long has it been since I've posted?

Between work, school, and various personal matters (including TV Tropes), I have been prevented from posting on a regular basis the past week or so.  Ever since they upped my hours and gave me some extra work to do around the office, it seems like I just keep losing track of time.  I'm fast becoming one of those poor, beleaguered "working stiffs."  And all work, no play makes The Brewsky a dull boy.

People have been asking me what I think about the situation in Egypt.  And by people, I mean the one guy I still hang out with on a regular basis, as well as a nice old lady who goes to my church.  And by asking me what I think, I mean they ask something along the lines of, "Have you been watching the news at all?"

I can't say I've been watching the news all that closely.  Whenever I'm around to watch it, I have it on one of the news channels out of some semblance of a mature habit, but I don't watch watch the news, if that's what you're asking.  (Perhaps Fox's strategy isn't entirely beyond the pale.)

In any case, shouldn't our efforts be focused inward?  Despite pleas for a global government, and the immortal call of President Wilson and the U.S. of the twentieth century to reach out and extend to others, our country is fractured, and divided against itself.  And as either President Lincoln or James T. Kirk once said, a house divided against itself cannot stand.  Our own house needs to be attended to before we can worry about anyone else's.

The deficit has ballooned, exploded to the tens of trillions.  Countless Americans are out of work following the financial crisis of 2008 and 2009, with hundreds, if not thousands more, losing their jobs every day.  Unemployment has reached the double digits, and families all over the country are losing hope. 

We have infighting, the result of a two-party system which wishes only to sling mud, while failing to address the problems facing our country.  We have a gilded age where the rich keep getting richer, and the poor keep getting poorer, their jobs shipped overseas and their tax dollars going toward federal bailouts.

Our politicians have done nothing to help.  The Tea Party has been formed in response to deteriorating conditions in this country.  The repercussions of the Bush era and the War on Terror, exacerbated by the current administration and a financial crisis unequaled by any other period in nearly a hundred years, have only served to make things worse.

Americans as a whole are growing dangerously close to a moral, intellectual, and literal bankruptcy, and our way of life cannot be sustained for much longer.  Through a combination of factors such as our education system, our job market, and the actions of the government, we cannot support our own way of life.

Need more proof?  Take a look at some of our nation's finest young women, who have been reduced to attending to our cars in order to make ends meet.

These are Playbunnies.  As in, they work for Playboy.  They are Playboy models.  And they have been reduced to washing cars.

I can't believe it needs to be said, in this country, in this day and age, that models should not be forced to wash cars.





The first thing one notices is the near-absolute lack of clothing.  These fine ladies could have been given professional uniforms for their work, but instead are forced to make do with these bare-bones, two-piece swimsuits, which leave almost nothing to the male imagination.  Only their supposed crew leader is given a uniform, and even she unzips it, possibly as a show of solidarity with her coworkers.

I was surprised by how well-stocked their cleaning station is, though; they seem to have plenty of sponges and cleaning solutions to work with, as well as a steady supply of running water.  So, unlike many car washes, they are seldom forced to use their...er, "human resources" to clean off the car.  Which is good, because the last thing we want to see is them getting completely soaked.

Still, isn't it a shame that these fine Playboy models have been reduced to joining the service industry?

Note:  If you wish to help these young ladies, their phone numbers can be found at this link.  Any support you can give, no matter how small, will be greatly appreciated.

Can You Guess What This "Special" Soldier is Saying?

What the heck is he yelling?

"Live free or die!  AHHHHH!!!"  No, that's not it...

"Live die or free!  AHHHHH!!!"  No, that seems too long...

"Hands on your feet!  AHHHHH!!!"  Seriously, what the heck is he saying?

"We forgot the key!  AHHHHH!!!"

"Read our Tweets!  AHHHHH!!!"

Highest-rated comment?  As you might have guessed, "He must be in 'special' forces."

Which reminds me...

The Great Train Robbery

Okay, it goes without saying that this is just awesome.

Bishnu Shretha, a forty-year-old retired Gorkha soldier in India and presumably an eater of scum like you for breakfast, was on a train which was robbed by, literally, forty thieves.  The robbers were able to stop the train, before entering and demanding the passengers' valuables.

Presumably, Shretha warned them "not to make me angry," but complied with their demands as they pilfered the passengers' pockets.

The criminals then proceeded to strip one eighteen-year-old sitting next to Shretha, preparing to "rape her in front of her parents."  (I feel like if I say that enough times, it'll start to make some warped kind of sense...)  The girl, crying for help, begged our would-be bystander, "You are a soldier, please save a sister."

Recalling the incident, Shretha comments, "I prevented her from being raped, thinking of her as my own sister."

With this, there could be only one outcome.  When it was all send and done, three of them were dead on the spot courtesy of his khukuri, while another eight had been injured and were later taken into custody.  The soldier had injured his hand, but noted, "“They may have feared that more of my army friends were traveling with me and fled after fighting me for around 20 minutes."

Twenty minutes?  And he only lost a hand?

This guy.  Yes.

YouTwits

I can't believe it needs to be said, in this day and age, in this freaking country, that violence against others is a bad, bad thing.  (Especially if it's in honor of those who "kill people and break things" during wartime.)  So of course, when word passed along my extensive line of contacts (re:  the one other guy I hang out with) that a 14-year-old kid had gotten beaten up, you might imagine I had a few choice thoughts.

The victim?  One fourteen-year-old whose name has not been revealed in order to protect him Nadin Khoury, who was assaulted by seven other students near an apartment complex in Upper Darby, a suburb of Philadelphia.  Not to profile the perps, but all of them were part of an alternative school program at Upper Darby High School.  Only two of them had any sort of criminal record (although one of the idiots suspects caught on camera had two previous charges of assault).

I'll spare you the details, since anyone can pull a Google or click on my magic links to read about the incident, but here's a quick breakdown:  They ganged up on him, pinned him down, spent at least a minute (out of the twenty-minute scuffle) kicking him in the chest, stuff him in a tree, and finally hung him by the hood of his jacket from a wrought-iron fence.

In case you're wondering, no, the kid never actually did anything to them.  This was simply bullying at its finest.

The bad news?  Nobody thought to help him.  Nobody was around to call 911.  Well, except for the woman caught on camera who basically looks the other way and walks away from the scene while he's calling for help.  As you can imagine, this was the "bystander effect" at its absolute finest.

The good news?  It was caught on camera.  Because our youngest generation is the brightest generation ever, one of them was standing there with a video camera, taping the whole damn thing, so they could post it online at their convenience and gloat about it to their classmates.  Presumably, this is the latest, hippest e-trend in cyber-bullying, which police all over the world are calling "YouTwit".

Of course, my forte, my raison d'être, is in the comments section for articles such as these, where emotion-driven dialogues and reactionary rhetoric are the name of the game, and yahoos like me can post compelling arguments such as "Fine the Parents $2000.00 each," "I say $10,000 and make them (and their child) do community service," and the classic line, "kids these days need their ass beat."  Because nothing solves violence like more violence.  (Just ask Batman.)

Of course, in situations like these, "Then you have the drugs."  Granted, they might have been a gang, but why does everyone always assume it has to be drugs?

Look, kids like violence.  And kids like being in groups.  Unfortunately, violence is bad.  And, by the transitive property, "groups" ---> "violent gangs".  It's a match made in hell, and trying to solve these problems with strictly punitive measures isn't going to fix anything.

I can only pretend to understand these situations insofar as I'm a violence-loving fourteen-year-old driven by mob mentality.  It's true that parenting plays a role, but let's face it, parents also have to compete with pop culture--specifically, a pop culture which glorifies violence.  I know that's a weak excuse, but I say this as someone who loves TV and movies--especially the violent ones (while being pretty ambivalent around all three of my parents).

You know what the solution to this is?  (Well, besides taking their phones, hanging them from a fence, and seeing how they like it?)  Community service.  Just...community service.  And a written apology to the victim, stating what exactly they did wrong and just how sorry they are.

And if that doesn't work.  They'll go to jail.  Actually, I believe that's how our justice system works.  Except they'd need a third strike anyway.  Which leads me to believe the guy with two assault strikes on his sheet is about to get put away, even if he is only 14 years old.  Frankly, it's been a while since I took those classes on Assault and Battery in the City of Brotherly Love.

Speaking of which, where's Charlie and the gang when you need them?

Note:  Probably dead by now.  Hopefully dead by now...

A Wicked Plan Born of BIG HUGS!

Somehow, this should be made into an actual TV show.

Seriously, whose idea was that creepy baby in the sun?  As if Teletubbies bouncing to death metal isn't enough of a mind fuck...

Toppling the Food Pyramid

First of all, I'm curious about who on earth honestly likes breakfast pizza.

To be fair, things like eggs, bacon, and sausage are really good respectively.  And pizza is absolutely awesome on its own.  So how is it that you can put those two things together, and, as Jim Gaffigan once said, it's just "nasty crap"?

Yes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but it's seldom one we enjoy.  And for good reason.  Because when we think of a good, "healthy" breakfast, we seldom think of the official deities of the food pyramid--your fruits, veggies, and grains, if you will (assuming Michelle Obama hasn't done away with the pyramid altogether).  We think of pyramids made out of pancakes, lathered with butter and adorned with grease-covered meats cut straight from the hog's ass itself.

Yes, I do realize my choice of language is nausea fuel.  Why do you ask?

Breakfast, contrary to its firmly-entrenched perch at the start of our day, is the excrement of our three square meals.  Nowhere is this more apparent than in such choice "meals" as the breakfast pizza, which I had the unpleasant experience of being given this morning.  It was a boxed pizza which a buddy picked up from our local gas station.  One could see the grease stains on the box when we went to grab our slices, meaning it had all the nutritional value of regular pizza with none of the redeeming qualities, such as the sauce, the cheese, the pepperoni, and...really, that's about all I actually like about pizza.

Unfortunately, this sub-par class of food seems to have a Stalin-esque hold over any meals we might order before 11:00.  Think I'm wrong?  Then tell me, why can't you order a decent burger or fries at your McDonald's before 11:00?  (I could be wrong, considering Adam Sandler couldn't seem to get his Hot Cakes and Sausage after 10:30 or so.)  Why is it that our fast food restaurants are monopolized by such monstrosities as breakfast menus when you first wake up?  Why is it that I ended up having to smell the Egg McMuffin on the classmate sitting behind me for the better part of an hour?

If it makes you feel better, I haven't totally dismissed breakfast just yet.  I've taken to eating an apple every day when I first get up.  (That, and maybe a Dixie cup's worth of pop.  Hey, I gotta wake up somehow.)  If you're curious about that exercise routine of mine, it's been relegated to an "every-other-day" schedule.  Because, every other other day, it's a pain doing so much as waking up in the morning.  I don't know what's going to happen to my desire to exercise once I start going to work every day at 8 o'clock.

*Edit:  Amy Chua on the Colbert Report right now.  Should probably be watching that instead of typing this.

Note:  That link to the Adam Sandler video has a really bad cuss word in it.  As in, one of the big seven words you shouldn't...you clicked on it already, didn't you?  You unbelievable jackhammer doglicker.

Hide The Kids...

Apparently the "blogosphere" has been abuzz discussing the whole "Tiger Mom" situation, which means I probably need to say something.

The uproar started with a Wall Street Journal article featuring Amy Chua, titled, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior."  The article consists of an excerpt--or supposedly, an "extract"--from her new book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom.

The article emphasizes the difference between us lazy, Wii-obsessed, fast-food-loving Americans and our feel-good, New Age parents, and Chinese/Korean/just generally Asian parents, who are achievement-oriented and work their kids like drill instructors to get them into Yale.  In fact, the enclosed passage speaks for itself:

"Here's a story in favor of coercion, Chinese-style. Lulu was about 7, still playing two instruments, and working on a piano piece called 'The Little White Donkey' by the French composer Jacques Ibert. The piece is really cute—you can just imagine a little donkey ambling along a country road with its master—but it's also incredibly difficult for young players because the two hands have to keep schizophrenically different rhythms.

"Lulu couldn't do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.  'Get back to the piano now,' I ordered.  [...]

"Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have 'The Little White Donkey' perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, 'I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?'

"I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.  [...]

"I used every weapon and tactic I could think of.  We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn't let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts."

Forever plastered on the article page is a choice selection from the comments section, as one James Post states, "I am in disbelief after reading this article."  Another wonderful piece of dialogue is given to us by Diron Tappin, who writes, "Parenting is the only thing people do once or twice and think they are an expert at it." 

Critics, while obviously voicing their concerns about Chua's parenting methods, have also begun debating the notable racial differences in academic performance, especially with a growing number of Asians enrolling in top schools.

In response to all of this, Sophia Chua-Rubenfeld, one of Amy's daughters and supposedly traumatized tiger cubs, wrote a letter in the New York Times to her mother while retaliating against her critics.  She takes a moment to clear the air by telling everyone that a lot of what we read in the Journal article was...well, a joke. 

Because, you see, when an Asian woman jokes about driving her daughter to starvation and near-insanity over piano lessons, us dumb, uneducated, bar-hoppin', NASCAR-racing, Twitter-addicted Americans have no sense of humor beyond fart and boob jokes, and we're all gonna hide the kids, hide the wives, and hide the husbands while we call the cops on her.  (While I'm still on this train of thought, I wonder how many "wives" and "husbands" are police...oh, crap...)

Sophia's letter to the editor goes on to say that while "having you as a mother was no tea party," she also admits that her Tiger Mama's tough love made her the strong, independent young woman she is today, and at the end of the day, they're all still family.

It probably needs to be said that both articles may or may not have been planted by someone other than the supposed author.  Much in the same way that Jerry Springer gives us supposedly "random" audience members telling their latest neo-Nazi guest's sister (and wife) to "COVER UP FO' I THROW UP!", this article may or may not have been planted by...

Go ahead, guess!

...by Fox.  Yes, freaking Fox.  They're at it again.

According to one article on OriginalSpin.com, Rupert Murdoch (or a close associate of his, at the least) copy-pasted the most questionable lines from Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother into the Wall Street Journal article, resulting in...well, that clusterfuck of parenting literature I just copy-pasted above.  Now this is probably just hearsay, but the source of the article's source's source says that this whole monstrous affair can be traced to "the very top" of the hierarchy of News Corp, which owns both the Journal and the New York Post.

Granted, Occam's Razor states that there is no substitute for human stupidity, nor is there a more likely alternative than someone from another country--or at least presumably a second or third-generation immigrant--failing to appreciate the cultural nuances of child-rearing, or make note of a simple thing like child abuse rubbing us dumb Americans the wrong way.

Unless, of course, we simply go by the old adage that Fox is evil.  And, by the transitive property, so is its owner.

Note:  The opinions of the Brewsky do not represent those of Fox News or its affiliates.  And, frankly, neither does the prospect of a 16-year-old girl writing a letter to her mother in the New York Times.  Seriously, who does that?