• My car has started to rattle a bit here and there. Is it just getting broken in, or have I driven it too hard? Jesus, I hope not. That car has to last me.
• Whatever happened to the Snowden of yesteryear?
• I didn’t save that file I was working on. Oh shit, I didn’t save that file! OH WOE IS ME WHATEVER SHALL I DO!
• Oh, wait. I did.
• Man. I really fucked over (someone) when I did (something). I’ll never really have the balls to apologize, and I wonder if they’ll ever forgive me. I wonder if I’ll ever forgive myself. I wonder if I’m just beating myself up over something minor. I wonder if they know how much it hurts me when they say “It was nothing!” It was something. It is something.
• What in the fuck is Moonage Daydream about?
• For some reason, beyond whatever means of explanation I can muster, that scene from Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen™ where Optimus Prime™ rips off The Fallen’s™ face and bellows “GIVE ME YOUR FACE!” frightens me. Maybe it’s because one of my favorite childhood heroes committed an insane savage act. Maybe its because I wasted $8 to see that monstrous piece of shit.
• It’s still not as sad or depressing as this:
• I really should have gone to see more when I was London. Tate Modern, Canary Wharf, HMS Belfast, Lambeth Palace, Imperial War Museum, Battersea Power Station, Wimbeldon…
• It really bothers me that I am not good at any one thing. Decent at a lot of stuff, but not really exceptional at any one thing in particular.
• Maybe I should just take Tylenol PM…

Sarah Palin is signing books at Fayetteville.

I’d make some snarky remark there, but she’s signing books in a fucking Sam’s Club. That’s denigrating enough as is.

In honor of the impending doom holiday season:

Sometimes, Jim Gaffigan just says it better than I could.

No, he says it better everytime.

A short, non-rambling post.

I called my grandfather a few days ago to wish a happy belated Veterans Day, and to thank him for what he did in the 40s. We started cracking jokes about GIs and such, and about expiration dates on parts of the GI Bill, and he made a joke about there being an expiration date on his dog tags soon.

My grandfather made a joke about his death and laughed with earnest and true laughter. I want to be that brave one day.

The United States is a nation that is keenly aware of its military past. Sometimes bordering on the jingoistic or ultranationalistic, our adoration and reverence for the armed forces are unique among Western nations.

This, however, doesn’t mean we have done our utmost to thank the men and women who have fought for our nation.

Sadly, it is commonplace to see veterans among the homeless in the streets, derelict and homeless. According to the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans fact sheet, there are somewhere around 141,000 homeless veterans on the streets of the United States on any given day. At any point during the year, the population can rise as high as 260,000 homeless veterans. Minnesota has 4000 alone. A brief rundown of the stats:

• 23% of homeless population are veterans
• 33% of male homeless population are veterans
• 47% Vietnam Era
• 17% post-Vietnam
• 15% pre-Vietnam
• 67% served three or more years
• 33% stationed in war zone
• 25% have used VA Homeless Services
• 85% completed high school/GED, compared to 56% of non-veterans
• 89% received Honorable Discharge
• 79% reside in central cities
• 16% reside in suburban areas
• 5% reside in rural areas
• 76% experience alcohol, drug, or mental health problems
• 46% white males compared to 34% non-veterans
• 46% age 45 or older compared to 20% non-veterans

The plight of the homeless is one worthy of more compassion and help than we have ever truly been able to muster for them. Living in the richest nation in the world they are unable to find the basic necessities to be fully-functioning members of society, something made all the more distinguished by their juxtaposition to the world around them. The consideration of veterans makes this case one that draws upon our very moral base: These men and women who fought for our rights and freedoms fill our streets, yet we do little to help them.

It’s a fact that we, the people of my generation, have lived a life of unequaled privilege and excess. We have lived in want of naught, save the latest fashion or tech toy. Every year on 11 November, the anniversary of the Armistice, we give our obligatory mention to the troops on our Twitters, Facebooks, Bloggers. We circulate the same tired emails. We link the same overplayed Lee Greenwood shit that somehow passes as music. Yet not a single one of us lets this cross our minds any other time of the year. It’s too inconvenient to a lifestyle of self-centered desire and want, rather than the lifestyle of responsibility and dignity we owe to these men and women. Rather than feeling sympathy or shock when we see a homeless veteran, we sneer and show disdain for them. They are an inconvenience to a life of cushy goodness, something to be removed rather than cared for.

These people suffer from PTSD. They are incapable of truly rebuilding their social networks and are so fundamentally altered by conflict that they cannot even connect with former family and friends. These are not bums, or lazy men who leach off the welfare state. These people are products of their circumstances, circumstances we demand they put themselves through to defend us. We ask them to fight for us, then neglect them, throw them aside.

It’s disgusting.

Remember, these people have lives beyond 11 November. Think about it next time you see a homeless with the yellow, green, and red bars on his jacket. Let’s see you do more than put some trite call in your Facebook status.

My Top 25 Albums

In No Particular Order - A Failed Experiment in Java

Yesterday, in an entirely High Fidelity-esque moment, Kat asked me my top 5 albums. I couldn’t think of my top FIVE, so I listed my top TWENTY-FIVE. I’m such a prick. Give me a month and this list will completely change. What would you list as your top 25?

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