I doubt that when Twitter was launched back in 2006 – a lifetime ago by social media standards – the app’s creators envisioned their platform being the stage where the most compelling contemporary dramas would play out. If you’ve got “attention whore” stamped on your soul, the most convenient place to seek that attention is in the domain of 140 characters or less. Anyone can do it; even someone like Kanye West, who takes attention-whoring very seriously.
I’m a tad behind the times in political news, and in an effort to catch up, I’m here to tell everyone that yes, I am going to hell. If pressed to cast a primary ballot this very second, my vote would not go to Hillary Clinton. It would go to Bernie Sanders. Madeleine Albright and Gloria Steinem can chastise me all they want, but in my opinion, Hillary is not the right person for the position of commander-in-chief.
February 1, 2016 is the official kick-off to the presidential election, even though we don’t yet know who the candidates will be. It marks the day people in Iowa gather to caucus for the candidates – which I will be doing for the first time in my life as a voter in my current state at the end of March. To be honest, I much prefer pulling the lever or ticking the box. From what I’ve read about caucusing, it doesn’t sound like an activity I’d enjoy. I’ve been conditioned to think as a solitary voter, behind box or curtain – not in a room full of people I need to explain myself to. Who knows? Maybe I’ll like it; in my mind, however, the process seems a little labor intensive. I’ll get back to everyone once I’ve actually done it.
I don’t often like to bitch and moan about the sorry state of life as a writer – at least not online – but there are some instances when it is warranted.
When I started my career as an online content writer in 2009, things were very different. I learned Search Engine Optimization (SEO), and took pride in acquiring a valuable skill that enhanced my ability to write well. Back then, however, you could get away with disseminating keyword-stuffed gibberish, but since Google got hip to the practice of keyword stuffing, you now run the risk of getting metaphorically tasered if you persist.
I grew up in Brooklyn, New York. Anyone from the New York City area knows that it is a very large place, made up of five boroughs: Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan, the Bronx, and Staten Island.
Many people who visit “New York” believe that the island of Manhattan is all there is to New York City, but that isn’t the case. Brooklyn, in and of itself, is more than double the size of Manhattan, but for the past few years, all attention has been focused on one small section which has been gentrified to the point of being unrecognizable.
I was actually pretty busy during the month of December, and sadly, it caused me to neglect my blog. I am hot with shame, in addition to my regularly scheduled hot flashes, but I vow to make up for it in the days, weeks, and months to come. After all, this is my name, my livelihood, and my lifeblood.
I usually like to make a list on Thanksgiving of the things I am grateful for, but this year, I think that would be a tad disingenuous. Don’t misunderstand me; I have plenty to be thankful for. The problem is, it is tough to wax rhapsodic about all the good things without making mention of what irks the shit out of me. To sweep all that is evil under the rug causes more problems than acknowledging that which pisses me off.
It’s been a particularly busy week in the assholery department, starting off with an unprecedented amount of ignorance towards Syrian refugees, and ending with a dumb blonde (let’s be completely honest here) attempting to convince the world that Charlie Sheen tried to give her AIDS.
In March, 2011, I wrote a blog entry about Charlie Sheen’s meltdown after being fired from the hit sitcom, Two and a Half Men. I’ve always admired Sheen’s acting abilities, dating all the way back to Platoon and Wall Street; especially Wall Street because he personified a certain type of asshole that my generation must claim responsibility for. What type of asshole is that, you ask? The yuppie (young upwardly mobile urban professional) – the hipster antecedent who cared about nothing except making money, and gave birth to the materialistic mindset we’ve been cursed with since Michael Douglas’s character Gordon Gekko uttered the phrase, “greed is good”. The yuppies have now descended into middle age, but you can tell which ones are still a little “Bud Fox” around the edges, and long for those Halcyon days of insider trading and Reaganomics.
This blog entry isn’t a rant about Ann Coulter and her inflammatory rhetoric. I am using her image as representation of all that is reprehensible about North America.
When I write about life in my tiny corner of the world, I often say “North America” rather than “America” or the “United States”. That’s because I am literally a citizen of the continent; I am American and Canadian. And I am somewhat obsessive when it comes to keeping up with events in both countries.