"Don't Forget the White Men," a Thanksgiving Story

Once upon a time...

There were some people called Europeans and they wanted to find a faster way to get to India to expand trade routes.

Some of them went exploring, and those white men happened upon a place they called "The New World."

But that world wasn't really new. It was only new to them. There were many people already living there, who had lived there for centuries.

But the newly arrived white men wanted the land and the resources in this "New World." So those white men systematically slaughtered the native non-white population and made this "New World" their home.

Later, some more white men got tired of one particular white man - we'll call him George - telling them how to live and think and pray, so they left and went to that "New World" to get away from George.

But George, the white man back home, the one in charge, got angry and made harsher rules that he imposed on the people who'd gone across the sea.

So those people across the sea, now led by white men who had grown up in the "New World," who had colonized it and taken it for their own from the native (non-white) population, rebelled against George, their white ruler back home.

A great war was fought.

But in the end, the colonists won!

Now those white men in charge of the colonies became the white men in charge of what came to be known as The United States of America.

United. States.

We say it casually now - often only voicing the first letter of each word - but it carries weight.

United.

States.

Now, starting before the rebellion and carrying on into the early years of the United States, white men went back and forth between Europe, the United States, and Africa, kidnapping the native Africans and taking them back to the United States and other places to be slaves to white men.

(Remember, at this time, only men had full rights under the law.)

After a while, some people decided that it wasn't right to kidnap people from their homes, take them to someone else's home, and sell them like property to be used up until they died.

But many other people, mostly white men in the Southern half of the United States, disagreed. They thought that it was perfectly fine to enslave these people because, you see, the Africans weren't actually whole people. They were only part human.

So another war was fought.

Many people died, but in the end, it was decided that it was not okay to treat African people like property. It wasn't okay to sell or buy or slaughter them anymore.

It was even eventually decided that they were whole people!

But that didn't mean that they had rights like the white men did.

That had to be kept separate and hidden away, out of sight and away from the good white citizenry.

Meanwhile, many, many years later, women in the United States realized that it seemed silly that they weren't allowed to vote for the President, the Senators, the laws that would rule over them, or anything at all!

Many women felt like the white men in charge would see their point and agree that they had been silly to exclude women, around half of the population of the United States, from having any say in the laws and elected legislators of the country.

But the women were wrong!

The men in charge did not think that it had been silly to exclude women. In fact, they thought the women were being silly to even bring up such a silly topic!

Silly women!

But the women, we'll call them Suffragettes, fought and protested and rallied until finally, after a long struggle, it was decided that it was silly to exclude women from voting after all!

From then on, women were allowed to vote for all kinds of things!

But then another war came and times got hard.

And times also got scary.

The United States tried not to become embroiled in the war that was sweeping across Europe, but it was no use.

The Japanese airplanes flew into a place called Pearl Harbor and killed many, many people.

This frightened the white men in charge of the United States, and a man named Franklin, who was in charge of all the people of the United States, said that anyone who was Japanese and inside the United States had to go into what were called "internment camps."

These were places where the white men could safely keep an eye on all the Japanese people at once. That way, none of the scary Japanese people could hurt any more people in the United States.

The war continued and several countries called "The Allies" eventually defeated the Japanese and the Germans, freeing the Jewish people in Europe from the camps that they were kept in, and using a new weapon against Japan called the "Atom Bomb."

Franklin had two Atom Bombs dropped onto Japan and killed around 200,000 people.

That put an end to the war for good!

After that, Franklin decided it was probably time to let the Japanese people come back out of the concentration camps in the United States, so he freed them, too!

But even after all of that, there were still many people in the United States who were not happy with how they were treated every day.

First, after a long, hard, painful struggle, black people in the United States were finally allowed to be in the same places as the white people and were no longer forced to keep themselves separate and hidden away!

Then, there was a new law called "The Civil Rights Act" that said no one in the United States is allowed to be discriminated against based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin!

That meant that all women, all Japanese and black people, even all Latinos, Muslims, Jews, and anyone else were all equal under the law of the United States!

Well, almost...

Many of the southern United States didn't like this new law. They created sneaky ways to keep black people from being allowed to vote in elections! They used taxes, tests, even violence and other tricks to make sure black people didn't vote.

But then, a new law came called the "Voting Rights Act" that said that all these tricks weren't allowed anymore, and the white men who were being so sneaky had to stop that and let the black people vote because, remember, no one in the United States could be discriminated against based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin!

It wasn't long at all before women, and even people of different colors, races, national origins, and religions began working in the government!

People of color were elected!

Women were elected!

Several people with non-heterosexual orientation were elected!

It took a while longer, but eventually same-sex couples were even allowed to get married!

But uh-oh! We've forgotten someone in all of this celebrating.

We've left someone out, someone who's been oppressed all this time and has not once been helped by anyone else.

We've excluded one group from getting to have everything they want realized!

White men!

Oh no, oh no, oh golly gosh no!

After all of these trials and tribulations...

After freeing blacks from slavery...

After granting women the right to vote...

After freeing the Japanese people from the concentration camps the United States government put them into in the first place...

After disallowing discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin...

After allowing same-sex couples the same rights in marriage as every other type of couple in the United States...

After electing a black President of the United States twice...

The white men have truly been left out.

How can they feel like they're being heard while all these people of color are screaming about racial injustice when a white cop guns down an unarmed black teenager?

How can they feel like they can protect their homes and families from Israeli extremist terrorist factions when the United States government says they can't own guns that have an ammunition capacity capable of wiping out a kindergarten classroom?

How can they feel equal when a black man tells them that they have to make health insurance available to their employees?

So as Thanksgiving draws near, take a moment think back to the first Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims (right before they annihilated the native population of this continent and later tucked them away in designated land separate from the rest of the population) and remember to be thankful to all the white men who remind us daily through sexual assault, public harassment, and political euphemisms that they, too, deserve to have an equal chance to make everyone else subordinate to them.

Happy Thanksgiving!

V for VendetTrump

Anyone else remember the graphic novel "V for Vendetta?" No? Just me. Okay, how about the movie? Yes? Most everybody because Natalie Portman + Hugo Weaving = amazeballs? Rad. Okay, so: V for Vendetta.

Y'all remember the plot? Spoiler Alert:
The government starts conducting experiments on people to create a super bio-weapon which, under the leadership of a few select wealthy businessmen who are invested in the pharmaceutical company carrying out the experiments, it then unleashes on three sites within the country itself. One man appears who galvanizes the nation using the fear created by the outbreak and death toll to turn the national fear into national rancor, which he directs at Muslims, blacks, gays, and anyone "undesirable;" using his omni-directional hatred of anyone "other" to fly his banner of "I'm the only one who can save you from this terrible threat!" He's elected amidst the crackdown on those said groups, he creates a new title for himself, and suddenly - nay, miraculously - a cure for the virus is "discovered" and he saves the day (spoiler alert 2: the company making the virus also made the vaccine. WHAAAAAT? And that man, the one now running the country, was the ringleader of the whole thing. WHAAAAAAT? It was so he could take over the country. And be in charge. And kill anyone in his way. I know, it's complicated...). Then he turns the nation into a totalitarian state with curfews and secret police and people being disappeared day and night.

Okay so CAN WE TAKE A SECOND to look at the rhetoric being used at the Republican National Convention this week?

Barak Obama is a Muslim and ergo a terrorist who has deliberately weakened the country. We need to build a wall between us and Mexico to keep illegal immigrants out because they are systematically murdering our citizens. Hilary Clinton caused the Benghazi attack and, therefore, is personally responsible for American deaths... it goes on.

So, looking just one layer deeper than Melania's blatant plagiarizing (sorry, that's unfair. Melania's speechwriter's blatant plagiarizing. Let's give credit where credit is due. That lady doesn't say one word unless someone else has already composed the sentence for her), one layer deeper than the fact that Soap Opera stars and underwear models are the ones championing this presumptive nominee, one layer deeper than the fact that, with a 70%+ disapproval rating among ALL women, Trump has turned to using personal stories of mothers whose sons have been killed by illegal immigrants to prove he has an empathetic side... looking one layer deeper than all of that, what is the resounding camp slogan?

Not: Make America Great Again.

Not: Make America Safe Again.

Not: Hilary for Prison.

Not even: Build The Wall.

But: YOU, fellow white, male American... YOU and YOUR CHILDREN are under attack. Your values and rights to indignation are under attack. Your very SAFETY is under attack by TERRORISTS, and those terrorists are called Muslim... are called Mexican... are called LGBTQ... are called OTHER. And I, DONALD TRUMP, AM THE ONLY MAN WHO CAN SAVE YOU FROM THEM.

Know who else (not from a graphic novel / film franchise) gained a leadership position by turning the national unrest and fear loose on one particular group who he subsequently systematically blamed for all the trouble in the nation, rounded up, and murdered?

(If you don't, please don't vote, mkay?)

I'm not saying that we should just have wide-open borders for anyone to come walking in. But are we feudal China? (No, seriously, are we? I can't tell anymore.)

I'm not saying that Clinton has the best track record of foreign relations, national accountability, or personal moral grounding (because, wait for it, she doesn't).

I'm not saying that this country doesn't have problems (#Dallas #BLM #BatonRouge...).

But what Trump and his camp stand for is not our SAFETY.
It is not our SECURITY.
It is not our MORALS.
It is not our Police, our citizens, or our fellow man, woman, and child.

What Trump and his camp stand for is VIOLENCE.
It is HATRED.
It is FEAR.

And by promoting an atmosphere of "fear of the other," he has turned too many in our nation toward "hatred of the other because they're obviously the ones to blame."

And frankly, as Yoda (and Sun Tzu's Art of War and the Buddha) said: Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Trump is rallying fear, anger, and hate. He has actively incited and promoted violence at his rallies. He continues to blame anyone he fears for any problem our country faces, regardless of logic or empirical evidence. He is unscientific, he has no experience in a political arena, and he has proven himself to be nothing but a frightened, quivering, short-fingered, spray-tanned, vain little boy who happens to finally have a giant bat made of gold that he will gladly swing at anyone and everyone who he perceives has ever picked on him.

He's the schoolyard loser who got big one summer and has turned to maliciously seeking vengeance on anyone in his sights.

He believes we should ban Muslims from entering the country. Do you think his racism and bans will stop there?

He believes we should build a wall around our border with Mexico. Do you actually think that will do anything except escalate an already volatile situation (with a fence, there's violence. A wall is a bigger fence. This is Newtonian. Every action and all that)?

He believes that Hilary should be in prison for lying. WHAT THE F$%^ WAS HE DOING WITH TRUMP UNIVERSITY?

This man is a menace. He is not a leader. He is a dictator, a tyrant, and a danger to the safety of every American and every person on the planet.

Just... one last little thing to think about: You know how nuclear fallout doesn't actually go away? And how wind can carry it? And how if a nuke goes off at location X, location Y, Z, R, and Q will all be affected over time?

Do we really want a man who has bankrupted his companies with fatally dangerous gambles in charge of the largest nuclear arsenal on the planet?

(Sure, that's hyperbolic, but so is everything else about him. So why shouldn't we be concerned?)

#IdkNotTrumpTho

Pokémon Go-And-Do-Something-Productive-With-This-Game, America.

After a little more than a week of Pokémon Go’s existence, I think it’s time for a brief recap of my experience so far.

Let’s, for a moment, put aside the sporadic reports of teenagers riding their bikes into curbs or walking into traffic and ending up hospitalized. Let’s, for a moment, turn away from the two grown-ass human beings who broke through a fence to climb onto a cliffside marked as unstable and unsafe in order to catch a Pokémon only to fall around 80 and 50 feet respectively down said cliff. Let’s even, briefly, disregard the story of the ex-serviceman who drove his brother’s car into a tree while chasing a Lapras. Let’s set that all aside, just for a moment, and take a look at just my experience with this game.

So, the Facebook posts started rolling in about Pokémon Go (about which I knew practically nothing before downloading it). I clicked-on my WiFi and downloaded the app. The Sign-Up screen loaded and I got chills.

My childhood came flooding back to me. Opening those small, square presents on Christmas or birthday mornings… Seeing that red or blue or, better yet, yellow beneath the wrapping paper… Those little brown instruction manuals, at whose sight I still get a tingle of elation… All of it came back in a tidal wave of childlike (childish? Maybe) excitement. I pressed the “Login with Google” button, inputted my email address and password, and was prompted to create my username.

I typed, pressed “Done,” my chest tight with anticipation…

Error.

Oh. Okay. Well I’ll just try my name.

Error.

How about this one?

Error.

Um… old AIM screen name?

Error.

Old email address from when I was eleven?

Error.

For fuck’s sake, a string of random letters and numbers?

Error.

Oh fuck this.

So I gave up for the rest of that day.

The next day, I returned, determined to gain the app’s approval (REALLY starting to feel like I was back in middle school again). I typed one in…

Name not available.

YAY! NOT AN ERROR! So I tried one I KNEW would work…

Name not available.

WHO THE FUCK ELSE EVEN KNOWS THE WORD “ZYGODACTYL” AND WHY ARE THEY ALREADY USING IT, THIS GAME HAS BEEN OUT FOR 36 HOURS!! Fine. Add some numbers to the end (just like AIM. Ah, AIM...)…

Welcome!

I’M IN! OH HOLY SHITSNACKS I’M IN! And then came the warning screen that everyone’s been talking about…

“Remember to be alert at all times. Stay aware of your surroundings.”

And having laughed at the notion of Americans (or Canadians, or anyone else, but especially Americans) heeding any kind of warning regarding their own or other peoples’ bodily safety, I was in. I was now, officially, in real life, a Pokémon trainer! (Just like the 10-year-old children who wandered off into the woods alone with the blessing of their mothers in the cartoon show!)

Now came unanticipated hurdle number two… How the fuck do I use this game?

After unwittingly catching a Sandshrew and a Doduo, I did what any self-respecting adult of the Millennial generation would do: I consulted Google.

GOOGLE! HELP! HOW DO I POKÉMON?!

Google patiently explained to me how to find, catch, and battle my little monsters and I was off.

Now at this point, being me, I immediately became bored.

Let me explain: I hate walking places. It’s too slow. I like being outside, I like that it’s some form of exercise, I LOVE not being in a car, but it is so goddamn SLOW. So I figured, well hey, why not just run? So, like Gump, I just started running.

Now here’s where the true beauty of this game revealed itself to me. I can sprint pretty fast. And my average miles while running are sub-8’s. So I rapidly determined that I could use this game as interval training; running as hard as I can for as long as it takes for a critter to appear in my area, then stopping in some shade, respectfully stepping off the sidewalk or running path, capturing the little bastard, then getting back to sprinting. Tracking these runs, so far, I’m splitting 4:something’s while sprinting interspersed with stationary rest breaks and it’s great! I’m already, in this last week, running more than I probably ever have in my life. So bully for Pokémon Go on that front.

So here’s where it gets interesting. On this first day of testing the proverbial waters, I started jogging around the neighborhood, feeling out this system of sprints and poké-stops. It was within my first solid hour of gameplay when I took a residential street to nab a little extra shade on my way back to my apartment, when a car came by me that sounded like quite the ruckus.

Rolling by slowly, the person in the passenger seat was having one hell of a party. Screaming, banging the top of the car, hand waving out the window, struggling against the driver’s hand that was holding onto her- wait, what?

I watched and listened as this car rolls past me and I could clearly make out that this driver, a male, was fighting to keep a grip on his passenger, a female, who was banging the roof of the car with one hand, struggling against the driver with the other, and shouting, very clearly, “help help somebody help me.”

I freeze. Like a damn closeup shot in some NBC procedural I freeze and try to process what is happening as fast as I can. Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are dialing 9-1-1 and I’m walking, ever faster, toward the car which has now been stopped at a stop sign for far too long, the driver obviously unable to drive while also restraining the woman in the car with him.

I make out a few letters and numbers of the license plate as I get closer while the hold-system on the phone tells me that an operator will be with me shortly-

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

And the car takes off. Fast.

So, so do I.

I am sprinting faster than my body can handle, tearing around corners to keep this car in sight.

I’m panting into the phone, explaining the situation, my mind racing even faster than my legs so my mouth can clearly elucidate the current maneuvers I’m taking, my location, direction, intersection, condition, and observations.

A car is approaching me perpendicularly as the attacker’s car makes a right onto the main road. I pump my free hand at the oncoming vehicle who stops well behind the crosswalk to let me cut through the road. (To that mysterious driver, thank you, by the way.)

I haul ass as the assailant and victim make another right back into the residentials around a blind corner and then a wave of terror suddenly hits me.

What if this guy has a gun?

What if this guy has spotted me (which I’m sure he has by now), and has pulled around this shrubbed-up corner, stopped the car, turned around out of his window, and is just waiting for me to come running around so he can end me?

What if I’m literally running into a trap?

I freeze at the corner, continuing to describe the situation to the 9-1-1 operator, and creep around the shrubs staying as tactically hidden as possible.

They’re gone.

I finish the best description I can muster for the operator. She asks if I want to leave my information. I decline as I have nothing left to offer. She thanks me for my call and hangs up.

I sit in the dirt under a tree in the shade and pant. My entire body is shaking, my heart is pounding like it wants out, my mind is racing, and all I can think is, “god I hope I was fast enough.”

I stand up, brush myself off, open up the stupid little pocket monster game because what the hell else am I going to do on my way back to my apartment otherwise, and I start jogging.

Not a minute later I hear the familiar thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of helicopter rotors as an LAPD chopper beings to circle the neighborhood directly over where I’d last seen the car. I stare at it for a few seconds and hope.

So yeah, this game is dumb. It’s asinine, juvenile, and potentially dangerous when played irresponsibly. But you know what? It’s also fun. It is getting some of the pastiest-ass motherfuckers I’ve ever seen in my life outside, into the sunshine, walking around instead of sitting on the couch playing Minecraft or WoW or some other bullshit, expensive game. And if one or two incidences can occur in which a player actually IS remembering to stay alert at all times and paying attention to his or her surroundings, like the two ex-servicemen who were playing in a park and reported a man who was sexually assaulting a child, only to discover, when this assailant was arrested, that said assailant had a warrant out for his arrest for murder, then so-poké-be it. 

I’m gonna keep on playing.

Am I going to use up every spare second of my time to wander around in circles like a senile golden retriever trying to lie down? Probably not, no. But am I periodically going to take a break from writing or editing or whatever else I’m doing to, instead of just looking at something ELSE on the same screen, go outside, maybe to a park I’ve never been to before (like how I discovered Barnsdall Park and the copious Dratini occupying it), and perhaps make some new friends as a result of this weird little game (like the trio I met outside the porn store / strip club the other night)? Yeah. Yeah, I am.

And in the meantime, can we all “remember to stay alert at all times” and “pay attention to [our] surroundings?” Hell yes we can. And if used responsibly, if not played while driving or biking or skateboarding or hover boarding (for fuck’s sake), if used with awareness, maybe more positive than negative CAN come out of this odd little game.

So you know what, world?

I am a Pokémon trainer.

Now if you’ll excuse me…

I gotta catch em all.

Listening's hard. So is selling stuff. Wait- no... No, it's actually super easy.

Listening.

Are you?

Listening?

Probably not. That's my experience, at least. Most people outside of a few select groups in which I travel do not listen to anything - ANYTHING - that they are presented with, but rather choose to make an assumption about the direction a conversation is going and answer whatever question they assume is the one being asked, regardless of what is actually being asked of them.

Here's my newest example and the reason I won't be rejoining 24 Hour Fitness.

His name is Patrick. He's a Sales Associate (an "SA" if you are one of 24's minions). And he does not listen.

I knew I was going into this conversation with a limited amount of time, so I had my script prepared.

"Hi. I completely cancelled my membership almost a year ago. I recently got an email from you all stating I could get a month free and 25% off my initiation fee if I re-started my membership before April 1st. I'd like to talk to someone about getting a trial pass for three days so I can try out this location at a few different times of day to make sure this is a good fit and I'll be able to do what I need to do here. Can you help me with that?"

The front desk monkey said she'd find me someone. To the new person, I said:

"Hi. I completely cancelled my membership almost a year ago. I recently got an email from you all stating I could get a month free and 25% off my initiation fee if I re-started my membership before April 1st. I'd like to talk to someone about getting a trial pass for three days so I can try out this location at a few different times of day to make sure this is a good fit and I'll be able to do what I need to do here. Can you help me with that?"

That person, the one she found me, said he'd find me someone.

(Spoiler alert, this is when we meet Patrick.)

Patrick comes out and walks with me to a membership-creating computer station. He insists I begin the process, I acquiesce all the while saying - shockingly:

"Hi. I completely cancelled my membership almost a year ago. I recently got an email from you all stating I could get a month free and 25% off my initiation fee if I re-started my membership before April 1st. I'd like to talk to someone about getting a trial pass for three days so I can try out this location at a few different times of day to make sure this is a good fit and I'll be able to do what I need to do here. Can you help me with that?"

He says "so let's get you signed up with a membership."

I say something like, "No. I'd like to get some kind of a three day trial pass to make sure that this gym will work for my needs."

"Well, we can't do that since you've already been a member in the past. Were you a member at this location?"

"No, at the Koreatown location. And it was awful. Have you been there?"

"Well, we can't do a pass for you since you've been a member."

"...Then I guess I won't be getting a membership."

[I remove my hands from the sign-up keyboard like it's snakes.]

"Let's just get you signed up, though, because you'll still have a 24 hour period to cancel."

"24 hours isn't enough. I have 10 minutes right now to get this pass figured out. That's why I'm asking for three days to assess whether this gym will work for my needs. I assumed this conversation would take a while, which it is, so since I won't be able to fully determine if I can use this gym for what I need in the span of 24 hours, and that's all you can give me, I won't be signing up."

"You can use the gym right now if you sign up."

"Okay... Again. Patrick. I need to leave in now... eight minutes. I don't have time. I need longer than 24 hours to figure out if this gym will work for me. So no, I won't be signing up."

"Well, you have 24 hours to cancel. It only takes 2 minutes to get you signed up."

"I. Don't. Have. Time. To. Work. Out. Today."

"Well, you should get signed up now because this deal ends tomorrow."

"What? No it doesn't. Today is the 16th. This deal that I am staring at, the one in my inbox, ends the 1st."

"No the other intro deal I'm signing you up for."

"What are you even talking about."

"It's a discounted initiation fee if you sign up before St. Patrick's day tomorrow."

"Then if I have time tomorrow, I'll come back tomorrow so I can actually utilize the 24 hour window I'd be allotted to determine if this gym is useable for me."

"It only takes 2 minutes to sign up right now."

"That's lovely, and, that's all the time I have left and now I need to leave."

"You'd have three days to decide if you want to cancel; penalty-free."

"... ... ... You said I'd have 24 hours."

"That's what I tell people because they forget to cancel and then want to get a refund so I tell them they have 24 hours."

"So do people have 24 hours or 3 days?"

"3 days."

"Because you told me 24 hours."

"I tell people that so they they understand the urgency. So let's get you signed up."

"Wow. Okay. You're not listening which is making me doubt my choice to come back here at all. I need to leave. Goodbye."

"Okay, see you tomorrow. I'm Patrick."

"... Yes. I know. We covered that."

" *expectant smile* "

"I'm still Andrew."

"See you tomorrow, Andrew."

"No, Patrick, you won't."

Let's break this down.

Step 1: Listen!
Patrick did not listen. Had Patrick listened, he would have heard that I, repeatedly, expressed that I am concerned my fitness needs, my equipment needs, my spacial needs, would not be met by this particular location. However he did not ONCE, nor did anyone else even ONCE, ask me what those needs are. No one said, "do you want to see the space now to see if we have what you need?" He didn't seek to understand what those pesky needs of mine were. He wanted his commission and I could smell it on him a mile away. He reeked of desperation and hardball strong-arm sales techniques with absolutely zero attention paid to his customer's needs or concerns. That's called manipulation and bullying, not sales. I don't workout with (or buy from) bullies.

Step 2: Tell the damn truth.
Patrick did not tell the truth. If you lie to me, I will not buy your product. Period. That is false advertising and it is disrespectful. And on an even subtler level than that, had Patrick been listening instead of waiting for his opportunity to strong-arm me into a sale again, he would have heard that I came in asking for one thing: a three-day pass to check out the facility and see if it would work for my needs. Had he told the truth from the beginning, had he said simply, "I understand you need a few days to figure out if this is a good fit. I'd love to get you signed up so you can use the three-day, no-hassle, no-strings-attached cancellation policy in lieu of a guest pass. Since, by policy, I can't grant you a pass because you've had a membership before, that would be a way for you to get a free trial run for three days. Just make sure that you do cancel the membership before those three days are up if you do decide this is not the right fit."

THAT WOULD HAVE SOLVED THE PROBLEM.

I would have signed up right then and there, happy as a clam, spent my remaining seven-and-a-half minutes bench pressing, and gone back tomorrow to do a 2 hour set. Patrick would have gotten his commission. Everyone would have been happy.

But instead, Patrick lied. He tried to manipulate me. He tried to trick me; to con me. So, no, problem not solved, Patrick. Problem not solved.

Step 3: Empathize, children.
Had Patrick tried empathizing with his customer - me - he would have noticed that I was deeply concerned about coming back to 24 hour fitness. I mentioned to him repeatedly that I had a horrible experience working out at the Koreatown location. But did he ask why? Did he ask what was problematic for me? Nope. He just repeated his script about getting me signed up. What did Patrick care about? Patrick. And Patrick's commission. And that's all.

Moral of the story?

If you are in a sales position, if you are trying to sell stuff to people, LISTEN. He probably could have convinced me to make the choice to just go ahead and sign up today had he come at it from the angle of "what was the experience at K-town that made you cancel your membership?" and "You can get those three days you need at the top of a new membership and cancel penalty-free if it doesn't work out for you." But alas, Patrick did none of those things. And alas, I still have no place to work out. So that, dear readers, is called a "lose-lose."

Patrick, I hope your boss reads this. For the sake of every other person who walks through those doors and is bombarded by your complete lack of empathy and manipulative attitude.

Listen.

150 Substitutions for the R-Word (for motherfucking grown-ups)

Terri Mauro^[0], About.com’s Parenting Special Needs expert and author of 50 Ways To Support Your Child’s Special Education^[1], recently put out a list of “225 Substitutes for the R-Word.”^[3]

I think that’s fantastic! Can’t coach someone on something you haven’t taught them, right? So teach America some vocabulary and maybe – just maybe – a little open-mindedness might start to shine through the deluge of ignorance that is so proudly rampant in our culture.

Just one little problem…

Never will I ever refer to myself as a “ding-a-ling.” Nor will I call anyone else a “bubblehead.” Similarly, I shan’t be referring to any circumstantial situation as “ill-advised” (unless it is ill-advised, in which case I probably would wish to refer to it as “ill-advised,” but not as a replacement for the R-Word; but that’s not the point. Or is it…?).

If I want to insult someone or something I’m damn well going to insult the living fuck out of him/her/it (see how quickly that escalated?).

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have massive respect and admiration for Ms. Mauro and the work she put into her article (seriously – she's a stone-cold badass and it’s impressive. Go read it), but as colloquially speaking adults, we need a list to match the catharsis of the venom we spit at each other every day. Mauro’s list is great – GREAT – for kids and schools (and, in many cases, professional settings), but what about the grown-ass adults out there who are too set in their R-Word-using ways to change without having a better (or rather, shall we say, more satisfying) option? I feel they need something… bolder. So with that said [strap in for some Deadpool-inspired profanity, children]…

ANDREW JOSEPH PEREZ’S 150 MOTHERFUCKING HARDCORE SUBSTITUTES

FOR THE R-WORD

(Side Note: As compared to Ms. Maruo’s article, I am only including 150 insults or descriptors here rather than 225, and they’ll be in two sections of 75 rather than three. The reason being that I don’t believe we, as a community, need any more reinforcement that negative self-talk is acceptable. We do enough of that already. And hey, you want to go use some of these on yourself, go for it. Not my chair, not my problem.^[4] But I encourage you to talk nice to yourself on a daily basis and sling these insults at your friends and colleagues in place of the R-Word. See how it goes.)

We’re gonna break this down into the two aforementioned sections. The first section will deal with pejoratives slung at individuals or groups. The second section will deal with ways to demean a situation, circumstance, or experience. Here we go!

(Sorry! Last aside, I promise. I also encourage you to read these lists aloud to yourself. It's more fun that way. Okay, now here we go!)

SECTION 1: “You are such a(n) ____________.”

Dumbass

Moron

Jackass

Damn fool

Asshole

Ass hat

Ignoramus

Idiot

Limp noodle

Jerkface

Ass jacket

Ass monkey

Wanker

Bastard

Bitch

Son of a bitch

Boob

Cankerous boil

Bilge rat

Scurvy dog

Coward

Cretin

Flip-flopper

Prick

Arrogant prick

Turd

Turd muffin

Fuck-face

Dickless sack of shit

Fuckup

Douche-lord

Cock-guzzling jackass

Justin Bieber

Numb-nuts

Hepatitis-faced bastard

Syphilitic shit head

Useless pile of horse shit

Donald Trump-supporter

Butthole

Cock-cheese

Wang

Chode

Shit stain

Shit-swizzler

Cock-gobbler

Shit-swizzling cock-gobbler

Dick cheese

Republican

Ignorant fuck

Butt plug

Dildo

Democrat

Fuckwad

Fred Durst^[5]*

Commie bastard

Traitor

Pontificator

Pusillanimous tit

Bung hole

“Short-fingered vulgarian”^[6]**

Harry Potter from book five

Walking Darwin Award

Vaginal wart

Motherfucker

Fuck stick

Shit for brains

Jizz rag

Swamp-ass motherfucker

Scrotum-faced son of a bitch

Dick kabob

Ten-cent hooker

Isis sympathizer

Stupid fuck

Moist, gaping pustule

Unpleasant individual to be around, generally speaking.

*I apologize if this one went too far. If anyone’s feelings were hurt unnecessarily by even the mere thought of having the name “Fred Durst” slung, like a fart, in their general direction, I sincerely apologize and wish you only happiness and rainbow unicorns.

**Vanity Fair Editor Graydon Carter referring to Donald Trump.

You with me so far? Good. Let’s go!

SECTION 2: “This [situation, circumstance, or activity] is ____________.”

(You ready?)

Like being fucked in the ear with a tire iron

Somewhat less than desirable

Stupid

The worst

Fucking terrible

Actively offensive to my sensibilities

Boring

Boring as hell

Boring as fuck

Shitty

Fucking shitty

What Hell feels like

Degrading

Insulting to my intelligence

Beneath me

Worthless

A waste of time

Counterproductive

Fucked

FUBAR

Pathetic

Weak

Unbearable

Deleterious

Adverse to my ability to ever get an erection again. Ever.

Sophomoric

Asinine

Canadian^[7]

A veritable shit storm

Aggravating

Vexing

Perturbing

Idiotic

Moronic

The best you could come up with?

Fucking ridiculous

So awful I want to gouge my eyes out with a dead rat’s teeth

Like Apartheid*

Worse than terrorism

Making me wish I was getting an un-anesthetized root canal

Hellacious

Torturous

Like a catheter made of cactus spines

Sucky

A fuck-a-doodle-do

Fucking infuriating

A dip-shit parade

A carnival of ignorance

A cock-sucking shit time

One long, fucked up [experience]

A goddamn tragedy

A dumbass convention

Unapologetically awful

Blasphemous

Hate-worthy

Physically painful

Frustrating as fuck

Gross

Embarrassing

Tedious

A shit show

Nothing short of nauseating

Shitsville

Fuck-Me-Topia

Fuck-tastic

Cock Town

Reason to drink

Why I do heroin

How the Holocaust got started**

Why America, like Rome, will inevitably fall

Dick-slap shit-fucked

Cock-shit motherfucked

Shit-Cock McGee

Fucking fuckety shit fucked

Kinda lame

*Because Apartheid was bad.

**Because the Holocaust was also bad.

So to sum up…

With so many glorious, verbose, and exasperatingly pretentious and crass ways to degrade, demean, and destroy one another in verbal or written onslaughts… Do you really want to be the last [Bonus Round!] troglodyte holding on to an outdated slur from a bygone, ignorant era of classlessness?

Didn’t think so.