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Class

Interesting documentary on class in America on KQED tonight. You know. America’s dirty little secret? That our classless society really isn’t? It was actually well-done and presented some valid arguments from both sides of this war we’re not officially having.

I was drawn to the guy who mentioned that, every time he sees a $60,000 car drive by, he wonders “what was that about?” Hit it right on the head for me. Is a $60,000 car really three times better than a $20,000 car or four times better than a $15,000 car? How much of that purchase price is primarily about the driver making a statement that says “Look at me. I can afford a $60,000 car!”

I don’t think it’s necessarily prejudice against the wealthy to look at this guy and his car and determine that we probably wouldn’t get along. It’s not that the guy is rich that bothers me. It’s the fact that his priorities and values suggest that blowing that much money on a car is a good idea. This says to me that we probably wouldn’t have that much in common.

I realize that very few wealthy people wake up in the morning wondering “how can I trample the working class today?” I also realize that too few wealthy people (and poor people, as it happens) walk around thinking how they can show respect for other people.

Also mentioned, though, was the idea of “getting above your raising”. This one, like flaunting your wealth and questionable priorities, is a disturbing class affectation, but one exhibited by the poorer classes. It’s sort of a disincentive for anyone who strives for something better, or even different. I’ve seen this one at work too, although not dramatically, and more from a geographic standpoint than an economic one.

The idea is that if you dare “abandon your roots” and try to move on to something (or someplace) which might be more suitable to your personality, you may find that family (and even some friends) back home don’t know or care how to react to you anymore. It’s not that they don’t understand your new life so much as they don’t even acknowledge that you might actually HAVE one. They don’t want to know about it, and they don’t really want to have much to do with you because you’re some sort of traitor for leaving a place which is so obviously perfect for you (because it’s perfect for them).

I’ve gotten some of this attitude from a few family members, it’s strange because I think I’m considerably less snobbish about my southern roots and surroundings now than I was when I actually lived there.

Another interesting, if a bit obvious, subject was the way class identity is largely established in high school, but that’s a subject for another time. I’m babbling and it’s time to go to bed…

Chris Matthews Must Shut Up

Cool. We’ve got a good old-fashioned storm going on here. It’s rare enough to get thunder and lightning in San Francisco, but to get it with a rare September rain is just sort of making my night.

It’s making me forget all about having met Windoze 2000 face to face for the first time this afternoon. After throwing things around the office and uttering (screaming?) profanities I’d forgotten I knew, it was nice to come home and hug my Mac.

It’s also diverting my attention from Chris Matthews on MSNBC. Does anyone else think he just needs to shut the hell up? He’s loud and obnoxious, but I could almost stand that if he weren’t such a miserably rude interviewer. He’s the sort who asks a question and, as soon as the interviewee opens his mouth to answer, asks another one on a completely unrelated topic. And then he complains about not getting an answer.

He’s just awful, and it’s even sadder that he’s usually hosting an interview/panel show. In an hour-long show, you can be assured of at least 45 minutes of his annoying voice. Chris really needs to move past journalistic masturbation and actually listen to someone else once in a while.

End of Irony?

End of irony my ass. There are plenty of irritants around who deserve ridicule on a daily basis. A tragedy of epic proportions has occurred, but just because it happens to be a completely inappropriate target doesn’t mean we have to ignore all the unrelated, lesser idiots of the world and move en masse to the freakin’ little house on the prarie…

A sense of humor, when appropriately focused, is a very useful thing to have in times of crisis. And I don’t own a damned thing in gingham…

Rude and Entitled Assholes

As much as I rant and talk about idiots, there are some things I would never do, mainly because I have a decent upbringing, which instilled in me a basic respect for other people’s feelings.

One of the things I would never do is to go into someone’s personal website and send him a message that his site (or he) is boring and useless and bland. The idea of intentionally hurting the feelings of someone just because he runs his own website and I don’t like the content (or his life) is just completely foreign to me. What right do I have to criticize someone’s free content, which I was not forced to read, particularly when the whole point of the site is to be a journal or expresssion of his thoughts?

It would be different if I were arguing about an issue. But unless the website in question has a message so repulsive that it’s designed to provoke a response (a Klansman’s personal site, for example), I usually respond either with praise or not at all. I limit my personal attacks to people with really offensive messages and to public figures.

I would never include a link which said “look at this stupid guy’s web journal” despite all the inane material availble online. Why bother? That person is saying what he wants to say, and no one’s forcing me to read it. He probably isn’t aiming his content at me anyway. To write him and say “your life sucks” or “write about someting interesting” is just plain rude; it shows ill-breeding and a complete lack of respect for other people in general.

And then there are the sorts who write to me, say about this site, and offer comments like “I can’t believe you didn’t include Joe’s Market in Passaic. How could you do such sloppy work?” I sometimes invite these people to go fuck themselves with the neon from Joe’s sign. More frequently, I ask them to provide the URL of THEIR great, well-researched body of work and I also offer a gentle reminder that I have a life, and that only a certain portion of it is actually dedicated to providing them with free entertainment. Funny, but they rarely respond.

These things roll off me pretty easily; I’ve been dealing with idiots and assholes for years, my all-time favorite being the one who informed me somewhat forcefully that I needed to stop including pictures of myself where I happened to be smoking. Imagine my response. But I’m always amazed at the sheer audacity of someone trying to tell me what I ought or oughtn’t say in my own web journal, particularly since they’re often too chickenshit to include a valid return address.

Technostress

To whomever keeps searching for “mummification” over on Planet SOMA: please stop. You’re giving me the willies…

This may be a quick posting, since my internet connection has been all but useless for the better part of five days now. It’s been ugly, I’m not sure if it’s an ISP or a phone company issue, and I’m tremendously frustrated. But I’m working on it…

I’m also working on a migration of sorts, and this one is ISP-related. Most of my sites will be moving to a new server on Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. I’ll try to keep it as transparent as possible, but things don’t always work the way they’re supposed to. One word of warning: those of you who have been accessing any of my sites through long-outdated “best.com” addresses will no loner be able to do so in a few days…

Now I’m going to bed, so I can get up and get the hell out of the neighborhood early tomorrow morning, thus avoiding the annoying spectacle on Folsom Street…

The Hosting Nightmare Continues

My site migrated almost two hours ago and I’ve yet to be able to log in and make changes or to get email. I am not happy. Tech support said “I’ll call you back in 15 minutes with a solution.” An hour and a half has passed. No call. No solution. I am even less happy…

This would, by the way, explain why you’re seeing last Monday’s version of this page on the live site. That was the last version I uploaded to the test site before migration…

Another more or less unrelated story is my actual internet connection. It’s a little more stable than it’s been for the past week or so, but it’s still slow and buggy. I’m working on the email, etc. and I fantasize about being caught up by tomorrow. But I make no promises…

Obviously things are starting to get corrected, as I managed to post this…

Back to Normal?

So email, etc. seem relatively normal again (damned DNS adjustments), although I’m not 100% certain that any I sent today actually arrived anyplace…

Long Past? No. My Past.

I love it when this happens. I checked my relatively dormant Yahoo account (the one I use as a spamtrap) tonight and had a message from a friend from my deep dark past. And I mean LONG past: junior high. He’s one of those few people from back then that I actually like well enough to talk to, which we haven’t done in more than ten years…

I think I may have mentioned once before how there are a total of about three of my junior high or high school contemporaries to whom I’d even bother nodding if I saw them on the street. Did adolescence leave me bitter? Damn right it did…

Not that this is a particularly radical statement…

1992

Nine years ago this morning, I woke up in Winnemucca, had breakfast at the McDonald’s next to the Motel 6, and got in my car, headed for my new home in San Francisco. It was a temporary home, a studio I was sharing with two friends from North Carolina who’d moved a year or so earlier. A month later, I’d move into the place I still occupy today, with yet another recent transplant.

It had been a great trip: my first cross-country drive and only my third trip ever to the west coast. I’d spent nights in Nashville, Kansas City, Denver (3 nights), and Salt Lake City. I had sex at a bookstore in Denver, and I’d even ditched a guy in a bar in Kansas City only to re-encounter him a few nights later in a club in Salt Lake City. When I found a cassette copy of Laurie Anderson’s “Big Science” in a thrift store along the way, I realized everything would probably turn out all right.

The last day, though, was really stressful. I was really about to “do it” and, even worse, I couldn’t get in touch with the people I’d be staying with. I finally stopped at a Kinko’s in Reno and faxed one of them at work and I think I finally made voice contact from a shopping center in Vallejo. From there, it was across the Bay Bridge (at rush hour, of course) and into the city where I drove straight to the Market Street Safeway for the rendezvous.

Nine years later, I’m still here even though I ask myself why almost every day. I haven’t accomplished many of the goals I arrived with, although I’ve set a few new ones here. I think I would have developed into a somehwat different person if I hadn’t come to San Francisco, although I’m not sure if I would have turned out better, worse, or just slightly different.

Anyhow, this is year ten for whatever it’s worth. In honor of the anniversary, here are some never-before seen (at least not here) pictures from that lost period between my arrival in San Francisco in 1992 and the start of all this web stuff in 1996. These are scanned from actual film prints. Imagine…

Stupid Radio Slogans

About a year ago, I was really annoyed by these stupid commericials for a local radio station which promised “classic rock that rocks”. Just plain idiotic. What the hell else would classic rock DO exactly? Dance a little jig? Bake a cake? Go shopping?

This year, there’s a new contender for stupidest tagline of the decade: “critics agree that Star 101.3 brings you 80s, 90s, now.” Really? Well, of course it does; it’s not really an arguable point, is it? It might be if they claimed that “critics agree we bring you the BEST of the 80s and 90s”, but this way, it’s sort of like advertising “Supreme Court agrees that ESPN shows sports programming everyday” or “SF Chronicle admits that KPIX is a CBS affiliate”. Big fucking revelations, huh?