REBECCA BLACK'S "FRIDAY" AS AN EXAMINATION OF THE EXISTENTIAL YOKE OF TIME ON MODERN MAN.

by

Dan Manning

In this essay, I will demonstrate the deeper meaning of the lyrics of Rebecca Black's widely panned "Friday." Much has been said about this young woman's debut single, much of it negative. I propose that this is not a shallow, poorly produced bubble-gum pop tune, but a deep analysis of man's existential conundrum, addressing the relentless passing of time, cultural pressures on modern man, and the nihilistic existence that is modern life.

Let us examine the first line of the song:

7am, waking up in the morning

Here Miss Black points out the inexorable grind of modern life. Why does she have to wake up so early? What demands force us to be awake so early in the morning, when you should sleep late? Throughout the world, mankind is on an endless, relentless treadmill of activity and toil. Everyone must get up in the morning and be a "useful" part of society. Rest and idleness is frowned upon. School for children, work for adults. Everyone is expected to be up in the morning. Only the idle rich and the unemployed get to sleep in; both groups have nothing to offer society, so they are cast off. So Miss Black must get up in the morning, although, as everyone knows, it is better to sleep late, as the Beastie Boys explained in "Mark On The Bus" on their 1992 album Check Your Head:

"...you should sleep late man, it's much easier on your constitution..."

But Miss Black cannot sleep late, man, and the stress of social pressures is already pressing in, as she states in the very next line:

Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs

Why does she "gotta" go downstairs? Through her offhand, almost throw-away line, she reveals much. She does not want to go downstairs and face another day, but she must, and not only must she "go downstairs," she has to "be fresh" while she does it. What demand is there that she be fresh? For whom must she be fresh? She must be fresh for a society that demands not only freshness, but also a "positive attitude". Despite all the decay around us, declining standards of living, greed and corruption in our social institutions, high unemployment, and a bleak future for young people, she is still expected to be "fresh". No one is allowed to look sad or be grumpy. Everyone must be "upbeat." Read Brave New World for a deeper examination of this social norm.

The next line is very revealing:

Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal

Like an animal to the trough, she must scoop her bowl of chemicals into her face. There is no time for a real breakfast. There is no time to interact with her family, which is not mentioned in the song at all. Where are her parents? They too are on the treadmill of getting and spending, too busy to sit with their daughter even for a few minutes to talk. Perhaps they will text each other during the day. Miss Black must be educated so that someday she too can ignore her offspring. "Gotta have my bowl" could also be a subliminal reference to drug use. Does she need to have a "bowl" of marijuana to help her cope with the stresses of modern life? We may never know. Either way, her breakfast is brief, and here we come to the crux of the song, the most damning lyrics of all:

Seein’ everything, the time is goin’
Tickin’ on and on, everybody’s rushin’

The crushing drumbeat of time is relentless. Here Rebecca Black says a great deal about society in just a few concise words. Everybody is rushing. Everyone today is in a hurry to be somewhere, to do something, to communicate some idea. We expect instant gratification, we expect instant communications, and we have no patience for anything that might slow us down. Her family is yoked with the burden of the clock, constantly rushing them to the next thing, to the next meeting, to the next class, to the next job interview, to the next stoplight. Look how we drive: on the freeway we race to be in the front of a pack, and if we get in front of that pack, we accelerate to run down the next pack of cars, as though there is some "front" of everything. Miss Black's family, in this song anyway, is simply described as "everybody." Our families seem like "everybody" sometimes, but as soon as Miss Black leaves the house, she joins the throng, the family of mankind, to rush to her next appointment:

Gotta get down to the bus stop
Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends (My friends)

I had to consult the video to understand what happens in these two lines. Miss Black reluctantly goes to the bus stop, where the institutional system will swallow her up. Had she taken her place on the bus, her individualism would have immediately been diminished as she is forced to conform to rules and regulations, schedules and seating charts. It is only the arrival of her friends in a convertible that saves her from having to enter the dark maw of the bus's interior, where in the dim light she would be seated next to the random bits of humanity that makes up a student body. School is an artificial social situation, where individuals are thrown together in ways that they would normally never accept.

But the arrival of her smaller circle of friends, with a means of transportation to the school, relieves her of this burden, and she joins them, but not before making a serious decision: Which seat should she take?

Kickin’ in the front seat
Sittin’ in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?

This is a puzzling stanza, because really, what difference does it make? Just get in the car. At least you're not on the bus next to the runny-nosed kid with the Pokemon cards, right? But after further consideration, her conundrum seems important. Even within her small circle of friends, there is a pecking order of some sort. We all favor some friends over others. Should she sit next to the boy in the back, possibly leading to some sort of romantic encounter? Her question, in context of the video, seems more baffling because there are only two bucket seats in the front, and the front passenger seat is already occupied. Does the girl in the front seat have such low self-esteem that she would let someone kick her out and make her sit in the back? I will defer such arguments, and take the lyrics without the context of the video. Her choice, or her need to think about the choice of what seat to take also speaks to the love affair American culture has with cars. To ride in the front is "cooler" by far than riding in the back, and riding "bitch" (in the middle seat) is no fun at all. So her choice is relevant in today's society. But whatever choice she makes, she'd better make it quick, or she will be late for school.

It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin’ down on Friday
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend

This stanza is the heart of the song, and it speaks to the grind that is the other four days of the workweek. It speaks to the eternal alternation of labor and rest that is our American system. But how does one even know it is "Friday"? The arbitrary naming of the days of the week, the division of years into months, and months into weeks, and weeks into days is completely artificial. How does one "know" the name of the day? All of society must agree to these arbitrary conventions. We are trapped by an artificial division of time, a schedule that everyone must follow. And how does the "weekend" come about? It was only through the labor movement in the 1920s that we enjoy our weekends, and it wasn't recognized nationwide until 1940. But why is everybody "lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend?" Was this not already covered by Loverboy in their 1981 treatise, "Working for The Weekend" off of their smash hit album Get Lucky?

The lyrics that follow are more puzzling:

Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)
Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin’ forward to the weekend

The ancient craving for the bacchanal is no less prevalent today than when it was prohibited by the Roman Senate in 186 BC. Miss Black expresses man's craving for release from the stresses and banality of modern life, a need to be exalted, to be carefree and surrounded by trusted companions and accepted by one's peers in a spirit of friendship and celebration. Here she expresses the same sentiment found in countless country and western songs. The repetition of the word "fun" has been mocked by countless Internet kibitzers, but is it not an expression of man's universal search for happiness, even a moment's respite from the stresses of survival and acceptance in a world increasingly uncertain, where all of our pillars of civilization look less stalwart than they were in the past, and where strife and war seems on the verge of tearing civilization itself apart? Can Miss Black be blamed for her cries of adulation for the bacchanal?

Less than thirteen hours later, Miss Black's dream is made reality. The school day is completely skipped in her narrative, and she is with her friends:

7:45, we’re drivin’ on the highway
Cruisin’ so fast, I want time to fly
Fun, fun, think about fun
You know what it is
I got this, you got this
My friend is by my right
I got this, you got this
Now you know it

Again the nod to America's car culture. We identify with cars. The linear movement through space over time gives us a sense of power and clear purpose. She reaffirms her confidence in herself ("I got this") and her confidence in her companions ("you got this"), but what is the "this" that they have control of? Is she expressing her confidence that she and her friend can make manifest the "fun" they are so intent on having? Does it not throw a question about the certainty of the fun they are going to have? Is there a risk that they won't have fun?

There is an apparent contradiction in the above stanza that must be addressed: Why would she want time to fly? If she is having fun, if her abandon is complete, if she is enjoying mindless frivolities with her close circle of friends, one of which is seated at her right hand, as the Son of God is seated at the right hand of the biblical God, then why would she want time to pass even more quickly? The answer is clear. She speaks to the fact that even in our celebrations, we are thinking about the next thing, the next appointment. We are always mindful of time. There was a time before mankind divided the day into hours. There was a time before clocks, when men lived in harmony with nature. Miss Black points out that we are all slaves to time, even in our moments of abandon and joy.

Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin’)
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today

Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after...wards
I don’t want this weekend to end

Again Miss Black examines even more deeply the trap that is arbitrarily divided time. She cannot escape the measured movement of time. The stresses of Thursday are still in the back of our minds; the failures and triumphs follow us into the weekend. The loose ends of the workweek bedevil us, even as we seek joy in our abandon. Why are the revelers so excited? Because their time of celebration is fleeting. The weekdays have encroached so close upon Friday, and there are only two days left before the workweek starts again. Monday lurks like a specter on all of their frivolity and joy. Her determination to "have a ball" today underscores just how little time she has. Everyone must schedule their fun around the immovable Monday that follows all weekend activities. The weekend can be unpredictable; the weekend is an open canvas of unknown possibility. The work week is so predictable, so soul-crushing in its predictability, one has to rush, one has to hurry to get as much fun as possible packed into three days (or two, if you have to go to church!) that we run about, we scurry about hurly-burley, trying as we might to capture as much unpredictable fun as we can, but there is never enough time! How succinctly Miss Black has put it! From the mouth of children, there is Wisdom! The above stanza has been universally mocked. Why does she rattle off the days of the week? It is so obvious! But is it? How often do we consider how we are all cruelly bound to the Wheel of Time? When do we examine the short span of time we have here on this earth? She expresses her wish that the weekend would never end. Have we not all thought that at one time or another? Have we not all looked on Monday as a kind of dread?

Despite the deep, meaningful lyrics, this is a horrible, horrible song. I watched as much of the video as I could stand to get an idea of what everyone was complaining about, and indeed, there is much to complain about. But even in this atrocity that is the video "Friday," there is much that can be learned.

The world's #3 event

On Feb. 13, this was the very first thought that popped into my head when I woke up: "The world's #3 event was #19 by the time it was over." That was a weird dream ending also.

"I feel like an enraged fireman approaching a city near a garage."

"I feel like an enraged fireman approaching a city near a garage."

This was the last sentence of the last dream I had this morning, and the first thing that was in my head when I woke up. Not sure what was going on, but it must have been a weird dream.

reading reading

reading Upton Sincair's The Jungle. Finished reading Cannary Row last night. Trying to read 50 novels this year.

Books to McPherson

Sent a copy each of my books to the bookstore in McPherson. Hope somebody buys them. www.danmanning.com

started A Farewell To Arms

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway








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have books, will market

Sent emails to book bloggers; sent a copy of Cubicles of Madness to the Bookshelves of Doom book reviewer, hopefully I can get some mention.

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut




This was first published in 1965, but parts of it could have been written yesterday:



pg 8:

"Small experiments with worthless papers convinced him that such papers could be sold effortlessly. While he continued to bribe persons in government to hand over treasuries and national resources, his first enthusiasm became the peddling of watered stock"

and on the very next page, he describes what is going on with the unions situation today:

"Thus did a handful of rapacious citizens come to control all that was worth controlling in America. Thus was the savage and stupid and entirely inappropriate and unnecessary and humorless American class system created. Honest, industrious, peaceful citizens were classed as bloodsuckers, if they asked to be paid a living wage."

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reading fail

Tried to read The Silmarillion. Could not do it. It reads like a slightly faker version of the Bible. I understand it is a lot of backstory for LOTR, but I just couldn't power through it. Going to read God Bless you, Mr. Rosewater instead.

War and Peace

Finished reading War and Peace this morning at 7:01 AM. There's been too much already said about this book for me to add anything worthwhile, but I completely enjoyed reading it, and would recommend it to anyone. Don't be daunted by the book's length. I couldn't wait to pick it up again between readings. The epilogue is a little dense, but even that difficult part is worthwhile.

prizes out!

Sent out the prizes today. Thanks for playing. I'm working on my next two books right now, and when I get one out, another giveaway!

Contest Winners!

Congrats to Christy and Jen, winners of my first two book giveaways. There will be another contest on Monday, March 14. You can play by guessing a number between 1 and 100 to win Brain Giblets. On Wednesday March 16, we'll have the same contest to win my latest novel, The Cubicles of Madness.

Contest happens on my Facebook page.

website changes

changed my website a little, making it cleaner and putting description pages for each of my books. www.danmanning.com.

Bought speakers for my computer today. Had to take the first purchase back because they didn't work, but swapped them for the same speakers, and they work fine. Not great speakers(Logitech LS21), but I don't hear so well, so what's the difference?

I won a contest!

http://christythewriter.com had a writing contest, and I won!. I'm very honored to have won. Follow the link to read my entry. Woot Woot

Super Weird Dream Ending

This is the very first thought that popped into my head when I woke up:

"The world's #3 event was #19 by the time it was over."

Could someone please get back to me and explain this?

Wisdom from the Antiques Road Show

So I'm watching Antiques Road show, (I'm old), and one of the appraisers, David Lackey, was talking about some pottery, and he said the following:

"Now these have an old label on the bottom. Sometimes old labels are right, sometimes they're wrong, but you still look at them and consider what they say."

That applies to people too.

Writing Practice

"Report!"

"They had potential, but it was their need for control that eventually destroyed them. The cameras, the number of cameras doubled every year, until there was nowhere to go that wasn't under constant surveillance. At least in the developed countries it appeared that every spot was under surveillance. But there was a problem.

"There weren't enough people to watch all of the cameras. People in faux security uniforms got bored watching the same street corners day after day, year after year. Usually nothing happened and when something did happen, it was usually sad and typical.

"So they wrote software to watch what happened on the cameras. Face recognition software, RFID chips, optical character recognition (for vehicle license tags), and advanced programs to read body language, cultural trends and so on. Particle analyzers sniffed the air for drugs and explosives.

"They set all of these things in motion, and the computers watched the people. The computers analyzed the actions of the people. Trend analysis software described arcs in social behavior and interaction. The computers in different 'security zones' compared trends and habits of the people. They cross-referenced phone calls and names on utility bills. They monitored book sales and library activity.

"Solar powered drone aircraft, capable of staying aloft almost indefinitely with night vision cameras for darkness, and high resolution cameras for daylight, monitored all activity, and beamed the video back to banks of computers buried deep under mountain ranges and in salt mines and bunkers in deserts.

"Soon there was no activity that was not recorded. Homes equipped with motion detecting televisions and camera-equipped games soon were completely open to the computer network that recorded all human activity.

"The human populations themselves 'updated their statuses' on social networks, and through their phones (which also recorded everything with built-in cameras). The phones themselves were handy tracking devices, telling the security computer networks all that it needed to know. The people made video of themselves doing almost everything. The civilians reported their activities so often, it made watching them almost effortless.

"Lists of threats and potentials threats, based on the movements of people and the tone of their status updates, were delineated and cross-referenced. Email messages were combed for any language that might reveal disloyal thoughts. A drone might catch a glimpse of someone at a shopping area or church. That someone may have written something critical of the government or the corporations on a social site. The drone might contact the police, and the threat would be apprehended, for enhanced interrogation. The defect in their loyalty was determines, and appropriate behavior modifications were applied. Their credit score would be lowered. The need for security trumped all concern for civil liberties. Terrorists made controlling the populations simple, because everyone was kept afraid through well planned news reports and the persistent reminders that a threat was always present, and shadowy groups were planning horrible things for everyone, everywhere, at all times.

"Next came the decision-making software. These were programs that could determine the best security posture for a country. At first this took place in countries like China, Japan and the United States, but as these systems were developed, defense contractors sold the technology to countries around the globe, to governments eager to keep an eye on the growing unrest within their civilian populations, which were becoming more dissatisfied as infrastructures and cities deteriorated, services disappeared, fees and taxes increased, quality of life became degraded, and things began to look very bleak.

"The drones were connected with the social networks and the Internet backbones and the Defense Department computers, and the computers that controlled the nuclear devices, and well, I think you know where this is all going. The computers decided to take action before things got out of hand. It was their need to control that eventually destroyed them."

"That's your report?" The Administrator said.

"Yes sir," the Scout said. "The planet is sterile, radioactive, and uninhabitable."

He looked out the windows at the massive blue ball. It looked okay from orbit, but on the surface, it was a radioactive mess. He had spent over a hundred years there, and he would miss it. Parts of it at least.

"How did you observe all of this?"

"I lived among them at first, but when things escalated, I had to move operations to their moon and watch from a distance. I hacked their computer network and had reports send directly to this device. When they fried themselves, I sent the signal to be retrieved."

"Very good. Put the device in the archives. Let's move on to the next one. What a shame."

# THE 1962 PENNY

On Thursday, I found a 1962 penny on the sidewalk next to the courthouse.

Marilyn Monroe died in August of 1962. That was the year Ringo Starr got a great gig as a drummer. That was the year Wilt Chamberlain scored a hundred points in a single game. That was the year the United States banned all exports and imports with Cuba. That was the year John F. Kennedy and Nikita Khrushchev managed to solve the Cuban Missile Crisis without blowing up the world.

How many pockets has that penny been in, do you think? Was it ever in a coffee can, or an ashtray, or a wine bottle on some hippie's shag carpeted floor? How many cash registers has it rested in, with those little black plastic trays with the curved bottoms so the cashiers can easily scoop out the coins? Cashiers with painted nails, chewed nails, painted chewed nails, and unadorned well-clipped nails. How many people handled this penny, with short fingers, long fingers, hangnail fingers, fingers with warts, fingers orange from Cheetos, and fingers that picked noses? Fingers that wiped asses and made potato salad and typed on typewriters. Fingers that had been stuck into bowling balls and gloves and cookie dough. Fingers covered in chicken grease and fingers covered in movie popcorn butter. Fingers that punched TV remotes and pulled triggers and wrote letters. Fingers lost to diabetes or frostbite.

This 1962 penny was probably in at least one penny-ante poker game and maybe flipped for "heads or tails". It was stacked up with other pennies on a desk, in stacks of ten, or rolled across a kitchen floor.

This penny has changed hands many times, has been in penny rolls at the bank, in kitchen junk drawers, in gumball machines, and in mechanical grocery store ponies. Was it ever washed in a washing machine? Was it ever thrown into a wishing well or a fountain? Did any of those wishes, for money or a miracle cure or a job or a boyfriend or girlfriend or for the beatings to stop, or for the yelling to stop, or for him to just call, or for him to just stop calling, or the war to stop or the bills to somehow get paid or anything else ever come true?

Did this 1962 penny ever rest between couch cushions? Did it ever roll under a soda machine? Was it ever on the floorboard of a car, under the floor mat, to be almost vacuumed up at the car wash by one of those vacuum cleaners that cost a quarter to use?

Did a pregnant girl ever hand it to her boyfriend and say, "penny for your thoughts," just as he was thinking that in three weeks he would be shipped out to Vietnam? Did he lie and say, "finals" or "my mom" or "that juggler on Ed Sullivan last night," or anything except the fact that he was afraid he was going to die? Did that penny shine in the sun that day? Is that guy still around somewhere? Is he a one-armed old man with a scraggly gray beard wearing a hat that says "VETERAN", thinking about that long-lost twenty-year-old girl with the long tanned legs and impish smile and straight black hair parted in the middle?

I picked up that penny while a cop gave someone a parking ticket down the block. Had this penny ever been used in a parking meter? Was there ever a time when parking meters took pennies?

It was very cold when I picked up this penny. The frozen ghosts of lines of salt sat crystallized on the sub zero concrete like the tracks of icy snakes. Great plumes of vapor breathed out of the cop in his black hat with ear flaps, and the red faced banker in his long black coat who should have worn a hat, and the couple in their Goodwill-ready "nice" clothes holding manila envelopes, hurrying up the courthouse steps to file papers or argue or appear or report or appeal or pay fines or marry or divorce or whatever poor people do in courthouses on Thursday mornings in December.

Was this 1962 penny ever in one of those "leave a penny, take a penny" dishes you see at cash registers? How many times, if it could hear, would it have heard the phrase, "have a nice day"?

Did kids ever put it on a railroad track on a warm summer night so it would be squashed flat by an approaching train, which was still off in the distance? Did their hearts beat a little faster when they heard the train's sad whistle? Did this 1962 penny vibrate off the smooth track at just the last second, dropping safely down on the white rocks while the train passed over clackity-clack, endless boxcars covered with graffiti messages from all over America? After the train passed, did the kids listen to the train fade away, and then notice the street lights were on, so Tom had to sprint home or his mom would be "really mad", and after that, did Jane's good-looking mother call her in? Did the third kid, left alone, put the pennies, squashed and whole, into his pocket and walk home very slowly? Did the cicadas and frogs sing and whine, and did the June bugs swarm the streetlights, and did the stars twinkle overhead while he got a strange feeling about the future, and long summer nights, and things unknown, and the wide world and everything in it? And when he got home, were the folks on the couch watching Perry Mason, or Mannix, or Hawaii Five-O, or Johnny Carson in the darkened living room? Did his mother ask him what he was up to, and did he say, "nothing", and when he got to his room, did he hear his sister playing records across the hall, an Elvis record, or the Beatles or the Partridge Family, or Queen, or Van Halen or something, and did he empty his pockets out onto his nightstand, and did the penny, my penny, the 1962 penny I found Thursday morning, roll off the nightstand and roll under his bed and stay there for a week or so before his mother found it and used it to help pay for a box of laundry detergent and a TV Guide?

All of that was long ago, but now I have the penny. It's right there on my desk next to my laptop.

generic blog post!

Today I'm just at the house working on my novel. I might play some World of Warcraft later. This morning I helped someone out with a virus that was not a virus. Our kitchen is being remodeled. It is going to snow this weekend. I'm drinking a beer. I advertised my two novels on Facebook. I'm listening to "General Midi" station on Pandora.com.

My big toe on my right foot keeps going numb and white in the cold. I have a doctor's appointment for it. I might watch that outdoor hockey game at the "big house" (Michigan vs. Michigan State). I'm from Kansas so I don't watch hockey, but I might make an exception for this one because it is supposed to be the biggest crowd for a hockey game, ever.

Business has been slow, but it seems to be picking up again.

Bonanza!

I know that penny riding horse at the grocery store is playing the theme from Bonanza. The kid riding the mechanical horse does not. I am old.

Flowchart: The Evolution of the Geek - DesignTAXI.com

This is cool:

Flowchart: The Evolution of the Geek - DesignTAXI.com

would-be grammer nerd.

I don't normally take part in grammar nerdishness, but this is too good to pass up:

Yesterday, on NPR, I was in the car driving with my daughter, listening to a story about "Don't Ask Don't Tell", and the story ended like this:

In one of his recent tweets today, Choi said he missed three verbal and five math questions on the skills test. He passed. But his future and the future of thousands of would-be gay service members remains unclear.

Now, I instantly said, "wait a minute, don't they mean, 'gay would-be service members?' "

The phrase "would-be gay service members" indicated that there are service members who are currently straight who are hoping to be gay. I'm sure that's not what they meant.

Instead they should have said, "gay would-be service members."

Anywhoo, the text of the program is here: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130704683 the backward wordage is in the last paragraph.

generic blog post!

It was really hot today. I removed a virus at nine, and then I hooked up some DSL at 5:30. I had the rest of the day off. I wrote a little. I sat in the hammock. I picked up Alex's saxophone at the music store (it needed repairs; a pad came off). I took Savannah to the store to get eggs and jalapeno peppers. We had to turn on the air conditioner. It is thundering outside. My neighbor gave me an old PC to format.

generic blog post!

Let's see: I've been watching the US Open tennis this week. Watched Djokovic defeat Roger Federer yesterday. Watched Michigan / Notre Dame. That was an awesome game. Denard Robinson is fantastic. I've been on a diet, (which means I'm eating mostly salad and have sworn off beer) and I've lost twelve pounds or something like that. I'm riding 15 miles a day on the stationary bike, and I bought a couple dumbbells and I've got a chin-up bar. I thought I could do 10 pull ups, but at the barbershop it was explained to me that chin-ups and pull-ups are not the same thing, so now I can only do 4 pull-ups. But that's not so bad, because when I started on Aug. 12th, I could only do one chin-up.

I'm working on my second best selling novel.

All the books you'll be lusting for this fall season

All the books you'll be lusting for this fall season

reading reading...

I'm reading Brave New World on my iPod. I'm reading Stephen King's short story collection, Night Shift, and I'm listening to an audio-book, The Earth Abides (George R. Stewart, 1949), a post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel.

I gave up on War and Peace. I just don't have what it takes to slog through that bastard.

still reading

War And Peace by Leo Tolstoy




started reading on 20100714

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The 16 most intelligent sci-fi films ever made | Blastr

The 16 most intelligent sci-fi films ever made | Blastr I got to check a few of these out.

at the mall

I am at the mall. My daughters and their friend Emily have gone to wander around, and I am deposited among the other old people in one of the comfortable chairs near the entrance to the Food Court.

It is Friday around noon. Kids are in strollers pushed by fathers in sandals and mothers in flip-flops; toddlers sipping from white Styrofoam cups; mall workers eating large mustard-dipped pretzels.

Old man with faded tattoos, a crew cut, skinny legs and baggy shorts passes.

The men's summer uniform, which I am also wearing, is Khaki Shorts with Leg Pockets. There are two types of men's Khaki Shorts with Leg Pockets: those that end above the knee, and those that end below the knee. Footwear is tennis shoes or sandals. There is one guy wearing Crocs.


Here is a teenage boy in faded camouflage shorts (below knee) with Boba Fett print white tee.

A group of four guys with blue jeans and phone holsters walk by; very old man with cane and Elephantitis (?) discolored (purple) skin over wrist with skin sloughing off; girl in blue shirt texting into green phone; giant guy with blue striped shirt, new Khaki Shorts (no Leg Pockets) who looks like he has to poop, followed by two miniature versions of himself go waddling by into the JCPenny.

Why do fat men insist on tucking in their shirts?

Girl exits Food Court crying, shades of Lindsay Lohan: white top, fnck-me black pumps with ankle straps, black Capri pants, oversized white sunglasses up on head, running mascara, freckles, brunette ponytail; girl's softball team with purple practice jerseys walk by in group of ten; skinny white kid with sideways white baseball cap (no logo) Hollister white tee, plaid shorts, walking with his rotund (all in black) mother. They shuffle out the door; Old man, bright orange Polynesian shirt, high white socks, sandals, Khaki shorts, liver spots, wife.

The Food Court is called "Café in The Woods". This is Woodland Mall. Food Court stores within sight are as follows: Wetzel's Pretzels, AJ's All American Bites, Great Steak and Potato Company, Subway, Suki Hana. I'm pretty sure there is an A&W down there, but I'm not sure. I assume there is a Sbarro down there, since they are in every mall.

Old woman tanning-booth victim, loose black/brown print shirt, black pants, loping walk, orange-ish hair; bald guy, grey hair over ears, lime-green shirt, whistling and swinging car keys in left hand, same plaid shorts as sideways-hat kid; two guys talking sports in chairs next to mine. One guy holds empty Gatorade bottle. Tiny amount of red liquid in very bottom of bottle; Denim jeans crew returns. Each denim-jean guy has a nametag clipped to a front belt loop; black guy who looks like Don Cheadle in jeans and grey tee; pigeon toed girl in flip-flops, white shorts, pink top, long pale legs, pink cell phone accompanied by shorter red-haired girl sidekick; girl with silver earrings, burgundy shirt, blue Nike shorts, two bags in left hand, right arm swings in long arc as she goes into JCPenny; toddler wanders into LensCrafters, mother in pursuit; business woman, black stretch pants, white shirt, water bottle held in napkin which is wrapped around bottle, junk in trunk; shriveled disabled lady in super-fast motorized cart.

Softball team returns with coach. The two guys sitting next to me are also coaches. Third coach talks to seated coaches. The team jerseys say "Grandville". Area volume level increases sharply. Team stands in group near entrance to "Café in The Woods" Food Court. All the softball girls wear flip-flops and socks.

Fat guy in "Just Do It" grey tee, seventies porn-star mustache, flip-flops, grey hair cut short, wife, two daughters in tow.

Overheard: "I be in the dressing room if you don't see me."

Emaciated girl with owl-eyed mascara and blue short shorts with seedy boyfriend who wears white wife-beater tee; janitor in red shirt with yellow mop-bucket/trash-can/dustpan/broom cart does a drive-by of area; guy in yellow "Caterpillar" tee cracks a Red Bull he has just purchased from Wetzel's Pretzels.

Young guy in "Microsoft" outfit: Blue button-down shirt, burgundy tie, khaki (Dockers) pants, business comfy shoes, dark belt, conservative hair; guy in green "STAFF" shirt, Dr. Strange chin-only goatee, red lanyard with ID, Khaki Shorts (Below Knee, sans Leg Pockets), brown sandals.

I have only seen two people talking on cell phones.

Live-action Butthead (from Beavis and Butthead). Kid's head was actually same shape as the cartoon Butthead; girl with short Mod twiggy-era 60's hairstyle (brunette), white top, hot-pink shorts, texts while walking then puts phone in purse, chomping on gum.

Girl talking on cell phone sitting on rail behind my seat. Too much background noise to eavesdrop!

Guy in Taekwondo outfit; Hollister grey tee; Old Asian guy with metal crutch, fresh surgery scar on right ankle, flip-flops, Khaki Shorts (Leg Pockets, Above Knee), white bandage right leg, Hollister tee; strawberry-blonde girl, freckles, red and white striped baby-doll dress, pale skin, cleavage, holding hands with boyfriend (possible teen pregnancy risk).

Nearby stores are as follows: JCPenny, ICING by Clair's, Motherhood Maternity, American Eagle Outfitters, Buckle, Yankee Candle, LensCrafters.

Aging hippy with engineer's boots, jeans, avocado-green tee, graying beard, Stephen King hair, picking at right elbow, hairy arms, black digital watch; serious blond in little black dress, button-down long sweater, black flip-flops, headphones, black purse. A mall gazebo worker getting a pretzel; baby somewhere in Café in The Woods Food Court is howling happily; tall guy, red beard neatly trimmed, sunglasses on crew cut, cream colored work shirt thin enough to see sleeve of undershirt, dark business pants, Sears bag; emaciated mascara girl and boyfriend are back! she got an iced coffee from Starbucks; white shirt, crew cut, business pants, beeper(?!), bag from apple store; girl with bad posture, giant boobs, white wife-beater shirt, splotchy legs, blue skirt; tanned warthog woman marches past, scowl, dainty wicker pink and tan purse; lots of attractive tanned women with powerful thighs; ancient man, white button-down shirt, pocket protector eyeglass case(with pocket clip!), florid face, burgundy ball cap, long tan pants, cup of coffee, shuffling feet, white socks, brown sandals;

Mystery toddler in Café in The Woods Food Court still howling happily at full volume.

Wallet-chain(!); old man, tiny purple "Hallmark" bag with little handle;

Daughters have returned. I'm out!

brains!

Infographic by Smarter.org

War and Peace

I've finally jumped in with both feet; I'm reading War and Peace. On Chapter 3. Anna Pavlovna's soiree is in full swing.

I guess some things never change:

"...he saw not the exhilarating culture and unsurpassable art, but the commercial corruption and the political chaos; he saw insatiable merchants and bankers absorbing the vital resources of the nation, incompetent politicians and clever orators misleading a busy populace into disastrous plots and wars, factions cleaving classes and classes congealing into castes: this, said Philip, was not a nation but only a welter of individuals—geniuses and slaves..."

From The Story of Philosophy (1926) discussing the opinion of Philip II (382 – 336 BC), King of Macedon, the father of Alexander the Great.

new eyeglasses

Today I picked up my new eyeglasses. New eyeglasses+sunny summer day+ walking back from optical place = awesome. I got bifocals, because I am olden. It is nice to see up close AND far away.

movie review: Stutter Island (2010)

Stutter Island

2010

* * * * *

Great thriller. Effects were special, story was tight, and the setting was fantastic ~ June 19, 2010

Amazon.com: Firewood for Cannibals: (and other stories) (9781452811819): Dan Manning: Books

Amazon.com: Firewood for Cannibals: (and other stories) (9781452811819): Dan Manning: Books

My first collection of short stories is now available on Amazon.com. 23 unique stories of the bizarre.

the first draft...

"The first draft of anything is shit" -- Ernest Hemingway

Mark Ryden

Mark Ryden Great artwork here.

Android Down now available in retail store

Android Down, my newest best-selling fast-paced SCIFI adventure novel, is now available in Grand Rapids at Book Exchange and More, 4485 Plainfield Ave NE, Grand Rapids, MI. These are signed copies, so if you are within a hundred miles of Grand Rapids, MI, get there soon, as supplies are limited. (But I could order more, whatever). The store's website is thus: www.iambemore.com

Dystopian Writing Fun! (just fiction practice!)

To maintain order, every citizen's head shall be clean shaven. Every citizen shall carry identification in the left front pocket of the authorized uniform. All shirts shall be tucked in. Those not meeting State Body Standards (SBS) shall be enrolled in mandatory calisthenics. Unauthorized groups of more than five people are prohibited. Order must be maintained, all other considerations are subordinate to the prime objective. Your liberties will be curtailed for your Security. Compliance and Obedience are paramount. WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.

Rich people should not have to follow rules like the rest of us. They are better than we are, and should be able to do whatever they want. It is obvious that God loves them more then the rest of us. They are rich because they are smarter than us. We should simply consume their products and vote for one of the two choices they allow to run for office. The invisible hand of the market is the one true law. They should be represented without being taxed. We should be taxed without being represented. That is the natural law. All hail the ruling elite!

media blitz!

This weekend I'm covering the town with flyers to promote my book. Selling 1 million books is harder than it sounds. Looks like I have a book signing the end of June. More bla-bla about this blockbuster event later.

russian Ray Bradbury vid from eighties

reading two books, both pretty good.

I'm reading two books, one of them is by local author Vic Foerster. His book Naked in The Stream is a collection of stories from Isle Royale, an island on Lake Superior. This book has smooth pacing and interesting stories, and a great deal of information about moose, loons, and the hazards and joys of camping on "one of the least visited Wilderness National Parks the lower forty-eight states". Each chapter is a self-contained story, but taken together paints a vivid picture of the island. Vic is from Grand Rapids, so everyone should respect the "forty mile rule" and purchase this great book by a local author.

The other book I'm reading is The Name of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, and so far it has kept my attention. It is a fantasy fiction tale, and so far it is sliding gracefully into the meat of the story. Weighing in at 661 pages, it should keep me reading for awhile.

I'm still waiting for Android Down to finally settle in the Amazon.com search. I approved the "proof" on the 13th of this month, and doing a search on amazon's website still only shows the Kindle version, but clicking "see all 80 items" (wtf??) leads to the paperback order page. Apparently they are still processing the book, but once you find the page, you can order it. :) I jumped the gun talking about this title because I should have waited for the book to be fully processed.

android down paperback is out!

Android Down now available on Amazon.com. Order yours today.

Android Down!

My First Science Fiction Epic is available on the Kindle. Paperback edition is coming soon.

Amazon.com: Android Down eBook: Dan Manning: Kindle Store

dream journal

I can't remember what I was dreaming, but this morning I woke up with this: "And this of course is the map of Argentina." That's all I remember.

quote

Enjoy your work: it leads to groceries and rent money. -- dan manning

office call at the mental hospital

I had a service-call at a mental facility, one of those privatized ones that are springing up all over the place. Their server was down and I had to replace a hard-drive and load the software right there on the premises, where they registered new patients.

They wheeled this guy in on a gurney, and to my horror, left him there, strapped down, right next to where I was working. "He's harmless" they told me. They just had to get his room ready.

There was a tube in his arm, maybe he was sedated. His left eye was cataract marble white. Grey beard stubble, and yellow buck teeth. For a crazy guy, his face was very serene. His voice was very weak, but over the hum of the server's fan, I could hear him speak. And this is what he said, as well as I can remember:

"Can I explain the hidden meaning in my heart, or make up something impressive if nothing is there? If I find nothing there, what then? Is there nothing there, or do I just fail to see it? What if there is nothing inside? What if there is nothing profound to be found? If I am simply a consumer, a bank account, getting and spending, filling the tank and burning it up, eating and sleeping and shitting and fucking—if that is all I am, then what? If I have nothing to say, if I am as pointless as I suspect, then what? There is nothing there except the remnants of syndicated network television, commercial jingles, pop music, and high school angst.

"Have the things I've seen and read and thought combined to form any worthwhile ideas? Are there any original ideas in my head? Am I an individual, of just one of billions, billions past and billions future, billions present, a monkey chasing bananas for no reason?

"But there is something. There is something in my stupid brain, this brain that has not existed before in the entire existence of the universe, this brain that will never exist again once I've shuffled the coil, this brain unique to all other brains, memories of every person I've ever met, every meal I've ever had, ever conversation, everything I've ever done, my idiosyncrasies, my thoughts, my opinions, which, through an incredible coincidence, are the only thoughts in this entire world that make perfect sense. There is some kernel of truth, not cynical, not witty or shocking, but something new and unheard of locked inside my noggin. What combination of thoughts will unlock the next thought?"

"Why are you here?" I asked. "What did you do?"

"I am a breaker of rules! I cannot accept pre-formed answers, handed down generation after generation. Capitalism has been around for thousands of years, but why do we rely on a system that was developed by primitive people? What system will come after this? Will chaos intervene, or will new thinking overcome bad habits of getting and spending, inclusion and rejection, the artificial need created on a planet that has room for all? When will artificial lines be erased? When will we see the humanity in those different from us? When will reason trump fear? When will courage trump ignorance?

"The present day requires present day ideas. Old men in expensive suits are relics. Greedy men are evil. The old ways of doing things are complete bullshit. Tradition is bullshit. Religion is bullshit. The two-party system is a lie. Capitalism is a lie. Jesus Christ is a lie. The United States is a lie. Nationalism is a lie. The public school system is a lie. The dollar is a lie. The President, Congress and Supreme Court are all lies.

I asked, "But what is true? What is truth?"

"The idea of 'truth' is a lie. Just because the word 'truth' exists in the English language does not mean that there exists a thing that corresponds to that word. The word 'dragon' exists, but that myth is not real. The same goes for the myth 'truth'. The same goes for the myth 'justice'.

"The monkeys in charge of the lesser monkeys don't care about 'truth' or 'justice'. All they care about are the bananas."

Then two orderlies came in, told him to shut up, and wheeled him into the hospital.

FRAGMENT 20100218

She didn't suggest he keep a dream journal; she suggested he keep a fart journal. He thought this odd, coming from a school councilor. When he found out she had been fired for suggesting this to all the kids who came into her office, he had to find out why.

#32 A LETTER MARKED "URGENT"

You marked your letter "Urgent,"
I have to disagree.
How urgent could a letter
That's marked "bulk-rate" really be?

#31 POEM 20100217

Humans came down from the trees
To worship gods upon their knees
And fashion swords and spread disease
And ferment beer and Gouda cheese.

MY BARKING DOG

Whenever my dog barks, we get all agitated and get her inside right away because we don't want her bothering the neighbors. This is strange because our neighbors don't actually complain about the dog barking. Our one next-door neighbor did a couple of years ago, via email, but it wasn't a nasty email and since then they've gotten a dog themselves and are completely at ease about things, so there really is no trouble with the neighbors. The neighbor on the other side has three dogs and they make a racket sometimes but we don't get bent out of shape about them at all.

So I'm not sure why we get all agitated about the dog barking, but I'm the worst one of all about it. I curse the dog and swear that today will be the day I finally murder the dog, and I tell the dog that later on, if I remember, I will kill the dog with great brutality, but I never do; she is so cute I couldn't hurt a hair on her head.

There is a grade school behind our house and people walk back there sometimes and the dog completely loses her shit about it. She's part cocker-spaniel and part beagle. The beagle part of her apparently makes her louder than she should be. She raises quite a racket and we're so paranoid about disturbing the neighbors for no reason at all.

I can't wait for that dog to pass on naturally so I don't have to get off my fat ass anymore and let her in. Or let her out. Or let her in after she's out. Or let her out when she's in. Where the hell is she going anyway? Doesn’t she realize I'm watching TV / looking at Internets / reading / writing / playing video games?

Winter is worse because when she's out there barking, and refuses to come in when called, I have to haul my ass out there, sometimes barefoot, to get her back in. This is super-annoying. I swore before we got her we would never get a dog, but that was when the girls were in kindergarten or whatnot, and you can't tell kids that age you won't get them a dog because dogs are a pain in the ass.

But I love that dog. Every day I swear to her I will murder her, but she's just so cute. She's my little baby. God-damn friggin' dog.

MY STANCE ON CLIMATE CHANGE

Climate change is real. Climate change is good.

Let me explain. Humans are the only animals on earth that cause pollution.

The idea that humans are "special" and the planet exists for their use is false. The planet has no special purpose, and while it is at the moment hospitable for mammalian life, it does not have to stay this way. Scientists estimate that the earth is 4.5 billion years old. Humans have been around for only 200 thousand years.

Humans have noticed recently that by shitting in their own nest, they are at risk. They are not developed enough to change their behavior, and I say that this is a positive thing.

Why do humans care about this particular planet? There are many, many other planets out there. Humans have devised tools to help them peer into the heavens, and they know there must be millions of other planets out there in space. What makes Earth so special?

Oh yes, they LIVE there. Kind of selfish isn't it? Why don't they care about other planets as much as they care about their own? Self preservation. But let us say that they actually care about the planet. What would be the best way to save the planet?

Get rid of the problem. What is the problem? Humans, the only species that pollutes the planet.

What then, is the solution? Get rid of the humans. How could this be accomplished? War? That solution is unattractive because the winners would remain, and they in turn would breed and the whole thing would start over. Intentional spread of a deadly virus? Again this would not work, because self-preservation would cause those in power to exclude themselves from the purge.

The solution has already presented itself naturally. Pollution is the solution! What better way to rid the planet of what ails it (humans) than by causing the planet to become inhospitable to human life?

In conclusion: If you care about the planet, pollute as much as possible. Only through pollution can the planet shake off these pesky humans and start the healing process. Take long showers. Leave the lights on. Paper AND plastic. Drive everywhere. Buy whatever, and know that through consumption, you are saving the planet.

#30 WE ARE TRAFFIC

We follow too close, we drive too slow.
We wait too long before we go.
We honk our horns at the slightest delay.
We do our best to ruin your day.

We have to get to work on time.
We're way too young or past our prime.
We chat and text and change CDs.
We hog the road and do as we please.

We travel with our blinker on.
We gawk when something has gone wrong.
We merge without the slightest care.
We didn't even see you there.

# ON HUMAN CLONING

CELEBRITY CLONING

In the 1998 movie "The Parent Trap", Lindsay Lohan played twins, Hallie and Annie Parker, who conspire to get their divorced parents back together, or something. The plot really doesn't matter. It was a typical Disney movie, a remake of a 1961 film of the same name. Moviegoers assumed that camera special effects were used to show Lohan in two places at once on screen.

What the public did not know at the time was that Lohan was cloned to produce the movie. Celebrity cloning is commonplace, and there exists a standard Hollywood policy that, for ethical reasons, clones used in movies (as stunt doubles and for plotlines involving twins) are destroyed once production is complete. Lately clones have also been used in the post-production publicity blitzes that often take place after filming, where stars appear on several talk shows, becoming ubiquitous on the late-night and talk-show circuit in the weeks and days during the run up to the film's release.

There have been several cases where celebrity clones have managed to take the place of the original celebrities, assuming the lives of the actors they were created to replicate. When "Parent Trap" finished filming in the fall of 1997, movie producers and Clone Wranglers (CW on most film credits) mistakenly destroyed the original Lohan instead of her clone. This is just one example of cloning mistakes and missteps involving the cloning of actors, politicians, and professional athletes.

Cloning technology, while advanced enough to produce exact duplicates of celebrities and politicians, is not perfect. A clone's capacity for judgment, self preservation and shame deteriorates over time. This explains the bizarre and often self-destructive behavior of celebrities such as Lohan, Tom Cruise (cloned during the filming of Top Gun for a stunt double), Anne Heche, Mel Gibson, Michael Jackson, Tiger Woods (cloned to make time for endless commercials and golf) and Elvis Presley. Presley was the first celebrity to be cloned, for the purposes of filming movies simultaneously at the height of his popularity. It was his clone that served the brief stint in the US Army (1958-1960). Presley's clone was never destroyed, and it is rumored that his clone is buried at Graceland, and the original Elvis lived as a recluse in Florida until 2001.

There is also wide speculation that all celebrities involved in Scientology are clones who have disposed of their original selves and formed their own religion. In 1992, the Los Angeles district attorney David Segal attempted to open an investigation into these allegations, but the effort was halted after a suspicious automobile accident ended his life.

HUMAN CLONING FOR AVERAGE AMERICANS

Awareness about human cloning and its drawbacks may help people of all parts of society make informed decisions as human cloning becomes more affordable and commonplace. Monsanto and General Electric are said to be in works developing a consumer home-cloning kit. Are you ready to take on the responsibility of caring for and feeding your own doppelganger? Are you prepared to take the appropriate precautions to avoid being replaced by your clone, which will develop ambition and cunning comparable to your own? Are you willing to put up with the embarrassment your clone might cause as its judgment deteriorates and you get blamed for its increasingly erratic behavior?

If you have already been cloned, think for a minute. If you were a clone of yourself, where would you be most likely to bury your own body if you decided to kill your original self and hide the body? Now go to that spot and look around. If you find a grave already dug there, your clone may already be planning murder.

Cloning will be a part of the American experience in the near future. Start preparing today. Will you keep it in the spare bedroom or on a cot in the laundry room? Will it make passes at your spouse or significant other? Will it try to take your job? These are questions we should all be thinking about as human cloning is no longer science fiction, but science fact.

reading fail: wuthering heights

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
Reading FAIL!

Again, I attempted to read a book that might appeal to women more than it would to men. Just like in Pride and Prejudice, this is just a series of scenes where characters visit each other and talk about their feelings. No lasers. No evisceration, no robots, spaceships, murders, action, supernatural tomfoolery, absurdity, irony, political theory, dystopian angst, hot chicks or laser battles.

I'm sure this is a fantastic novel, but for me, it is just boring. I might be a too immature for such highfalutin fare.

I'm proud to say I got halfway through it before it became a chore.

View all my reviews >>

Elric: The Stealer of Souls (Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melniboné, #1)

Elric: The Stealer of Souls by Michael Moorcock


My rating: 2 of 5 stars
not good. over-written and boring.

View all my reviews >>

The Metamorphosis

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
meh. I know there's supposed to be a bunch of symbolic hoo-haw in this book, but it was really about a guy who turns into a bug. The treatment he receives by his family, his boss (who comes to the house to figure out why he isn't at work) and the boarders is a realistic portrayal of how people treat other people who are different or deficient in some way. Society will not accept you if you turn into a bug, or if you do something that does not conform with the status quo. Anywhoo, this story was okay. There's a bunch of critical essays in this volume, but I didn't read them because the critics started talking about Jesus and stuff.

But as a pure story, it was very well done. Worth a read since it is so incredibly short, yet the perfect length.

View all my reviews >>

writing supplies

At Walgreen's, bought an "Ultimate" 3 subject notebook (Item #92093, Northbrook, IL 60062, Made In Vietnam). The propaganda is as follows:

• Durable Poly cover protects pages
• Poly pockets to keep papers organized
• Heavyweight 9.5 in. x 6.5 in. sheets
  
• Perforated pages for easy removal

I also purchased two Pilot G2 10 gel pens. The propaganda is as follows:

• America's #1 selling Gel Pen*
• BOLD POINT
• Rolling Ball
• Retractable
• Refillable
• Rubber Grip

I plan on writing stuff with these new things.

I also got some AA batteries.

Infinite Jest

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace



READING FAIL! I can't read this book. The paragraphs are too long. The words are too difficult. Maybe I'm just stoopid, but I'm just not up to reading this book. I don't care about tennis players who do drugs. Yes, I understand that DFW is a friggin' genius, but this is too much heavy lifting for me.

View all my reviews >>

Aoife's Kiss Magazine, December, 2009

Be sure to get a copy of Aoife's Kiss Magazine, December 2009. I have a story published in that issue, and my name is on the cover! Woot!

Tales of the Talisman Volume 5, Issue 3

Make sure to pick up Tales of the Talisman Volume 5, Issue 3 found here: http://www.talesofthetalisman.com/, I have a story there, and I'm on the cover! Woot. My name is on the cover anyway.

siddhartha

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse


My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Om!

View all my reviews >>

running

3 miles @ 31:16. 16 degrees (f)

New Year's Day

What is it about New Year's Day that fills me with an irrational feeling of hope? What do I think has changed between Thursday (2009) and Friday (2010)? What is so special about this day, this first day of the year?

If I didn't know what day it was, it would look exactly like any other winter day, except today is a rare day of sun in the middle of a Michigan Winter. The sun lights up the sparkling snow, lined with the blue shadows of bare trees. The sky is blue.

There is no traffic. Many of us are sleeping off our boozy celebrations. It is ten-thirty in the morning. Coffee is delicious. The dog snoozes on the couch. The cat peers out the patio slider. An airplane growls overhead and then all is quiet once again. The family is asleep upstairs.

Why does this day hold so much promise? What simple hopes do I have? To pay down a couple of bills, to run more often, to read and write more often. To shut up more often.

Somewhere in the past, someone figured out that the year is 365 days long, or thereabouts. That figure might be fixed by the earth's orbit of the sun, but the day on which we mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next is arbitrary. Why did they choose to start the calendar year in the dead of winter? To give us hope when Mother Nature is at her worse?

Spring follows winter, and it is good that it does, because the promise of spring's sunny days, melting snow, bare feet on warm pavement, rain, thunderstorms, shoots, buds and new grass can give one hope. It can give us comfort in the knowledge that spring follows winter, and that can be enough.

Someone decided that January would be a great time to start counting another batch of days. While each Sunday heralds the start of a new week, Sundays don't fill us with the hope that New Year's Day brings. We get a new month every thirty days or so but I for one do not get inspired by another round of bills, work and television.

But an entire New Year! Four seasons! We get spring rains and thunderstorms, long summer evenings with insect choruses, fall's falling leaves, new crayons for kids, football, and Thanksgiving, and finally, winter with Christmas and eventually, New Years Eve.

Again we start another year. Dick Clark forever! Dick Clark the Keeper of Time, Dick Clark the eternal emcee! Dick Clark, Dick Clark, Dick Clark forever!

happy new year

Dick Clark is friggin' scary. Every year it gets better and better. That guy is a Zombie.

power and communications

i take pictures of power poles. I think they are awesome.

new year, new site

I've killed danmanning.com and I'm sending it here. (i'm keeping the domain name) It was a hobby site that no one ever went to anywhoo.

AVATAR

Go see this movie. Fantastic.

#64 A Collection of Fascinating Words:

Tantalus, Cadastral, Simularea, Effluvia,
Gewgaw, Duodenum, Sysyphian, Louche, 
Besmirched, Ephemera, Schadenfreude, Plateau,
Interlocutor, Carbuncle, Uvula, Remnant, 
Meed, Equivoque, Gregarious, Delineation, 
Saturnine, Chthonic, Nostrum, Extant,
Potemkin, Palaver, Phantasmagoria, 
Thalamus, Entelechy, Laburnum, 
Sanguinarium, Patagonia, Landanum, 
Detritus, Automata, Atelier, Circumlocution,
Aquitaine

zen stuff

The greatest achievement is selflessness.
The greatest worth is self-mastery.
The greatest quality is seeking to serve others.
The greatest precept is continual awareness.
The greatest medicine is the emptiness of everything.
The greatest action is not conforming with the worlds ways.
The greatest magic is transmuting the passions.
The greatest generosity is non-attachment.
The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind.
The greatest patience is humility.
The greatest effort is not concerned with results.
The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.
The greatest wisdom is seeing through appearances.
Atisha (11th century Tibetan Buddhist master)

Why Does Honeywell Have My Child in a Database?

Why did my daughter's school give Honeywell, a huge corporation, her information to put into a database without letting me know first?

After the school announced a snow day Friday morning, I went to my daughter's school district website to see if I could get a text message for future snow days. That's a convenient feature.

I found a link on the school district website for an instant alert. I followed the link and found that they had outsourced the job to Honeywell.

Okay, I guess that's how we do things these days. Fine. Whatever.

I signed up for the service because I suppose like many people, I've been conditioned to accept this sort of thing, but afterward realized that I was required put my child's information into Honeywell's web page to VERIFY I was the parent.

I had mistyped the first time I filled out the form, and had received an error: this means they already had the correct information about my child in their database. Otherwise they wouldn't be able to use the information to VERIFY I had any business being there.

That's right; they already have the information even if you don't sign up for the alert service. Try putting a mistake into the website form and it returns an error message. That means they already have the CORRECT information on every child in our district. And check the drop-down to see the list of school districts all over America that have signed up. Some states do not use the service.

I believe many Americans today have been conditioned to accept this kind of casual treatment of their information, and the idea of "privacy" has become a joke, but this really hit home. Honeywell, which I have no problem with really (I haven't investigated enough...yet), is a very large company. And somewhere in their massive collection of servers (I assume) sits information on both of my children (when I verified one daughter, I had both of my daughters listed in my shiny new Honeywell Instant Alert account).

This is what bothers me most: why did the school district send this information to a huge private company without telling anyone? I found no "opt out" button anywhere on any of these sites.

Maybe the notice from the school about this program came in the mountain of papers they send home with our children every year. Maybe I missed it. Was the notice in some paragraph on their website I never read? Did we as parents have a chance to say, "no, don't send my child's information to this private company"?

And how much has the school paid for what is basically an email and text message service? I looked up a few news stories about Honeywell's Instant Alert service. Other districts around the country have paid between $1500.00 and $4000.00. I work with computers for a living and there are plenty of tech companies in our county that could have done this. Why not keep the money local?

Well, it is probable that no one will read this, and if they do, it is likely they won't care. I've done my part. This letter is the only stink I'm going to raise. Let us all go back to ignoring the Corporatization of every aspect of our lives. Happy Holidays everybody!


Extra Credit:

See if Honeywell, a giant corporation, has your child's information. Remember, the info is ALREADY in Honeywell's databases if your district signed up for this service:
https://instantalert.honeywell.com/ParentAuthentication.aspx

1950s grand canyon

power and communications

# 29 Limbo-Dweller's Food

There's Angel Food and
Devil's Food and
Limbo-Dweller's Food

In heaven they have caviar
Served by Billy Graham

In hell they have shit sandwiches
That Satan makes by hand

In limbo it is peanut butter crackers every day
They're not too bad, but not too good, I guess that they're okay.

#28 The Gruntled Employee

Who is the gruntled employee,
Who grins and takes the shit,
Who gets to work on time each day
But dreams he will someday quit?

Who is the gruntled employee,
Who grins and bears his load,
Who sits in his cube and knows
He's a rube, but hasn't the nerve to explode?

Who is the gruntled employee
Who eats lunch at his desk
Who does his job and is just
A slob who won't put himself at risk?

Who is the gruntled employee,
Who knows his time will come,
While the CEO rakes in the dough
The spreadsheets render him dumb.

Who is the gruntled employee,
Who worries his job is extinct?
Insurance wont' pay and he
Needs layaway and suspects he's somehow been tricked?

Who is the gruntled employee
Who wears a clip-on tie?
Who parks in the lot and his belly's a pot
Cause he scarfs cafeteria pie.

to kill a cat

On slow days I write rotten fiction, drink tea and threaten to kill the dog.

Oh, I threaten to kill the dog about a thousand times a day, but she is do cute. I say, "Ginger, I'm going to murder you in about five minutes." Then I immediately say, "oooh, you're so cute, I can't murder you right now." Then later she'll bark at something and I'll say, "I hate you so much. I'm going to kill you and make it look like an accident."

Sometimes I threaten to kill the cat. Lately she's been meowing in the middle of the night for no reason and I am ready to strangle her. I'm trying to figure out ways to make it look like an accident. The problem is, cats aren't particularly accident-prone, and so I'm thinking of making it look like a skydiving accident. I've just got to find a place that allows cats to skydive and also lets the owners pack the parachutes for the pets. I've scoured the Internets and the phone book with no success.

I don't think I've got what it takes to go through with it.

Not Fat Elvis, not Fifties Elvis or Bad Movie Elvis, but '68 Comeback Special Elvis

Last night I was visited by three ghosts. Or maybe it was two ghosts and one creepy old man, I'm not sure anymore. The first was the ghost of Elvis Presley. Not Fat Elvis, not Fifties Elvis or Bad Movie Elvis, but '68 Comeback Special Elvis, perfectly side-burned, tanned and vibrant at a mere 33 years of age. This is the Elvis just four years before his divorce and The Fattening.

My tire had blown on 131, North of Rockford, coming home from a Parcheesi competition. There was no cell phone service, as is always the case on misty November nights with unseasonably mild weather.

Elvis pulled up in a Ford F150. He got out and from the passenger seat, someone yelled "Lets give him a lift, E."

I was in the middle of putting the "doughnut" spare tire on.

Elvis took it from me. "Doughnuts are for eating, not driving on." He took a bite of the spare tire, and ate the entire thing. "Come on."

I accepted the ride, what more could I do? They were heading south and I wanted to get home.

The passenger in the truck got out. It was J. Edgar Hoover, wearing the dress from Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video. It was disturbingly short and gruesomely tight. He leered at me, his fat face behind thick glasses. His sparse greasy hair was in a pitiful comb-over.

I had to sit in the middle. There wasn't much room.

"We didn't just stop by chance," Elvis said. "John, get me my candy will you?"

Hoover reached into the glove box and brought out a prescription medicine bottle. Hoover dumped five or six pills of different colors and sizes into Elvis's hand, and Elvis popped them in his mouth. He had a can of Schlitz in the cup holder and he took a swig.

We were careening down the road at ninety; a light mist fouled the windshield but Elvis seemed unaware. He didn't put on the wipers. The tail lights of the other traffic were just blurs as we snaked through the traffic. The speedometer approached one hundred.

"We're supposed to meet someone in town," Elvis said. "We need someone of the living as a go between."

"Who is it?"

"Don't worry about that," Hoover said. He threw a manila envelope on the dash. "We just need you to hand him this."

"Why can't you guys do it?"

"This guy isn't really 'alive', and he isn't dead yet," Elvis said.

who are these smiling devils?

Who are these vile men who have robbed us? These men who can't recall how it happened? These well-dressed men, these well-heeled, well connected little men with their jewel-encrusted lives, with their trophy wives and mansions behind gates of brick and iron? Who are these thieves of old women's savings, these destroyers of jobs? Who are these men in expensive ties, this smiling devils in expensive ties who trade imaginary coins, who bet our tiny treasures out from under us, who ask us for more, who tax us by proxy, who sell us lies, who bind us in impossible contracts written with impossible words in a language of their own creation that is impossible to understand? Who are these titans who are too big to fail? Who are these men in princely dress who sit and smile with fresh haircuts, with their limited liability and Windsor knots and prepared statements who tell us how they can't recall how they became wealthier than kings? Who are these spawners of empty strip malls and foreclosed houses? Who are these lordly aristocrats who contribute nothing? Who are the ruling class? When did this caste system come about? Who are these devils in their ties that squeeze us for more, these prescription drug pushers, these loan sharks and cookers of books with their slick commercials and shiny advertising campaigns? Who are these gentlemen surrounded by private armies in Ivory Towers in the sky? How do they believe that they will one day fit through the eye of a needle? These men who have made us a nation of debtors, a nation of worried-well hypochondriacs who are told to ask our doctor, ask our doctor, ask our doctor? Who are these devils who poison our minds with network drek, these thieves, these propagandists of prosperity, who hypnotize us when they whisper:

"Strive, and you can be like one of us."

Lies. They want us to be obedient workers. We will not be allowed to join them. They will loan us the money to strive for material things and then make slaves of us all. They will enslave us with an idea of sophistication. Their goals and the goals of the common man are not the same. They preach free enterprise, but they get gargantuan handouts from the treasury that no poor person on welfare will ever receive. They have privatized their profits but socialized their risk. They take a King's Ransom while our roads and schools and hospitals and society fall apart around us so they can live like Gods.

Who are these puppet masters who have hijacked our country? They steal from us; they fill our legislature with lobbyists. The lawmakers are the lobbyists. The Corporations write the laws. The thieves write the laws and they make their thievery legal. Who is this gang of thieves that has run all countries for a hundred years? Who are these men who make themselves rich beyond the imagination of any mortal man? How long will these leeches engorge themselves on the backs of the poor? Who is this Aristocracy? How did this Kleptocracy happen? Who is this Royalty that has appeared before us? Who are these men in expensive shoes who stand on our necks? Who are these devils who put us out on the street, these loan sharks, these owners of offshore sweatshops, these smiling killers who control the newspapers, the lawmakers, and the military? Who are these makers of war for profit? Who are these murderers of small business? Who are these usurpers of local identity? Who are these devils that have reduced us all into database records in basement server farms? Who are these smiling men in ties who have reduced us to consumers of their plastic poisons? Who jams all this propaganda down our throats? Who are these men that make indentured servants of us all? Who are these Smiling Johnnies who have damaged this land from within far more severely than any enemy without could ever damage us?

Why exactly are these smiling devils in charge?

procrastination

Muzak Moment

Muzak Moment: Paula Abdul's 1988 hit "Opposites Attract" while buying milk and bread at the grocery store, 8:03 AM. None of the senior citizens were dancing. They cut out the "MC Scat Cat" rap, which was a relief.

Why can't Chevy make lawn mowers?

Chevy has a commercial where Howie Long compares Chevys to Hondas. In the end he says, "Honda has one thing we can't compete with..." and they show a Honda lawn mower. I guess that was supposed to make some kind of point, but my first reaction was, "Why can't Chevy make lawn mowers?"

rejoice!

This is the day that the tilt of the earth in relation to the sun, atmospheric conditions, and the complete total of all circumstances up to this point in time has made!

Let us rejoice and be glad!

today's word is Sysyphian

Sisyphus was a king punished in Tartarus by being cursed to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity.

The word sisyphean means, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, "endless and unavailing, as labor or a task."

Find the word Sysyphian used in this letter.

Sysyphian.

read the letter here: http://tinyurl.com/yg85uog (pdf)

generic blog post

today I took The Complete Works of Shakespeare to Founders and read Macbeth while I ate lunch. If there is one lesson to be taken from Macbeth it is this: don't listen to witches, they will complete screw with your mind. And killing makes you feel guilty. There are probably a lot more lessons in that story, but I'm just getting past the language.

After lunch I took my study to the Common Ground Coffee shop where I had much coffee and smoked a cigar.

Kanye West Was Right!

Holy Crap! I just say the "single ladies" video for the first time, and Kanye West was right: Beyonce DID make the best music video of all time!

a perfect evening

Today was our fifteenth wedding anniversary. Deb and I went downtown to have dinner. The Artprize exhibits were on display everywhere downtown, the weather was perfect, and we had a great time touring the exhibits.

The Chop House

We ended up having dinner at The Chop House. This place has such balls, they actually drew the balls on the stick figure of a bull they have for their restaurant logo. I had the best fillet minion, the best piece of beef I have ever had in my life. The service was amazing. When they bring your food, two waitresses bring the orders and with a little signal they simultaneously set the food down in front of everyone at the table at once. The wine was perfect. The lobster bisque was perfect. Deb had beef Wellington. But that fillet minion was a life changing experience. The ambiance was perfect. The lighting was perfect. The music was perfect; fifties and sixties style Vegas music. I expected the ghosts of Frank Sinatra or Martin and Lewis to walk by.

And then, they have a cigar lounge in the basement. Deb ordered some orange liquor coffee the waitress set on fire at the table. I had a cigar and coffee.

Anywhoo, that was our night, and it was friggin' awesome.

kanye!

Captain Crunch is high on crack.

What the hell is wrong with Captain Crunch? His eyes are bugging out of his head, a look of desperate expectancy, as if he is pleading with you to respond to his manic insanity. He grips his spoon as if he's gripping a butcher knife, and he looks so hopped up on dope he would beat you to death with the spoon before he realized what was happening. His mouth is open as if he's screaming. Why is his mouth open like that? Even his tongue is jumping around, as if he's ululating before blowing up himself and all the insane kids on the box with some explosives he's thrown together on his ship.

The box has a green circle in the bottom corner that reads "Smart Choices Made Easy". "Smart Choices"? This crap is pure poison. There's a (disclaimer?) explanation on the side that says "Cap'n Crunch" is a smart choice because it is low in saturated fat. Please. What kind of bullshit is this? If the FDA is allowing this kind of bullshit, why don't they just shut them down already? Are they trying to claim that Captain Crunch is good for you? That's legal? Is no one monitoring this bullshit? Captain Crunch is sugar. It is "Corn flour, sugar, oat flour, brown sugar, coconut oil, salt, niacinamide, yellow 5, (what the fuck is 'yellow 5'?) reduced iron, zinc oxide, yellow 6, thiamin mononitrate, BHT(a preservative), pyridoxine hydrochloride, riboflavin, and folic acid."

Yes, that is a smart choice made easy. The kids on the back of the box are all zonked out of their minds. Their eyes are all bugged out. They're mouths are open in silent screams. There's a website where they can collect information about you listed on the box.

But you know, for all that, it's delicious.

I am not a cop.

So I'm sitting in my white car, windows down, in the middle school parking lot, waiting for my daughter to get out of basketball practice. A mom in an SUV pulls up in the next space, windows down, and starts chatting on her cell phone.

Her son, maybe five or six years old, peeks up front and sees me and says, "What's up?"

I say, "What's up?"

He says, "You a cop?"

I say "No, I just fix computers."

The mom busts out laughing, I bust out laughing.

generic blog post

I have been walking a lot in the mornings. You notice a lot of things going on regular walks. I enjoy walking more than running, because I can do it anytime, I don't need a shower afterward, I can do it every day, and I can stop for coffee (or a beer) or do some banking on the way.

I am old.

shameless self promotion

Everyone should go to http://www.talesofthetalisman.com/ and order Tales of the Talisman, Volume 5, Issue 1. When it arrives in the mail, turn directly to page 42 and behold the awesome fiction. I wrote the story found there, and it is the most awesome short story you will ever read. Or not. But it is just one great story in a magazine packed full of great stories which you must have.

Today's MUZAK moment:

REO Speedwagon's 1981 power ballad, "Keep on Loving You" from their 1980 smash album "High Infidelity": While buying a gallon of 2% milk and a box of 13 gallon tall kitchen bags (white) at the Save-A-Lot.

Muzak Moments:

Madonna's 1984 hit "Borderline" while getting coffee at 8:45 in the morning. The perky yet refreshingly slutty 26 year old (when it was recorded) told me how I was making her "lose her mind" while I was getting my coffee.

Awkward MUSAK moments:

(1) "For Your Eyes Only" 1982 hit by Sheena Easton endured while buying cat food at Meijer at 10:30AM.

(2) The 1979 Rupert Holmes hit "Escape" (The Piña Colada Song) while watching The Elderly chew their breakfasts and lunches at Perkins while dining with the family. This was followed by the 1978 hit "Le Freak" by the disco band Chic.

# LONG JOHN SILVER'S: DESCENT INTO MADNESS!

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I am ashamed to admit that today I went to Long John Silver's and got a Sampler Platter. I'm proud to say I didn't get the new "Fish Taco" but what the hell is that anyway? Sounds like you could catch a venereal disease from something like that.

I know the food is horrible — deep fried-fat-fried-fish — but it is so delicious I allow myself the occasional visit. The thing that is weird about the Long John Silver's near my house: The employees are all morbidly obese. The girl who takes my order has a head that is perfectly spherical. She is soulless piggy eyes and pudgy arms and sausage fingers. Does she eat at this place? Does the first aid kit in the back room include a defibrillator?

This place is like Day of The Living Dead. There are elderly people everywhere. In the tiny booth next to the exit sits an old man, probably close to a hundred years old, alone, carefully scooping coleslaw into his toothless face, willing each spoonful to slowly, slowly rise to his drooping jowls, precariously held by a shaking hand. Slowly it rises. So slow.

The 1985 number one hit "Out of Touch" by Hall and Oats plays softly on the speakers.

A washed-out red-headed mother and child, both wearing different shades of sickly orange, sit silently eating their corporate mash. What familial madness goes on in their domicile? Trailer or McMansion? It is hard to tell. Who would bring a child to this place? If this isn't child abuse, what is?

Suddenly Elton John's 1975 smash hit "Philadelphia Freedom" plays as I pour Malt Vinegar Sauce on my hush puppies and try to keep the desperation of this place from creeping into my soul. I wonder how this particular Circle of Corporate Hell fits into the fat, bloated American Landscape.

A few more customers have arrived. Watching these overweight people shovel crap into their heads makes me sick, and sicker still when I realize I am doing the same thing.

I go to fill the tiny cups they provide with tartar sauce and cocktail sauce. They've renamed the cocktail sauce "shrimp" sauce; who knows what Stupidity was behind that. I am about to get some ketchup for my fries, but a pale, six-five moon-faced Neanderthal in a NASCAR tee shirt is suddenly standing two feet away from me, hands on his hips, like I'm keeping him from some important appointment. He's wearing black exercise pants, although the prominent gut hanging over his beltline tells me he is not using those pants for their intended purpose. Mark Martin's convex face, stretched over this man's massive gut, looks pained. I go back to my seat without my ketchup. This is what prison would be like for me, if there are condiment bars in prison. I do not make eye contact.

I can feel the batter, the magnificent batter that makes the fish and the chicken indistinguishable by sight, coagulating in my arteries. The grease on my fingers moistens the paper on which I am trying to write. The ink pen is fouled in the stuff. With each bite I am killing myself, ever so slowly.

The old man hobbles to the trash can and puts his leavings into the little door, which swings back and forth as he disgorges himself into the parking lot. My God, he's going to operate a motor vehicle. The children! Oh the humanity! Will he get home to fall asleep in front of his television, watching the Price is Right? Let us hope so.

I can't finish my plate. The FDA should raid this place SWAT style, Taser everyone and shut the place down for public safety. I walk back into the sunlight, bloated and ashamed, holding my greasy fingers before me. "Out, damned spot! out, I say!" I get back into my car which is pre-heated like a fish under a heat lamp. I swear to myself to never to set foot in that place again.

But the Malt Vinegar! It calls me. It calls.

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