October 24, 1999
The Three Dot Lounge
There was this columnist for the greater part of this century who wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle by the name of Herb Caen. Like Rothko in Chicago or Breslin in NYC, he was the voice of his city, for better of for worse.
Now, if you are one to read newspapers, you know that there are two types of columns, be they news columns, sports, entertainment, whatever. There is the column that deals with one subject, and there is the column that deals with many subjects, designed it seems to appeal for those people addled with a short attention span. In these second type of columns, each subject is separated by three dots. This goes for every columnist in America. And each one of these columnists, as Herb Caen used to say, is a member of the Three Dot Lounge. Now I have used this three dot thing in my columns, but they have been used to divide long ramblings or individual letters, not sharp jabs of paragraph length at most. Well, this'll change today. Today, I put forth my application to membership in the Three Dot Lounge. Let's see if I can cut down on the ramblings, and instead be short, sweet, and to the point.
* * *
San Diego, where I currently live, is a pleasant town. Great weather. Beautiful hills. Golden beaches. But the one thing this city of over 1 million people doesn't have is what I need the most from a home, a soul. This has got to be one of the most boring, white-bread cities I have ever lived. It's just one big suburb. Even the city center seems to be one big mall, albeit quite expensive. What can you say about a city whose weekly won't accept gay-lesbian personal advertisements? A city that voted Olive Garden as it's best Italian restaurant? Can you name one band that has came out of San Diego?
* * *
Before the recent renewal of the Russian-Chechen conflict, The Russian Prime Minister, V. Putin, had a 5% approval rating. Now it's over 50%. Nothing like a war before an election to prop up the party in power.
* * *
So now I have a job, and I'm not watching as much TV as I was, which is good. There's been a big cut down on CNN. No more watching the news all day. And since I'm not going to bed at 4AM anymore, no more late night news. I find it particularly sad, and it shows how bad off this country is in getting information about the world, that it is only between the hours of 1AM and 4AM that the number one news source in the country extensively reports on international news. I mean sure, during the normal news time on CNN and for about 5 minutes on the networks, the coup in Pakistan or the war in Chechnya or the situation in East Timor is discussed. But how in depth can you get in that very short time. The only programs on CNN that deal exclusively with world events are, like I said, in the middle of the night. And I can't stay up that late any more. Thank God for the Internet.
* * *
While on the subject of TV, the biggest change I've noticed after being gone for a year is that almost every commercial now is for some .com company. And what's with the SUVs?
* * *
So the Chechens allegedly bomb some apartment buildings in Russia and are called terrorists. Then Russia shells an outdoor market in Chechnya and kill hundreds of innocents. Terrorists? Talk about a meaningless word.
* * *
Submitted a combined and cleaned up version of my two Blowing Up Russia Budget Files to an alternative newspaper. Got a message back from the editor saying he loved my piece, but since it wasn't about the USA he couldn't publish it, but please send in something about domestic politics, he like my style. Even the alternative press in the USA doesn't give a shit about international politics. For those of you who live in cities with weekly papers, check them out. How many articles in them have international themes? All that I know focus on local, state, and national themes, unless there's a war the US is involved in, or some cultural volley in Tibet. How are people supposed to get alternative views on world events without getting The Nation or Z Magazine? In my opinion the weeklies are dropping the ball.
* * *
I'm a baseball fan. One of the things I missed being in Russia last year was the World Series. So now I'm home and what do I get? The Yankees and the Braves. Ugh. The only thing worse would have been if the Mets made it. God I hate these teams. I hope they both lose.
* * *
Guess what? Next week is my birthday! Yes, on October 30th I will turn thirty-three. Please send money in lieu of gifts. Or frequent flier miles (since I know my globetrotting readership have plenty of those lying around). To me, thirty-three is more of a milestone year than thirty. I always figured I would die at thirty-three. After all, That's when Jesus died. And Alexander the Great. (Two people I have a lot in common with.) That plus the millennial thing. So I guess I don't have that much time left.
When I went back to college five years ago, I had a plan, a goal as to where I wanted to be when I turned thirty-three. I wanted to be a teacher with my own classroom. Now while at the time I figured I would be a high school history teacher, and instead I teach English as a Foreign Language at a private school, I still have accomplished that goal. Ever since I was a kid I knew I was going to be a teacher. And now, finally, I am. And I did it by the age I planned on dying, thirty-three.
So I guess if I do die in the next year, I will have accomplished the one major goal that I ever set for myself, or I should say the one goal that took years of planning and follow-through. So I can die a happy man. But what if I don't die this next year? Do I have to come up with some new goal? I know, I'll get a PhD. How much time can I give myself for that? And if I die before I accomplish that, will I be a failure? Shite, someone just kill me now.
* * *
As you, my cherished readers, might have noticed, The Budget Files haven't been really weekly (or so) as of late. More like bi-weekly. I have a feeling that's how it's going to be now. I just don't have the time or energy to write these every week. I know I won't write one next week, I'll be celebrating my birthday. I know it's going to be hard, but you'll just have to wait a little longer for my words of wisdom. But I have faith in you, my beloved readers, you will survive.
* * *
It seems I made a major mistake in my last file. The guy from Dukes of Hazard who was a US congressman wasn't Skeeter, but Cooter. It's really embarrassing when you screw up on the obscure cultural references. And now, off to letter land…
* * *
Jesse Ventura knows he made a big mistake, which is why he's been on TV 24-7 trying to do some damage control. Jesse's big mouth proves the old adage: Give an idiot enough rope and he'll hang himself.
Paul
* * *
Dear Crackmeister
Yes. The entertainment business known as politics is really dumbing down for the new century. One actor later and the rest of these boobs with delusions of power are jumping into the fracas, and I welcome it. I'd much rather have actors playing the part of president then ex-lawyers and car-salesman acting the part. Top notch actors would give the role the panache it needs to keep us drooling couch "potatoes" diverted enough to let the real scumfucks in power keep digging in our wallets ever deeper. If we're going to be screwed over for an ever increasing percentage of our hard earned dollars to keep this government going, then I want some honest to God entertainment.
RON JEREMY FOR PRESIDENT!!!
Love,
Dick
* * *
Until next time...
#33
November 6, 1999
They've Got Big Balls!
Now there's no official competition on this matter, but my vote for the guys with the biggest balls are the ones who walked into the Armenian Parliament and opened fire. A journalist with a press pass got this family passes, and then they walked into the parliament building with machine guns and plugged the Prime Minister. Then they opened fire on the first row of politicians and took out a handful of government ministers. The rest the kept as hostages, after releasing the other journalists in the building. They had no desire to overthrow the government, they just felt that the PM and his cronies were ruining the country. So they killed them. A couple of hours later, they gave themselves up. They had accomplished their mission, which, they believed, was the most altruistic and patriotic of missions. I think this also shows yet another arena where America has fallen behind the world. Yeah, some guy shoots up a Xerox office in Hawaii, and then another guy shoots up a shipyard in Seattle, but these guys are true girly-men compared to the he-men in Armenia, that's for sure.
* * *
Damn Yankees!
* * *
I went and saw Fight Club the other day. From what I'd heard previous to seeing it, one either loves the movie or hates it. Well, I must say that I left the movie pretty indifferent. There were some good parts, sure, but on the whole American Beauty or Three Kings were much better movies. I figure Fight Club is supposed to be all about the emasculation of the American male and all that, but I found a basic flaw in its premise. I remember Brad Pitt screaming out 'We are a generation of men raised by women!' or something like that. Well guess what, men have always been raised by women. Sure, dad might have been around, unlike today, but who, since the beginning of time, has raised the children? Dear old mom.
* * *
I was thinking the other day that for the first time in my life I'm working in an area that I can't afford to live in. Then I thought a little more, and damn! I live in an area I can't afford to live in! And you bet I'm bored! Give me the some shite slum any day! At least there might be a decent bar around the corner where I can sit alone on a Friday night and drink myself silly! Instead I have to spend Friday night holed up in my room with my computer and a six pack of Rolling Rock, avoiding my mother and trying to keep the razor blades away from my wrists. Happy Day!
* * *
What's up with these Casual Fridays? Was just told, after three weeks at the new job, that I can't wear Levi's to work, except on 'Casual Fridays'. Now I head something like this actually existed, but this is a first for me. Am I the only one who thinks this is a crock of shit? This is supposed to boost my morale, right? How patronizing.
But if it has to exist, how about Casual Mondays? That seems a lot more logical. First day of work, after a rough weekend, the last thing you want to do is get dressed up. Let me wear a T-shirt and jeans that day.
* * *
For those of you that are interested in the Russian/ Chechen situation, one of my cherished readers sent me this article that I found highly interesting. Of all the things that I've written on this subject, I wish I could have written this one. Unfortunately, I don't have an expense account and bodyguards. This article nails the whole thing on the head. I encourage everybody to read this. johnniebbaker.tripod.com/article.
* * *
Sure got a lot of letters after the last Budget File. Seems that people like the whole three-dot idea, which to me proves that my almighty readers have the attention span of a ten-year old on speed. But what the hell, it makes this writing task that I have set for myself, a task that seems to be increasingly difficult for me to stay on top of, a lot easier. I don't have to think as much. And now, off to letter land.
* * *
The three dot thing really works for you.
Thea
P.S.
Not that I ever read these things.
* * *
well, if u do publish a budget file next week, it'll be #33 to coincide with your birthday. Happy 33rd Birthday! mine was three days ago.
Girliepoo?
Reply:
Wow. Budget File 33 on my 33rd birthday. That's kind of eerie.
* * *
I too am a member of the "Dead at 33" Club (but not the Three Dot Lounge). I wasn't aware that Alexander the Great was among our ranks, but you left out two very important figures, John Belushi and T.S. Garp (never mind that Garp was a fictional character, he still influenced my delusional way of thinking). Also like yourself, though I long ago stopped believing that I really would die at 33, I have accomplished, just under the millennial wire, two of my most significant life goals: ie, finishing a novel (writing, not reading), and getting paid to put words on paper. Of course, the true irony will come when I do die this year, just when things are looking up.
STB
Reply:
Yes, thirty-three is indeed a magical age. And Garp, who I have had a close relationship in my life. I didn't know about his dying a thirty-three, although I've read the book three or four times and actually own the movie. Now I really want to doe this year (ha ha). It seems there's a few of us with the thirty-three thing. I've talked to a couple other friends who have thought the same thing. But now here we are, getting into middle age. It reminds me of Roger Daltry saying how he couldn't sing 'My Generation' any more without laughing. And I read where Gwenyth Paltrow is 27, and then there's those bopsie twins Matt Damon and Ben Afflek, Oscar-winning screen writers at puberty. So, this is what it's like getting old.
* * *
(re: San Diego bands, ed.) Well, there's Three Mile Pilot, Truman's Water, Deadbolt, Rocket from the Crypt, Creedle. That is, unless you want famous bands. Oh well. And here I thought it was just me when I went to SD and thought, "What the hell is there to do in this town?" Shades of Big Black... You know you're in trouble when the Olive Garden is the best Italian restaurant in the area. Yeesh.
(Re: .com commercials and SUVs, ed.) I'd take a .com over those ubiquitious SUVs any day. Damn things are multiplying like rats in LA. My only hope is that some test will come out finding all sorts of horrible safety problems and they'll get pulled from the market. Yeah. Right.
Mike
p.s. one of the better .com commercials is for this job-finding service, monster.com. they have kids saying what they want when they grow up. one says: "i want to get fired on a whim." another: "i want to get paid less for being a woman." another: "i want to be forced into early retirement."
Reply:
I knew somebody out there would be able to name some San Diego bands, though of all the ones you named I only know of Rocket from the Crypt. And you left out Buck 'o Nine. But what meaningless bands are these? Altogether sold what, fifty records? And you're in LA, so you're not that far away.
As far as SUVs are concerned, now this might lose some of my adored readers respect, I want one. I mean, I love to camp, and I've destroyed two Volkswagens and a Pontiac taking them off-road in Joshua Tree and Big Sur. Of course, there's no way on God's green earth I could afford one, let alone fill up the tank.
And I do love that commercial you mentioned. I bet you some guy or girl aged thirty-three came up with that one.
* * *
One band that came out of SD? Jewel was discovered in San Diego. Although she is, A. not a band, B., not worth mentioning, and C., not a native, she is a perfect example of San Diego banality.
Having been studying for the LSAT, I refuse to provide two additional answer choices or to assess whether this strengthens or weakens your argument...
Donovan
Reply: Jewel? 'Nuff said.
* * *
I sympathize with you being stuck in San Diego. After many visits to "the shit hole," as we called it, looking after an aging parent, I wrote the following:
TIJUANA BLUES
Now that the Berlin Wall is down,
that we cried shame about for years,
how about our own wall, that we maintain
with the same display of righteousness -
on one side Us, the rich and powerful,
on the other the hungry, Them.
Driving down from San Diego and crossing the Mexican
border
is not too different from Checkpoint Charlie.
For Them, there are our border patrols,
dumping them back, as often as they sneak over,
into the land of their desperation.
But we go over there at will,
like we used to in divided Berlin,
to walk around in wonder.
And like in Berlin, there's a difference in the
people:
On our side, a particularly American blend
of smugness, arrogance, ignorance.
On the other, Spanish-Indian soulfulness,
the gentleness and grace we need.
We leave Avenida Revolucion, garish for tourists,
and walk around the Mexican town
where the shabby stores and even the cathedral
lack the opulence of…I almost said "the West,"
when I meant Yankeeland.
East Berlin, of the Second World, was incomparably
grander, cleaner, and the food was better.
No one starved or lived on the street.
Tijuana is of the Third,
a city hooked to a border, its barriers,
like the wall in Berlin bristling
with all the military devices money can buy,
but which with persistence can be jumped.
When we were treated well by the East German guards,
our German friends said, "They don't treat us like
that
It's only because you're Americans."
Here, in Mexico,
why are people so kind to us, I wonder,
when they face such a wall of insult?
They should be full of hate, I'd be, but instead
They answer our phrasebook Spanish softly,
melting our hearts.
On our way back to the border crossing,
beggars lie in wait:
A little man sprawls on the ground blowing a tune
on a blade of grass between his thumbs,
all he has to make music with,
and boys strum toy guitars
and sing like little caballeros, irresistibly off key,
while equally little mothers offer
gimcracks for sale, or beg.
We empty our pockets of our last pesos
before escaping through the iron gates.
Back in San Diego, the Latinos
working in garages and restaurants seem grateful
for any attention if your eyes
merely recognize them as human,
something that perhaps doesn't happen very often.
These are the people I want to know, I think,
but after work they're whisked off to a somewhere else
that draws the line between us.
San Diegans just ignore them,
attempting to wipe out of mind
what they fear is a human tidal wave
poised on the border.
It would be a major improvement if it broke,
and worth what it cost,
as in Germany with the wall down -
nothing to pity the Germans for,
they begged for it for years.
Our wall keeps growing higher, and more expensive,
but no one protests.
The injustice of two centuries
is now fixed in electronics,
in concrete and steel, in cold hearts,
as we refuse to share the land and its richess
we took from them,
proclaiming it ours.
-- Edward Field
from Counting Myself Lucky
(Black Sparrow Press)
* * *
Until next time.
Budget Files
