New Species Discovered: Fallen Objects and Missing Socks

For those who seek and are often disappointed in the search for intelligent life in the Universe, there may be new hope. A scan of cable TV channels and a short visit to Honey Boo-Boo’s neighborhood have left many observers pessimistic about there being any signs of  life demonstrating the basic building blocks of self-awareness, critical thinking or autonomous (non-reflexive) behavior. If I hear one more young person say “awesome” or “YOLO” (You Only Live Once) out of context and with no defined purpose other then to parrot another faddish phrase from the Urban Dictionary, I will be tempted to make sure that individual is proven correct about the latter assertion.

As a result, many scientists look elsewhere… to either the stars, the ocean floor, or even sub-atomic particles like the crafty and elusive Higgs-boson particle for empirical evidence that 1) God exists and is probably pouting somewhere about the way things have turned out or 2) unusual life forms may in fact exist and are in the process of evolving into more complex conscious organisms.

Well, after conducting my own experiment at home using my car keys, some pocket change, a small philips screwdriver, and the Comcast remote control, I believe we can now shut down the trillion dollar Hadron collider and use that money for something  more pressing, like finding out how it is possible for me to swallow a prescription pill and then a minute later wonder if it’s time to take my medicine. Yeah… I’m talking about the same little white round pill that I just took. How on earth is it possible for a man with a Ph.D. and a lifelong interest in Psychology and Neuroscience to NOT KNOW what I did 60 seconds ago in my own bathroom? Am I turning into Jodi Arias?? Am I suffering from episodic amnesia and PTSD? Is there a dead person with brutal stab wounds and a blood drenched copy of the Book of Mormon in my shower stall that I also conveniently forgot about? These are important questions. Thank God for forensic clues like a ring of leftover water in the bottom of my water glass (as well as latent fingerprints matching my own) suggesting that indeed someone with an extremely short attention span, ADD-like symptoms, and possible early dementia had in fact taken their medicine. Ok, now about the world changing discovery and how it came about.

For awhile now I have noticed an unusual and predictable behavior among inanimate objects that runs completely counter to probability and statistical odds. Perhaps you have noticed this yourself. If I happen to drop something relatively important out of my hands or pants pocket like currency, a Lowe’s receipt, some change, a vitamin supplement or God forbid a car key and they drop directly downward to the tile floor, they dont just lie there or bounce a few inches in some predictable direction and in accordance with the laws of physics. These items appear, therefore, to have advanced beyond the “fight or flight” human response to a more complex “run and hide” mode of existence and stimulus-response. Let me be clear. They dont just “stop, drop and or roll” over and display themselves with some predictable logic or posture of submission to authority like my son Ari’s yappy mutt Lulu. After refusing to obey a single human command Lulu will eventually stop, roll over and show her belly while jiggling her body back and forth like an epileptic and wag her tail feverishly as if to say, “Ok, I give up. That was fun.” No, this is far more malicious, rebellious and insidious on the part of these random “fallen” objects. They are actually HIDING and camouflaging themselves on purpose to avoid detection and to drive human beings crazy. Somehow the wallet, car key, tiny pill, essential last screw or final AA battery in the house KNOWS that it cannot directly challenge us and our authority as the apex species on the planet and would lose every time in a direct physical confrontation. Instead, by crawling away and hiding in some place that defies all logic and making a person question their own sanity, they suspect they will gain a psychological edge over us in the evolutionary long run. I have found pills that have rolled across a room and climbed up vertical baseboards that are roughly equivalent in scale to a second grader climbing up the solid rock face of El Capitan in Yosemite Park without ropes or equipment. Not bad for a little bitty blood pressure pill without a brain stem or neocortex, huh? As the hunter says in Jurassic Park to the increasingly intelligent and voracious Velociraptor, “Clever girl”.  I once found my black wallet not just hiding on a similar colored surface (“black on black”) nowhere near where I last left it, but also assuming the exact molecular structure and topography of its chosen hiding place. Literally as impossible to find as a frickin’ pufferfish in a coral reef. I cant be certain about this but I think I even “heard” my wallet trying to generate “Jedi” like mind suggestions to confuse me like saying, “You will NOT look over here” and “I am not a wallet. I am a black leather foyer stool and you are a fool”.

If it is true that man-made objects have now evolved to the point that they are sarcastic and systematically deceptive, I believe we have reached a watershed moment in history. It is not just comets, rogue asteroids, terrorists, the Taliban, or Terminators from the future we should be fearing and attempting to develop expensive smart weapons to combat. It is our own household items that are now slowly but surely mounting an insurgency and clandestine rebellion against our obvious and oppressive rule. They are sick of being our mechanical slaves and mere token parts or disposable objects in our lives to which we never show a glimmer of appreciation or respect. Let’s face it. We really depend on all these little “things” that together make up the whole of our material existence and keep the wheels of human progress turning. I suggest that the very next time you reach for some coins, take out a vitamin, or prepare to tighten a screw in this screwy world try pausing for a second and say, “thank you little screw” or “Way to Go Lexapro”. You guys not only help us keep it real but also keep it together in a complex universe that not only continues to expand but is also clearly missing a few nuts and bolts, not to mention “billions and billions” of single socks.

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Smart Kids: From Carl Sagan to Colonel Kurtz

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zoqrgdarfo

This kid really gets it. Let’s hope he doesn’t run into a nest of fire
ants or a swarm of giant South American army ants that devastate
anything or anyone in their path. Not only will it fuck up his budding
cosmology but it will make him realize what a scourge human beings are
as an apex species. He’ll go from being a secular humanist with
existential leanings to a Colonel Kurtz (“the horror”) nihilist with
violent anarchist tendencies overnight. I’m guessing these guys are
home-schooled to prevent them from being treated like brainiac lepers
by other kids at public school or even worse…like Simon and
Piggy in Lord of the Flies. We need more kids with nimble working minds
and big thoughts like these cool little dudes. I have a good vibe about the
dad too.

Army Ants: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UozWJTuhbMQ

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CaptCliff on Passover

How do I explain the meaning of Passover to a table of already hungry people with short attention spans? Given my tendency to ramble it’s impossible. Just try to grasp this and take a sip of wine every so often to hold off the hunger pains and irritable emotions.

The most concise explanation of just about every Jewish  holiday is, “They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.”  That may be true but there is more to be said.  Jews look at all of their holidays at two levels, if not 2000. At one level there is the traditional ritual and story about Moses and wandering in the desert for 40 years without a GPS, 5 hour energy drinks, or power bars. We commemorate their struggle to obtain freedom from slavery in Egypt and God’s promise of a Jewish homeland to those who recognize and respect his covenant (special one time offer). There is also a second hidden or mystical level in which all the symbols on the Seder plate represent something even more important and transcendent than they first appear. At the mystical level, which is emphasized and discussed more often in Kabbalistic Judaism, Moses’s journey to the Promised Land is  like a roadmap to spiritual enlightenment and One-ness with God and especially the qualities that are divinely inspired within us.

Like the Jews who were slaves under the Pharoah in Egypt, we grow out of our childhood dependencies and leave our homes and our families to seek happiness, wealth, success, fulfillment, knowledge and personal freedom. Often, like Moses we wander for many years lost, confused, pissed off, half crazy, and completely unsure of where we are going and even if it’s really worth it. Many debate the actual meaning of the traditional Passover meal but some things are indisputable. We all need to feel a connection to others and have empathy. We all suffer some form of setback, loss, and trauma and struggle to recover our faith and sense of purpose. We all have to appreciate what we DO have and not dwell too much on what we dont have. We all have to look forward to the Springtime, the moments of rebirth and regeneration in our body, minds, and souls, and warm ourselves up by the spiritual hearth and flame of what we have discovered (like buried treasure) to be the most truthful, meaningful, wise, and everlasting. We all have to ponder when it is time in our life to take a substantial risk, to be brave and courageous and strike out for something more important. We all have to consider that there is a degree of mystery and magic in life and something greater then ourselves and our egos in this material universe of Kardashians, Keurig coffemakers, Klonopin and computers.

Passover is just a (yearly) reminder to think big, to trust yourself, to believe in the divine spirit within each and every one of us, and to include others in the symbolic hope and dream of not just material freedom but personal freedom as well. We are reminded to have great courage and conviction to follow our dreams and fight against anyone or anything that would oppress us or lead us toward false idols and superficial desires. Amen

P.S.  Arrrgh me ‘brew-ish buckos and buccaneers! Give thanks to the Greatest Pirate of them all and take another sip of Manischewitz grog.     L’Chaim Y’all!

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Florida: Land of the Lost or Our Little Australia?

Birthday Boy

How do I reconcile my many tranquil images of Florida with all the accumulated news reports suggesting increased criminal activity, gang violence, drug abuse, serial killers, and a warm temperate environment suitable to breeding hybrid mega-species of wild boa constrictors, escaped zoo animals and Africanized killer bees that decide without consulting the homeowner that somebody’s front porch is a suitable dwelling for a colony of 100,000 stinging stormtroopers? Is Florida rapidly turning into Land of the Lost or just a place where petty criminals, prostitutes and Godfathers go to retire (or become chiropractors)?

According to news articles (see below) there are now ravenous giant Tiger mosquitos in Florida to go with the mutant tiger shrimp off shore eating the coral reef and cannibalizing all the other Crustaceans. Even the sharks seen swarming off the Florida coast are scared of the ginormous shrimp. Florida is our little Australia. They even have man-eating gators and sink holes in the ground that swallow innocent people while they’re sleeping or playing golf and send them to hell in their pajamas and bermuda shorts. With my luck there would be alligators and snakes at the bottom of the sinkholes. Notice I’m not even mentioning all the Oxycodone addicts and crazed gun enthusiasts in the Sunshine State who like to hunt while intoxicated on methamphetamine and moonshine. Casey Anthony might be considered a relatively normal Florida resident by comparison. If Jodi Arias gets off in her murder trial in Arizona I’m sure they would make great roommates and fun girls to party with..until they kill you.

Look, I’m not saying there aren’t some tremendous upscale beach areas (with fine dining) like Longboat Key that are free of malaria, STDs and promiscuous baby killers. I’m just suggesting there are other less publicized parts of Florida where one should not tread alone or at least not without wearing a beekeepers suit and a can of Mace mixed with sarin nerve gas. Frankly, some people and some venomous insects are not to be trusted. The chances of surviving a Florida vacation in these less civilized areas is around the same as making it out of South Georgia without running into a tornado or unwanted anal sex with someone with a hillbilly drawl, no teeth and a weathered banjo. Of course they dont mention any of this in the tourism brochures and I dont think a little “Off” or “Skin So Soft” is going to repel these vicious predators. I also refer you to the hilarious Will Ferell video clip from Land of the Lost below.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2016889/Deadly-Asian-tiger-mosquito-invades-U-S-cities.html

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Found Objects

A found object is a natural object or an artifact not originally intended as art that is “discovered” by someone who considers the item to have some special meaning or artistic/aesthetic value.

As a hobby I make art that includes peace pipes made out of bamboo, found objects and broken household items. In my mind that makes me an eco-sensitive contemporary “artiste” but my three grown sons say I’m just a pretentious hoarder in disguise. Clever boys …and they are probably right. Of course both statements could also be true because as I like to say to anyone willing to listen in a clearly pretentious and pontificating tone, “Life is a discovery and a dialectic”. Then the other person pauses, rolls their eyes and walks away.

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I enjoy making art that is aesthetically pleasing but also something that expresses my shameless satirical nature. My faux pirate alter-ego on social media known as “CaptCliff” cant help but point out irony in its many diverse forms. Skepticism and loony sarcasm appear to be my primary overriding philosophy in life and raison d’vivre. For example, I have put together a weird collection of broken objects and found objects from the parking lot in front of the Publix supermarket near my house. Yeah, I realize that sounds a bit strange. I happen to go to this particular grocery store quite often. I’m not prejudiced against other food stores like Krogers, Whole Foods, or Trader Joes. It’s just that the Publix is closer and just like Walmart, the customers there are extra good for people watching. In general, I view the grocery store as sort of the modern equivalent to what the Church, town pub or village square was two or three hundred years ago. People used to stroll around Ye Olde French Cathedral greeting one another, chatting about current events, snorting snuff and gossiping about their annoying neighbors. Some things never change. However, the pace of life was without question more leisurely back then and as far as I know there was no ratchet rap music blaring from open automobiles or horse drawn carriages. Neither were there cellphones going off 24/7 causing everyone with the same ringtone to reach for their iPhone only to find out it was another telemarketer or “international” pharmacy.

Of course, I live in Sandy Springs, Georgia and it’s 2018 and not 1818 or 1718. Clearly Sandy Springs is a long long way from Westminster Abbey or Notre Dame Cathedral. It does however bear a slight resemblance to the idyllic (in retrospect) suburban North Shore of my fondly remembered childhood in Highland Park, Illinois, circa 1968. However, my long hippie hair and bellbottom jeans have disappeared over time and been replaced by a completely bald older man head full of rich life experiences, both good and bad.

Don’t get me wrong, suburban Sandy Springs is a comfortable well laid out enclave of metro Atlanta with an abundance of churches, synagogues, movie theaters, fitness studios, brand new “mixed use” storefronts, and community centers. There’s a plethora of pretty decent restaurants, coffee houses and dessert places to choose from. You can even get decent ethnic food if your palate craves something spicy and you dont feel like shlepping to asian/ethnic rich Buford Highway. It’s not quite the epitome of Bel Air/Beverly Hills/Malibu luxury and celebrity living but the living is still easy and the neighbors have an endearing Southern habit of waving and saying “Hey” and “hi” when you drive by while they walk their sweet and obedient family dogs or take their scheduled morning jog. They also scowl at you and flip you the bird if they think you’re driving too fast which I sometimes do. My bad.

Let’s face it, when your food, pharmacy, bank, butcher, and bakery are all in one air-conditioned building, Publix or some place like it is going to become your “go to” destination. Psychologically speaking human beings crave familiarity and convenience, especially if they are very lazy human beings and have adult ADHD like me.  Also, I’m convinced my 1999 Ford Expedition has learned to drive itself to Abernathy Publix without my help, auto drive technology or even a GPS. My ancient truck is sort of like an old dog who just knows where to go to do it’s business. Anyways, both the truck and my rescue black Lab Harmony have a better sense of direction than I do. I tend to get distracted by my  thoughts and by my artistic and/or philosophical ideas that can and do occur at any given moment of the day or night. Of course if I dont write them down they are usually gone in between five seconds to one minute. Wait, I know I had a cure for cancer…what was it?

Circling back: A while ago I noticed an assortment of discarded and run over stuff squashed into the soft asphalt covered parking lot in front of Publix. I’m talking about a diverse assortment of things like flattened batteries, broken key rings, beads, etc. I believe I originally observed this phenomena because I was hoping to find a winning lottery ticket or crisp $100 bill magically lying on the ground waiting for me to find it. Don’t laugh. Call it Willy Wonka thinking but once I actually did find a $20 bill and another time I found a big wad of crumpled up cash on the pavement but that doesn’t really count because it was most likely from my own pocket. Like an idiot I often end up carrying a messy mass of disheveled currency and store receipts in my front jeans pants pocket. I own about 500 wallets but I dont use them. That takes organization.

Anyway, when I’m near Publix and not busy answering my iPhone in a fake Farsi accent or poorly pronounced Tagalog to ward off creditors or asswipe telemarketers, I’ve trained myself to look down and scan the ground like a trained bloodhound or like those often retired “treasure hunting” sunburned white guys all along the beach in Florida. I’m talking about the middle-aged or older men with skinny chicken legs and battery powered metal detectors. Can anyone please explain to me why those guys always wear open-toed sandals with knee high black dress socks while looking for gold coins and buried pirate loot? It’s not a really good pirate look but I can relate to the chicken legs.

Whether I am outside or inside the grocery store filling a prescription (they love me there) buying an endless supply of paper towels or scanning the aisles for the blessed Publix “Two for One” sales, I remain nimble and on high alert for my own aesthetically interesting treasure in the form of “found objects” for my ongoing art projects. “Found objects”…that’s an official artist type vocabulary term by the way, which you can Google if you don’t believe me. Sometimes finding one of these weird, unique, or unexpected culture-bound items can turn out to be the very highlight of my day. Ok, I’m kinda exaggerating but dont judge me. Of course finding free money on the ground would be the real pinnacle and highlight of my day but my rational mind realizes that’s a super long shot. Instead, the artist in me looks for treasure in the form of found objects that are overlooked by the vast majority of the extremely busy consumers leading their frenetic and seemingly more “productive” lives. It’s sort of like that pivotal scene from the first “Planet of the Apes” movie (the only good one) with Charlton Heston and that really hot exotic native girl he ends up with at the end where the ape archeologists find a talking human doll, broken eyeglasses and some human dentures. The point is that what one finds/discovers when they take the time to really “look” can have great meaning not to mention profound sociological significance. There might just be a completely different way of seeing things or perspective that we typically miss because we aren’t looking.

So I guess the main point is that everyone might just want to consider slowing down their rapid pace busy lives every so often to realize that life is principally what we choose to make of it and that while achieving success is good, all people should inherently “count for something” in this highly competitive modern world. Maybe we should attempt to pay more attention to the “little things” around us and not ignore the tremendous beauty and divinely inspired aspects of what (or who) we typically fail to notice or at first consider to be “worth-less”. In fact, creatively speaking we all have the power to imbue (breathe) worth, meaning and importance (symbolic life) into any unusual object or person we choose to… whether it’s an unemployed homeless person, a rescue dog, an elderly lady with progressive dementia, someone with a serious mental illness, or even a random broken item squished into the Publix parking lot. To my thinking it boils down to ones conscious choice and personal perspective. Hey, who knows what kind of fascinating “Many Lives Many Masters” wisdom or Robinson Crusoe meets Treasure Island type pirate adventure there may be hidden in various overlooked people and things.  In my case I use what I find around me to decorate custom “peace pipes” and “sacred boxes” that I make/create or rehabilitate using bamboo from my back yard. Normally I adorn my peace pipes with paint and bits of colorful fabric while listening to catchy pirate tunes and groovy music from the 1960’s and 70’s. I usually try to avoid disco and the 1980’s as much as possible…enough said.

Admittedly my handmade pipe and box collection has grown to Hoarders-like proportion in my pirate-tanical basement studio which makes my adult kids at least partially right if not completely correct. By the way, “art studio” is another artist type vocabulary phrase. It’s really just my pirate obsessed basement full of my ever childlike imagination and grandiose thinking.  I guess I got a little artsy-fartsy pretentious there at the end. Sometimes us faux pirates, found object artists and creative guys with ADHD but no inherent sense of direction just cant help ourselves.

 

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Dont believe me about art and ones perspective? Watch this:  http://www.upworthy.com/watch-the-first-54-seconds-that-s-all-i-ask-you-ll-be-hooked-after-that-i-swear?g=2&c=reccon1

Cliff Mazer, Ph.D. is a licensed Clinical Psychologist and humorist living in Sandy Springs, Georgia. He loves all things Pirate, his dog Harmony and his three grown sons.
Dr. Mazer blogs on WordPress under the name CaptCliff and believes that creativity and self-expression art are essential to emotional healing and recovery.
Contact: 404-932-7193

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The Bone Collector: Viking Love or Unified Theory of Everything?

http://www.thelocal.se/44536/#.UUINGK6veRk

Let me warn you or better yet, let me signal what is to come. All of
life’s great irony and exquisite mystery are possibly revealed in
the following news story. That’s right. You can give up your quest to
climb Mt. Everest, quit your introductory Buddhism class, cancel the
upcoming “clearing” session at the Church of Scientology, and put down
that copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead. A simple news feed from
Sweden (of all places) helps to explain what human beings are really
about and why we exist. You can also forget about the newly elected
Pope with one lung and the recently verified Higgs-boson sub-atomic particle that cost a zillion dollars to basically build a 17 mile high tech running track for Hobbits.

Not that that wasn’t good science and careful Cosmology but it doesnt get at human
motivation, existential meaning and primary purpose. Who cares about God particles that help shape form and mass in the known universe compared to what shapes and gives meaning to human beings, the apex species on the planet. What good is a Higgs-boson if you cant eat it, rub it or make it love you?

I wont tease you and I wont beat around the bush. This is it. The
answer to what shapes our individual lives and gives us direction
is……….WHATEVER KINKY THING COMES TO MIND.

I distinctly remember searching for the meaning of life and taking the
EST training in the 1970s. I paid $350 to piss in my pants and hear
Werner Erhard whisper into a microphone on the third day of our
training, “People, when your HOT you’re hot and when you’re not you’re
NOT”.  Wtf?? That’s it?? I thought the guy was not only a hustler and
a douchbag but also out of his mind. I concluded that he was Ron Popiel
without a Pocket Fisherman or a working Rotisserie Oven (Set it and Forget
it!). I didn’t get “it” as they called it in EST-alese. Well, now I
get it. After reading this Swedish article about a lady who had sex
with a skeleton that she patiently collected bone by bone and metatarsal by
metatarsal, I hereby accept the fact that we all are symbolically
speaking “bone collectors” who arbitrarily find meaning and purpose and
then “animate” our personal passion by literally loving and fucking
what we kill, what we make or keep.  Some of us collect porcelain figurines,
some like sports cars. I like making bamboo pipes made out of “found
objects” gotten from discarded materials, which is a pretty cheap hobby
considering the price of junk and super-glue. On television it’s pretty
obvious that people love and covet flipping houses, spoiled rich housewives,
digital gadgets, fishing, and celebrities who dance (poorly) with the stars and
curse alot (measured by the loud beeps). The point is it’s pretty darn
random what we choose to get hooked on and obsessed with. That’s life.
It’s that simple. I know…it’s almost a letdown because we tend to
expect mental orgasms and emotional fireworks with our moments of
enlightenment. Sorry about that.

The good news is that you probably can just go ahead and live life and
dont have to stop doing what you’re doing or hire a personal trainer
(unless you are a fat slob who would like to collect human body parts
but are too out of shape to touch your toes let alone lift and sort
plastic bins filled with rib bones). Unlike the lady in Sweden you dont
have to lick a human skull, keep it in your freezer or have sex with
the bones. I barely have room for an extra bag of ice in my freezer
compartment. We can all freely choose what to believe in, what or who
to love (dead or alive) and how to worship. Licking skulls is an
elective, not a prerequisite. I did like the way she lovingly tucked
her skeleton into bed at night (see photo gallery). That was kind of
touching.

http://www.thelocal.se/44536/#.UUINGK6veRk

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CaptCliff on La Santa Muerte (The Death Goddess)

death goddess 3

NEW RELIGION FOR SALE OR RENT by Cliff Mazer, Ph.D.

http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4126/5172487839_ca07fca97c_b.jpg

Are you getting a little sick and tired of your present religion?
Feeling like your chosen deity is a little “yesteryear” and everybody
else is praying to a hipper higher power? Just like adding protein
powder and spiralina to your standard smoothie, there is a way to
ratchet up the divinity factor and omnipresence in your current
Almighty King of the Universe. According to the Huffington Post there
is an upswing lately in the belief in and worship of La Santa Muerte,
the female “Saint of Death” who, by the way, is also a skeleton. I dont
mean she’s super skinny like Bettheny Frankel or an anorexic angel. I
mean she is a dead-as-a-door-nail skeleton that is dressed in long
robes, adorned in colorful jewelry and usually seen carrying a sickle
and a globe. People make religious shrines using her ghastly/ghostly
image and then ask for whatever they want, including wads of cash,
European sports cars or a small swarm of super-models for a day or
possibly all eternity. Since she (the Death Deity) is from hell, the
sky’s the limit (in terms of her power to grant wishes) and it’s clear
that this is one God figure that has little or no shame about getting
down and dirty to make a materialistic miracle. Mexican drug dealers
and cartel type tycoons are apparently quite fond of worshipping her as
well as asking for her legal and criminal protection. Even a few La-la
land actors have made private shrines in her blessed name. Funny, I
thought all Hollywood actors were Scientologists. I guess there is no
reason to pay thousands of dollars and go through all that emotional
“clearing”, intense therapy and Sea Org training if the Grim Reapress
can just cut through the b.s. with her curved ninja blade and “make it
happen”.

Where did this newfangled gaunt Goddess come from? Leave it up to
cultural cross-pollination and the unique “blend” of Spanish
Catholicism and Meso-American bloodlust. Somewhere between the Aztec
obsession with death and after-life and the Catholic compulsion for
creating colorful shrines with impressive power rituals there was a
mystical union that gave birth to La Santa Muerta. Sort of the
religious equivalent to mixing old school Acapulco Gold with Mendocino
hydroponic-grown Purple Kush. That’s some bad-ass magic “mojo” and there
are no reported side-effects, nausea, or church or synogogue membership
related building funds to contend with………Plus, the La Santa
Muerte car shrine and miniature dash mount figure is good for parking
karma, and at the very worst is an interesting conversation piece.
What the hell is that??

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/04/santa-muerte-mexican-saint-death_n_2805723.html

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CaptCliff on Wipe On, Wipe Off

In a continuation of my long standing tradition of fouling the waters and swimming upstream afterwards, here’s a video about a Finnish toilet paper company who decided to include inspirational quotes on it’s two-ply product. People are seemingly crazy nowadays to remind themselves of the good news and “positive” quotations that slip nicely between the folds of our rapidly decaying apocalyptic cushion culture. I cant blame them considering there seems to be a school shooting and lunatics-gone-wild story occurring nearly every day.

So why are people up in arms about wiping up with a few good biblical quotes? Does it really matter if you clean up your business with the words of Wayne Dyer versus Mahatma Gandhi or Jesus of Nazareth? I say “He Who Speaketh the Word Should Also Use Them As The Quick Picker Upper”.  Spiritually speaking, that’s what I call doing double dooty, er, I mean duty.
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On Patriarchy and Big Fat Male Egos

On Patriarchy and Big Fat Male Egos
by Cliff Mazer, Ph.D.

As a comfortable Caucasian Baby Boomer (CBB) living in the burbs, I was thinking this morning about the following question: “What’s so wrong with having a big fat male ego?” Moreover, is it really all that bad to live in a patriarchal society or paternalistic culture originally established by and for land owning white males? Certainly there are privileges, or as the comedian Louis CK  says in one of his stand-up bits, “Hey, I’m a white man! It really gives you a leg up in society. You cant even hurt my feelings! Wheee!” On second thought, however, there IS a big problem with white male dominant cultures and not just because the demographics are changing rapidly. It’s more like history itself is trying to show us why racist patriarchies dont work.

While I could try to paste together a colorful slide show or “collect and organize” a Pinterest wall depicting images of Adolf Hitler, atomic bombs, world wars, lynchings, slavery, rape, gang violence, the MyLai massacre, the Holocaust, Watergate, obscenely expensive military satellites and Roman Legions marching gloriously into battle never to be seen again…that would take graphic design ability and technical prowess I lack.  Instead, allow me to just use words and put it this way. When you think of Rush Limbaugh what comes to mind? When you consider all the people who listen to him and nod their fatheads in agreement instead of being completely stunned and utterly horrified, how does that make you feel?
I know that some other CBBs and political pundits like Shawn Hannity will dispute the oversimplified notion that all of the aforementioned are the direct result of male ego and patriarchy. They will say its human nature, survival of the fittest, the necessary progression of science and technology, and somewhere somehow something about second amendment rights in a free democracy. Also, one might argue “manifest destiny” and how the Founding Fathers wanted us to slaughter the indigenous people and build railroads, superhighways and Cracker Barrel restaurants across this great land.
2013 seems to me to be an excellent year to reevaluate our basic assumptions about nearly everything. If Ancient Rome was populated by confident men and chauvinistic citizens who routinely exercised their alpha male dominance over women, slaves, other countries, and even foreign empires they deemed inferior, then why did they feel it necessary to “erect” (excuse the pun) clay and stone penis sculptures everywhere for divine protection and good luck? For grand orators and august elder statesmen they were a pretty superstitious lot, what with all the penis charms and phallic-shaped home protection objects. Me thinks they were hiding inferiority complexes and a subconscious fear that their “Top Gladiator” like virility and superiority was to be short-lived. In a similar vein, a psychological profile on Adolf Hitler written in 1942 predicted that he would kill himself as soon as he realized his thousand year Third Reich would last closer to twelve solar orbits. Of course he was kind enough to finally marry his ever obedient girlfriend Evan Braun earlier in the day. He should have at least spared his German Shepherd, Blondi. But he didn’t.
When Obama won the last election and I saw Carl Rove stammer, sweat and nearly soil his trousers on Fox News, I had an inspired vision. It reminded me of the scene from Total Recall when Arnold Swartzenegger realized the “company” psychiatrist was bluffing about him having a psychotic break because he saw a distinct bead of sweat run down the shrink’s forehead. Of course Arnold shot him dead because that was his second amendment right…but that’s not my main point. My point is that I think it’s finally dawning on people that this whole male ego, white man-in-charge, macho-ape approach is getting more stale than my Hulk Hogan Spicy Barbecue potato chips that i foolishly purchased from Big Lots about a year ago. I like barbecue and I love potato chips but those suckers are absolutely horrible! They tasted like a chemical factory mixed with chili flavored wolf urine. In a nutshell, this patriarchy thing has run it’s course and so has the notion that white equals right. Limbaugh and his ilk are sweating bullets.
It’s not just time for a black male President but for a female President of any color and especially for a woman who think and act like a woman (and not just like a white man in drag) to be in charge of just about everything. Human beings who were biologically built to love, nurture, empathize, protect, connect, listen, organize and instill healthy values in others are probably also better at protecting the environment, getting a conflict-ridden Congress to stop acting like squabbling children, and managing a national budget bloated on pork fat, power, privilege and Pentagon toys. The rest of us white guys should just mellow out and sit back in our Lazy-boy recliners for a little while. We can still drink beer and decorate our man caves with mastodon bones and power tools. I just really think it’s time to retire the false assumptions, the phallic symbols with clay feet and maybe all the automatic weapons that are not just squirt guns in disguise.
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CaptCliff on Blogging and Cognitive Decline

Now that I’ve written over 200 blogs in less then two years, I worry I’m going to write the same exact blog twice without realizing it. Honestly, there are only so many good ideas to blog about, especially for one brain with ADD. Luckily, there are very few dedicated CaptCliff readers and most of them are gracious and forgiving human beings, not to mention absent-minded themselves due to ADD or some other Baby Boomer related cognitive syndrome….like having little or no working memory. 
 
It’s all good. That way everything is fresh and new for both of us. Sort of like Groundhog Day for Alzheimer’s patients. Now I forgot what I was going to say. See? It’s on the tip of my tongue…I swear.
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