Semantics, really.

This may surprise some of you, but I don't hate police officers. Okay, I don't hate all police officers. I acknowledge that many, many humans who carry guns and wear shiny badges let the power go to their heads, but that doesn't make me hate law enforcement organizations as a whole. To assume that every last one of them is a flaming jackass would be prejudice which, oddly enough, is actually the main topic of this post.
See, the word prejudice and it's more popular counterpart, racism, are probably the most misunderstood words in the English language. You can thank America's spotty history of slavery, exploitation and discrimination for that. For those of you who didn't spend half of your lives studying the written word, let me explain both of them to you. Racism is the belief that one's race is superior to all other races. Not necessarily that all other races are bad, just that they're inferior. Prejudice is believing that a particular group all shares a similar characteristic. Now that we've cleared that up, let me tell you a little story of just how grossly out of touch with Webster the media, the government and our general population all are.
Once upon a time, college Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. went on vacation. Upon his return home a neighbor who we'll call Nosey McShitstarter (which has nothing to do with the fact that this story takes place in Boston, you presumptuous jack off) placed a call to the police that two men were spotted trying to force open the door of Gates, Jr's home. It later turned out that the door to Gates, Jr.'s home was jammed, but that's beside the point. As per both procedure and common sense, an officer was dispatched to investigate. When said officer arrived on the scene and knocked on the home's front door, he was met with something that not even the world's most avid sadist would call a friendly greeting. The professor, now let me repeat that, the fucking college professor threw an absolute shit fit, citing the investigation as being due to the fact that he was black. Among Gates Jr.'s comments were "This is what happens to black men in America" and, when asked by the officer if he could speak to Gates, Jr. outside, "I'll speak with your mama outside." I'm not making this shit up!
Now, where I come from, if you start screaming in a police officer's face, you're not going to be sleeping in your own bed. Hell, in Cincinnati you're lucky if you even remember the circumstances of your surrender to unconsciousness upon waking. Instead, you say hello to your new best friend, Mr. Concussion, and avert your eyes as you realize that you're sleeping next to wear your other new friend (see also: cell mate) is pissing.
Gates, Jr. was arrested on disorderly conduct charges, which were dropped. Not only is he now seeking recompense from the city of Boston, but the officers who made the arrest are facing disciplinary action.
Now, think back on what I first covered, the definitions of racism and prejudice. Now think on the incident I outlined afterward. Put your thinking caps on, put two and two together, and tell me who's guilty of what in this scenario. Let me give you a hint. If you decided that the aforementioned officers were guilty of racism, you obviously missed the unspoken part of my instructions, namely removing your head from your ass. This guy doesn't deserve a settlement, he deserves a lobotomy. This is exactly the kind of reverse racism that's making it impossible for a sense of unity and true equality to ever take hold and stick in this country. The members of so-called "oppressed minorities" who blame every inconvenience on the color of their skin are perpetuating the vicious cycle, and those who lend credence to their protests are guilty of throwing gas on the metaphorical fire. To Henry Louis Gates, Jr., you're making a very, very uncomfortable bed, and we're the ones who have to sleep in it. Way to suck. To the media who covered this story and decided to up their ratings at the expense of honesty, integrity and justice, you are the worst kind of opportunistic vultures existent in journalism today. To the officers who answered the call that night, keep your heads held high. Some of us have enough capacity for rational thought to learn the facts before passing judgment.
Oh, and props for not giving anyone a concussion.

You're just mad because I said it first.

Hey, has everyone heard about the new Michael Cera movie (you guessed it, this is a trick question). You haven't? Well, I can't believe you hav--OF COURSE YOU HAVEN'T HEARD OF THE NEW MICHAEL CERA MOVIE! Wanna' take a stab at how I knew you hadn't? It's simple, because there hasn't been a new Michael Cera movie since the first time we saw his first monotone, pathetic, cliche teen angst ridden character! For something to be new, it has to be unprecedented. It can't have been done before. Watching some beanpole with all the originality of a bucket of dirty mop water do the same shit in the same contrived nonsense isn't cinema, it's formula.

Fucking sheep.

Would you like fri--er, breadsticks with that?

Yeah. I was that desperate for a job. Despite the horrific/awesome outcome of the my last sojourn into the pizza industry, when I was offered a position (see also: when I berated the unfortunate manager of the local Pizza Hut until his ears were bleeding) as a server/delivery driver/designated bitch, I begrudgingly accepted (see also: I'm surprised I didn't piss myself with joy). So, in less than an hour, I'll don the red and black that oh, so many college drop outs and recovering criminals have donned before me.

...Wasn't I supposed to be a doctor or a lawyer or some shit?

A Dying Breed

People used to know how this shit was done.

That's the thought that popped into my head when I stumbled across an old friend's page. Yeah, I know, surfing MySpace pages at 4AM doesn't sound like a very rock 'n' roll thing to do, but there's only so much guitar you can play after breaking your hand on the back of someone's head. More on that never. Back on point, I used to stomp around Cape Coral with this guy until the wee hours of the morning as a matter of fucking principle. We got busted for PI when I was sixteen, pissed off everyone in a five mile radius by blaring Anti-Flag and old school Offspring, drank the bar so dry at every party we went to that the fucking floors dry rotted and regularly took part in "Midnight Donuts", which consisted of walking around our neighborhood Wal-Mart eating as many donuts as we could before they kicked us out.

Good, Wholesome, All-American fun.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I come across the guy on MySpace and find out that at some point he turned white as bird shit. Dude used to have a 'hawk so tall he couldn't sit up straight in a car without fucking it up and now he looks like something out of Revenge Of The Nerds. That vest some of you have probably seen me wear? That was his once upon a time. Guy swelled up so wide that I doubt the damn thing would fit around his fucking wrist now. He used to jam out to Crass. I don't know what the hell he had on his profile, but I'm willing to bet that whatever it was could put Alanis Morrisette to sleep. Oh, and he's a vegan. A fucking vegan! This guy never went anywhere without his leather jacket, and now he's spooging himself over animal rights?

What the fuck, man? Look, I understand that people get older, priorities shift, you've gotta' sacrifice a few of your causes to keep food in your stomach. You buzz your 'hawk off, you don't try to look like the guy from Oxford who's every sexual experience is plastered on his computer screen. You put on a button down shirt for an interview and roll up your sleeves when it's over so you can show off your ink, you don't pay thousands of dollars to get it burned off. You find a way to incorporate who you were into who you are, you don't wash out the fucking dye and pretend it never happened. Fuck's sake, rock 'n' roll used to mean something. It was a mindset, a lifestyle, standing up and saying "Fuck you, I'll live my own life", defining your own paradigm instead of adopting the one society's tried to force down your throat since you were old enough to piss straight. Now? Now it's a fucking sticker on the back of your Volvo that you take off when you finally kiss enough brown eye to land yourself that promotion and don't want people to see it when you park in your VIP spot at the office.

I said this a few months back, but let me reiterate. Independent thought is what gives rise to advances in civilization. When we all accept the norm as ideal, we stagnate, we lose our sense of purpose toward the end of social evolution. The greatest minds in history were ridiculed, ostracised and sometimes executed for their radical theories. Stop being the one behind the firing squad with a bucket of popcorn and a hard-on, start taking a chance and fly your own fucking flag again!