I AM A YEAR OLD...

One year ago today, I unleashed my unoriginal thoughts upon the world of BLOGGING.  I figured I'd write 5, maybe 10 entries in this thingamajig and give it up, but as you all know, I was wrong.  Looking back, I can't believe I had that much to say, but anyone who knows me well, knows I'm rarely without words to share.

It's been an interesting year.  I can't say I've made much progress professionally, but I sure have learned a great deal about myself as a human being.  Here are a few lessons I've learned and relearned:

1.)  ALWAYS go with your FIRST INSTINCT.  If you feel like someone is a jackass from the moment you meet them; you're probably right.  So humor them for a bit, laugh at their unfunny jokes, let them poke fun at you, sarcastically compliment their hipster jacket and don't be a jerkoff.  This will allow you to go on your merry way with a smile knowing you didn't let someone you'll never see again get under your skin.  Sometimes it pays dividends when you bite your fucking tongue.  

2.)  Never LEAD people on.  Even if you're doing it subconsciously, it doesn't make it right.  It's always best not to get involved in a situation you know that will escalate to something you can't or don't want to handle.  Be honest from the get-go.  It may seem harsh and fucked up, but you'll feel much better about it later.  People will always find reasons to dislike you, don't give them any more.

3.)  Continue to WORK HARD.  PURSUE. PURSUE. PURSUE.  No matter what it is you want in this life, no matter how old you are, you CANNOT expect handouts.  They are few and far between and most of the people who receive them are undeserving.  So don't worry about them, focus on YOU.  One needs to work diligently to reach a goal.  You must sacrifice if you want success.  It's okay to be selfish every once in a while.

4.)  LUCK is a word for the WEAK.  We make our own luck, our own breaks.  Yeah, bad shit happens to the best of us, but we're not measured by how many times we fall down.  It's how many times we're willing to get back up and what we're willing to do once we're standing.

5.)  YOU HAVE TO CAPITALIZE ON YOUR OPPORTUNITIES.  Good opportunities are rare, so we must take advantage of every one.  If you have an audition or a job interview, and you haven't had one in months, you MUST be prepared.  When someone goes out on a limb for you and an opportunity presents itself, it's up to you to make the most of it.  You have no one to blame but yourself.

6.)  Don't be so HARD on yourself.  If you're like me; YOU are your harshest critic.  It's okay to analyze your moves, but don't over-analyze.  If you've made a mistake, learn from it and move on.  Otherwise you'll wind up like one of those people in the DEPRESSION commercials.  "Who does depression effect?"  Everyone."  If you're smart about this one, you can say, "NOT ME" when the commercial comes on. 

7.)  Good friends are rare.  I've had the privilege of having many friends along the way.  Most people say they can count their true friends on one hand.  I like to believe I'd need a few more hands than that.  Hold on to your friends.  Be there for them... Cause in times of need they will always be there for you.

8.)  Everyone is JEALOUS of something.  Even if you're not the jealous type (like me), there will always be someone who has more than you do.  Someone who has a job you want.  A car you want.  The type of girl you wish you had.  A bank account you envy.  The truth is, none of that shit matters.  It's not worth being envious of anyone else.  Take a step back... look at your life... You probably have it pretty damn good and someone is most likely envious of you.  And remember, even when you're down, somebody always, and I MEAN ALWAYS, has it worse... way worse.

9.)  You have nothing to be ASHAMED of... Unless of course you're a flasher, murderer, a pederast, or a Sarah Palin supporting Republican...  If you want to listen to BETTE MIDLER in your car and belt out the chorus at the top of your lungs, by all means sing away... "Cause you are the wind beneath my wings."  Just don't crash into anyone while singing and texting.  That shit's dangerous.

10.)  You must be willing to HUMILIATE yourself.  To make it in this world (especially in showbiz), you have to be willing to completely humiliate yourself.  Every once in a blue moon you need to make an ass out of yourself just to prove you're human.  It's okay, we all do it on occasion, but don't do it all the time.  It doesn't mean you have to change who you truly are.  Be you, no matter what.  You'll get along just fine that way.  There's nothing worse than a phony.

Well... Happy Anniversary to ME!!!  I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have.  Have a wonderful April and hopefully I can keep this little thing going.

I AM A MURDERER...

of the AUTOMOBILE.  The CAR Kevorkian... so to speak.  Do they come to me to surrender?  Do they know their time is up?  I know my recent car nightmare wasn't my fault, but I'm beginning to think heavy machinery should steer clear of me.  After the incident, I got a new (OLD) car.  It had been in the family for years and it's one of those foreign cars that lasts forever... like 500,000 miles forever.  I was excited about reuniting with the old girl knowing how well my father cares for his and my mother's cars.  I thought, for once, even with the bad luck I'd experienced a few months ago, change was on the horizon.  And once again, I thought WRONG.

On Tuesday, I went to visit a friend who lives 30 miles away.  I drove down peacefully, listening to tunes, breathing in the SMOG-FILLED air, and smiling at the traffic headed in the opposite direction.  Shortly after I arrived, we decided to have lunch a short drive away.  As soon as I turned the key, something felt wrong.  I pulled off and she began to rattle (the car, not my friend).  The steering wheel was locking up.  I didn't panic (does weeping count), but damn, can't a brother catch a break?

I decided not to worry about it until I got home, although it was quite embarrassing.  I dropped my friend off after lunch and by now the car sounded a little better, but the wheel was still as tight as the fades the white boys rock in Baltimore.  I figured I needed some power steering fluid... Yeah, that was it... "I'll just top it off when I get home" I said to myself.

I hit the road.  I'm not going to lie, I was nervous.  Not first day of school nervous... More like RUSSIAN ROULETTE nervous.  My terrible record with cars over the years wasn't setting my mind at ease.  Most people I know can count how many cars they've had on one hand.  Not me.  I need about fifty hands and a few feet.  I've had more cars than Tiger Woods has had HOLE in ONES with waitresses from TGI FRIDAYS.  Let's take a quick look at my vehicle history....

1998... My first car.  I was working at a Granite company installing counter tops and tiling floors.  The company had a 1997 RED DODGE NEON.  It was the errand car and somehow it became mine.  One day I asked to borrow it for the weekend and next thing I know it was with me all the time.  My uncle and his partner (business, not life) owned the joint and they were the ones who let me me borrow/have it.  I drove it for over a year.  At the end of our relationship, I brought the car to a party in North Jersey and I scraped the shit out of NEON DEON (my pet name for her) on the side of my buddy Will's house and that was it.  My mom said enough... "Give her back!"  So I did.

1999... My parents decide to help me buy a car.  I put my funds together and started to look around.  I found a 1996 FOR BRONCO.  This car was money.  She was shiny and white.  Pefect condition.  Leather interior.  Nice stereo system.  She drove like a charm.  No longer than two months later, the alarm started going off and wouldn't stop.  Then, the car wouldn't start.  Electrical failure.  Apparently, the car had been in a flood and was salvaged.  Those mother fuckers at the dealership were lying ass dogs.  So we brought OJ's old whip back, told them first to go fist themselves, then to give us our money back.

1999...  I'm not even sure if we owned this one.  I remember driving her around for a week.. or so.  It was a 1984 Blue VOLVO.  She ran on diesel fuel and sounded like a fucking 18 wheeler, but she was nice.  Not sure where she ended up.  My dad probably sold her for parts.

1999...  The 2000 HYUNDAI ELANTRA.  She was never really mine, I drove her for many months.  She was a little girl, but she ran well.  She was black, with lackluster interior.  It was like driving a micro-machine compared to the Bronco, but I didn't care;  I'm a little man.  I had her on and off for the next two years, whenever my dad didn't need her.

2000...  My Mom decided it was finally time for me to have a new car.  She wanted to have a JEEP in the family, for trips and such.  So we leased a 2000 JEEP CHEROKEE SPORT.  It was pine green.  I loved it.  Truth is, I felt cool as hell in my own new SUV.  We had this one for a couple of years, but in the long run she turned out to be too expensive... So we gave her back.

2001...  I was driving the exact same car that I'm driving today, the 1994 INFINITI G20t.  There's a great story behind her as she was the first new car my mother ever had, but I'll tell that one another time.  I'm pretty sure I only had her for a few months and it's unclear as to why I had to give her back to my mom.  This is what I remember... I was hooking up with a certain girl in college.  She and I had some disagreements, and the next morning I walked out to my car only to find her KEYED.  It looked like the culprit was writing something along the lines of D-I- and half of a C.  You do the math.  Somebody must have seen this criminal because they didn't finish their pleasant inscription..  Needless to say, Mom wanted her car back.

2001...  When my Mom bought the other HYUNDAI, she bought a more luxurious (as luxurious as Hyundai could get) model for herself.  It was a 2000 HYUNDAI SONATA.  She was also as black as the ace of spades and not a bad looking car.  I didn't have her for long, but I appreciated her CD player and leather seats.  She had some brake problems and when I sent her back to get fixed, she never returned and somehow she became my brother's.

2002...  My father found a good deal from a guy in the neighborhood on a 1987 MERCURY GRAND MARQUIS.  This car was AWESOME.  She was white, plush interior and white wall tires.  Pimp.  This car looked like something Frank Sinatra would drive.  Well Frank didn't own it before, but a Priest did.  The car was obviously blessed.  I had her for about 8 smooth months when she started to have some problems.  My dad told me to add some fluids here and there before I made the drive home for the Holiday.  So I added the fluids and hit the road knowing I definitely put the fluids in the wrong places.  About an hour into the trip, my HOLY MOBILE blew up in my face while I was going 80mph on the Highway.  It was five degrees outside, I was in the redneck part of Maryland and my car was on FIRE just off Route 95.  Furious.  I waited on the side of the road 4 hours until my my brother came to pick me up.  By the time he got there my face was as stiff as Heidi Montag's.  (I loathe her and her bottom-feeding husband by the way.)

2002...  Another deal from a friend of my old man.  He found me a 1986 OLDSMOBILE.  She was blue and drove like a cherry at first.  One morning during my senior year, I was on my way back to Jersey to coach a football game and the transmission blew.  Luckily I wasn't on the highway yet, but I was still 5 miles away from my house.  I had to stick my head outside of the window like ACE VENTURA and drive that bitch home BACKWARDS.  People were freaking out as I cruised by... in reverse.  That was the end of her.

2003-Jan 2005...  This time I had an ugly, gray and rusty 1989 PONTIAC BONNEVILLE.  This baby lasted me for about 2 years.  I had her until about 4 days before I moved WEST.  Despite her decrepit exterior, she drove great.  I never had any problems with her until one day my dad called and said, "My friend's daughter is driving up from North Carolina to sell her 1999 Volvo and I thought it would be good for you to drive to California."  I was pumped.  Dad was really looking out.  About a week before I left, I was supposed to go see the car at this guy's house, but there was a problem.  The night before, his son had jumped out of a moving car and died immediately... Drugs were involved.  So the sister wound up flying north to be with the family.   Selling the car wasn't first on their docket.  I understood.  His son was 28 years old.

The next day my friend (who I moved out here with) came to Jersey and we started planning our trip.  We figured, fuck it, we'll take the BONNEVILLE.  Once our plans were straight, we drove to the movies to see "THE AVIATOR".  On the way back... THE CAR DIED.  It was like the car knew I was settling for her.  Stubborn bitch.  I guess it wasn't meant to be.  That night we bought plane tickets and wound up flying out to Cali three days later with two bags each.

2005-2006...  THE 1993 MAZDA PROTEGE.  She was ugly as sin.  A weird shade of green, almost turquoise.  Now this one was a STICK SHIFT.  I am not a believer in Stick.  I know "real men" say you're not driving unless it's manual, but you know what I say to that... Fuck you.  Driving stick is silly.  Why would you shift gears if you don't have to?  This isn't the INDY 500, it's the fucking 405.  Gimme a break and stop overcompensating for your shortcomings.  

I learned to drive this piece of shit on the 101 from Santa Barbara to LA during RUSH HOUR.  This was no easy task.  By the time I parked her at the house where I was staying, I had sweated through two shirts like CHUNK from "Goonies" and had at least 4 anxiety attacks due to making traffic worse (cause I hate people that do that).  It was the worst.  I think I drove her 15 times total.  Eventually I drove the car back up to SB and gave her to my roommates.  They shared it and drove me around once I moved up to SB.  She blew up sometime in 2006 while I wasn't around, but I'm sure my magic touch had something to do with it.

2006-2009... THE 1976 FORD MUSTANG II.  She was totaled by a moron on the street.  Not my fault.  I'm still fucking pissed.  That's all I have to say about that.

2010...  Back to the 1994 INFINITI G20t.  So I get off the freeway and the wheel is really sticking now.  The rattling gets louder.  I'm at a light one block from my house, when the car starts smoking like Jackie Gleason.  Then a loud RUMBLE.  More smoke.  I think George Burns was in there too.  I parked her in the street, got out and plopped down on the grass like a dying dog.  Then I started laughing.  What the hell else can you do?

Yesterday I took her to a mechanic around the way and of course... A bunch of money needed to be dumped into it.  What choice did I have?  She had to be fixed.

I need a NEW CAR... Like an ACTUAL brand new car.  I'm going to start saving.  I can't afford to keep fixing these old babes.  I just can't take this shit anymore.  I'm an adult.  I'm employed.  I have insurance.  I have credit cards.  Why do I keep messing around with old cars?  Probably avoiding payments... Definitely.  I've had 12 cars in 12 years of driving.  That's sick.  I need to be put away.  Someone take me out to the pasture and shoot me.  I hate killing things... especially cars.  I guess it's a good thing it's not against the law to hurt your own vehicle, because I would be in THE SLAMMER... for LIFE.

Thanks for the help, Dad.  Love you.  Sorry for driving so many of your loved ones into the ground.

I AM SITTING...

in a school meeting during my FRESHMAN year of High School staring at the ceiling, ignoring daily announcements when I first heard it.  "Click!"  "Clip!" "Snap!"  I cased the room in search of a culprit.  Nothing.  Nobody else was even flinching.  I thought I'd finally lost my grip on reality.  For a second I imagined the RICE CRISPIES characters sitting behind me jumping around, but of course they weren't.  Then I heard it again.  "Snap!"  That's when I noticed a rather large, suspicious, white-bearded HUMAN at the end of my row.  I suspected the sound was coming from his direction.  I watched him closely.  I noticed him focusing on his hands as the HEADMASTER continued to speak.  I turned away, then... "SNIP!" "Crack!'  I quickly snapped my head back at the Santa Claus look alike and the sonofabitch was clipping his fingernails!

I bursted out with laughter.  I laughed so hard I almost had a coronary.  The kid to my left elbowed me in the gut and said, "Dude, what are you doing?"  While continuing to chuckle I pointed down the row and replied, "That WILDMAN is clipping his fingernails."  The kid didn't even sneak a peek (what a sissy)... he just gave me "the nod" to look forward.  Slowly I realized everyone in the room was staring at me, including the Headmaster and Fred Claus' brother.  Some nerve.

The Headmaster glared at me with a look I'll never forget, and then in front of the entire student body he said, "Is there something you'd like to add, Mr. Richerson?"  To which I promptly replied, "No sir."  I couldn't believe it.  How was nobody else laughing?  Was this normal?  I'm at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country and one of the faculty members is clipping his nails in PUBLIC!  And I thought I was moving up a social class by going here... Guess not.  What the fuck was going on!  Nobody said a word.  Important announcements are happening and human nail shrapnel is flying all over the place.  It was a war zone!  You've got to be kidding me.  I wondered, "Can this dude really get away with that?"  And the answer is... YES.

Through the grapevine I heard Mr. Holmes (Kris Kringle) had been cutting his TALONS during school meetings for years.  And since he'd been at the school for 30 years, everybody was afraid to say anything.  This included the Headmaster who had only been there for about 10 years.

Mr. Holmes was one of the ON DUTY study hall monitors in my dorm, so I made it my personal project to know everything there was to know about this guy before I dropped the big question.  I started by chatting with him for a few minutes every night he was around.  Everyone else thought I talked with him to get out of doing homework (that was part of it), but I truly wanted to know what made the MADMAN tick.

Mr. Holmes was a big man.  He stood 6'5 and I'm guessing he weighed in roughly around 290.  I wasn't afraid of him.  I wanted to get to know him... key in on his madness.  How was he so well respected that people were willing to shrug off the fact he was clipping his nails directly onto their heads?

Through our conversations I learned he fought in a war.  I can't recall which one, but it was probably the Revolutionary War.  He also played professional football for the GREEN BAY PACKERS in the 50's.  He was an avid sports fan and a staple in the art department at my school.  He was also a CERAMICS teacher.  I was floored when he told me.  This big maniac threw pots all day?  Yup.  And he was awesome at it.  Did I mention he laughed a lot?  Well he did... And at a decibel level that would frighten a T-Rex.

I got into trouble later that year and was sentenced to Weekend Work Detail during the winter term.  Coincidentally, my job was to shovel the entire Holmes residence, including the driveway, both front and back walkways, porches, and the flat part of the roof just above the porch.  Good thing we were hit with 27 inches of snow on Friday.  Shit.  He laughed at me while I furiously shoveled his 1970's model VOLVO out of a snow drift.  I wanted to Karate chop him in his beard.  Finally, he offered me a cup of hot cocoa and we chatted for a bit on the porch.  He told me about the fierce winters of Green Bay and how hard the playing surface was.  "It was like playing on the TURNPIKE, HAHAHAHA!!!" he cackled.  I stared at him in awe.  He was nuts, but kind of likable. 

Sophomore year I took ceramics.  I thought since I was in with Holmes, I'd cruise to an easy A.  I thought wrong.  Turns out, I'm the WORST potter on the planet.  Clay and I are not friends.  I was worse than Demi Moore in "Ghost" and I didn't even have Patrick Swayze breathing down my neck.  I received a C for my masterful work in the class and was not happy about it.  I tried hard as shit though, ceramics just wasn't my thing.  When Mr. Holmes handed me my grade during the final week of class, he laughed yet again, and I wanted to yell out, "Go clip your nails ya fucking jerk!"

By the time Senior year came around, Mr. Holmes and I were quite friendly.  He was at every one of my football and basketball games.  He always made comments like, "The game's changed quite a bit since my day, HAHAHAHA!!!"  I would just laugh along with the jolly old fellow.  Funny thing is... I never saw the guy around Christmas time.  I used to imagine him up at the North Pole making toys for all the good boys and girls, laughing away... Or maybe he just hibernated for the month of December.

A few weeks before I graduated, I was sitting in another school meeting and I heard it again.  That noise I had heard so many times during High School.  "Clip!"  I turned around just to make sure and there was Holmes sitting in the same spot clipping away at his nails... Scaring the shit out of the Freshman class.  I shook my head and smiled.  I was ready.  Immediately following the meeting, I marched right up to him and said, "Hey Mr. Holmes, how come you clip your nails during school meeting and not at home?"  He stopped in his tracks and looked down at me with the DEVIL in his eyes.  This was obviously not a familiar question.  Without answering he walked on.  I caught up to him and continued, "Isn't it weird how nobody says anything to you?"  He stopped again and just looked at me like I impregnated his Great Granddaughter.  I went on, "It's kind of crazy, right?"  Then he leaned over me continuing to stare at me with this serious scowl and said, "CRAZY, HAHAHAHAHA!!!"  And he kept on walking... Laughing at me along the way.  I just stood there like I'd been hit by a MACK TRUCK.  That mystery will never be solved.

Ten years later I often find myself sitting in my living room clipping my nails in front of the TV.  Although I do it with some tact by keeping a mini trash can beneath me to catch the clippings and I pick up the rest by hand, my roommate still complains.  And when he does, I unleash this diabolical laughter into the air.  I guess that's just me channelling Mr. Holmes.  Every time I cut my nails for the rest of my life, I will think of that WILDMAN.  I bet he's clipping his nails right now at a STARBUCKS... laughing like a mad scientist.  And I bet my bottom dollar... Not a soul in sight says a word to him.  Keep clipping Mr. Holmes.  

I AM IRISH...

And today is ST. PATTY's day.  Ah, what to do, what to do?  How about work?  Yeah, that's what I'm doing.  Perhaps I should call my Mom and talk about her favorite Holiday!  Just kidding... She's Italian, my POPS is Irish, so I think she'll pass on the corned beef and cabbage.  

Everybody keeps asking me if I'm wearing GREEN.  No FRIEND-O, I'm not wearing green, but my eyeballs do everyday.  No, I don't wear eye-shadow, my eyes are just GREEN-ISH.  I think there may be a little green on my boxers though.  Let me check.  Bingo.  So much for separating myself from the masses.

I can't stand when a fun Holiday falls in the middle of the week, especially when you don't have off from work.  In the STATES, St. Patrick's Day is about as important as the NHL finals.  Nobody really cares.  It's like Chinese New Year's up in here... If you know what I mean.  No land mass was discovered on this day.  No life-changing event occurred either.   Really, it's just a day when Catholics are allowed to take a break during LENT.  For all you HEATHENS out there... this means you can eat meat if you gave that up, get shitfaced if you gave up alcohol, or get laid if you gave up sex (sounds crazy, but Catholics can be that way).  Ever heard of the Crusades?

Every year on the 17th of March, everyone wants to celebrate by doing the kegs and eggs thing in the morning, drink GREEN beer, and pin the tail on some IRISH DAME they met at some bar around NOON.  By the time they try to take this unlucky lady home at 8pm, she's completely blacked out... What's the point?  And how the hell are you meeting people out on the town at NOON?  Isn't it Wednesday?  Doesn't anybody work anymore?  Fuck.  I need your job.

A little history behind St. Patrick's Day...  Saint Patrick was a man (obviously) who was kidnapped by Irish Raiders at 16 and held captive to Ireland as a slave.  One night while sleeping, he believed GOD came to him in a dream.   And what he said was, "Yo Patty, you have to get the fuck out of here and head for the coast.  Return to Britain ASAP!"  So of course he escaped... And as soon as he got home, he studied to be a priest.  Go figure.

Later in 432, he was called back to Ireland as a bishop.  (For those of you non-Catholics, a bishop is step or so up from being a priest. Basically he got a promotion)  The Irish who once captured him, now needed his help.  Again, God spoke to him... "Go save those poor bastards!"  Man, The HOLY SPIRIT talked to this guy a lot.  He must have been REALLY popular.  So Patty left for Ireland to save the country from poverty, famine, and of course... other religions.  He used the SHAMROCK in his teachings, saying it symbolized the HOLY TRINITY (the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit).  It didn't take much for those poor drunk maniacs to believe.

After spreading the word of the Almighty for 30 years; Patrick died on March 17th, 461.  He gave the Irish people love, peace within, hope, and a great holiday to get wasted on for ALL TIME.  

What began as a purely CATHOLIC holiday has now become more of a celebration of Ireland's culture.  Now EVERYFUCKINGBODY celebrates this day.  Every schmuck on MELROSE is sporting green today.  The MUSLIMS next door, the people we pigeon-holed as terrorists down the block, the cool INDIAN dudes in 7ELEVEN (well maybe that's just because their uniforms are green everyday?), Asians (who hate being called that by the way), regular Jews and Hasidic Jews, too.  well maybe not the HASID'S, but I bet they want to, cause it's ridiculously hot and the black get-up they rock has to be uncomfortable as HELL.  And who wants to wear the same thing everyday?  Weird.

So... What a day.  A GREEN day.  It's another excuse for everyone on the planet to party.  Gotta love it.  Embrace it.  Thanks, Patrick.  I just wish the day you croaked would have fallen on a Saturday this year.

Have fun out there tonight you phony Irish jokers.  Don't drink and drive.  Don't text and drive.  Don't make out and drive (unless she's really HOT).  What I'm getting at here is... take a GOD DAMN cab!  You kids can first base just fine in the back.

I AM PROUD...

To be an AMERICAN most days.  Well, not proud enough to belt out the song baring the same name, but proud nonetheless.  I enjoy the freedoms we have in this country.  You can pretty much get anything you want if you can afford it.  You can dine on exotic foods, sip fine wines, buy all the flat screen TVs you desire, and almost say whatever the hell you want without having your privates chopped off in a public arena.  Personally I can't afford to do or buy all the things I'd like, but I get by.  Someday I'll be able to spoil myself a little... I hope.

Our country is rich with history.  Some good, some bad.  We fought for our freedom during the American Revolution demanding the rights our new nation's people deserved.  Abraham Lincoln abolished slavery in 1865.  The long winded Woman's Suffrage Movement came to an end on August 20th 1920 and women were granted the right to VOTE.  Dr. Martin Luther King marched for Civil Rights in the 50's and 60's and eventually won those long deserved rights in 1964.  I'm not sure why it took so long for some of these issues to pass, but better late than never I guess.   On December 7th 1941, Pearl Harbor was bombed by the Japanese.  During the Civil Rights Movement people were hosed down and beaten by police.  On September 11th 2001 the World Trade Center was brought to rubble during a terrorist attack.  Another plane hit the Pentagon and another crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.  As a result of these attacks on 9/11/2001, 2,973 American lives were lost.  In August of 2005, Hurricane KATRINA demolished the great city of New Orleans and 1,836 people died and it took days and weeks for the proper help to arrive.  Why some of these things happened, I'll never know... but I can take a guess... Mother Nature.  Money.  Greed.  Power.

I was raised CATHOLIC in a MIDDLE CLASS and LIBERAL family.  My father was a UNION worker.  He drove a truck for well over 30 years, probably 40.  He was an officer of the Teamsters Union with Local 478.  I still remember some of the Teamsters getting together at my house to discuss sanitary working conditions, wages, and fighting for the respect they deserved.  Those men worked ridiculously hard to stay afloat.  They refused to allow their lack of education or where they came from hold them back.  All they wanted was to keep a decent roof over their heads and food on the table for their families.

The Middle Class used to make up a great deal of our country.  Unions kept people paid and paid decently.  Then wealthy people took over.  We elected a few puppets for Presidents and the Middle Class was fading.  So many people lost their jobs in the 80's and why you ask?  So BANKS could profit.  Cut jobs, profits increase, stocks stay up.  Move plants to different countries, cheaper labor, more product, stocks stay up.  It was really sad.  I don't even know what's made in this country anymore.  I know a few American Apparel T-shirts I have are, but I'm sure the hat on my head was made in Taiwan, the car I drive in Japan, and the slippers on my feet were definitely made in India.

So what happened to the Middle Class?  I'll tell you... It's almost nonexistent.  Assholes like RONALD REAGAN destroyed the Unions (who were made up of a major percentage of the Middle Class) and forced millions of jobs to disappear right before our eyes.  As a result, people were encouraged to live on this fictional currency called CREDIT.  This set up up Americans to be in DEBT for LIFE.  Who profited on this encouragement?  BANKS.  And who Runs the banks?  RICH PEOPLE.  Who ran the rich people?  The government?  Nope.  The government, the banks, and the rich folks were all one in the same... Since at the time the government was made up of Bankers from Goldman Sachs, the rich people were running IT.  Ronald Reagan took direction much better as a President (too bad it was from the wrong fucking people).  He was a shitty actor... and an even worse PRESIDENT.  Great job deconstructing the class of people that made this country what it is, douchebag.  

Today people are struggling more than ever.  I realize there are problems in other countries and I do believe we should send aid immediately, but we need to get our priorities straight and take care of our own.  Every other person you meet is without HEALTHCARE.  Every third person you meet is out of work (and I'm not talking about actors).  What the fuck is going on?

We need to open our eyes people.  Those earning in the top 1% of our country are running this place.  The government has kept the wealthy at their side so they can get even richer.  It's sickening.  Back in the day (1940's or so) the wealthiest people in our nation were taxed at a much greater rate than those in the middle class.  Now those same dickheads making all that money have arranged it so everyone is taxed almost equally.  It's not fair.  I know life isn't fair, but come the fuck on.  Should we watch our own people die because they can't afford healthcare?  Should we just stand by while people we know and love get pushed out of their homes?  I think not.

I don't consider myself an avid follower of politics, but I often find a way into heated discussions about some topics.  One of my best friends comes from a similar background as I do, yet we have completely different political views.  He's a Wall Street guy; I'm a Main Street guy.  This confuses me, since we both come from Main Street.  I just don't understand the REPUBLICAN way of thinking.  How can you be educated and NOT LIBERAL?  How can you not believe in Gay Marriage?  How can you not believe in a woman's right to choose?  How can you not believe in tax breaks for the middle and lower classes?  How can you not believe laborers have a right to form unions to protect themselves?  I don't get it.  Are you like one of those assholes that didn't believe in Civil Rights?  Should women not be allowed to vote?  You may be thinking I sound stupid, but if you disagree with me you're bred from the same cloth as the haters that came before you.  It saddens me to know many of the people I love have opposing views.

Most families of wealth dislike unions (which are predominantly made up of laborers).  These are the people who fix your cars, teach your children, build your houses, fly our planes, and more oft than not are the men and women fighting YOUR WARS.  How can we not pay them sufficiently?  And somehow we pay the people who handle rich people's money and other's who hand out bullshit loans to those that can't really afford to pay them back so much more.  Are they more important?  No.  They're actually less important.  The rich want to overwork people and pay them shit to make their products.  It's ludicrous.  This isn't some 3rd world country.  This is our home.  We need to take care of the people that inhabit this great land.  We need to treat them like human beings, not rats.  People that work hard for a living deserve the right to an education, a safe home, healthcare, and sufficient food to eat no matter what class you come from.

We're supposed to be living in a prosperous land built upon equal opportunity.  This couldn't be further from the truth.  Remember a little thing called THE CONSTITUTION?  It's "WE THE PEOPLE of the United States, in order to form a more perfect UNION..." not "We the Rich People of the US, in order to destroy the Unions..."

If you start from the bottom, it's very hard to climb, but it is possible.  That's what's great about this country.  It's really hard though.  Now if you come from a wealthy family; it's a cake walk to success.  It's unsettling.  The people are supposed to be running this country, not banks and big businesses.  I'm disgusted when I think about GREED standing in the forefront.  We're veering in the wrong direction.  Being greedy doesn't make you happy.  It doesn't mean you're motivated.  It means you're an asshole.  So go ahead and work hard.  Make all the money you can.  Get a respectable job.  One that allows you to sleep well at night.  Don't take advantage of other human beings.  Don't thrive on someone else's misfortune.  Provide for your family and don't be a scumbag.  You may be doing really well, but that doesn't mean you need 12 cars, 20 TVs, a $30,000 purse and $2,000 shoes.  If you have earned the right to afford these luxuries, think about giving back.  Give back to your community.  Realize you're privileged enough to make a difference... And make a difference in somebody else's life, not just your own.  Be selfless, not selfish.  And make sure you think twice when you're voting.  Make sure you think about the people who are protecting your freedoms (firemen, police officers, soldiers) because they're the people we're fucking over.

I love this country.  I love the beautiful people in it.  I love its diversity.  I love the freedom.  I'd hate to see it destroyed to make a profit at the expense of its people.  We have a new idealistic Sheriff in town and he has some stack of papers on his desk.  In the past year and change he's probably gotten through about 3 pages, but let's hope he gets it done... And remembers the people that built the house he's living in.  To change... and having a country to be proud of.