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anti-press ezine 2003 04 20
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< ANTI-PRESS EZINE #37 >
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"We're Positive About The Negative"
This E-dition filed 4/20/03.
(C) Copyright 2003 Anti-Press
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* Ohmygod! They Drive Cars And Vote, Too! *
Minimum wages = minimum IQ?
A successful business must be more than a good product: it must also provide
decent service.
And we hate bad service.
A cafe ain't a bar. A cafe is a place where you can sit down, enjoy a cup
of up, and read or write for a while. Some light music in the background
adds to the comfortable ambience.
One afternoon we were sitting in an alleged cafe and THE MUSIC STARTED
BLASTING, HARD ROCK PUNK, AND WE YELLED ABOVE THE DIN TO THE GIRL WORKING
BEHIND THE COUNTER THAT THE MUSIC WAS A LITTLE LOUD AND SHE SAID, "WELL, I
DIDN'T ADJUST THE VOLUME, IT JUST CAME ON LIKE THAT," AND SHE SHRUGGED HER
SHOULDERS AND WALKED OUTSIDE TO TALK WITH A FRIEND, closing the front door
on the LOUD EAR-SPLITTING MUSIC and stood outside for a few minutes, calmly
talking to her friend, unable to hear the LOUD FUGGING NOISE INSIDE THE CAF
THAT WAS MAKING OUR EARS BLEED.
Despite the better quality coffee, we started to infrequent that cafe and
its asstutue employee.
We're almost at the point where we want to sponsor a bill in Congress that
requires companies to hire employees that can pass a basic IQ test.
At another establishment we experienced the extremes of heat and cold during
the winter. The heat in the front part was turned way up. Because the
place was too warm, the employee decided to turn on the air conditioner in
the back instead of just turning down the heat. So the air conditioner
warred with the heater and we were caught between the opposing forces. Of
course, there's the positive side: the power company makes more money this
way.
Another time the same place was under-heated during a deep freeze. The
sub-zero cold seeped into the shop; the heater couldn't put out enough
warmth. You had to leave your parka on to stay comfortable.
One night during the cold spell we stopped in and found the heater turned
all the way up, making the shop somewhat tolerable. But we noticed that the
air conditioner was on again but it wasn't blowing any cold air. We asked
the guy behind the counter why he had the AC on. He said that he set the AC
for 80 degrees Fahrenheit so that it would produce warm air.
For some reason it didn't work.
The next day we told the owner the story about using an air conditioner to
produce heat. She replied: "Well, why wouldn't that work?"
Maybe that our minimum IQ bill should also include employers.ÊÊÊÊ
* Police Have A Load On Their Hands *
Years ago wire services across America carried a news story that shocked the
public. A horrific transgression had been committed here in the heart of
NENYland. A pair of pastoral perps stole valuable items from a farm in the
Malone, NY area.
Did they rustle cattle? No. Did they make off with farm equipment or loot
a cache of cash? Nah.
The state police arrested the perps for the theft of two bags of manure.
Now it seems manure-related crime in on the rise in NENYland. A man is on
trial for the murder of a couple on their farm property. Guess how the
alleged murderer allegedly hid the alleged bodies of his alleged victims?
Nope, he didn't dispose of them in a haystack or at the bottom of a well.
Let's say the accused is allegedly a piler, not a filer.
On a less extreme note, an anti-war protester is scheduled to appear in
court next week, charged with heaping manure on the front lawn of a military
recruiting center in the town of Plattsburgh. Signs with anti-war messages
were stuck in each pile. (Did the signs feature doodles?) The alleged
political manure spreader apparently got away without a trace; no one knew
who was the fertile brain behind the fecal affront.
This act outraged local patriots. They held a special rally near the
recruiting center last weekend, adorned with Stars-And-Stripes forever. To
draw fellow patriots to the event they ran a display ad in the Plattsburgh
paper that claimed the recruiting center had been the target of
"desecration." (Funny-- we didn't know the Pope had blessed that particular
building.)
But the police soon caught a suspect in the case of the dumpy dissenter.
Was it through hard police work, dogged determination and keen detection?
Nope. Allegedly the suspect wrote a letter to the Plattsburgh paper,
describing in detail what he had done, and he made sure to include his name.
What an activist mastermind! How did the cops ever track him down and
arrest him?
A local patriot wrote a letter to the paper, urging other true Americans to
attend town court "wearing something patriotic to show your contempt"
towards the defendant, i.e. pooh-pooh the party pooper. The letter-writer
did state that nothing had to be said during the proceedings; he didn't
advocate anything beyond a show of colors.
But when it comes to nationalism, emotions can run high. So now this
protester might have to deal with the fury of some believers in the
Red(neck), White and Blue.
If found guilty, we would provide this friendly advice to the protester:
Your act of dissent is a flop. Sorry, you only came across as an evildooer.
Pay your fine and scatdaddle! Most people around here can be tolerant.
But it only takes one irate redneck to get yourself in a heap of trouble --
or maybe in a pile of it.
* A Brain Too Far *
By Stan Spire
"If you feel that way, then move to Iraq!"
Here I was, wrapping up a shouting match with a robo-patriot, our loud
voices destroying the placid ambience of the Cubbyhole Cafe.
"This is my country," I replied, "just as much as it yours."
Gawd. The 1960s are back. Here I am, time warped, questioning my country's
involvement in a questionable war. It's as if I've been sucked into a time
machine and my mind is stuck in the body of a first generation hippie, a
pacifist -- even though I'm not one. But it doesn't matter because here and
now this robo-patriot has mis-identified me as a cowardly hippie, he's
locked in and all systems are go, he's firing away.
The arguments are the same but only the names and places have changed. In
the old days a robo-patriot would tell a dissenter to move to Russia instead
of questioning dubious decisions made by the President. After all, the Red
Menace was going to take over the world unless we fought that
mind-controlling plague, especially in Vietnam. Yes, Vietnam fell to the
commies -- and the Soviet Union fell apart, an empire too big for its own
britches.
But don't tell a robo-patriot that the American Empire might go the way of
the Roman and Soviet ones. Such talk supports the enemy.
But history won't be denied. America has made mistakes in the past, even
during the Good War, World War II. Those mistakes should be remembered,
especially today with this second Gulf War.
When the invasion of Iraq wasn't going as expected -- the coalition of the
willing was facing the possibility of its supply lines being stretched too
thin -- the phrase "A Bridge Too Far" was used by some commentators. It
refers to the title of the nonfiction book by Cornelius Ryan that was made
into a second-rate movie of the same name. In September 1944 a plan was put
into motion to end the war before Christmas. The Allies dropped
paratroopers behind enemy lines in Holland. The objective was to secure the
bridges so that the Allies could advance into Germany. But Operation Market
Garden didn't work out as planned: the last bridge over the Rhine River in
Arnhem was "too far" to be held during the battle. Thousands of soldiers
died needlessly in this disastrous campaign.
But don't repeat such facts to a robo-patriot.
All you end up with is a verbal clash at the local coffeehouse.
The Cubbyhole owner stood between me and Mr. Amdroid, the robo-patriot. She
was telling me that it was a public place, that I shouldn't be shouting. I
wasn't going to back off; I'm really not a peacenik, especially when dealing
with a browbeating conservative. I didn't care if I was going to be
permanently barred from the Cubbyhole: Mr. Amdroid had baited me and I was
giving him more than he had expected. One of the dangers when you go into
battle, overestimating the nature of your foe.
So how did I end up in this stupid confrontation?
You can call it home front war nerves. Or maybe I care too much about
troops being wasted as pawns in someone's fatally-flawed crusade.
On this sunny morning I had been sitting at a table, minding my own
business. Mr. Amdroid was talking to the owner at the front door, going on
about the war in Iraq and related topics. At this point he was making some
sense. For example, he complained how some protesters would interrupt a
conservative speaker in the public, shouting him down. Yes, it is
hypocritical to talk about free speech when you don't practice it yourself.
I was only paying half-attention to Mr. Amdroid. I muttered something about
the war, nothing really radical, and returned to reading the local rag
newspaper. The owner mentioned that I should be careful, that Mr. Amdroid
was a Republican. I just kept reading the paper, not really interested in
saying anything else.
His sensors detected an enemy. Locked on, like a missile seeking heat, he
came back into the coffeehouse, ending up at the front counter, still
talking about the war with the owner.
Now Mr. Ambroid was going on with some over-the-top Pro-War, America: Love
It or Leave It statements. As he bloviated, I noticed that two women in the
other corner, one in her apparently in her 70s, the other middle-aged, were
unimpressed with robo-patriot's stance. A couple of times the older woman
muttered, "That's not true."
It's hard to ignore someone who states "facts" such as:
"Look at those old hippie protestors. Well, they're too old to do any good
now. And those young hippies, they can't change anything."
"We should re-instate the draft. That way everyone will have to serve, even
the kids from rich families."
"We should never question what the President is doing. After all, Bush was
elected by the people."
OK, that was it. I turned and looked at Mr. Amdroid, sharing some
counterpoints with him. Of course, he kept trying to attack me, not my
points. But I kept pressing ahead:
POINT: Al Gore won over 500,000 popular votes, indicating the true will of
the people. Bush wasn't democratically elected. (In a true democracy ever
vote counts.)
POINT: Because of the Electoral College, some shenanigans in Florida, and
the conservative majority of the Supreme Court, Bush was "selected" as
President.
POINT: Re-instating the draft won't guarantee that everyone will serve, even
kids from rich families. George Bush, Jr. sat out the Vietnam War in the
comfort of the Texas National Guard, thanks to George Sr.
Mr. Amdroid kept interrupting me. Before I could finish a point he
attempted to derail my train of thought. Annoyed, I said: "It's your kind
of thinking that is getting American soldiers killed for nothing."
At this point the robo-patriot tried to out-shout me. Hey, I thought that
tactic was only used by hippie dissenters against conservative speakers.
As our voices escalated, I noticed Mr. Amdroid couldn't directly address my
counterpoints. He was programmed to ignore/deny the facts and use standard
ad hominem attacks, such as: "Well, I was in the military, I served my
country, did you?"
I told him no, that if there was another draft for a stupid war like Vietnam
or the one now in Iraq, I wouldn't serve, I would move to Canada.
By this time the Cubbyhole owner was standing between us; Mr. Amdroid had
retreated to the front door. Then his circuits automatically clicked,
operating his mouth to say that I should move to [fill in the field with the
name of an "enemy" country or choose one from the database].
Eventually he clanked away, a mechanized iron man with a tinfoil brain. I
sat down and thought over what had happened. Usually I try to debate an
issue with someone calmly, not get sucked into a heated contest of "Oh, ya?
I can yell louder than you!" Was I being too dogmatic? Did I overreact?
Unlike a model-soldier/computerized citizen I could have second thoughts.
The more I reviewed the incident, I saw only one outcome. Mr. Amdroid was
brainwashed by his military training, thinking that a good soldier only
obeys orders without second thoughts, without question, do or die. His
robotic gray matter was too far gone: it was fossilized ROM.
Maybe I was judging him too harshly, stereotyping him?
Yes, I was. Treating him the same way he treated me.
An organic, not a mechanical, response.
My human flaw.
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WHERE WE'RE AT: Anti-Press Ezine radiates from our Precision Reality Center.
We're presently entrapped in the alleged city of Plattsburgh, northeastern
New York State (NENYland), USA. (Eagerly waiting for the Easter bunny ...
stun gun in hand.)
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