Parking: The Rules of Engagement

The building I work in happens to be equipped with a basement parking garage, and about 70% of the spaces are reserved for employees. The rest are either visitor spaces or handicapped. A few weeks ago, one of our building’s conference rooms was rented out to a realtor’s association. This meant that for several days we had thirty real estate agents competing over seventeen visitor spaces in the basement parking garage. Those realtors unable to get a coveted visitor spot began parking in the employee’s reserved spaces, and when confronted claimed they hadn’t noticed the reflective metal signs or block lettering (both of which say “Reserved”) adorning each space.

I found this somewhat ironic considering that as realtors, the majority of their income is contingent upon the general population’s ability to recognize and comprehend the information on signs. Many of those realtors who were unable to procure a visitor spot but could read the reserved signs, produced handicapped hanging tags and used the pair of spaces reserved for disabled citizens. Judging by the number and variety of vehicles that occupied our handicapped spots over the span of the conference it appeared that nearly a third of those in attendance were unable to walk under their own power. I began to think that one of two things was happening:

• The conference we were hosting was for the National Association of Unobservant Paraplegic Realtors.
• Some of the attendants had slightly compromised their integrity to ensure that they did not have to walk to the elevators.

My disdain over their parking spaces reminded me that in a society of personal mobility, the parking space is a powerful status symbol. We will cruise up and down the aisles of a lot searching for the closest space, often wasting more time than we save; and nothing can match the frustration of seeing the mirage of an empty curbside spot on a rainy night only to discover it is really a child’s scooter nestled between a pair of GMC Yukons. Our fervor for parking has caused many people to lose their tempers, and in some cases, their very lives.

In order to prevent such tragedies, I have penned a simple set of rules that can help today’s motorist avoid such confrontations:

A. If I have my turn signal on and I am patiently waiting on the car in front of me to back out, this is not a signal for you swoop in and take the spot they vacated. Contrary to what you may believe, my blinker is not intended to function as a “jerk beacon.”

B. If you are traveling the wrong way down an aisle and you encounter me as I progress up the aisle correctly, you have waived your right to give me the “what’s up!?” arms or any reasonable facsimile thereof.  

C. The finger should be used sparingly. Someone fairly beating you a spot before you can get around to it does not necessitate use of “the bird.” However, an exception can be made if the vehicle in question is a Hummer that is adorned with sticker-silhouettes of nude women or has a bumper sticker that says “Follow Me to Your Mom’s House.”

D. Unless you are transporting a trauma victim or find yourself taking small-arms fire from another customer, there is no reason to top 45 miles per hour in a parking lot. You would have a difficult time selling the “BBQ Emergency” defense to a jury during your vehicular homicide trial. 

E. If you have a cart of groceries and are making your way back to your parked car, do not walk down the center of the aisle while you argue with your girlfriend over where you left your Subaru Outback. When combined with a violation of rule D, it might become your last trip to Kroger.

F. It you do not possess the skill necessary to park a Ford F-750 Hindenburg Crew Cab without necessitating three spaces, perhaps you should select a smaller automobile to take your kids to Wendys.

The Suicide Note

On a cool September weekend, thirty-five year old Mitchell Heisman walked onto the storied campus of Harvard University and made his way to the Memorial Church. After taking in the view for a few brief moments, he spotted a group of about twenty tourists who were snapping pictures and discussing the aesthetic beauty of one of America’s most prestigious institutions. Perhaps he desired an audience, or maybe the timing was coincidental; but for whatever reason, Mitchell chose that moment to calmly produce the silver revolver he kept in his pocket. As the horrified tourists looked on, he placed the weapon to his temple and abruptly ended his own life.

Author of "The Suicide Note" Mitchell Heisman

Shortly thereafter, four hundred of Mitchell’s friends and family members received a cryptic email message from him that contained a hyperlink to a website. When the recipients followed the link, they were presented with a 1,905 page document succinctly titled “Suicide Note.” The document, which donned 1,433 footnotes, a table of contents, and lengthy bibliography, covers a variety of meandering topics. In the same email, he instructed his family to allow the manifesto to remain on the Internet so that it would be accessible to the general populace after his death.

So what drives a person to prepare a suicide document so massive it eclipses even modern pieces of legislation? After downloading and skimming through the note, it would appear that Mr. Heisman’s self-destructive condition is not the result of acute, short-term depression but rather a focused lifetime quest to disprove the validity of having a focused lifetime quest. An infrequent part-time employee at several bookstores, Mitchell was able to fund his master-work with a substantial inheritance from his deceased father. His family was under the impression he was researching a book.

While it is certainly not your typical suicide note, I must say that what Heisman’s essay lacks in emotional impact, it compensates for with sheer annotation. And at the risk of sounding irreverent, would it have been too much to ask for some engaging chapter titles? Just scanning through the table of contents is a chore:

·          

• "The Anglo-Saxon Genius for Genetically Maladaptive Behavior”
• “The Norman Destruction of the Anglo-Saxon Aristocracy and Other Genetically Adaptive Behaviors.
• “God is Technology: How the Singularity of Monotheism Transcended Biology and Primed the Technological Genesis of God.”
• “From Incorporation to Symbolization: The Ancient Rupture off Biological Nature’s Path.”
• “Class Discrimination and the Refinement of English Tribalism.”

It should also be noted that he spends an alarming portion of the note referencing “the penis of Jesus” in salaciously titled subsections like, “How Rome was Raped by Jesus’s Penis of the Spirit, Contracting a Deadly Virus.” Under these headings he equates the spread of Christianity through Rome to modern venereal diseases like HIV. 

While I support all forms of academic inquiry, I am not sure that there is much merit in comparing the proliferation of a major world religion to a sexually transmitted disease.

Once the metaphorical genitals of the risen Lord have been sufficiently discussed, Heisman turns his formidable vocabulary to the modern American political system with a section entitled: “Barack Obama: Supernigger.” While the title might conjure images of an unfathomably offensive superhero, Heisman uses the paragraph to dissect the significance of ethnicity in politics (and it is every bit as engaging as it sounds.)

Having thoroughly angered Christians, African-Americans, and anyone with a beginner’s thesaurus, he waxes poetically on the intrinsic bias of…..Zzzzzzzz.......

“Tracing the biases that hinder objectivity, and

attempting to uproot those biases, leads towards the notion

that self-preservation itself is a bias. If life has no inherent

meaning, then self-preservation cannot be judged

fundamentally superior to self-destruction, or vice versa.

Self-preservation is exerts bias, for example, in a bias against

this very observation that self-preservation is not

fundamentally superior to self-destruction.”

My problem with Mr. Heisman is twofold:

• Like all true nihilists, he believes that our existence is without objective meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value. This conclusion is normally reached by spending the formidable years of one’s life attempting to discredit conflicting philosophies and then penning mind-numbingly bland essays that are only read by people who believe that the massive effort you expended was as misguided and useless as their own fleeting existence. Their apathy toward your work then reinforces your original belief that your existence (mostly spent researching nihilism) is pointless. Pure. Genius.

• You have to be pretty selfish to write something this boring and call it a “suicide note” just to make your surviving relatives read it. A more appropriate title would have been “At Length.”

If you are looking for the perfect gift for the nihilist on your Christmas list, or just wish to devour a piece of literature every bit as lengthy as Stephen King’s The Stand (minus the engaging plot, characters, or ability to successfully fight drowsiness)  you can snag a copy at www.suicidenote.info

While many of you may feel that I have been rather crass concerning the recently departed Mr. Heisman, let us not forget that he squandered away a significant inheritance to research and compose an inflammatory manifesto he purposefully rendered himself unavailable to defend at the time of its publishing. Besides, if he is correct, none of this matters anyway…….  

Hell & The Supreme Court

I am sure by now that most of you have heard of Westboro Baptist Church based in Topeka, Kansas. It was founded in 1955 by Pastor Fred Phelps and maintains a membership of about seventy to seventy-five people (about half of which are the direct or indirect fruit of Mr. Phelps apparently potent loins). However, it is not the congregation’s size or demographic that makes it unique, it is their theology. Fearing that human beings have forgotten the wrath of God, they took it upon themselves to compile a list of items that Jehovah can’t stand. Among them:

Mexico, Sweden, Canada, Israel, China, Italy, The United States, Jews, Catholics, Mormons, Methodists, Baptists, Muslims, Hindus, Lutherans, Episcopalians, Barack Obama, Jehovah’s Witnesses, NASA, Presbyterians, Homosexuals, Abortion, and all those who consider themselves Eastern Orthodox. As of this writing, they have released no official statement concerning the existence or intensity of anger felt by the Almighty toward the Amish, Scientologists, or third season of Dexter.  

Apparently we are running low on deceased children...

V.B.S. Arts & Crafts Westboro Style

Just F.Y.I

While they spread their message through traditional channels such as Sunday worship services and potluck dinners, they have also proven to be a rather tech-savvy bunch. Armed with an expensive account and flair for marketing, it appears that they have singlehandedly relieved GoDaddy.com of their entire “Too Hot for TV” collection of domain names. A few highlights:

www.jewskilledjesus.com

www.godhatesfags.com

www.godhatessweeden.com

www.godhatescanada.com

www.godhatesamerica.com

www.godhatestheworld.com

www.priestsrapeboys.com

One of the most striking features of their Internet presence is the “Parodies” section of their website. Here, marginally talented congregants reinterpret popular hit songs by Queen, John Denver, Garth Brooks, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Lady Gaga. In fact, the list is so extensive it would appear that copyright laws are also amongst the numerous items that displease the Lord. The effectiveness of this unique “music ministry” is debatable, but I can tell you that after sitting through their butchered version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah I was certainly convinced that someone should burn in Hell.

But even their Internet presence, as compelling as it is, has not focused as much attention on the group as their picketing activities. With an admitted travel budget exceeding $200,000 per year, the group visits all fifty states to protest everything from parades to funerals. They tote signs adorned with saying like “AIDS Cures Fags” and “Thank God for Dead Soldiers.” In fact, it is their attitude toward the later which has placed them in the center of an epic battle that has the potential to shift the very foundation of free speech in this country.

Because they believe that each U.S. combat death is a direct manifestation of God’s anger toward America’s lax stance on homosexuality, they gleefully celebrate this “holy judgment” with a macabre assortment of offensive signs. As is their routine, church members constantly scour the Internet for listings of funerals for American servicemen and servicewomen. They then notify the local authorities, post their intention to picket at said funeral on their website, and then hop on a plane with signs in tow. Once they arrive at their destination, they strategically place themselves along public thoroughfares where they will be visible to mourners and residents. By shrewdly refraining from actually harassing mourners at the funeral home or even setting foot on cemetery grounds, they ensure that their actions do not violate the Respect for America's Fallen Heroes Act which prohibits protests within three hundred feet of a National Cemetery during a ceremony. Their legal dexterity is no accident, as eleven of Pastor Phelps thirteen children have law degrees and one of his daughters often represents the congregation in litigation.

On March 10, 2006, Westboro members arrived in Westminster, Maryland to protest the funeral of Marine Lance Corporal Matthew A. Snyder. Fortunately Matthew’s father, Albert Snyder, was given enough advance notice to reroute the funeral procession and ensure that none of the mourners encountered the group from Westboro during the journey to the graveside. There was, however, no escaping the local media coverage of the protest which Albert felt had irrevocably tainted the burial of his fallen son. Snyder was so incensed by the actions of Westboro and its pastor that he took them to court, and in October of 2007 he was awarded $5 Million for “intentional infliction of emotional distress” and “invasion privacy” amongst other things.

Westboro appealed the decision, and two years later the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals reversed the earlier ruling ordered Snyder to pay Westboro’s legal fees. Predictably, the battle has now reached the Federal Supreme Court and arguments are scheduled to begin on October sixth. While no one knows exactly what will happen, there are some legal precedents:

1. In 1969’s Brandenburg vs. Ohio, the Supreme Court ruled that Ku Klux Klan leaders could neither be fined nor imprisoned for hateful rhetoric or speeches as long as they did not incite immediate acts of lawlessness. The catalyst was a filmed rally where robed Klansman referenced revenge on “niggers and Jews” and accused the United States government of actively suppressing “the white, Caucasian race.”

2. In 1977’s National Socialist Party of America v. Village of Skokie, the Supreme Court ruled that a Neo-Nazi group had the right to peacefully march through the streets of Skokie, Illinois while brandishing signs adorned with swastikas. The National Socialist Party chose Skokie because it was a predominately Jewish community and, at that time, the home of several Holocaust survivors. The court decided that while the Nazi group’s actions were unimaginably offensive and hurtful, they did not constitute a “clear and present danger” to the citizens.

I will be the first to admit that Westboro’s situation has created the cruelest of ironies: An organization that exploits America’s unique freedoms to desecrate the funerals of the very people who make those freedoms a reality. I cannot fathom the outrage felt by the family and friends of these fallen heroes when they are subjected to the detestable tactics of this hate group masquerading as a religious organization, but it is equally difficult for me to fathom reducing the personal freedoms that protect them. We are in the unique position to shape the legacy of Westboro; either we allow them to collapse under the unsustainable weight of their own misguided hatred or place them in the history books as an organization that incited emotional reactions powerful enough to shift the very moorings of our Constitution. If there is one thing that I am absolutely convinced of, it is that Westboro does not deserve the honor being labeled as martyrs (legal, religious, or otherwise) and if we start fining or imprisoning them for their picketing at funerals that is exactly what they will become.

When it is all said and done, Westboro congregants would insist that their only goal is to remind the rest of the world that God gets pissed when human beings misrepresent His sovereignty with their actions. I have a feeling that one day soon, no will be able to attest to that more than them.

 

A Craigslist Experiment Part 2: Gigs & Missed Connections

Category 1 - Missed Connections

This is where anonymity and yearning meet. Let’s say that you are in a Circle K picking up a few Oscar Meyer Lunchables when you notice that the co-ed at the counter is quite attractive. You can’t get up the nerve to ask for her number so you go home and post your feelings on craiglist hoping that she sees it and feels the urge to reciprocate your sentiments. Thus a missed opportunity is effectively salvaged. Below are a few real ads from my local craigslist:

“I came into your store this morning and I was in awe. I didn't catch your name but I know you read mine on my shirt.”

           This young entrepreneur is ahead of the curve. By ensuring that his name appears prominently on his outerwear, he eliminates the possibility of being confused with the other creepy middle-aged guy who made the cashier uncomfortable that day. 

“You were shopping with a friend and a giant balloon! You = brunette, thin, and amazing.”

There is nothing a potential mate likes better than flirt math. I regret having not utilized such a powerful device during my own courtship with my wife. You = Hot, Me=Single, Us=Destiny. 

“We struck up a conversation near some ferrets and it seemed we hit it off really well”

              This was from a young man seeking the woman that he met at a PetCo. I got nothing….

There were also several ads where the person would comment that “you would definitely remember what I was wearing.” My question is, how ridiculous do you have to look to stand out that much in a Tennessee Wal-Mart? Are you wearing a rented sea-horse costume?  Perhaps you were rockin’ a leather ascot? At any rate, curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see if overly vague (and seemingly one-sided) secret infatuations really generated any replies. So I penned an anonymous ad of my own:

My dear,

                I beg your forgiveness for the cryptic nature of this communication, but I wish to protect my anonymity and your virtue. It would seem that, whether by coincidence or intelligent design, we share a common path to our morning destinations. I first became aware of your presence several weeks prior to this posting on a Monday or Tuesday morning when your femininely-adorned coupe graced the rearview mirror of my non-descript sedan. Enraptured by your delicate features, graceful countenance, and conscientious use of your turn-signal; I found myself reduced to a common highway voyeur. At the risk of self-depreciation, I admit that highlight of my existence is the brief eye-contact afforded me as you pass.

Unwilling to resign myself to a life devoid of passion and fraught with regret, I devised a simple, yet effective method of communication to ensure that any correspondence to this query is genuine. For three consecutive days, I signaled you by placing an inanimate object on the dashboard of my car. While the object itself is ordinary, its context within my vehicle is not and I trust that you took notice of it during our subtle flirtations. If, by some delightful coincidence, you find yourself reading this post and wish to strengthen our tenuous connection; please respond expeditiously and reference the aforementioned token.

Sincerely,

Your Highway Paramour

The ad was placed in my local craigslist and then reposted in Houston, TX and Oakland, California. While no one claimed to be the object of my affection, all of the human responses where complimentary of my devotion to the woman in question. Several ladies were glad to know that there were still hopeless romantics out there, and one requested the identity of the mysterious dashboard item I referenced.  

If anyone has had success with this section of craigslist I would be interested to hear about it.

Category 2 – Gigs

While posting in the “Jobs” category of craigslist costs you $25 an item, you can post in the “Gigs” category for free. “Gigs” is broken down into several subcategories, with my favorite being the “talent” section. While it was originally envisioned for casting directors, and other procurers of talent, I suspect most posts are the work of teenage boys whose ads usually read something like this:

        Nude Model Needed! Please Send Photo and Phone Number. Must be Hot. This is for realsies!

In order to gain access to the largest demographic possible, I posted the following ad for a “narcissism assistant” to the talent, creative, and writing sections:

I am looking for someone to reinforce my fragile self-esteem by shadowing me throughout the day while constantly reminding me that everyone I encounter is inferior to me in both physical attractiveness and cognitive ability. If the day has provided me with an unusual amount of adversity, I may also require use of a commercially available theme song to be determined at a later date. If use of said theme song is deemed necessary, you will be required to accompany me while carrying my iPod and speakers.

You will be provided with a pager in case one of the following emergency situations presents itself while you are off the clock:

1.  I find myself on a date with someone who finds any member of the Kardashian family “inspirational.”

2.  I am exposed directly or indirectly to the music of the Black-Eyed Peas.

3.  I discover that a childhood nemesis resides in a higher income bracket or has more Facebook friends than me.

4.  I realize that my milk was out of date after I pour it into a bowel of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

5.  Someone refers to me as “chief” while slapping me on the back like a pack-mule.

6.  I become disoriented as the result of Daylight Savings Time and place the wrong DVD at the top of my Netflix que.

7. I am faced with the chilling realization that my favorite T-Shirt has formed a dreaded “armpit hole.”

At this point in time I am unable to offer dental or vision, but I can provide a rudimentary health policy in the form of Band-Aids and generic ibuprofen. There is no preference on gender, but I do have an odor aversion to Polo cologne and stewed beats. If you utilize either (or God forbid, both) please do not apply. We can discuss monetary compensation after I receive your qualifications and can accurately assess your level of desperation. Good Luck!

I had a large number of respondents to this particular ad. Although most respondents correctly identified it as a satirical piece for a non-existent job, I did receive a few impressive resumes. Among the most interesting were a college professor, an anthropology major, and a professional singer. Despite the obviously comical nature of the posting, I did receive several “hostile” responses. My favorite was from an outspoken young man residing in the Mid-West who sent me this succinct email:

“You are such a moron. Do not put this crap in the talent section. Loser!!”

This email was accompanied by a photo of someone flipping me the bird. His unnecessary hostility aside, the young man did display the type of self-motivation that would be valuable in a personal assistant.

In most cases the post was flagged and removed within a two-hour timeframe (the record being about 28 minutes in Las Vegas.) For my efforts (and due to the number of flaggings) I have officially been “ghosted” by craigslist. This means that the system will accept future posts from me but fail to display them on the listings for public access. I have written a contrite letter to abuse@craigslist.com in an effort to get myself “unghosted” but thus far I have received nothing in return.

In summary, I have come to realize that craiglist is a microcosm of the Internet itself; unfathomably useful, yet inconceivably frightening at the same time.