Paper Mache Manhood

I don't know any other way to say this, so I'll just say it: I love the Twilight saga. Yes, some might view it as a series of estrogen enhanced romances designed for teenage girls, and I have certainly taken my fair share of flak for reading it. But you know what? I still like it. It is great storytelling, the characters are compelling, and it is above all a fun read. I am going to read it all the way to the end, and anyone who has a problem with that can take a long walk off a short pier.

Now, one may well wonder if I am less of a man for feeling this way. Maybe I am, but that still begs the question of what makes a man a man. What is manliness? I used to be under the delusion that it was about being tough, strong, and bigger than the next guy. It was about winning, being cool, being a stud. It was about never showing weakness, sensitivity, or vulnerability.

As I learned a bit more about life, however, I learned one thing: this idea of manliness is a lie. It is, in fact, a damaging delusion dreamed up by a testosterone-addled society and pushed by pandering peddlers of pop culture. But it is, in the end, a bunch of bullshit.

We've all seen examples of this paper mache manhood - flexing, grunting posers in the weight room; gun-toting flag waving NRA sycophants; latte-swilling Blackberry toting white-collared wussies screaming with road rage; self-proclaimed studs strutting at the beach or at bars; smack-talking tools heroing it up in pickup games; and drunken fratboy fools spewing their ear-splitting stupidity at sports bars and sporting events. And, of course, let us not forget our smug, arrogant ex-president George Bush, whose brazen "bring it on" brainlessness put our country up shit creak without a paddle. These so called men are all full of themselves, and all full of shit.

Yeah, I have seen way too much of this bullshit, and even participated in it at times. But it's not me, and it's not what a man really is. Don't get me wrong, there is a place for machismo. Soldiers, cops, and fireman need a healthy dose of it to do what they do, and we'd all be in deep trouble if they didn't have it. They can get away with it because we need them to.

Anyone else, however, should give it up and just be themselves. Cry when you want to cry, read what you want to read and watch what you want to watch. Be who you are, not who they say you should be, not how they say you should be.

That, in the end, is what being a man, what being a human being, really is.

Cleveland Rocks!

A prophet is never accepted in his homeland, but that does not keep him from accepting his homeland....especially when no one else does.

I was born and raised in good ole' Cleveland, Ohio, and I find myself back there again after years of living away. Sort of a prodigal son come home welcomed into the sometimes loving, sometimes hateful embrace of my native land. Since graduating high school in '95, I wandered about like the Chosen People in the wilderness: Boston, Montana, Milwaukee, Ireland, Portland...and now back where I started. Who says you can't come home?

Now don't get me wrong - I do not have the rosiest of relationships with Cleveland. It wasn't until I left town that I began to appreciate it. While I was growing up here, things were different. I loathed my grade school and high school, the long dreary winters, the maddeningly inept sports teams (though I still rooted for them), and the general malaise of bitterness, inferiority, and defeatism that can permeate the city like the industrial pollution of its recent past. Suffice it to say that, when I was 18 and graduating high school I couldn't wait to get the bleep out of town. I was done with it.

Still, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, so when I was gone I came to enjoy my visits back to see family and friends. Plus, the legions of thickheaded Cleveland haters (e.g. snotty east coasters) got on my nerves and made me quick to defend my city.

So, for all these haters, and for all the lovers of the city that rocks, here are some of the things I love about Cleveland:

- My parents and legion of cousins, aunts, and uncles are all here, as are a few high school buddies. It is great to be with them again, though I do miss friends elsewhere.

- Lots of bang for the buck, low cost of living. For example, I pay $450/month for the upper half of a double house - two bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room, porch, garage.

- There are many nice parks and natural areas all over the greater Cleveland area.

- Lake Erie - if you've never lived by a Great Lake, you don't have a fricking clue how big and beautiful they can be.

- Great art and cultural institutions, all situated in a central location.

- Low traffic, easily-followed streets, and fairly friendly people....none of which could be said for Boston, NY, LA, and the other behemoth burghs that seem so full of themselves.

- My sports teams are here, so I get to watch them all the time...when I was away, I only saw them when they were on national tv, which was rare.

- LeBron James: we have the best basketball player on God's green earth...eat it NYC, LA, BOS!

- Casual style: you can wear jeans and T's anywhere you want out here and not get funny looks.

- My neighborhood, Shaker Square/Larchmere: I live within walking distance of several nice restaurants and coffee shops, a movie theater, a natural area, and the light rail.

All in all, it's a great place to live and raise a family. That does not mean I may not move again in the future: admittedly, I have a hard time staying in one spot for very long. Nonetheless, I have come to think Cleveland is one helluva town, no matter what sort of lousy press it gets from people who have only been there in passing, or not at all.

Yes, haters, Cleveland does rock. Oh, and by the way, our river caught fire 40 bleeping years ago...so get the bleep over it!

Sundays Bite

I have always hated Sundays. It is not that Sundays in themselves are bad, it's that they lead to days that are - Mondays. Mondays always promised something bad.

When I was a kid, it was school. I never liked school. Who did, really? School was a widget factory that manufactured well-behaved, productive contributors to society. It was a 12 year prison sentence for bad behavior as little children, during which we were rehabilitated to "fit in" to adult society. Plus, the inmates, the other kids, behaved like inmates, and I don't miss them.

As an adult, Monday means work, which is not much better than school, except you get paid for it. Just like school, I sit at a desk all day and do what they want me to do.

Therein lies the existential problem that confounds me: after doing what "they" have wanted me to do for so many years I have forgotten what I want to do. Right now, it feels like I do not want to do anything. I go through the motions five days per week, rest on the weekend, and do it again the next week. I suppose it is the luxury of a privileged society to be able to do what one wants, but it is hard not to want it for oneself. I would love to be one of those Pollyannish optimists who "loves what they do" and "look forward to going to work." I envy them, even as I want to smack the smiles off their faces. But I learned to "be a good boy" at school, so I keep my hands to myself.

When you spend your life learning how to be a good boy, what do you really learn? Nothing. You know how to behave, not how to live. You know how to be who others want you to be, not who you want to be. You develop a pretty cover to a book with nothing written on the pages.

I could go on, but it is beginning to sound like one big "blaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh." Funny, that's what it feels like, too.

What Jesus would do

I am endlessly amused by the good pious folk out there who want to tell me all about heaven, hell, and Jesus. Apparently, hell is a big barbecue at which our damned souls are the main course. Better yet, heaven is an eternity of choir practice and church service....yeah, my idea of paradise. And, to top it all off, Jesus will be there to separate the sheep from the goats...what he'll do with the humans, I have no idea. It sounds like he's only interested in domesticated species.

It tickles me to think that these people believe they have a damn clue what they're talking about. Never mind that the Bible says "eye has not seen, ear has not heard" what God has in store for us. Don't tell them that. They simply can't fill their collection baskets or collect their tithes if they don't give us a good scare and send us packing on a guilt trip.

Well, to hell with them, my guess is as good as theirs. So, in response to the bumper-sticker question "What would Jesus do?" I have ventured a top 10 list of guesses:

1. He would fall asleep during Billy Graham's sermon.
2. He would climb to the top of a mountain, shout "I hate you!" to all the people below, and then laugh hysterically.
3. He would walk across the ocean, find his way to the Vatican, and tell the Pope to stop leaving annoying messages on his voicemail.
4. He would appear down in Crawford, Texas, find our esteemed ex-pres, and smack him silly with a good, thick Bible.
5. He would go to Krispy Kreme and perform a multiplication of the donuts.
6. He would tell the crowds "This is my body.....now check out these guns!" before proceeding to flex his biceps and pecs.
7. He would drive on the wrong side of the road and smite anyone who honked at him.
8. He would change bottled water into wine, making it actually worth the price we pay for that crap.
9. He would finally get what he always wanted: the lead role in Jesus Christ Superstar.
10. He would rise into heaven upon the wings of angels...but not before flipping us all the bird.

Now this is a God I can get behind!