Palinic Rage

So, I seriously get a little blinded by rage whenever I think of Sarah Palin's idiot comments regarding her son, old people and the wholly fabricated Obama "death panel." It makes me furious that this whackadoo a-hole, who supposedly serves (well, served, since she just up and quit her post) the public, is in the same business of whipping up the already frightened and befuddled masses of America into a terrified hysteria as Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck and Sean Hannity. At least those three ne'r-do-wells are pundits, obvious extremists whose purpose is more to entertain than to inform. But Sarah Palin is NOT a pundit. She's sort of a real politician and, as such, her words end up carrying more weight than a series of talking heads' do. She has a cult, a large one, of fervently devoted Palinites hanging off her words, because they mistakenly believe she is a.) an independent thinker, b.) looking out for their best interests and c.) not a steaming pile of nutjobbery. And this is dangerous. I can forgive cable news freakos. With their incessant stream of misinformation, lies and exaggerations, they're just doing what they get paid to do. But Palin seems to be on a different track entirely... one in which she is setting herself up as a moral authority and a figure of importance, cementing her reputation as a right-wing queen and giving her crazy army their marching orders. She's doing this by spewing outright lies in a performance that makes her fearmongering vice presidential campaign look tame and professional by comparison. She should be taken to task for this. She should be publicly humiliated for being a modern-day Joe McCarthy, the worst sort of personality our political system can puke out. She should be ashamed of herself, not only for actively working to keep this country in the dark ages, but by doing so in such an underhanded and wholly vicious way.

It bothers me because she is fanning fires where tremendous combustion may be imminent. She is doing a grave disservice, not just to us lefties looking for real progressiveism, but also to her own side's ideaology. Personally, I welcome debate on this topic, and I honest-to-God wish that the Republican party would chuck these politics of fear, the same tatics that bludgeoned our country into sad submission throughout the Bush administration, and offer up some legitimate concerns and counterproposals to the health care reform package. But instead of providing thoughtful, rational disagreement, they stoke their already loony and absolutely mortified base into mob mentality loudness and nebulous agression... who does this help? What good does this do for the country, when your opposition is based only in knee-jerk reactions free from the constraints of logic, understanding or reason? It's another sign of the right-wing meltdown... and that meltdown has grave implications for everyone, leftists included. As the Republican party continues it's ever-quickening descent into old-school Puritanism, Salem-style, there is a void of genuine fiscal conservatism left in the wake. Reasonable people are fleeing the right just as rapidly as the right is fleeing from them. And my side, of course, will view this flight as a mandate, and begin to get too big for its britches, like groups in power always do. And the pendulum will swing too far and people will be put off and a new, more powerful right wing will grow up as moderates on both sides of the aisle feel abandoned once again. We NEED the balance of reasonable, intelligent conservatives... but the current right wing seems hellbent on ignoring those folks and raising up cuckoos like Palin to raise the banner against imaginary boogeymen.

She's the closest thing we have right now to a honest-to-goodness supervillain.

One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn’t take my education seriously enough. I bumbled my way through high school, only graduating because of a kindly English teacher who didn’t flunk me even though it would have been perfectly understandable and defensible if he had. I was, however, still a walking disaster through most of my junior and senior years, and the whole concept of college eluded me. I just never applied. So, after my inauspicious graduation, I stumbled through a terrible semester of menial labor and then enrolled in the local community college. I actually excelled, there, in what I affectionately dubbed “high school part two.” As bad of a rap as community colleges get, however, I met wonderful people there, students genuinely interested in learning and professors genuinely interested in teaching. Most of my classes eschewed busy work and rote memorization for honest-to-goodness discussion, understanding and intellectual growth. It was a wonderful environment where I developed a passion for ancient history, philosophy and western literature. And then I decided to take the plunge into the larger university system where I failed as miserably as I’ve ever failed at anything ever. Several factors added up to this spectacular educational cataclysm, but all of those factors were well within my control. At the core of it, I was bored with what school could teach me and I was arrogant enough to think I could learn it all on my own. I skipped classes to do personal projects, to fret over a suicidal girlfriend, to waste the opportunity laid out before me in an effort to preserve a life I didn’t even want to lead. I was put on academic probation, lost my financial aid and dropped out unceremoniously and so abruptly that I had to sublet my room in the apartment I’d leased for the forthcoming year. I went back to work, returning to the place that had employed me in my initial school-less gap, and quickly lost even the idea of returning to college.

The chip on my shoulder became unwieldy and huge. I was angry. I was angry at my brilliant friends with their fancy degrees and interesting, well paying jobs. I was angry at the vague system that had allowed me to fall through its cracks and wind up as laboring detritus still living with my parents. I was angry at employers for demanding some sort of proof of intellect before opening their doors to applicants and I was angry at society for valuing a piece of paper over actual reasoning assets. But mostly I was mad at myself for frittering away my youth, for squandering my abilities and for just surrendering because I was too lazy, proud and stupid to do what needed to be done. And I’m still mad at myself for it a decade later. The idea of returning to school crops up periodically, but it feels hollow to me now. I respect and admire adults who work their rear ends off and hold down and job and get a new degree, or finish an old one, I really do. But for me, I feel like the victory would be lacking. At this point, I feel like all I’d get is a participation ribbon years after the golds, silvers and bronzes have handed out.

Part of the problem, of course, is that I lived past thirty. I never really planned on that. Honestly. I just assumed I wouldn’t make it. I felt like a weakling, a runt kicked around by circumstance, too lacking in form and structure to hold up under the seemingly continuous bad weather of my youth. But time has a way of blunting disaster and eventually I just stood up, brushed myself off and continued on with my life. But the time spent in fetal position depression, or trying in vain to shake off crippling anxiety or just accepting the sub-mediocrity of my post-dropout days left me with very little infrastructure for success. Had I crumbled when I assumed I would crumble, it would all be moot. I always lamented all the preparation my brother put into his infrastructure. He worked hard to build up, brick by brick, the foundation of a successful life. And when he had gotten to the tipping point, the rollercoaster crest where all of that labor and tedium was about to pay off with almost limitless possibility in front of him, he got cancer and was slowly killed. His hard work evaporated in a steam of medical bills and handicap. It all vanished and he died and he never got to really enjoy the fruit of his labor. My assumption was I, too, would be gone before my thirtieth birthday, so why bother? Work was hard. Screwing off was ridiculously easy. I was out of my parents’ house, making a living enough to always eat and have a roof over my head. What more did I need? As my friends developed adult habits and acquired adult accessories like houses and kids, I withdrew deeper into my menial existence. My twenties slipped by, unremarkable, uninteresting and unfulfilling. I blinked at the halcyon days of my youth were gone. A decade went by with little to show for it. And I was still alive.

And now, of course, I struggle with my mediocrity. Now that it seems I'll be here a while, such a basic life devoid of responsibility, of challenge and of achievement seems awfully horrible. But I have no solidity upon which to erect a more interesting existence. I'm 31, lacking in practical skills and my work experience amounts to that of an industrious teenager. Worse still, I seem absolutely incapable of advancing myself... I sabotage myself under the banner of not being able to fit in with the talking piles of b.s. that make up the majority of management. But in reality, even if I could stomach the non-stop nonsense that goes along with being in the upper echelon of a multinational company, I can't imagine I could ever really succeed in that world. It's nice to pretend there's some nobility in it, but it truly comes down to my utter lack of follow-through, commitment and maturity. I didn't plan to end up this way. And I need to make a change. But I'm not sure how.

It's not a new issue... I've dreamt up more possible futures for myself than I could recount. I've found myself being passionate about a topic for as little as a week, dedicating myself to it wholly and then backing out because it's grown tiresome, stagnant and dull. My poor wife can't keep up with the multitude of lifelong dreams I seem intent on living out for small stretches of time. And while variety in one's dreams is certainly pleasant and makes, maybe, for interesting conversation, my absolute inability to focus is crippling in regards to actually making something out of myself.

In the end, though, the worst of it is that this is probably where I've topped out. It may not be the fault of my stunted education, my unwillingness to plan, my fear of responsibility or my lack of discipline that is keeping me from excelling. Maybe, scarily, my mediocrity is solely the result of the fact that I'm just mediocre. Most people are, of course. It's explicit in the word. But nobody wants to be mediocre. Nobody pushes ahead with their life's plans thinking, "How wonderful it would be to have my work, my achievements, my existence be basically on par with the rest of humanity." But that's what happens, right? Most of us tumble into the big space beneath the apogee of the bell curve and we never get out. As much as I would like to think my talent or my brains or my encyclopedic knowledge of Beatles' songs would separate me from the rest of the herd, they probably don't.

But as another work week ends and a new one looms just around the corner, I can't help, sometimes, but feel defeated. I can't help but feel like I should be doing so much more. Maybe that's the biggest problem of all.

Addicted To Buzz

So, there's not much I like about corporate culture. In my admittedly limited experience with suit-n-tie types, I've found a disconcerting lack of substance made up for with an overabundance of cliches, worthless aphorisms and buzzwords. Corporate stupidity is a target that's as big as the broad side of a barn, and yet these types of folks still seem to permeate the highest levels of management (and bubble up from the ranks of we in the underclass) despite the obvious ridiculousness of their world view.

Tonight, I overheard two young execs speaking in a tongue that can only be mastered after sitting through endless meetings and watching far too many Power Point presentations. It was as if, after seeing their hundred thousandth consecutive slide, their brains melted into an utterly useless goo unable to string together a sentence that wasn't lifted from the spiral bound materials they foist upon the attendees of management training seminars. I was embarrassed for them... even though they probably have a lot more money than I do. It's just such nonsense, and it bothers me that they are either unable or unwilling to see that. It makes me hate them oh so much.

In the effort of restoring some semblance of respect to the men and women who run our nation's great corporations, I'd like to propose a moritorium on the following phrases that make them seem like mindless idiot lemming drones ambling for the nearest cliff. To wit:

1.) "Throw him (or her) under the bus."

I actually think reality television is to blame for the proliferation of this phrase's usage, but it's been adopted, now, by the suits and they use it ad freaking nauseum. Scapegoating is one of the most widespread of corporate hobbies, and it seems like hardly an hour goes by without somebody throwing somebody under the bus. And it's always described that way. Always. No one is ever cast to the wolves or crucified by their coworkers... nope. They are invariably thrown under the bus. It doesn't take much of an offense to be thrown under said bus, nor does being thrown under the bus always bear out some great consequence. "Dale took the last cup of coffee," one suit might say to another. "Way to throw Dale under the bus," the other suit might respond. And then a hearty laugh will no doubt be shared. It takes on an even more annoying cast when a suit will declare their own integrity by refusing to throw somebody under the bus. It takes guts to not blame somebody for your own failures... it's less impressive to not hurl them under a large machine.

2.) "Drink the Kool-Ade."

This started out correctly, a reference to the Jonestown massacre and a sly warning not to get suckered into buying into a bad idea just 'cause everybody else is doing it. Somewhere along the way, though, its connotation morphed, and suits decided (unaware of the irony) that drinking the Kool-Ade was, in fact, a fantastic thing to do. There's no shortage of stupid ideas in corporate culture, and the execution of those stupid ideas requires people with some semblance of critical thought to throw their hands up in disgust and obey the poorly designed policies, even knowing the outcome will be bad. These poor workaday schlubs are forced to drink company Kool-Ade on a regular basis... and since their compliance validates the ill conceived ideas of the suits, they obviously think that drinking the Kool-Ade is beneficial. It's sad and funny how appropriate the phrase is, but it's maddening to know that the people using it incorrectly (and all too often) will never understand the joke.

3.) "Low hanging fruit"

Yes, yes, I get it. This can, I will begrudgingly admit, be sort of a useful phrase. There are legitimate instances of companies being festooned with easy-to-correct problems that should be tackled prior to investing a lot of time into more involved and costly programs. But in the hands of a clueless suit, EVERYTHING becomes "low hanging fruit," regardless of whether it's low hanging, or even fruit at all. By tossing around the term like so much confetti, corporates muddy the meaning of it. "We need to start with the low hanging fruit," one of them might offer up, uselessly, when pitching a project. He doesn't know, in this case, what that low hanging fruit might be, but he's fairly certain starting with it is a good idea. When the project begins, one of his bumbling supervisors is sure to ask, "Did you get the low hanging fruit?". And God forbid the project leader can't answer in the affirmative! "Of course we did! We started with the low hanging fruit." "Ah," the superior suit thinks. "That's a good place to start." I guarantee that no low hanging fruit was harmed in this exchange.

4.) "80/20 Rule"

I don't know if this is as egregiously misused in every workplace as it is in mine, but I hope there's a special circle in Hell reserved for people who throw this phrase into their speech like they'd throw croutons onto a delicious chef salad. The real 80/20 Rule is sometimes called the "law of the vital few," (or something similar). The premise is that, for a lot of things, 80% of the outcomes are determined by only 20% of the causes. In business, it's often true that about 80% of a company's profits come from about 20% of customers... not always, but often. The gist is, of course, to focus on that "vital few," because that's your real bread and butter. What I have heard, time and time again, however is the "80/20 Rule" being used as a replacement for the idea of something just happening about 80% of the time... like, if a suit wants to know if something you're doing is common, they'll say, "How often does this occur? 80/20 Rule?" Or, say, in the course of a dialog on a recurring problem, somebody brings up a rare or unique set of circumstances... a corporate type might chime in with, "Let's stay on track here... we want to focus on what's happening the majority of the time. Keep the 80/20 Rule in mind." It's another case of interpreting the phrase absolutely incorrectly. They're not focusing on the vital few, they're focusing on the majority of cases... wouldn't it be easier to substitute the esoteric "80/20 Rule" with the more commonly used (and harder to muck up) phrase: "most of the time"?!

5.) "Value added"

Sweet merciful buttercrackers, if I never hear this phrase again, I'll be thrilled. It crops up daily, as suits with no practical experience try to determine which parts of an underling's job are and are not "value added." Determining how something adds value, or why it might not, is usually beyond the scope of their inquiries, but figuring out whether or not things are value added is a crack-addictive pasttime to the folks high-up on the ladder. What constitutes value added, exactly? That's easy... any action that adds value is value added! If an action doesn't add value, then of course, it's not value added. It doesn't matter that knowing the value an action is adding is generally not feasible for execs who have as little understanding of the jobs they oversee as possible, and it's unimportant that they are in no posistion to correct any action that isn't value added. The money's apparently in making long lists of the steps required to do a job and then assigning them to the appropriate value added or not value added category. If only another suit could step in and point out that ignorant dudes and dudettes compiling lists of meaningless assertions on whether or not things are value added is distinctly not value added. But that would blow their minds.

So please, let's stop all this making fun of corporates behind their back and get them the help they need to ween themselves of the buzzword habit!

Wouldn't that be thinking outside the box?!

A Farewell Address

Well, hey there, ladies and gentlemen. It’s me, your favorite lady-governor, here, and I guess it’s time to say my goodbyes. I know, it’s real sad, isn’t it? But don’tcha fret… I’m not really leavin’ ya. I’m just quittin’ my job, kids. I know, I know… you hired me to do a job and then I just up and quit on account of I didn’t really love how things were goin’, what with how dishwater dull it is up here and on account of most o’ my time now bein’ filled with lookin’ up “President of the United States” on the Wikipedia. So I thought, “How can I really best serve you, the folks that elected me?” And I figured it out: by quittin’ and maybe writin’ a book about the “politics of sass” or somethin’ like that. Whaddya think? Or, y’know, I thought maybe I could hook up with that Elizabeth Hasselback and that Carrie Prejean and we could have our own li’l version of “The View” on Fox News! That sounds fun, don’t it? Either way, it’s gotta be better than runnin’ this backwater state. Oops. I mean, “better,” as in, that’s how I can serve you better… by doin’ somethin’ on the national stage for Alaska. “Drill baby drill” and all that. And, hey, if helpin’ you all out means becomin’ the first lady-leader of the free world, well, ok then. Not that I’m necessarily gonna run for president. I might do it, of course, if the book doesn’t sell or they give my time slot to “Hannity’s Fear Factor” or somethin’. And to be honest, I probably will either way, I guess… But only because you deserve the best darned president ever! And who better to run the whole darned country than me? I’ve got patented in your face attitude to spare. It’s a shame that the liberal media can’t see that. They’ve been a pack of sourpusses, lately, huh? Always talkin’ ‘bout me like I’m some sort of circus sideshow. Is it my fault that unless I say something crazy or moronic, they don’t even mention me on the news? Remember when it used to be all-Sarah all the time? Anyways, those horrid, subhuman vultures in the media elite only seem to want to say nasty things about me! I don’t understand it… what did I ever do to those no talent, thumb-suckin’, puke-faced, illiterate asswads? Did they take offense just because I accused them of makin’ up stories about me and my family? Are they angry that I point out, daily, that they are the sole reason for the collapse of decency in our society? I love America! And soldiers! And babies with special needs! It seems to me that the venomous cretins who seem to “report” the “news” without so much as a gosh darned thought about how it affects me must, if they dislike me so much, also hate America, soldiers and babies with special needs. And that’s just wrong. And, yes, ok, I shoot animals from helicopters. So what? If these mollycoddled, whimpering li’l milk-babies can’t stand to see a real American woman do real American things like kill real American animals from real American helicopters, then maybe they oughtta just move back to the bad Korea, am I right? And sure, you can betcha that the liberal media will trot out their pretty starlets, and they’ll tell ya that I’m just some malicious gun nut blowin’ the heads off anything that freaking moves in my general vicinity, but that’s not the whole truth, my friends. No. What they won’t tell you is that I personally field dress and skin every one of my victims. Yeah. I’m not squeamish. I’m a red blooded American, not like those Gucci-wearin’ phonies! Soldiers! Apple pie! So, these darned intellectual liberals in the media with their crazy agendas will probably try to tell ya, on their “websites” and “iPhones” that I’m some sort of anti-intellectual, anti-media, egotist supermodel genius. And they’re right. Because I’m standin’ up for you, middle class America. I shop at Wal-Mart too! I won’t budge an inch to these educated hucksters and their need for logic, or reason or fancy-schmancy sense-makin’. You wouldn’t want me to! I can tell you love me just the way I am! And for that, I’m eternally grateful. It’s been a pleasure sort of half-heartedly serving you for the past however many years I’ve been stuck here in this freezing hell. Sure, I spent a good part of that time tryin’ to become the vice-president. And then I spent a lot more time givin’ interviews to conservative bootlicks who were so impressed with my bearskin rugs and snow machines that they forgot to ask me anything ‘cept how proud I am of my soldier kids. And, yes, then I spent even more time sendin’ my daughter on a whirlwind press junket just so I could chastise the media for talkin’ about her and that adorable li’l baby that made her into a worldwide celebrity by givin’ her an excuse to tell other teenage gals why havin’ a baby would be the worst thing they could possibly do. And, ok, after all that I just up and decided to quit because, let’s be fair, I’ve got WAY more interesting things to do. But it’s been a real treat. Now, I’m sure I can count on all yer votes if I do happen to run for the presidency of this great country in 2012. Which I’m not sayin’ I’m gonna do. But I am gonna do it. And I promise I won’t get bored with that job. Unless somethin’ way better comes along. God bless Alaska, God bless special needs babies, and God bless America!