The Future of the Internet? It’s Selling You Access.

June 11, 2013 by J. Nelson 3 Comments

Nothing sells better than the manifestation of exclusivity

Let’s get something straight. While there may be good reason to be angry about new revelations related to our civil liberties, arguing over whether NSA leaker Edward Snowden is a traitor or a hero isn’t where our focus should be.

Right before our eyes we’re watching ground being broken for a new marketplace: our recent national lack-of-privacy fear just created a commercial demand for PRIVACY™

Get it?

The conservative drumbeat that ObamaCare, Benghazi, the IRS scandal, and the Justice Department’s seizure of journalists’ phone records represent expanded abusive government and/or a “continuation of policies” is a diversion. And CNN’s idiotic prizefights between privacy advocates and backers of the doozy that started it all – the Patriot Act, are distracting millions from the real government data collection issue. In fact, the part of this week’s surveillance state revelations that stinks the most is the one thing we’re not hearing about: money.

Fact is, telecom corporations don’t need to listen to your phone calls for you to fear they’re listening to your phone calls. They only need you to think that the tools and laws are in place in order to sell you a federally guaranteed “communication plan” or Internet “privacy.” Yup: this whole controversy is about the future of the Internet and monetizing our civil liberties. Anyone who thinks differently is naïve – or not paying attention. (On the other hand, considering that sales of Orwell’s 1984 rose by 7,000% this week, at least some are trying to widen their perception.) Read more

The “Poo” in Reese Witherspoon

April 23, 2013 by J. Nelson

Actress and patriot stands up for shit-faced Americans.

In Atlanta, Georgia last week, actress Reese Witherspoon did the Disorderly Conduct dance during an altercation with Georgia State Patrol Officers over her husband’s DUI stop. Witherspoon got mouthy, so the police got bossy. She was told to sit in her car, but she got in an officer’s face instead, allegedly multiple times. Once out of the car, she’s said to have shouted, “I am a U.S. citizen! I am allowed to stand on American ground!”

But the Stand-Your-Ground law doesn’t apply to drunk uncles, so only after hands were firmly placed on Witherspoon’s shoulders in anticipation of a struggle did she become physically compliant. Still, as the cuffs went on, so did Witherspoon, with the sanctimonious don’t-you-know-who-I am!? schtick. The arresting officer assured the tantrum-throwing actress that he didn’t need to know her name, but Reese wouldn’t let him diffuse things with his cop mind tricks. She reportedly insisted he’d soon find out who she is, and under the harsh light of national attention. But the harsh light of the Atlanta City Jail got to her first.

File this one under the Diminished Expectations reserved for most public figures, but Witherspoon deserves credit for not blaming her drunken stupidity on ibuprofen, eye irritation, Hollywood exhaustion, or a condition known as hotdog fingers. While staying clear of details or comments so loved by Saturday Night Live writers, the actress issued an apology, taking full responsibility for playing the celebrity card about as discreetly as Bieber or Lohan. As she sought to distance herself from the roadside antics of a skank – going so far as to state that her fear of the police is no excuse for her behavior – she showed relative class. Relative because the fear line is horse-poo. Berating police as if they were uppity house servants isn’t what terrified arrestees do, but she used the ides of it to her advantage, creating a platform upon which to rise above entitled pardons. The celebrity world has spoken in Witherspoon’s favor, as expected, but she earns it with:

“I was disrespectful to the officer who was just doing his job. The words I used that night definitely do not reflect who I am. I have nothing but respect for the police and I’m very sorry for my behavior.”

Who cares if she has respect for the police or not? Who cares whether those are really her own words? Her lawyer has already won approval for a pretrial intervention plan that would allow Witherspoon to avoid a conviction, yet her statement demonstrates an awareness of how her actions affect those around her. Like it or not, at least it’s contributory. She has every reason to be embarrassed, but for an event of such utter meaninglessness, it offers – Witherspoon offers – a meaningful lesson: Own your poo!

Excuses FAIL of the Month

April 14, 2013 by J. Nelson 1 Comment

A1 Dumbass offers a meandering, self-righteous “apology”

Let’s get one thing straight out the gate here: GET CHARACTER OR BECOME ONE!

Florida police sergeant Ron King was canned for offering his colleagues practice shooting targets with a silhouette resembling Trayvon Martin. Less than 24 hours later, King’s my-side-of-the-story video, which he was stupid enough to post on YouTube, is a rambling, groan-inducing effort that only negates any argument or principle he petulantly wants us to recognize.

“The events that took place on April 2 are as follows,” King says, only to literally recite his resume. Instead of coming from the heart, speaking like a real person, or offering a human perspective, he hides behind a learned chain-of-command persona. Far from helping him make a point, it made me think of the cop-groupie weirdness of George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin’s killer.

King’s immediate reliance on semantics to muddy his intention leads directly to his claim of victimhood for himself and the Martin family. But King doesn’t see the Martins as wronged in the way you might think: this cabbage-head, who blithely proposed an illustration of their dead son for firearms training, believes that both he and the Martins are simply the subjects of agenda-driven manipulation and “lies,” for which they are equally entitled to “feel used and violated.” This jaw-dropping lack of awareness makes his opening “apology” to Trayvon’s family awkward as hell, and it’s downright cringe-worthy when King loses his place reiterating it later, after stating gallantly that he refuses to sit by and let himself be used for another’s gain. Read more

Once Upon a Time in Atlanta

April 5, 2013 by J. Nelson

On running a school district like a criminal enterprise.

Bail hearings have begun at the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta, Georgia, where 35 educators, administrators, and one Superintendent are charged with everything from theft, racketeering, and violating the Corrupt Organizations Act, to making false statements and influencing witnesses (read: leaning on whistleblowers). While some parents sought to stop these teachers and principals from altering tests so they could collect bonuses for improved scores, it fortunately doesn’t appear that too many other parents were involved.

It’s no Scorsese plot: squealers weren’t chased through parking lots with a pair of pliers, a baseball bat, or a 12-gauge. But your shrewdest criminal operations don’t need to resort to hostile messages. And not only had this particular operation been going on for a while, it’s part of the larger and more entrenched standardized testing debate itself. In other words, it’s part of the system itself. Read more

The Patron Saint of Pedophilia

January 24, 2013 by J. Nelson

Retired Archbishop of Los Angeles, Cardinal Roger M. Mahony, represents everything I despise about having been raised Catholic: the lies, the hypocrisy, the rhetorical and dogmatic absurdities, the intimidating ideology of compliance as a measure of success and happiness – all of it.
Granted, these are the characteristics of a church and its minions known to those who experienced so-called “old-school” nuns and priests, but here we are in 2013, and Mahony — a man who protected and made excuses for child molesters for many years — is only now getting that metaphorical boot in the ass, as he’s kicked into oblivion. Read more

LIVESTRONG SOMEWHERE ELSE, ASSHOLE

January 16, 2013 by J. Nelson

Everyone deserves a second chance, Lance, but you don’t get to have yours so soon. Right now, you just need to shut the hell up. You’re a clown. Compared to how much you’ve diminished our expectations of those we look up to, you’ve accomplished little. Thanks.

And what’s with the sudden need to half-admit your wrongs anyway? Are you gonna compete again? Ha! Anywhere you race in the future, the media will follow, robbing legitimate athletes of acknowledgment they deserve. Your presence will render competition pointless, you selfish, cow-blood injecting weirdo!

We’ve read about your angry denials; we’ve watched you dare others to courtroom challenges. Over ten years, you’ve either bullied or sued your accusers and railed against anyone who fingered you as a cheat. So it’s a safe bet your prime time contrition is as phony as your denials.

Your so-called “intense” confession to Oprah Winfrey is an egotistical joke, you no testicle-having weasel. And why Oprah? Her soft-hearted fans can’t save you. Your sympathy-for-the-asshole schtick smacks of ex-Illinois Governor, Rod Blagojevich, another guy who couldn’t live without media attention. For you, for years, the name “Lance Armstrong” will be synonymous with fraud and cowardice. There’s your legacy, you sport-tarnishing, cancer foundation-destroying drug dealer.

A Twitter Pill to Swallow

January 5, 2013 by J. Nelson

The social networking functionality of this blog is horrendous, I know, especially on the cusp of a book launch. But that’s about to change. The new whereexcusesgotodie.com will launch at the end of this month, incorporating everything from Feedburner to Facebook connectivity. And the publicist with whom we’re working recently informed me that my head-in-the-sand days are over. “It’s time to open that Twitter account you’ve been avoiding,” she stated.

She’s right, I know. My excuse has been that a person’s journey, abilities, and goals should matter more than following trends. Besides, whether published by a major or self-publishing, the whole experience feels like standing at the bottom of a freeway off ramp rattling a foam cup at cars: Twitter and the like will only exacerbate that.

But the real question is, do I want the public to decide the value of Where Excuses Go to Die (the book), or do I want to wind up bitter ’cause I was too good to play the game – or failed to do everything I could to tell the world what it has to offer?

Happy Holidays – They’re On You

December 25, 2012 by J. Nelson

Admit It, Part of You Hoped to See the World End…

December 22, 2012 by J. Nelson

Had the world ended in a cataclysmic inferno, chances are we’d all have been flipped off like a light switch, and frankly that seems boring. The children of earth have seen too much suffering, so we don’t need anymore of that, but there are some things to which I would’ve enjoyed wishing good riddance – possibly in the form of a meteor impact. I would’ve been okay with sacrificing some comfort, WiFi, and possible second-degree burns so I could shout, “So long!” to: Read more

How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?

December 2, 2012 by J. Nelson

I flip people off when I shouldn’t. I flip people off in traffic, when I’ve been wronged. I flip off friends and vice versa, or when it’s the only way to get the last word in. In public, it’s dorky and potentially risky, since Dirty Harry Hyundai could shoot my face off, but I even frequently use both hands – double barrel. Whenever I flip someone off, I claim to feel justified. But I confess I don’t have to: it’s fun. I’ll flip off Lana Del Rey eventually.

I’ve been flipping people off my entire life, and I doubt I’ll ever stop. I’ve tried the proper palm-back British “V” or “Bowfinger,” but in L.A. traffic? Meh. It’s awkward. Plus, xenophobes might not comprehend the affront. And although I admire the French, I love that the Bowfinger’s origins are said to lie in taunting them in battle. Probably to counter having farts blown in their general direction.

I’m saving my last great series of one-finger salutes for when I’m in a rest home, provided I make it that far. The downside is that I’m criticized for this unapologetic bird abuse – but mostly by hypocrites to whom all of the above applies. You see, everyone likes to fly their middle fingers once in a while, and I think repressing it is as silly as holding in a turd longer than you have to.