Denial ain't just a river...

This week I've watched a considerable amount of news about Iran's Holocaust Denial Conference. Frankly, I've found it intriguing. And after viewing the diverse views espoused by such respected professionals as David Duke and Adolf Ahmadinejad in an open forum that was so thoughtful as to exclude any historian or Holocaust survivor, I've had to reconsider my views. That's right, searching the recesses of my mind, my upbringing and my history, I've had to reconsider.

And I've come to the conclusion that I've been duped.

And so have you.

That's right, we've all been led to believe in a so-called "historical event" of which there is no real proof.

You and I have been duped into believing this:

That there were earthquakes in Iran.

I know, I know. This flies in the face of years of inculcated information. But, take a second and consider the following questions:

Have you ever experienced an earthquake in Iran?

If you haven't, then how do you know they really exist?

If you believe you have, can you be sure it was an earthquake? How do you know it wasn't something else, like, oh, let's say an underground nuclear weapons test?

Sure, we've all read the articles, from the media outlets, the New York Times, the BBC, the Jerusalem Post---there was an "earthquake" in 1990 where 35,000 people "supposedly" died, that there was another so-called "earthquake" in December 2003 that claimed more than 15,000 so-called "victims."

But who's to say that this wasn't just part of the well-known Iranian media conspiracy? Who's to say these "facts" of recorded history haven't been blown out of proportion?

Sure, there may have been some shaking or something and maybe some people were injured, probably like 10-15 or so, but those reported casualty numbers are so big, they just can't be true. Geology just can't be that cruel.

So, here's the real reason. Iran has always been looking for world sympathy, a way to justify its existence, since it was just "given" to the Iranian people at the fall of the Ottoman Empire. These "earthquakes" are it. They create worldwide sympathy for the supposed victims and lead to masses of foreign aid---even from the Iranian entity's sworn enemies. In fact, if it wasn't for the brainwashed pro-Iranian U.S. Congress, the Iranian entity wouldn't even exist today!

Oh yes, we have been fooled. Fooled by Iran's desire to coddle world opinion. Fooled by our sympathy for people in need. Fooled by our belief in the "truth" of history and geology.

And, I, as one truly enlightened person, simply will not be fooled anymore.

There have never been earthquakes in Iran.

It's beginning to feel a lot like time to hit the iPod...

I realize that most people would have me drawn and quartered for this, but here's the thing.

I hate Christmas music.

It's not that I hate Christmas. Although I do feel bad for religious Christians who have had Hallmark destroy what was once an actual religious holiday, I'm really ambivalent about the holiday.

I like the lights.

Well, the white and red ones.

The rainbow colored ones, however...sorry. Gaudy.

But the red lights and the white lights, very pretty.

I like the giving nature of the season, although I wonder why the other 11 months don't matter.

I even like It's a Wonderful Life, although I don't know why Jimmy Stewart doesn't learn his lesson after seeing what his life is like without him every single year.

But the music, the fucking music, drives me batty.

It's not that I'm Jewish. I mean, my mother's Jewish and she can't get enough of the Christmas music. In fact, if I go home for the holidays, it's more likely that I'll hear the music in our Jewish home than anywhere else.

And it's obviously not that I'm a Scrooge. Like I said before, I kind of like the season.

So, today, I started thinking about why I have this viseral reaction to Christmas music and this is what I came up with. It's The Gap's fault.

When I was in high school, I worked for The Gap for two years. That annoying kid who would welcome you to the store and immediately address your needs or remember the last time you were there and what you bought, yeah, that was me. One of the side benefits of a disturbingly good memory. The reason you got "greeted" wasn't just because the company (that's what we called it, "the company" -- very 1984, I know) wanted you to feel comfortable in the store, it was because the likelihood of a properly greeted shop lifter continuing to shop lift was exponentially smaller. At least according to "The Company."

It was a good job and, frankly, I still own clothes I bought while I worked for the company. The discount was wicked good. To this day, I still feel bad paying full price for anything in the store.

However, during "Holiday"---which is what The Company calls it---everyone's schedule increased. I worked an ungodly number of hours then. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, that stupid ass Christmas music tape would blast through the speaker system over and over and over.

Nothing, and I mean nothing can ruin you forever for Christmas music than hearing it every damn day, all day, for over a month.

No one was happier for the 26th.

Reality bites...

I was going to write about those mundane things that make Sass ask me to contribute to her Carnival, but today, my mind is elsewhere. And for good reason.

I've struggled with my share of mild to clinical depression. I think most people in my age group have.

When I was in college, the world seemed to be my oyster. I could do anything, be anything I wanted. But when reality set it and the mundane world of a "job" took over, I felt trapped. Very trapped.

And sad. Very sad.

I just expected more than the daily grind.

More from my job. More from myself.

It took a while, but eventually, after discussing it with many, I realized I wasn't alone. Life just didn't meet the expectations of so many people.

And that's when I stopped being depressed about work and started looking at other things for fulfillment.

And ironically, that's when things at work started to fall into place.

But I remember those days well. How hard it was to get out of bed every morning. How impossible it was to be happy when I was so overwhelmingly depressed inside. How it seemed like my soul, my love for life, was dying a little with each passing day.

So, this week, when I found out that a family member of mine was struggling with clinical depression, it took me back to those feelings. Unlike so many times when I hear of someone's problems, I know just how she feels.

I just hope she knows I love her very much and wish with every part of my heart that she feels like herself again soon.

I watch movie. Is nice...

I have often used this little corner of the internet to warn others of movies that are little more than a waste of two hours. However, every once in a while I see a movie that I, not only like, but would encourage other people to see. Borat was one of those movies.

If you've been living in a hole, Borat is one of Sasha Baron Cohen's characters from Da Ali G Show. Cohen, who is Jewish, plays a vehemently anti-Semitic reporter from the former Soviet province of Kazakhstan who comes to the United States to film a documentary about the differences between the countries. In reality, Cohen uses Borat to, not only display his comic brilliance, but our own ignorance of other cultures and the thinly veiled xenophobia that continues to curse our culture. The movie is comic satire at its best.

A warning is necessary. I watched a number of parts of this movie through my fingers, so embarrassed for Cohen's victims that I almost didn't watch their responses, but I couldn't bear not to. I had the feeling that I get when I watch Steve Carrell in The Office, multiplied exponentially. This movie is not for the faint of heart. Unless you entirely lack sensibilities, you'll be offended and shocked on a number of occasions. The only way I can describe the feeling is that it must have been what the audience felt when they watched "Springtime for Hitler" in The Producers.

Of course, Borat takes one aspect of Jewish humor to an extreme. Making fun of Antisemitism is nothing new for Jews. It's a cottage industry of Jewish humor that has been indulged in by Mel Brooks for years, subtly used to incredible success by Jerry Seinfeld, and more obviously used by Larry David. But what made Borat different was that, while I was laughing hilariously at Cohen's actions in the Southern city I live in, I was wondering what was going through the heads of the obviously gentile audience I was watching it with. Sure, Cohen is extreme, but does this kind of virulent Antisemitism resonate with some of these people? In other words, is everyone here in on the joke?

I got my answer the next night. I went out with a friend visiting from another city and, when he designated himself as the driver, I got absolutely hammered. And I had a blast doing it. We went to a local bar/dance club for 80's night and, frankly, I had more fun than I've had out in quite some time.

At 2 a.m., the club closed and we, along with a large group of other people, were asked to leave. I've never understood the logic of kicking a bunch of drunk people out on the street at the same time, but that's neither here nor there. As I was walking out of the bar, my friend was advertising that he and I went to the rival school (probably not brilliant, but he's a little crazy and I was drunk). After hearing we went to a rival school, a girl then said to me, "Yeah, well, you're probably Jewish too."

I instantly started to press her.

"Oh? And what if I was? What would that mean? Why would that matter?"

She didn't respond.

I kept pressing. "You said it. Why would that matter? What do you mean by that?"

When she refused to respond to me again, I started yelling at her (and yes, this clearly was the alcohol), "Zeig Heil, you Antisemitic bitch!"

While I was too sloshed to notice, at some point, she or one of her friends put gum in my friend's hair, which he took out and put in her friend's hair.

Yeah, I don't know enough about that to really write about the details, but I think you get the idea.

Today, while I was nursing my hangover, I couldn't help but think back to what I thought when I saw Borat. How would this girl respond to that movie? Would she realize that it was a Jewish comedian satirizing the absurdity of her own deep-seeded illogical hatred? Or would she see it as a more extreme view of the right perspective?

Honestly, I'm disappointed to admit that I think it would be the later.

What disappoints me most is that I don't think she's alone.

And there's nothing funny about that.

More of the Wonderful World of Home Ownership

A few months ago, I heard stories of people getting sticker shock from their property taxes. When I got my preliminary tax bill, I thought, "Okay, it's a little high, but nothing out of control."

And then today, I got the actual tax bill.

Not only did it exceed my escrow, but it was over four times more than what the preliminary bill said.

So, to my county tax collector, I ask this question:

What the fuck????

So instead of paying my taxes and insurance out of the escrow I've been paying all year, I'll be dipping into savings and hoping I get it back on my tax return.

Whoever the new governor is, he better provide some tax relief.