The Sounds of Douchebag America

A lot of people come up to me day to day and say, “Janie, do you believe in God?”  Sometimes I say yes, sometimes I say no, but sometimes I also say, “I don’t know.”  I am kind of flip-flopping, which, when I say “I don’t know,” they usually say, “Well, are you agnostic?”  Sometimes I say yes, sometimes I say no, but other times I start hyperventilating and flee to a different Starbucks.

I mean, I don’t really want to be in a camp with anyone.  Obviously we have a lot to be critical about when it comes to organized religion.  I was reading God is not Great, and Christopher Hitchens argues that one needs not religion to possess morality.  I heard an interview with him on NPR, and he said he realized that around the same time he realized how awesome it is to torture people.  He’s not a fan of torture anymore, but whatever.

At the same time, being an atheist takes just as much faith as believing.  You can’t prove that God doesn’t exist.  I was reading a rebuttal to Hitchens’ book called God is Totally Great, STFU, and it argues exactly that.  So, I mean, I don’t know.  Thing is, “agnostic” isn’t really a great term, either.  It means “without knowledge.”  That does not sound like a label that suits me at all.  Maybe I would start truly supporting agnosticism, its values, principles, and ideas it encapsulates if it came with a nicer label or something.  You know?  I could really go for a philosophy that sounds a little more cuddly on the ears.  What about “noncommittalism” or “spectator-sport-based intellectualism”?  I can’t decide if those are better or not, but hey, isn’t that really what this is all about?

Listen.  I need you to listen because this is incredibly important.  Not just for me, but for everyone.  I’m just…I’m really worried about Kevin.  He seems so down in the dumps lately, you know?  He makes these serious threats, and I understand that sometimes it’s to be dramatic, but I think it’s serious.  “Sometimes when I’m stuffing envelopes at work, I wonder if I can give myself a paper cut.  A paper cut that can kill.”  I know you might think that’s funny, but I don’t think so.  I’m concerned.  Someone should talk with him.

I mean, I did.  A little bit.  I Gchatted him for some advice about my job, my current boyfriend, my housemates, my broken iPod.  Well, okay, I know that’s not really talking, but I did send him a couple of texts.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m down with talking to him.  We’ve been sharing links on our Facebook walls for a solid three months now.

Okay, okay, we’ve talked.  A little.  But like I said, he keeps making threats on his life.  “The next time you Gchat me with your stupid complaints, I’m going to tear my flesh apart with a rake,” he says.  “If you keep polluting my Facebook wall with LOLcats, I’m going to take an acid bath before jumping into a giant mound of salt.”  The most recent one was “one more drunk text at 5 a.m. on a Tuesday, and I’ll shoot you in the face, frame it as a suicide, then put pieces of your obliterated skull on necklaces and sell them to angsty teenagers.”  Not only is he threatening his own life, he’s threatening others!  I’m really worried.  Someone needs to talk to him.  Don’t you think so? 

Well, why not?  Do you not care enough about him?  Is that what it is?  Christ, what’s your problem?  Aren’t you paying attention?  Are you not paying any mind to anything anyone says to you!? 

You’re making me upset.  I should Gchat Kevin to vent right this instant. 

Look at that.  That’s me and Kyle, right after his little league game.  You should’ve seen him play.  When he runs to a base, he gets the happiest look on his face.  “Look, daddy, look what I did!” he says.  He doesn’t even care if he’s out.  He doesn’t even care if he’s not even close to making it in time.  Still, “Aren’t you proud of me?”  It’s adorable.  I love this picture.

And my other kid, Tyler, he’s a great kid, too.  His new teeth are coming in.  They’re a little crooked, so he’ll need braces, but I swear, the two front ones that came in are almost an exact forty-five degree angle.  I don’t know how he managed that.  He’s just that talented.  I’ve got a couple pictures of him, too, with his old teeth.  They look pretty similar to the ones I’ve taken of Kyle.  Actually, they’re pretty similar to the kids taken of me as a kid, and probably similar to your pictures too.  Man, these photos are just so special.  Those teeth are perpendicular to each other.  That will cost me so much money.  I’ll have to work overtime to fix that.  The wife’s not gonna like that.

With the two of them, we mix up their names sometimes.  We’ll call Kyle Tyler, or we’ll call Tyler Kyle.  Sometimes my wife and I like to just say “Kyler” and they’ll both respond.  We came up with that when we were fighting about whether or not I should get a vasectomy.  My wife asked “Kyler” if they wanted another accident for a younger sibling, and stormed out.  Kyler, though, that’s pretty clever.  Mostly because when they were little, I couldn’t tell the two of them apart sometimes.  Their voices will so similar, just screaming, all day and all night, “Daddy, fix this!” “Daddy, I broke something!”  You know, that kind of shrill voice they have.  It really gets you out of bed at night when they start yelling at you for no good reason.  It’s really adorable.  Just like their mother.

I’m so good at it.  Seriously.  I think having opinions is awesome, but hey, being really good at having opinions…that’s fucking awesome.  But hey, that’s just my opinion.

Ask me about anything.  Do it.  Come on.  What’re you waiting for?  Ask me!  Seriously.  The Wrestler?  I love Darren Aronofsky, but I thought it paled in comparison to the sprawling, tragically underrated The Fountain.  Ulysses?  An overrated, bloated attempt at an overly elaborate stream-of-consciousness aesthetic.  Oh, you said baseball?  I could’ve sworn you said Ulysses. You know, the James Joyce masterwork…well, masterwork to, ha, other people.

No, seriously, keep asking me.  About cooking.  I don’t really cook, but chicken is hands-down the most pedestrian poultry you can eat.  Laundry?  I don’t really do laundry, but Snuggle is a great fabric softener…for philistines. Computers?  Could barely fix one, but I’ll tell you one thing: the age of the PC is over.  PC, of course, standing for plebeian commoner.  Apple Nation forever!

Oh, also: at some point, ask me for my opinion on Machiavelli.  I don’t know why, but I was just reminded of that.

The great thing about having opinions is not just having them, of course, it’s willing to share them.  Why squander your talents and let them dwindle into oblivion?  Sharing is key.  That’s not even an opinion.  That’s a fact.  Sometimes I won’t even greet people before I start sharing my opinions.  I won’t even stay loyal to the topic at hand.  I say we might as well cut to the chase. 

I love reading and watching opinion, too.  I only read books about other books instead of the original books, RottenTomatoes.com instead of movies, and Fox News as opposed to anything truly news-related.  People just consume things to share opinions on them anyway; I’m just ahead of the curb.  You know why?  Because I’m really good at it. 

Oh yeah, Macchiavelli.  I forgot already.  Love that guy.  Oh, you said “Do you have any other skills or talents?” Well…I, uh…I thought you asked about Macchiavelli.  Good stuff.

Hey, listen, I’m really sorry about your husband.  Trust me, I know how much it sucks to lose someone you love.  I was seeing this guy for a while (as in, looking at him) and he was totally beautiful.  I mean, he was tall, dark, handsome, I mean he had everything.  You would’ve been floored.  Anyway, I asked him to prom and he goes, “Sorry, I’m actually transferring to another school.”  I guess that’s what I get for asking seven months in advance.  Really hot guy, though.  It’s a shame he had to flee the country at such a young age.

Oh, really?  I didn’t know he was cheating on you!  But boy, do I know something about cheating.  I cheated on my eye exam once.  I memorized the first couple rows and…oh, you’ve heard this one before?  I just don’t remember who I’ve told what.  I–Oh yeah, I have been telling you that one since elementary school!  I’m sorry.

And he took all your money?  Wow.  I…well, that’s pretty horrible, sorry.  But look on the bright side: I was able to survive poverty.  I was so broke when I was little.  I remember when my father lost his consulting job.  We couldn’t go to the movies. We had to rent movies and watch them on our big-screen!  If I can get through that, I’m sure you can, too.

Dude, don’t say things like your life is over because nobody’s listening or willing to help you.  I’m totally willing.  You can tell me anything, I promise.  I will always be here, and seriously, I am a great listener.  But don’t call me between 6pm and 8:30pm.  That’s me time.