The Times They Have A-Changed

Last weekend, I attended the Portland Chocolate Festival.  I chose to go on the opening night, even though the entrance fee was twice as much, because it was a 21+ event and I didn't want to deal with running, shrieking, sticky-fingered children at a gigantic, candy-based festivity.


As a kid, I found the concept of "adults only" incredibly offensive.  I couldn't understand why adults wouldn't want kids around for everything.  After all, kids were cute, smart, funny, and in general simply made situations better!  Why wouldn't you want a bunch of them frolicking in the public pool while you're trying to swim laps?


As an adult, my opinions have changed dramatically.  Not only do I enjoy kid-free events, but I also find things repellant that I used to love as a kid, and vice versa - I now enjoy things that I associated with pure doom during my childhood.  For example...


WINTER


When I was a kid, winter was one of the greatest things ever.  Winter meant snow, and snow meant forts, snow ball fights, days home from school, sledding, snow men, and hot cocoa.  But this is how I feel about snow nowadays:

If I didn't have to shovel it, clean off my car, or drive in the crap, perhaps I'd still like it...although I've also developed a strong adversity to being cold, so actually snow can just suck it.  Winter can suck it as well. Winter is cold, wet, dark, and stupid.


QUIET TIME


As a child, the following image would have embodied the pinnacle of coma-inducing ennui:

But now when I look at it, I think - wow.  That looks lovely.  How do I get to go there?


When I was young, I was never bothered by noise and equated silence with boredom.  I remember once being on a road trip with my older sister and parents.  During the long drive, my sister and I played game after game (e.g., I Packed My Grandmother's Trunk; I Spy; 20 Questions; Who Stole The Cookie From the Coo-Coo-Kie Jar; etc.).  After a couple of hours we ran out of games and asked my parents for suggestions.  My dad said, "How about if we play a game that's absolutely silent?"  While my sister and I had been trying to entertain ourselves to keep from going stir crazy, my poor father was about to lose his mind after listening to hours of his children's endless chattering and laughter.  At the time I didn't get it, but now I do.


As an adult, I think it's funny that I used to consider it a punishment to be sent to my room.  These days, I would love to get sent to my room to think about what I've done.  That sounds very relaxing.

Ahhh...time to myself.  What a luxury.

BEDROOM LIGHTING


As a kid, I had no tolerance for darkness in my bedroom at night.  I slept with a nightlight on *and* the door open about halfway, with the hall light on.  I needed lots of light.  This would've been a good product for me in my youth:

Seriously?  It takes up the entire fucking wall!

As an adult, however, when I go to sleep at night, I want my room to look like this:

I don't want to be able to see a single thing.  If there's a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the curtains, I feel like:  "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!  LIIIIIIIIGHT!"  Whereas when I was a child, at bedtime I was more like, "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! DAAAAARK!"


FOOD


Glasses of milk and huge amounts of red, rare meat were on my preferred menu when I was a kid.  I also hated spicy food and would question spice-eaters regarding how they could enjoy a food that made them hurt.  Nowadays, the thought of drinking a glass of milk makes me want to barf.  I haven't eaten meat since 1994, and I enjoy food so spicy that it would cause most people's taste buds to supernova.

Mmmm...give me some of whatever he's having!

Of course, there are plenty of other differences between me at 6 and me at 36.  I don't need to be told ten times (or at all) to pick up after myself.  I can't imagine why anyone would enjoy playing make believe games like "school" or "house," because now I've lived those experiences, and they're not very fun.  I don't like playing the same game, listening to the same story, or watching the same movie over and over and over because that is just fucking insane.  And I have excellent motor skills.  I remember being really envious of adults' motor skills when I was a kid, and now I've got them.  Ha!

Yes, the times they have a'changed.  Thirty years ago, I would've merrily crawled out of my snow fort, eaten a burger with a big glass of milk, asked for the same bedtime story three times in a row, and fallen asleep with the lights on.  But tonight I'm going to crank up the heat and pretend it's summer, stand on one leg while I eat a habañero spiced tempeh wrap, send myself to my room to think about what I've done, and fall asleep in pitch darkness.  Sounds lovely.

America, The Gingerbread Man

Unfortunately, in the USA, we have just entered another presidential election year.


While I do my best to avoid political yammering, recently I've heard a great deal of nonsense from yucky people who claim to love America. When I hear their claims, I find myself confused, because *I* love America (or rather, the United States of America; I'm not overly familiar with the other Americas, although I've heard nice things), and yet I tend to believe I have little in common with these 'Murica-lovin' yahoos.


This strange situation has gotten me thinking about what it means to love America. What are the American people made of? What do we value, and what is there to love about this country? Therefore, I have decided to map out exactly what I believe Americans love about America, and the canvas for my map will be this cute little gingerbread dude:

I am America!

[As I lead us through the mapping process, please keep in mind that I am aware the USA is flawed. While outlining the reasons why America is lovable, I will utilize broad, sweeping generalizations that may, in fact, be founded primarily on myth. But try to stay with me here.]


As Americans, we have the right to think what we want. This can lead to inventions, brand new theories about existence and the universe, and annoying, drunken debates at parties. While there are all sorts of devious entities working to manipulate our thought processes, we ultimately have the freedom to think however we choose. And that's a nice thing. Here it is on the gingerbread map:

Americans love their freedom of speech. Unfortunately, freedom of speech can lead to people saying dumb and hateful things, but it also allows for other people to inform the haters exactly where they can stick their dumb opinions. For obvious reasons, I will place our love for freedom of speech right on the mouth:

Yay, I can say dumb things! And you can tell me to shut the fuck up!

Americans are adventurous. We enjoy and find value in exploring new lands, seas, and solar systems.  We travel widely and bless the world with our Americanness. Ah ha ha ha ha...anyway, I'll put America's love of adventure on the little guy's feet:

This cookie was made for walkin'.

There is, in the heart of America, a desire to help those in need. We send both funds and ourselves to other places in times of crisis. We work to protect endangered species, rainforests, and other vulnerable stuff. In short, we care. [Except for those of us who don't, but let's not think about those people right now.] The gingerbread man's little helping hand will symbolize that aspect of America:

America values creativity, and we demonstrate this through our fashion, music, movies, and other forms of art. A lot of it is horrible, but whatchagonnado? One man's poop on a plate is another man's masterpiece.

Only creative gingerbread men have snazzy bow ties.

Here is the part of the map signifying America's love for Strawberry Shortcake:

???

[Okay, that came out of nowhere. Really I just have a bunch of Strawberry Shortcake stickers and am trying to get rid of them. I'm not implying that Americans don't love Strawberry Shortcake. I just don't think that our love for her is intricately woven into the fabric of this country.]


America has created brand new industries (then promptly shipped them overseas) and is a country of workers (or at least people who are looking for work). Whoops...I think my rose-colored glasses must've slipped off. Just a moment, please...


America is a country of workers! We are an industrious bunch, continually building, developing, sitting at desks doing God-knows-what, marketing, manufacturing...uh, sewing, and...um, cobbling, and doing other stuff. I utilized the gingerbread man's buttons to symbolize American industriousness because somehow that seemed appropriate:

Americans love their families and are committed to humanity. We love our friends, totally care about our neighbors (what were their names again?), and appreciate diversity, as long as it doesn't make us too uncomfortable. The gingerbread man's little purple heart will signify this commitment:

Finally, we come to a part of America that some people love, and it is this part that distinguishes me from the sociopathic politicos I've had the misfortune to hear speak lately. It is an aspect of Americanism I don't associate with, but I also realize that, unlike Strawberry Shortcake, it is indeed something that is woven into the fabric of the USA. That part is this: In America, some people have the ability to accumulate and hoard huge amounts of wealth, which they then utilize for their own grossly excessive personal gain.


I'll put that part right where it belongs:

I call this America's anus.


America's anus doles out a lot of crap, both crap we have to deal with in this country and crap we get overseas. People who love America's anus will do anything to accumulate wealth, even if it means building a gigantic fortress from the skulls of babies, puppies, and endangered species. For whatever reason, it is vital for them to amass as much of the world's resources as possible, and they can take it with them, goddammit it, so don't tell them they can't or they'll send their teams of lawyers after you.


As a rule, I try to have limited contact with buttholes, so while I maintain my love for the USA, I will do so without paying homage to its anus. I'll leave that to our nation's wealth addicts. I just wish we had some form of methadone to wean them off the green stuff, as the harmfulness of their addiction radiates outwards, squishing all in its path.


If I were President, I would end this post as follows:


"God bless you, and God bless the United States of America, even its anus. Because I guess shit needs to come out somewhere."