21 December 2009
The Faux Pas Press #19
A Weekly Thought
By Jason Fresh
The Brown Chair
I am sitting in the brown chair. I wanted a green one but I settled for this one, the one now supporting my ass, reminding me that I also am an ass for accepting a product other than one that I ordered. I specifically ordered a green one, green like moss not beige or tan like sandy poop. But alas, I am shown by the Infinite that I am going to accept responsibility for this.
Yes, me – I am going to own this chair delivered by two delivery men here in Hawaii who didn’t care either way – whether I got the chair that I ordered or whether I bitch and moan like an impotent cake-eater. Yes, me – not the Navy Exchange Furniture Outlet – no, not the pubescent imbecile who bunked my order close to 4 times – me. This is precisely the reason I write this fucking weekly thought. I write it so that I can learn to deal with my choices, and hopefully, amuse you or try and find the good in the bad.
You ever sit and listen to someone complain. No, no you have not. You may say to yourself, “Well, yes, Jason Fresh, yes I do. As a matter of fact, I am a great listener. I listen better than I talk. And I’m a pretty good talker. I listen to people’s problems all the time,” but the truth, the poopy, brown chair-owning truth is that you don’t. You listen to Mr. Schlopenbooger next door talk about his butterfly collection or the problems of a two party electoral system. You hear someone complaining about the Fair Tax proposition. You hear someone like my dad moaning about the mistreatment of Muslims in this country, but you don’t care. You care about you. Do you know why you don’t want socialism? You don’t want it because you don’t want to listen to someone else’s problems, you don’t want to own the choices of the collective soul. You don’t want to sit for hours of your life being drained in the name fickle altruism, in the name friendship, or Christian brotherhood. You are waiting to leave, waiting to turn around and get to what you really want – money and power, money and power. You go to church for these reasons. You socialize for these reasons. You litigate for these two reasons.
So, I guess I could write a letter instead of this piece you are reading, but no one at the Navy Exchange wants to hear me bitch about my sandy, poop-colored chair, the chair that houses my body as I now write, a chair that I will probably own for the next 20 years. I’ve either got to make it my aim, my purpose to execute justice or get over the fact that I didn’t stop the movers. I even helped the guys bring the chair in. This is another mistake. Don’t help someone who is getting paid to do a service that you are paying for. I know it sounds ridiculous, right? Like who would do that anyway? I do it. I tip people who don’t deserve anything. I greet people who don’t deserve greeting. What is my thought here? I will tell you. My thought is: If you are going to choose to live with less than you deserve, does it make any sense to complain about it?
This week’s thought is brought to you by the Navy Exchange and my amazing experience with them. Thanks for sending me a brown chair in a package with a sticker marked GREEN. If I shop with guys again – well, then – I guess we know what kind of principles I have. The answer is none. I am saying that you can walk me on like 70’s, daisy-covered, turf-fiber door mat. Also, the day after Thanksgiving is a scam because it is only setting you up for more bondage, more slavery, and more spending in the name of brotherly love that will put you, the spender in irreversible debt. Long live Ebenezer Scrooge.
And if you are going to put up with less that you deserve - then you deserve it.
Green Lights,
Jason Fresh
www.fauxpaspress.com
Monday, December 21, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The Faux Pas Rant #2: Television Survey
19 December 2009
The Faux Pas Rant #2
Television Survey
By Jason Fresh
Is it wrong to be angry when someone sends you two dollars in the mail to do a survey?
Don’t these people understand that we are not all television-watching drones who need hand-outs? Nobody needs a fucking hand-out.
I received a survey in the mail from a company be the name of Nielson Survey. “What kind of programming are you watching? Would you rather suck a donkey dick or watch re-runs of Saved by the Bell? Do you watch LOST? Oh, My God, you’ve got to watch LOST. If you don’t watch lost you might as well just go and read a boring ole’ book – and who doesn’t want two dollars. Times are so tough. We all need a little help every now and then.”
What the fuck? No, seriously, what the fuck is going on? How many surveys do we fill out before we realize that we are placating the very disorders of our lives? How many pieces of paper do I fill out before I come to realize that I’m just being drained by an invisible messenger of evil? Damn.
So, I call the company.
“Yah, I don’t know who you guys think you are, but these two dollar bills, American, need to be picked-up by someone. You are now obligating me to put this money back into an envelope and send it.”
“Well, you obviously don’t want to participate. You can do whatever you want with the money. Buy a gift, put in the savings account, or just place it in the basket at church tomorrow.”
“Hold the line, lady. You may use that rhetoric with other people, people who are okay with pastors stealing their money and citing the Bible, but you are talking to the new incarnation of Parley Angerbliss, the New American Muse. I pay homage to no God but my own. This money is coming back to you.”
“Well, that is fine.”
“You’re God-damn right its fucking fine, you flaming cunt burger.”
“Now, hold on just a minute, I’m trying to help you. You’re not going to speak to me with that filthy mouth.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit by and let you force your dead rhetoric on me with two dollars in filthy lucre.”
In the end, I sent back the two, American-style bills and I wrote this message: “We are not all T.V. watching drones like your target demographic. Here’s your money.”
www.fauxpaspress.com
The Faux Pas Rant #2
Television Survey
By Jason Fresh
Is it wrong to be angry when someone sends you two dollars in the mail to do a survey?
Don’t these people understand that we are not all television-watching drones who need hand-outs? Nobody needs a fucking hand-out.
I received a survey in the mail from a company be the name of Nielson Survey. “What kind of programming are you watching? Would you rather suck a donkey dick or watch re-runs of Saved by the Bell? Do you watch LOST? Oh, My God, you’ve got to watch LOST. If you don’t watch lost you might as well just go and read a boring ole’ book – and who doesn’t want two dollars. Times are so tough. We all need a little help every now and then.”
What the fuck? No, seriously, what the fuck is going on? How many surveys do we fill out before we realize that we are placating the very disorders of our lives? How many pieces of paper do I fill out before I come to realize that I’m just being drained by an invisible messenger of evil? Damn.
So, I call the company.
“Yah, I don’t know who you guys think you are, but these two dollar bills, American, need to be picked-up by someone. You are now obligating me to put this money back into an envelope and send it.”
“Well, you obviously don’t want to participate. You can do whatever you want with the money. Buy a gift, put in the savings account, or just place it in the basket at church tomorrow.”
“Hold the line, lady. You may use that rhetoric with other people, people who are okay with pastors stealing their money and citing the Bible, but you are talking to the new incarnation of Parley Angerbliss, the New American Muse. I pay homage to no God but my own. This money is coming back to you.”
“Well, that is fine.”
“You’re God-damn right its fucking fine, you flaming cunt burger.”
“Now, hold on just a minute, I’m trying to help you. You’re not going to speak to me with that filthy mouth.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit by and let you force your dead rhetoric on me with two dollars in filthy lucre.”
In the end, I sent back the two, American-style bills and I wrote this message: “We are not all T.V. watching drones like your target demographic. Here’s your money.”
www.fauxpaspress.com
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Faux Pas Press #18: Fill Your Well
The Faux Pas Press #18
A Weekly Thought
07 December 2009
Fill Your Well
By Jason Fresh
“You can’t draw water from a dry well.” This is a quaint little adage that I spout – mostly to calm my sensitive nerves whenever someone challenges a selfish choice. I often find excuses to use the word selfish even though I don’t believe in the widely-accepted meaning. I do this because it helps me to connect with common talk, the vernacular of the controlled masses that are going into tons of consumer debt to pay for Christmas.
I use the word selfish in the vain of women who have controlled my life with guilt and unnerving expectations, I shake my fists to the heavens, perhaps in a public restaurant like the Chili’s down the street or the Old Spaghetti Factory where I found a piece of plastic in a house salad, I shake my damn fists at this word, and then finally, I point my finger in its ugly face, this dubious word selfish, and I say, “I am mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore. I won’t be called selfish just because I like to spend hours working on my life; I won’t be called selfish when I spend the money I earn on myself, nor will I be called selfish for not celebrating Christmas with the rest of you. You might be more right to call mean vain, or glorious, or just plain weird, but don’t you dare, you ugly word, come any where close to me. Call me a shitty father, call me a douche, or a salamander, but for the love of Joseph Smith and his 21 wives, for the Wolf and his victorious Native American ancestors, for the sake of Andres Mosesian and his knife collection, don’t come near me, you dirty word.”
My arms are spread wide open like I’m waiting for a hug. The hug never comes, but there is a gaggle of spectators. One woman stands and gives a round of applause; another is crying. I leave said restaurant with a shit-eating grin.
So, I say selfish with a different tone than most. It is the equivalent of virtue. Yes, selfishness is virtue. No, I’m not going to support this season of gift-giving and butt- licking. I stand with Israel this holiday season or the few remaining people who still celebrate Kwanza. I’d rather walk the glowing streets of Waikiki Beach wearing traditional African garb than have my picture taken with Santa.
I mean, it’s not that I’m against lying, I love lying, for Vishnu’s sake.
We get to accept the lies in our society whenever we choose. I just don’t think there is much value in the Santa Clause myth.
What does this teach my daughter? Wait for some fat dude to buy you shit – be a good girl and Santa will love you? Hmmm, sounds strangely familiar. Mothers at the Wal-Mart cursing their kids during this season of joy say whatever gets past the clogged arteries, “Be a good girl or Mommy will give you a spanking. Be a good girl or I’m going to tell Santa Clause to take back all of your toys.”
Again, in a public place, I stand, face to the heavens and wait for a hug. The hug never comes, but there is a gaggle of consumers wondering why I’m not joining them at the Wal-Mart McDonald’s for a shopping break.
This holiday season, I invite you, adoring fans of mine, to look at your situation, feel the life-blood flowing through your veins, feel the reality of the good in you. When you walk into the night, away from the conventions that define, away from the people that guilt you, away from the anger you rightfully feel for being forced into this year after year, I invite you to walk into a public place, lift your arms to the heavens, and speak your mind. Or, just take the time you need for yourself. I know that the draw is just too powerful for some – you got to show up for the hustle, but there are some of you who will choose to walk into the night alone. I applaud you. I applaud you. This week’s thought: You can’t draw water from a dry well. Why don’t you fill yours?
Green Lights,
Jason Fresh
www.fauxpaspress.com
A Weekly Thought
07 December 2009
Fill Your Well
By Jason Fresh
“You can’t draw water from a dry well.” This is a quaint little adage that I spout – mostly to calm my sensitive nerves whenever someone challenges a selfish choice. I often find excuses to use the word selfish even though I don’t believe in the widely-accepted meaning. I do this because it helps me to connect with common talk, the vernacular of the controlled masses that are going into tons of consumer debt to pay for Christmas.
I use the word selfish in the vain of women who have controlled my life with guilt and unnerving expectations, I shake my fists to the heavens, perhaps in a public restaurant like the Chili’s down the street or the Old Spaghetti Factory where I found a piece of plastic in a house salad, I shake my damn fists at this word, and then finally, I point my finger in its ugly face, this dubious word selfish, and I say, “I am mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore. I won’t be called selfish just because I like to spend hours working on my life; I won’t be called selfish when I spend the money I earn on myself, nor will I be called selfish for not celebrating Christmas with the rest of you. You might be more right to call mean vain, or glorious, or just plain weird, but don’t you dare, you ugly word, come any where close to me. Call me a shitty father, call me a douche, or a salamander, but for the love of Joseph Smith and his 21 wives, for the Wolf and his victorious Native American ancestors, for the sake of Andres Mosesian and his knife collection, don’t come near me, you dirty word.”
My arms are spread wide open like I’m waiting for a hug. The hug never comes, but there is a gaggle of spectators. One woman stands and gives a round of applause; another is crying. I leave said restaurant with a shit-eating grin.
So, I say selfish with a different tone than most. It is the equivalent of virtue. Yes, selfishness is virtue. No, I’m not going to support this season of gift-giving and butt- licking. I stand with Israel this holiday season or the few remaining people who still celebrate Kwanza. I’d rather walk the glowing streets of Waikiki Beach wearing traditional African garb than have my picture taken with Santa.
I mean, it’s not that I’m against lying, I love lying, for Vishnu’s sake.
We get to accept the lies in our society whenever we choose. I just don’t think there is much value in the Santa Clause myth.
What does this teach my daughter? Wait for some fat dude to buy you shit – be a good girl and Santa will love you? Hmmm, sounds strangely familiar. Mothers at the Wal-Mart cursing their kids during this season of joy say whatever gets past the clogged arteries, “Be a good girl or Mommy will give you a spanking. Be a good girl or I’m going to tell Santa Clause to take back all of your toys.”
Again, in a public place, I stand, face to the heavens and wait for a hug. The hug never comes, but there is a gaggle of consumers wondering why I’m not joining them at the Wal-Mart McDonald’s for a shopping break.
This holiday season, I invite you, adoring fans of mine, to look at your situation, feel the life-blood flowing through your veins, feel the reality of the good in you. When you walk into the night, away from the conventions that define, away from the people that guilt you, away from the anger you rightfully feel for being forced into this year after year, I invite you to walk into a public place, lift your arms to the heavens, and speak your mind. Or, just take the time you need for yourself. I know that the draw is just too powerful for some – you got to show up for the hustle, but there are some of you who will choose to walk into the night alone. I applaud you. I applaud you. This week’s thought: You can’t draw water from a dry well. Why don’t you fill yours?
Green Lights,
Jason Fresh
www.fauxpaspress.com
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