The reason why folks are saying “this decade sucked” and “2009 sucked” is because it’s like being at the end of a marathon race. You’re finally at the finish line, sweating, with blisters all over your feet. You look back at the race course you just ran and you’re wondering to yourself “Damn, why in the fuck did I just… do all of that?”

‘Nuff said!

It’s not hard to find videos on YouTube featuring hate speech, videos showing people’s butts, videos showing people being dorks etc.

However, some YouTube users have uploaded archival videos of film and television of historical interest . . .

. . . and, YouTube has taken many of those videos down:

Aw come on . . . HBO graphics from 1976 taken down?!? How is this video harmful to anyone?!?

Thus, expect to see less and less videos with historical content in them on YouTube. . .

. . . and more videos of people’s butts, hate speech, middle fingers, glitter, etc.

One of the reasons why the wars in both Afghanistan and Iraq have lasted so long is because of the lack of media coverage. While a good chunk of the military is from America, most of America does not even know what’s going on overseas.

According to The New York Times in a 2008 article, there have been fewer than six photos showing dead servicemen during the war in Iraq.

A few weeks ago, The Associated Press published a picture of a mortally wounded U.S. Marine in Afghanistan. Many critics said that the picture should not have been published out of respect for the soldier’s family.

However, people should have the right to know what is happening. The media has handled the situations in Iraq and Afghanistan with kid gloves – to the point where the tragedy of war has become sanitized and cleaned up for the Internet age.

And possibly, if more people saw what was really happening overseas, it’s possible the push to bring the troops back home would grow louder.

“The reason why I deleted you from Facebook is because all you do is bitch, whine and moan.” - a worker at a folk festival I went to today/former friend.

It’s kind of funny how this person who deleted me, who loves and enjoys folk, can say that.

See, folk music is generally 75 percent bitching, whining and moaning and 25 percent harmony.

In any case, at least I won’t hear her bitching, whining and moaning about MY bitching, whining and moaning anymore.

AND, at last count, I have 330 friends on Facebook. Which means that, if I am bitching, whining and moaning, at least I’m bitching, whining and moaning in the right way . . .

Les Lye, THE adult from Nickelodeon's You Can't Do That On Television

When I was around eight years old, Nickelodeon didn’t put shows on the air based on potential marketing appeal and how much merchandise the show can move.

Nickelodeon was basically a potpourri of television shows from all over the world when it started out. The Adventures of Black Beauty and Dangermouse were from England and Today’s Special was from Canada.

Livewire was one of the few shows that was produced exclusively for Nickelodeon, along with Pinwheel, which was comprised of cartoon shorts from all over the world along with some live action portions.

But then there was You Can’t Do That On Television.

You Can’t Do That On Television wasn’t some upper crusty tv show about a horse, or a trying to be hip kids talk show, or even a show with morals or lessons or condescending adults talking down to you.

You Can’t Do That On Television was fun. Pure fun. And they didn’t use dopey puppets or cheap special effects to entertain you . . .

. . . they used dopey kids and cheap props.

There were the hosts, Christine McGlade,  Alasdair Gillis and the supporting cast, Kevin Kubusheskie, Lisa Ruddy, and all of the seemingly hundreds upon hundreds of kids who went through the cast through the show’s eleven year run.

Then there was that strange mother with that red Brillo pad wig, Abby Hagyard.

But there was also the disgusting burger chef from hell, Barth. And that sppppitting arcade owner Blip. And that weird Mexican firing squad guy who always got himself shot. And that fatherly slob Lance, who predated Homer Simpson by at least five years. And that stage manager Ross who tried to hold the show together . . .

And . . . all of those characters were played by the same person.

Who knew? Well I didn’t know. I was pretty young back then.

And after Barth fed his customers burgers made out of barf, after Blip spittled and spit all over some poor kid and after Lance made his many kids take out the trash . . . Les Lye didn’t turn to the camera and speak about some lesson of the day the show was teaching.

He either got watered, or slimed, or got blown up . . .

That was the point of the whole show – it was a mix between Vaudeville and Monty Python . . . for a tween. It wasn’t about learning a lesson or two or going “gee, ma, can you buy me a Barth Burger action playset!”

Thanks Les.
I never learned anything from you.
And that was the whole point.
And You Can’t Do That On Television any more.

I think I’ve finally figured out why the United States Post Office is going out of business.

The other day I needed a stamp to mail out a bill. One stamp. That’s all. Forty-four lousy cents just to send out money to a ravenous company who couldn’t care less about how I sent the money, they just wanted their damned funds.

So, I went to the local nearby post office – which is .82 miles away.

And waited in line . . .

And waited . . .

And waited . . .

There wasn’t a crowd ahead of me . . . just two people. BOTH of them being waited on.

One customer was making small talk with one of the clerks, the other customer was chatting about the “expedite” stickers all over their package with the other clerk.

And I continued to wait . . . and wait. After about five minutes of waiting behind two people, both of them being waited on by the clerks, I decided to go to the next post office in the next town over . . .

So, 8.75 miles later, I walked in to ANOTHER  post office to buy a stamp . . .

. . . to find that they were closed for an hour long lunch break.

I could have waited there for an hour, or maybe I could have driven 8.75 miles back to the first post office.

But nope. I decided to drive the extra 4.72 miles to the NEXT post office.

And I walked in to the ultra-small post office to find the clerk chit chatting with a customer about trees . . .

For about a minute or two . . .

Ignoring the customer behind the tree-chatting customer . . .

ME.

Finally the clerk noticed me and, a few seconds later, I received my 44 cent stamp.

Thus, it took me around 45 minutes, 13.47 miles, one gallon of gas which cost around $2.59, just to purchase a stamp . . . for 44 cents.

I hope the company I sent the letter to is happy that I went through all that extra effort just to get that one 44 cent stamp.

I was going to write “I’ll admit that I liked Michael Jackson when I was a kid, listening to Thriller constantly and even wearing a Michael Jackson video style jacket around elementary school.”

But why should I “admit” it? It’s not something to feel guilty about.

Back in the 1980’s, Michael Jackson was everywhere. It wasn’t because of marketing companies, no matter how many Michael Jackson t-shirts, bumper stickers, dolls or costumes that were out there.

It was because he made some damn good music.

However, the Michael Jackson who died just recently was not the Michael Jackson that us MTV loving kids grew up with in the 80’s.

This was a person who was torn apart, not just by the media, but by his own actions . . .

It wasn’t the media who made him get millions of dollars in plastic surgery that, for all intents and purposes, mutilated his face.

It wasn’t the media who made him purchase a place called “Neverland Ranch” and all those strange excesses that put him in millions of dollars in debt.

It wasn’t the media who made him settle a lawsuit with a boy’s family over accusations of molestation.

At the same time, it WAS the media who hounded him, constantly, telling story after story about who he supposedly was, or wasn’t, or what he was supposed to be.

We already had those stories even before his death and now that he has died, over the next few months and years, we’ll have tons of stories, theories, television specials and tabloid reports about who he supposedly was.

All of those stories and theories will be debated by people forever, except for one thing that is true and cannot be debated:

The man is dead.

Let him rest in peace.

I always thought graduations should be a celebration of accomplishments – yes, pomp and circumstance, but with a little creative flair.

I find nothing wrong with putting some graffiti on one’s cap or wearing something around their gown – hell, I graduated college with a dorm sign around my neck.

However, some graduation celebrations are now cracking down on . . . celebrations. Take a look:

I have never, ever seen police officers patrolling the isles and being on the look out for KILLLLLEEEER BEACH BALLLLLLLLLLLLLS! Oooh hoo. How dangerous!!!

And isn’t a graduate blowing a kiss to his mother SO DANGEROUS? And displaying his achievements from athletics. D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S!

Seriously, the student in question, Justin Denney, DESERVES his diploma. He worked hard to get it and, as the video shows, he is very proud. What’s wrong with that? What he did was show his appreciation to his mother at what was supposed to be one of the best times of his life. Why is that wrong?

And now I can reveal something – I can somewhat relate to this poor graduate’s plight.

Back in 1991, I graduated from Mt. Abram High School in Kingfield, Maine. However, the day of the graduation ceremony, I was BANNED from it.

Why?

Because my hair was too long.

However, my story is different because I DID get my diploma. Right at the end of the last school day, ever, the principal unceremoniously handed it to me.

“Thank you and good luck.” he said in the hallway as I walked to my last school bus ride, ever. It felt more like a boss handing a pink slip than a principal handing a diploma.

My aunt and my cousin, who drove all the way from Connecticut to Maine to see me graduate, were extremely disappointed.

But I got the diploma.

This graduate did not.

[now here comes my real rant] In the end, it seems that high school, and maybe education itself, in general, is all about paradoxes: They encourage you to think different, just not THAT different. They encourage you to not live in fear, but they teach you LIVE WITH IT. Such is life. And life is one big education.

The funny thing is that there have been other students who have done MUCH WORSE and yet have received their diplomas. Like this story for example.