Gold Digger

She does nothing more than berate and intimidate.

Happy 60th Birthday Gene Simmons!

Those who know me well know that since the age of six, my favorite band has been KISS. Ever since I heard the song "Parasite" back in the second grade, I've been a member of the KISS Army. However, my great childhood secret was despite my adoration, I was terrified of Gene Simmons.

So much in fact that I would cry if I saw certain pictures of Gene in magazines that made him look particularly evil, like the photo on the back cover of ALIVE II in which his face is covered in blood and he resembles the devil himself.

Watching KISS Meets The Phantom worsened my phobia. There was a scene in which he crashed through a wall and beat up a bunch of security guards (well, it was actually his robot double, but that's another part of the plot I don't want to give away here); and it scared the crap out of me. At the time my mom and I lived in an apartment building -- we lived on the lower floor, and when I would come home from school each day I was afraid to walk down the steps to get to our door -- I had to walk past a wall that jutted out before I could reach our apartment. I fervently believed at the time that Gene was hiding and would jump out, club me over the head and drag me to a hellish abyss.



I was only nine, OK? Anyway, this bizarre fear continued -- I had posters of Paul Stanley and Ace Frehley on my walls in my bedroom, but Gene? No freaking way.

It wasn't until 1983 when KISS finally took off the makeup that my odd phobia subsided. Lord Almighty, it turned out that Gene Simmons was attractive under that greasepaint -- actually very attractive. Sexy. Exotic. Mysterious.

Move forward 12 years and I'm now a young pup journalist in Ohio and who did I get to meet an official KISS convention? The man himself. Gene Simmons. He was tall, dark and handsome. And that voice! To this day I tell people that he has the most wonderful speaking voice. Deep, with perfect diction -- David Beckham wishes he could sound like Gene.

I was a bit nervous but Gene was nice, gracious and very funny. As I continued my work as an entertainment journalist I was able to meet up with him for other interviews and wouldn't you know, I wasn't petrified anymore.

Anyway, today is Gene's 60th birthday, and I wanted to wish him a healthy and happy one, and I hope he continues to do what he does best for many, many years.

OMG, Like Kids R So Dumb!

I work at a community college; a very big one with five campuses and more than 60,000students in a famous rust belt city.

Today marks the second day of the Fall 2000 semester, and already I am dreaming of my next vacation. Why?

Judging by the shenanigans I've seen already this week, I feel the next generation is doomed. And in turn, so are the rest of us. These teenagers and young adults have been coddled, hand held, and spoon fed for so long by their parents and caregivers that they can't do a damn thing on their own.

Case in point: at each campus at the beginning of a new semester, we post large displays indicating class times, days, instructor, class name and room location. These displays are printed in spreadsheet form, and they are very neat and discernable from other materials on display. The large signs that read "FALL 2009 ROOM SCHEDULE" should make it pretty easy, right?

Nope.

In the atriums of our campuses we have greeters and immediately, the kids come running, out of breath, frantic, flustered. A typical conversation goes like this:

Greeter: Hi, welcome!

Student: Oh God (pant, pant)!

Greeter: What's wrong?

Student: I need to know where these classes are located.

Greeter: Of course! Don't worry! Well, right behind me and throughout the campus we have displays listing the information you need.

Student: Can't you tell me?

Greeter: Just look at the grid.

Student: (Puzzled as hell) I don't know how to that.

Greeter: (With a forced smile) Come here and I will show you how to do it.

Apparently, these students don't know how to follow a horizontal line and a vertical column to get to find the information they need. However, they can figure out to upload stupid ringtones, text inane sentences and post on Facebook and MySpace.

And God forbid they make a mistake when it comes to filling out forms and schedules: somehow it is always the fault of the school. It's quite amusing, yet really pathetic when a student brings their parent to the office when something goes wrong -- guess who gets the blame? We do.

When discussing this, I have to depend on the legendary Paul Lynde who sang this wonderful song in the musical Bye Bye Birdie.

Truer words were never spoken.

An Open Letter to Aaron Eckhart

Dear Aaron:

Please use what the Heavenly Father gave you, and stop working against it.

I just saw the trailer for Love Happens, your new romantic comedy/drama with Jennifer Aniston and I cringed; then I wailed loudly (to no one in particular), “Why is Aaron Eckhart doing this sort of fluff?”

You are way better than this!

Ever since I saw you on screen at the Cedar Lee Theater as Chad Piercewell in your debut film In the Company of Men, I knew you were an actor who had something special – and 12 years later you’ve aged like a fine wine (I know you don’t drink, and neither do I, but I couldn’t think of a better comparison). You’ve evolved into a cross between Gary Cooper and Kirk Douglas – two known for their stoicism and nobility, and their ability to crank it up a notch, or two when necessary.

For some reason, your choices of roles recently have left me flummoxed. As a child and teenager I spent a lot of time watching old movies and the actors from the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s had very distinct personas and utilized them to their advantage: George Raft, Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant and Jeff Chandler all had their niche.

You, Aaron Eckhart, also have a niche. However, you seem to be constantly fighting against it, proclaiming that you want to play the guy who gets the girl or who saves the day. Those are nice sentiments, indeed, but when those sorts of roles don’t utilize your talents to your best advantage, what will you have gained but a long string of fluff films on your IMDB.com profile?

What would you be preferred to be remembered for when it comes to your career – Battle: Los Angeles, The Core and No Reservations; or In the Company of Men, The Dark Knight, Your Friends and Neighbors and Towelhead?

Stupid Black Woman Tricks

I work at a college and some days it is very interesting and some days it is boring as hell, but that is OK because having balance is a good thing.
However, what isn’t good is when a violent event happens on campus that makes one’s head shake in disgust.

Case in point: it was a pretty average day today. Nice and quiet, with students registering for Fall classes; and I was in my office studying for a test later that night (working on another master’s degree, but whose counting), when I heard loud shrieks coming from two women – shrieks that had a certain cadence that let me know that the sounds were coming from black women.

Two black women fighting like wild cats in the atrium of a college campus – how nice.
Once again, as I watched two members of my gender and race act like two hooligans in alley rumble hissing and scratching like two she-cats, I could only sigh and shake my head in disgust. Sometimes I wonder when black people argue and fight publicly, are they really doing it because they are upset or are they doing it for show -- a sort of ghetto minstrel performance. I wonder.

I wonder if those two were fighting about a man. I wouldn’t be surprised. It seems to happen all the time; whether I’m watching some court show, or watching COPS, a situation always arises when two black women scrap over some dude, and then it gets ugly, real ugly.

Now, I have no idea why they fought. It’s just a theory and a good one at that because I’ve seen it happen too many times where I work. A word is said, an eye roll given, and punch is thrown and then all hell breaks loose to the eternal disgust of the people watching, including me. For a brief moment, everyone is somewhat entertained, this temporary break in the day’s monotony, and then realism creeps back in, the fact that these women have no self-esteem, no value of their own minds and bodies.

It’s just depressing, really.

And so it goes, today’s fight is now over, and security reports are being written and questions will be asked, but it really doesn’t solve the problem as to why.

Cancer Sucks and So Does Medicare

My mom has cancer, a rare form of stomach cancer (linitis plastica), and she began chemo today. It has a poor survival rate, however her doctor now says he will try with chemo to shrink as much as possible and then remove the bad part and leave her with a small stomach. He thinks there is a change my mom could beat the odds.

However, Medicare sure isn’t making the battle to win any easier for mom.
She is retired; has been for over 10 years. With the exception of her thyroid medicine that she takes everyday my mother has never “used” the system, or tried to fleece it. In fact, she positively loathes any sort of help. She is fiercely independent.

But now, as she finally does need the help from a system from which she has paid into for years as a gainfully employed person, my mother (along with millions of others) is getting royally fucked by the government.

Medicare won’t pay for a PET scan. A PET scan is an even more precise form of image-taking than MRI. Her physician at the Hope Center for Cancer care wants to see if there is a spot on her liver. Apparently you have to have a certain type of cancer to have Medicare to approve the PET scan and mother didn’t luck out (yes, I’m reeking of sarcasm now).

Also, this weekend her oncologist prescribed two types of anti-nausea medicine. Co-pays: $519 and $375 respectfully! I went to the drugstore to get the prescriptions filled and when the pharmacist told me the price, I screamed. Then I called my mom on my cell phone and she said, “MOTHERFUCKER” (true story)! I paid for one and charged the other to my credit card.

Previous to this event I had a feeling that this battle would turn out to be expensive, and I thought of various ways to raise some money. One of which was to sell a novel I wrote about a real relationship I had years ago with a notable person, but in the end I couldn't do it because I still love the fellow in question and didn't want to humiliate him as he launched some brand new ventures. People were very interested in the book, but I pulled the plug.

So, what I am doing now is trying to research organizations that help retired people who have Medicare and have cancer with their medical costs. And with that, there is another conundrum. Mom is not poor, but not wealthy either, just solidly middle class, and so it is hard to get help because most assistance initiatives target the impoverished. So there are millions like my mom who are caught in the middle.

Anyway, that is my rant for the day, and I’m sure as this progresses I will have much more to say.