Objectivity vs. Obscenities

Recently, I had to write an argumentative essay for English Mastery. When the prof said "argumentative", she meant I had to convince the reader to accept my point of view on a subject of my liking, doing so as objectively as possible. Because I was low on inspiration, I chose a subject that is always a heck of an ice breaker (and eventually a face breaker): the American laws on gun control. While writing, my words had to remain as politically correct as possible. But since this is the internet, I can just throw all my bile into this post, which I shall do. So let's get started, shall we?

At first, I was optimistic, and thought the essay would write itself. Soon enough, this subject almost proved to be more saddening, frightening and rage-inducing than I could handle.

I looked for sources to cite, and soon stumbled upon the National Rifle Association's website. Words cannot describe the disgust that overwhelmed me. Basically, they portray themselves as a family-friendly organisation (they even have a boyscout-ish youth division!), while being focused on firearms. All over the site were photos of shiny happy people, holding their side-arms in their hands with sheepish smiles, with captions saying that if it weren't for the NRA, they would have lost their right to bear arms, and logically, everything else in their lives. As I glanced over their blog, I saw announcements like one that basically said: "Come to our barbecue at this weekend's gun show! Bring your whole family! If you take part in our raffle, you may even win this camo-painted, high-calibre, scoped hunting rifle!"

Fun for the whole family, guaranteed.

Not only do they inform their members about ongoing events in Gunland, they also have a store with a whole array of items ranging from fashionable jackets made specifically with concealed carry in mind, to tasteful mantelpiece clocks with a hidden case where you can store your revolver. Everything the psychotic and the paranoid could ever need!

I don't get the fascination some people have with hunting. I begrudgingly admit knowing that the numbers of certain animals must be kept in check, for the sake of nature's balance, but some hunters are so proud of what they do... I don't believe any of their hunting stories. What happens most of the time is that they hide in the bushes and shoot a defenceless animal from yards away. The poor creature doesn't have any chance to escape of fight back. Afterwards, as to prove his virility, the hunter hangs the remnants of the beast on the wall above his fireplace, as a trophy.

Still, no one has decorations like Gaston.

Moving away from the mind-numbing website, I searched for more... varied sources. That's when I came across an interview with college students, concerning gun laws, and was flabbergasted to read that some of them wanted to be allowed to carry concealed weapons on the university grounds. Because they'd feel safer if everyone had a device specifically designed for dispensing death tucked away in their pockets.

From that point on, I had to restrain myself and try to not condense my essay into a single page with the phrase "Americans are completely and utterly batshit insane" in big, bold letters all across it. Studies show that an average of 30,000 people are shot to death in the United States every year. And how do the NRA and its consorts react? By merrily pointing out that the number of gun homicides went down by 8% between 2008 and 2009. Oh, fantastic, that means only around 27,000 died in that period of time. Gee, we really all went overboard with that whole "guns kill people stuff", didn't we? Our most sincere apologies, by all means, just keep handing out military-style semi-automatic weapons to convicted felons and the dangerously mentally ill.

As a last resort, the pro-gun people bring up the big one, the argument that can't be countered: it's in the Constitution. Every citizen has the freedom to bear arms, and that liberty can't be taken away. It's every American's God-given right to pursue happiness, and it's the government's job to defend that right, not to take it away (?). You may think I'm exaggerating about this last non-sequitur, but it's one of the rebuttals a firearm aficionado gave during a gun law debate that I heard.

When America was founded, such liberal firearm laws were logical. As a newly-founded country, it could use all the armed people it could spare, in case the King of England suddenly decided to stick his sceptre up the yank's collective rear and invade them. Nowadays, their passion for guns it nothing more than a massive, collective Freudian issue, methinks.

Doubt, decisions, drama, dosh and a duck

If you are like me (pray you have better looks), big purchases are something that makes your hair go grey. I'm one of those persons who has no trouble spending a little dosh on a pint or a sandwich, but worries to no end when the expenses exceed a certain limit (i.e. any item that costs more than the smallest bank note of the local currency available).

For quite a few years, I have wished I had a tablet: a wonderful device that lets you make drawings digitally. I dreamt of the possibilities: finally, I would be able to... Well... Draw on my computer. Tablets are cool, but they aren't exactly the second coming. Although Moses did have a couple of them, if I remember correctly...

Anyway, I was able to get a part-time job, recently. After I while, I had put aside enough cash for my very own digital drawing device. And last week, I had an excellent opportunity to go to a shopping mall in the Capital City, and get one. I checked the prices online, re-counted my dough, put it in my wallet, went to bed... And started to brood.

One tiny voice said to me: "Dude, this is going to be awesome! You're finally going to buy it!". To which another tiny conscience-like being replied: "Are you sure you really need it?". It sounded like some stuffy investment banker. The Dude didn't give up. "Aw, c'mon man, you've been wanting one of those for ages! You've worked for it; you earned it!". The Banker didn't stop trying to coax me: "But what if you come to need that money for something else? Surely it could be spent in better ways, you should save it!".

And the argument raged on, until I fell asleep. The Dude must have beat the Banker into a coma, because I didn't hear anything else from him the next morning. I went to the store, found my prize, tested some massage chairs with my colleague Arnout, and GTFO'd. And I'm glad I did so. Not only was the back rub invigorating, but I'm also having tons of fun with my new gadget.

Some of the more observant readers might be thinking: "Riveting tale, old chap! But where is the duck promised in the title?". Well, I wasn't finished! Here you go:

I call him Geoffrey.

Well, if you want to get technical, that is in fact a goose, and not a duck. I blame Disney for misleading me and thousands of other innocent youths of this generation and those past.

The party pooper

Alright, let's get this out of the way, right off the bat: I am not a party person. I'm not saying that I am asocial or lack communication skills (they're defective, that's all), but I just don't get what's so great about night clubs and such. People tend to tell me I'm weird for not liking huge parties, as if I hate having fun or something, which is not true. I'm going to try to explain my point of view here, so certain people will get off my case already.

1. You get to meet new people
Yes, and the best place to do so is certainly in a crowded night club, where the majority is drunk, drugged or both, and you can't understand a word of what they're saying due to the loud music. Also, I am quite fond of my personal space, and having some fat, shirtless raver rub his sweaty belly against my neck for a whole evening is aggravating, to say the least. And yes, I am that short. Last time someone convinced me to go to a club, someone mistook me for a table and put her glass on top of my head.

2. Live music is great
Yes, but this is no concert: what you have here is a DJ playing records; pretty much like it's done on the radio. Live performances are fantastic, but you are talking about the equivalent of a very loud jukebox. Listening to songs being distorted due to the speakers not being able to produce such a loud volume is something I can do in the comfort of my home, thank you very much. I can even chose songs I actually like!

3. You just don't know how to have fun
No, my concept of fun is just different. I do enjoy music, like a live concert on a open field, where there is enough space to not have your face shoved into someone's armpit. I do like meeting new people, as long as I get the time to know them. I like do hanging out with friends and have a good time, but small spaces with too many people in it and loud music that doesn't suit my tastes are just not that enjoyable to me.

Well, I'm glad I got that off my chest. I'm also glad I don't have that many readers, otherwise my comments section would be filled with bile and generally indecent names aimed towards my person. But I'm not saying my forms of leisure are superior: it's just that I hate crowded places. And haters gonna hate.

 

Bloody bothersome buggers

It would seem that I'm the only person in all of the land to be plagued by mosquitoes, even though it has been Autumn for a while and the temperature is starting to drop like the stocks. Some sadistic deity must be trying to punish me in an ironic way, because there is no single creature in the universe I despise more than the Culex Pipien (your common blood-sucking variety of mosquitoes).

I could be considered an animal person. I have a cat and a dog, and insects don't really bug or frighten me. When a bee or a wasp wanders inside the house, I just catch it with a cup and release it back into the wild.

But mosquitoes are another thing. These creatures are the trolls of the animal kingdom. They serve no purpose in nature, and exist only to feast on your blood and spread disease. You may close your windows and stay in the dark on hot summer nights, but despite your best efforts they will find a way to get inside, and they will do their darnedest best to deprive you of your precious sleep. Your room may be as big as a mini-mall, but they will invariably try to get in one place, and one place only: your inner ear.

I swear, it's as if they're trying to buzz Eduard Khil's 
"I am glad to finally be back home" in my cochlea

Once a mosquito has announced its presence, there are a few ways in which you can retaliate.  Waving one's arm(s) around spasmodically to fend it off is a natural reaction, but you know the pest will be back to wake you up just as soon as you are falling asleep. Otherwise, you can pretend to not have heard it, making an easy meal of yourself. Others prefer to turn the lights on and hunt down the little nuisance, only for it to vanish into thin air.

Occasionally, you are able to spot the flying leech. There you are, poised with your deadly slipper in your hand. You strike, like a barbarian warrior felling some virgin-stealing monster (well, at least I do; those pests make me go berserk), only for the beast to nimbly dodge the attack. But once in a blue moon, your instrument of death strikes true. For an instant, you are filled with relief and joy; until you see the enormous splatter of blood left behind on the wall, a grim reminder of this grandiose battle.

So, the moral of the story is: the mosquito always wins.

A Parade Parody

Big demonstration, here at the Capital City. People from all over the continent, from many unions, came to protest against savings made by Them ("the Bigwigs", "the Man"). I can't be more specific, because it was not really divulged which sectors were affected, neither what exactly They were up to.

But what I do know, is that it was huge. The number "100.000" was spread around, although authorities estimate the number of protesters to be considerably lower (as if they would ever say otherwise). Seeing such numbers of people marching down the main street would have been considered intimidating in other ages, but it seems that this one was more of a hippie parade than an angry mob with torches and pitchforks at the ready.

For starters, most people do not even know what the deal is. I've asked around why so many people are gathering here, and all I get are shrugs. "Something about money" was the closest thing I got to an answer. In the past, people were mad at high taxes, the oppression of the common populace and whatnot, but nowadays it seems everyone just wanted to tag along because it sounded like a fun trip.

Secondly, there was a jolly good atmosphere. People's money is being taken away from them (in some vague manner), but no-one seems to be angry. People were singing, flags were fluttering around, and live music was played. It was somewhere between a Carnival parade in Rio de Janeiro and a group of drunken football enthusiasts on a Saturday night right after a won match.

The last comparison, I think, is due to the fact that many of the protesters took this as a chance for a city-trip, especially the foreign participants. You can't just come here without trying a local brew, now can you? And the restaurant street is right around the corner, so why not?...

Perhaps it was for the best. Protesters who have had a drink and a good meal are happy protesters (?!), who won't set any governmental buildings on fire. They made a day out of it, and went home satisfied (I hope). It's just a shame that those 100.000 jolly demonstrators needed to take the train, like me and thousands of others who wanted to get home after a long day...

A terrible take-off

Well, I've considered making a blog for quite a time, and since one of my docents asked us to make one as a form of permanent evaluation, so... Here I am.

Not to underperform, I decided to do some research on how to write a decent blog. Here are some things I learned:

• First and foremost, your writing style is of great importance. Grammar and spelling aside, the way you write should reflect your personality, or help to convey your message as well as possible.
• Blog readers are impatient. If they read someone's blog, it's because they want to be entertained or informed in some way or other. Because of that, your posts mustn't be overly long: avoid walls of text, trim away all that's unnecessary!
• Pick a topic. That makes it easier to come up with things to post.

After reading up on writing, I started thinking about what I should blog. The best thing I could think about was to ponder about the "small things" in life. Things that move us, annoys us, make us happy... After all, it's the small things that count, or so they say. I have a hunch that I will write the most about nuisances than anything else... We will see where this wreck leads to.