Trip
I just got back last night from visiting my cousin in San Francisco. I learned a few things:

• There is a merely a gay section of San Francisco. That section makes the south end of Boston look like Republican party headquarters.
• My cousin and her husband are phenomenal hosts and tour guides, but very poor alarm clocks.
• San Francisco coffee is as strong, black, and bitter as my heart. It makes Starbucks seem like baby formula.
• Once, Haight Ashbury was a renowned place for hippies to hang out and like be, man. Now, famous corner is trimmed with a Gap on one corner and a Ben & Jerry’s on the other. All hanging and/or being was sold with the 60’s counterculture.
• There is a difference between people who work in theaters and those that work at Faires. While both seem nice, theater people are more funny: ha ha, while faire people are more funny: uh oh.
• Like it’s cousin to the south, Los Angeles, San Francisco has amazingly cheap records. I averaged about $6.25 per CD, but please don’t ask me how many I bought in the seven plus hours I spent in record stores.
• There are a lot of homeless people in San Francisco. Some seem to have made errors, while others made a choice.
• There are a lot of panhandlers in SF. Some respond to “Sorry, man,” with “Hey, man, that’s like totally ok, man. You don’t have to be sorry, man. It’s cool. Have a Good one.” Others will argue with “Sorry, man,” as if they will eventually convince you that you have made an obviously wrong choice by not giving them “bus money.”

Trip II
I got through most of the security checkpoints without a hitch, until the ride home. The lady wanted me to put my sneakers through the x-ray machine. As my sneakers have never set off a metal detector because they contain no metal I argued with her. She told me that it was recommended that I comply. After 3 rounds of her not yielding, nor yielding myself, I put them on the belt. There was no need, but my feeling was that I was going to be detained for a search if I didn’t comply. I hate that feeling.

By complying, I did avoid a search, but it didn’t seem right. It seemed that she couldn’t force me to take my shoes off, but she was going to make it difficult for me if I didn’t. Kids are bringing box cutters on the plane, and they’re checking my shoes. That seems to me like we have a misdirection of security resources. It also says that a real terrorist is getting by even if his shoes are off. Bunch of A-holes.

Anyway, relating the story today, a co-worker recommended that if I don’t like it, don’t fly. I love this argument. If you don’t want your car stolen, don’t buy a nice car. If you you don’t like the policies, move to another country. Don’t change the incorrect policies, just comply, comply, comply.

This is why America has gone from a nation of rebels to a full-fledged nation of sheep. We comply by rote.

Posted in Anger, Music, Philosophical BS