Several wonderful things transpired during Friday’s episode that were notable. Amongst them is Seth MacFarlane’s near-perfect Shatner-esque delivery of a speech regarding war, nearly ripped word-for-word from the original Star Trek episode, “A Taste of Armageddon.”

(Thanks to TrekMovie.com for posting an article with the YouTube embed!)

A second item was Seth MacFarlane’s response to Sarah Palin’s fake outrage where she pretends to be a defender for those affected by Down Syndrome. The YouTube embed is disabled, but I shall offer this link. Clicky, clicky. (MacFarlane’s comments are segued by Real Time‘s skit on what various celebrities have written on the palm of their hand, Palin-style.)

Now, I did see the Family Guy episode in question, and I found nothing in it that made fun of anyone with Down Syndrome—including Pailn’s son, Trig. Now, I’m not a heartless bastard, although at times I may come off as one, as I feel sorry for Trig. I feel sorry that Trig received the short straw and ended up not only with Down Syndrome, but with an idiot like Sarah Palin as a mother.

Trig’s just fucked—and it has nothing to do with MacFarlane or his cartoon.

If anything, this whole thing reminds me how fortunate I am to be surrounded by people who actually like me for who I am—in that regard, I am far better off than I was more than a year ago—and that I have my health.

Regardless, this fake outrage is just another attempt by the Alaskan Drama Queen to gain attention to herself and her laughable political ambitions. Sad, really. What’s even sad is that people still talk about Sarah Palin, as if she’s the new face of the Republican party.

So, to my fellow Americans who believe themselves Republicans, I state the following: When the late Republican president Abraham Lincoln spoke of being able to “fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time,” Lincoln did not refer to parading around the imbecile who effectively euthanized McCain’s campaign. (Not that this is the first time that Republicans tried to kill a McCain presidential ticket… during their previous attempt, they trotted out a metal deficient who masqueraded as a Texan and Governor Bush assumed the White House.) However, being the RINOs that the present Republican Party now are, I’ll give them credit for borrowing from former Republicans. It would be embarrassing if they borrowed inspiration from Stalin and the SOP from Gulags.

Then there’s also this, which gave me a laugh, because it will never come to pass.

Obama is a weak-willed, inexperienced pissant who, I believe, will be remembered as the Jimmy Carter of the new millennium. I want to feel sorry for Obama, since he did walk into a pile of shit not of his own making, but he’s simply either impotent or incompetent. He took the job knowing the risks, and ergo I can’t feel any empathy for him, for empathy isn’t going to fix a fucking thing. Decisive action is, even if it is unpopular.

A majority of Obama’s initiatives—like a public option for health care—are now pretty much dead (leading me to question if they ever really had life at all) and, sadly, the economy is only getting weaker… so Obama’s battles have already been lost before they were waged. This being the case, Obama should throw out any of his attempts to be bi-partisan and become a dick. Since Cheney is all but bragging about torturing human beings—lest we forget that, for better or for worse, these people are human—Obama should really piss off the Repugnantcans and string Cheney by his pubes for war crimes. Hey, they did call their actions integral parts of the “war on terror,” after all.  Ergo, it is a war crime!

What is the worst that can happen? Impeachment proceedings? And even impeachment, in and of itself, isn’t going to get Obama jettisoned from the presidency. So… he’s already lost everything, and he should just go down fighting, like any honorable bloke would do.

It’ll never happen of course, but one can always dream. Aside from hope, dreams are the only thing that a majority of Americans really have left at this point.

And on a slightly lighter ancillary subject, the only downfall from Friday’s Real Time program was this: the discussion of the Kevin Smith’s issue with Southwest Airlines by discussing the erroneous story as if it were fact. I’ve never liked Southwest Airlines anyway, as their customer service blows chunks… and Kevin Smith’s issue wasn’t with his weight, but with how he was treated and how Southwest continues to cover up their employees’s errors with piles of steamin’ lies.

So, if Bill wants to apologize for not going with all the facts, he’ll probably do it live next week.

At least, I dream that this is the case.

I’ve had a few events in my life that can classify as “near misses.” Fortunately, there are very few, but I’d like to focus on one that happened to me on Wednesday afternoon.

Let me take you to the town of Sebastian and to a property my father listed. The property was priced to move, particularly as the original owner had passed away of natural causes, and it was placed into a trust bequeathed to the surviving relatives. Within a few days of listing, the sellers received a very solid offer and the property is expected to close next month.

Anyway, the surviving son and his wife cleaned up the place before they had to head back to their own home, apparently in another state or somewhere within considerable driving distance. My dad was the first to check it out in the early afternoon, and while there fate had just happened to sneak up on him: one of the wire shelves in the garage was overloaded, so the simple act of opening the door leading from the house to the garage apparently broke the clips. This resulted in cans of paint unceremoniously hitting the garage floor. Some of this splatter went on my father’s slacks and dress shoes. He was pressed for time as it is, because he had another engagement he had to attend, so he was unable to clean it up himself.

Here’s where I come in. My dad comes home and tells me the situation, and so I head there. Before I left, he also asks me to take pictures of the interior, as the relatives were cleaning out the place when it was first listed. I was also told that the relatives headed back home yesterday, and as such I’m not expecting to meet with anyone there. Armed with this information, I break out my old work clothes, seeing as I’d have to be cleaning up paint.

I go there, assess the situation, and start cleaning up. It takes about 15 minutes to clean everything up, and another couple of minutes to wash the paint from my hands. (I should have snagged some latex gloves, but that’s a moot point now.) With everything squared away in the garage, I start prepping the interior so that it can be photographed.

It was maybe 5 minutes into this when I hear a man’s voice. “Hello, anyone here?”

I stop what I’m doing to meet the guy at the front door.

He has a gun pulled out. It’s not aimed at me, but it’s out.

(It is times like these where vulgarity is more than appropriate. Fuck.)

What happens next was a bit of a blur, for I went into autopilot. In my head was a voice wanting to scream. I felt my heart begin to race, in conjunction with all the other little things that go into the flight-or-fight response. I remained calm and introduced myself as working for the listing agent, told him that I was his son and that I was there to take photos.

Oh, and in the confines of my tiny brain, I also asked that I’d not be shot. Or, failing that, if I were shot, that it would be quick.

Fortunately, the gun was holstered and I remain physically unscathed. I proceeded to work as normally as I could from the experience; I informed him and his wife about the shelving issue in the garage, and that I would be back sometime later or tomorrow to fix it. Real simple, as I’d just need to get new plastic clips from Home Depot. I went around to open blinds, make sure things were presentable, and began snapping photos. They left again.

My mind was wanting to race out from my skull at that point. I debated on whether or not I should inform my father of what had happened, or whether or not I should even bring it up at all. Nothing came from it, so I just continued doing what I was sent there to do.

It was as I was wrapping up that I received a phone call from my father.

“So you met the sellers, huh?” he said.

I replied in the affirmative, and in the course of the conversation he revealed that the seller called him and told him about what happened. As you could imagine, my father didn’t react too kindly to having a gun pulled out at his son.  My dad also has the ability to joke about things, and so jokingly told me that he would buy me a new pair of pants. We laughed and that phone conversation soon ended.

Yet my mind still reeled, knowing full well that the situation could have turned out badly. I could see all sides of the event that I’ve described, all the whys and wherefores. That doesn’t really disturb me. What disturbs me is all the unknown factors that could have come into play. I don’t know the guy; the guy didn’t know me.

So I don’t know his mental state, what level of training he has with firearms, or his disposition. For all I knew, he could have been a robber, seeing as I had never met the sellers before. (Normally, I meet with most of my father’s sellers as well during the listing process.)

Now he didn’t know me either, as I’ve already noted. However, my car was out in the driveway, and from it he could have surmised two things: one, my last name was Beaudoin (because the name’s on the vanity plate at the back of the car, spelled semi-phonetically in six letters), and two I was related to a Realtor, since I have a plate at the front of my car that says “Consult a Realtor.”

I’m unsure about what thought process went into the seller pulling out his weapon and entering the house. I’ll never know, so I try not to think about it… However, it crosses my mind from time to time.

Honestly, with all the things that could go wrong, it scares the shit out of me some days. This event certainly jarred me from my complacency. I never really think that something is going to go horribly wrong with me, or that I might involve myself in a bad situation. I don’t think most people act that way, otherwise who would want to wake up from their beds?

Yet this event unsettled me, and it still does. It’s not debilitating but it gives me pause, reminding me to be thankful for all the good things in life—even if life can sometimes kick you in the jewels. Or have a gun brandished about your person.

Upon returning to Florida in the spring, I visited the Indian River Mall to find that the Starbucks—itself having been, in a previous life, a Barnie’s Coffee and Tea—near the food court was closed down. The signs on the outside had been removed, and you could tell it had been a Starbuck’s by the configuration of the holes and subtle lines that the signs left behind. Even through the dark windows, you could see the empty room and the naked counter. That was a bit sad, although there was a Starbuck’s right on the road in front of the Indian River Plaza, which was a good 10 minute or so walk from the mall. Not a total loss. Not as much as the next store I noticed.

In December (and into January), I saw these depressing signs that were inside the Vero Beach Waldenbooks:

Sunuvabitch...

This does hurt me a bit on a personal level because of my love of the printed word. I grew up on having a Waldenbooks in the mall I could go to.

While it wasn’t this specific one, I grew up with the one in my hometown of Manchester, Connecticut. I went there a few times a month as a tyke, brought there by my mother and grandmother. I would always walk into that store with some of my chore money (my father paid me a “wage” of $1/hr), pick up a science fiction book I wanted to add to my collection (either Star Trek, Star Wars or a comic) and walk out with a small, plastic white bag with “Waldenbooks” on each side.

I also met a few authors at my Manchester Waldenbooks—yes, I used that possessive adjective, deal with it. I remember getting my copy of Robert Greenberger‘s book, The Romulan Strategem, signed by Mr. Greenberger all those years ago.

It’s not that I’m not able to get my books elsewhere. I can. There’s a Books-A-Million in the small plaza to the east of the Indian River Plaza, next to the Publix. It has a bigger selection of books. It has its own little Joe’s Coffee shop. (Yes, it’s named Joe’s Coffee. Clearly, no relation.)

I could also go to the library, which I have thus far neglected doing since my return to Florida, but there’s something about owning a good book and having it on your bookshelf that is immensely satisfying. More than some trophy or worthless paper award to be placed on some wall.

And if I wanted to go the online route, I can go to Amazon and buy it there without paying sales taxes. But there’s something to be said about seeing a book on the shelf with portals to all those worlds. Worlds that groups of people took the time and energy under the exacting toll of immeasurable frustration to create and get published. There’s a process there that most people don’t realize. I’m all too familiar with getting something published, as I’ve been responsible for the creation of two books. All that pain and suffering that went into it, all the long hours of writing and revising… Most people give up.

However, I’m flying off on another tangent there, so let me regain some semblance of control.

You can buy your stuff online, and I’ve done that with DVD and CDs, as well as the occasional book. With books, I find that I enjoy the tactile sensation, to feel the weight of the book, to feel the edges of the pages as I flip through them. Then there’s the rich aroma of the paper that wafts from the pages and fills your nostrils, if you let it. It’s a wonderful smell and while the new books have that “book aroma,” I find that older books that are well kept have a richer smell… like aged wine tastes versus newer vintages.

There’s also the fact that you get to physically meet people in a bookstore and, perhaps, strike up a conversation with them. We can say that we have message boards, blogs, and other “social media” outlets, but there’s nothing that can replace our need for physical contact, even if it is a chat. You can’t mirror truthful facial expressions in emoticons, or hear someone’s laugh, or hear someone sigh over troubling content in a book… You just can’t.

And so I find myself melancholy at the prospect of a bookstore closing down, even if it is part of a chain. It saddens me because it reflects the economic woes of our times, as well as the inevitable change where more and more people flock to the internet for whatever tickles their fancy. It is yet another reminder that our technology and our lust for better/faster/stronger change has outpaced our hearts and the potential worthwhile abilities of the human race.

Watch these clips, then ask yourself… Well, ask yourself the question that Dana Gould asked at the end of the second segment. Because I need an answer to that question.

For those reading this as a Facebook note, the Youtube links are:

• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBGusPcNzxw
• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ht_W5_Ogh0U

For those reading this as a blog on my website, JoeBeaudoinDOTnet, I’ve embedded these clips below:

Bill Maher made an excellent point on last Friday’s Real Time with Bill Maher, namely that Obama isn’t the socialist that the right has endeavored to make him out to be, and that the Democratic Party has turned to the center-right. This would leave the Republican party somewhere in the sanitarium, which is where most of them belong. For a party that advocates the reduction of government in our lives, the Republicfraks have done their very best to enlarge the scope of government over their eight years in power. The consequences of this enlargement and entrenchment into our lives have yet to fully manifest themselves, but the day of reckoning when we realize what this has done to our civil liberties and constitutional rights is not so far off in the future, sadly.

And while I tend not to get political about such things, both parties are responsible for sowing what we are now reaping in terms of economic and social failures that are occurring in this country. And this has not happened since 9/11, but has been happening for the past three decades. If not more.

Oh, and I know that Obama is neither Jesus Christ or, better yet, FDR. I knew this when I “voted” for him. Regardless, Obama is, sadly, better than John McCain and the inept airline stewardess who has a great view of Russia, whose only reason for being thrown on the McCain ticket was to recruit “scorned” Hillary Clinton supporters. (And had she never opened her mouth, the Republicans may have succeeded in winning the White House.) Honestly, had McCain chosen Mitt Romney as his VP, then I would have voted for that ticket.

Why? The USA needs to be run more like a business, particularly with runaway spending and the fact that we are borrowing money from a Communist country. Romney was able to govern one of the most “liberal” states of this union and bring that spending under control. I may not care for some of the social policies or views of that (sadly) non-existent ticket, but… you cannot have everything, and you have to prioritize.

And, going back to the video above, I don’t agree with everything Maher says… but his program honestly allows for some of the most honest dialogue out there, better than anything CNN, MSNBC or Faux News can spew out via their own “programs” whether they be the idiotic Hannity, O’Reilly, Olberman, et al.

Ok, I’m now sick. Frak politics. Sorry that you had to read this.

This is NOT the appearance of the Big Brother you should worry about.

Big Brother (or Big Sister, or even Big Sibling if we want to get P.C. about it) is a damning concept that has permeated our culture since the introduction of George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. Before the Internet numerous SF fans, conspiracy theorists, the counter-culture and cyberpunkoids have toyed with Big Brother as being the control mechanism of a totalitarian government or a large corporation.

That was the 20th century.

Here in the 21st century, we are faced with a more damning fact: anyone can assume the mantle of Big Brother in our lives. Living in the age of connectedness that we share today, thanks to cellular telephones and the Internet, we find ourselves gobsmacked by the possibility that we were too narrow-minded in the concept of an all-seeing, all-knowing force in our lives. I am not referring to a deity or deities here, however technology has made damned sure that they are capable of achieving feats of that stature.

If you mix the de-centralized nature of the Internet with entrepreneurial spirit, capitalism and someone with a few basic facts on you, someone—your neighbor, a mentally deranged person you’ve pissed off online, your ex, your boss(es), family, friends, nerdlingers—can find out most anything they want on you. Googling people you know is only the first step. There are now sites out there that can dig deeper than you had likely thought impossible. Lifehacker has a list of sites whose sole aim is to allow people to find out anything on anyone, regardless on how careful you believe you have been in guarding your personal information, even if you use those privacy controls in your social networking sites, such as Facebook.

Short of reading your mind and extracting genetic samplings from your body, these systems will pull up anything that been electronically entered: posts on old bulletin boards, newspaper clippings that have been digitized, public records (divorce filings, speeding tickets, etc.)Â and information from social networking sites. I am astonished that these public systems have yet to link into medical records, internal files kept on you by your employer, and the Social Security Administration, but that’s only a matter of time. Such systems already exist and are used by the government, and the private sector has access to these things as well, which makes you pause.

It’s scary, but inevitable and damning. The technology we employ in our daily lives has outpaced our hearts, our ethics, and any anachronistic concepts we have of privacy. You can’t stop information on you from getting out there, but there are ways to control the types and what information can be pulled up by these systems.

My friend Amy has a few suggestions on this front, and there are numerous resources available online to help control what information can be indexed on you. The aforementioned Lifehacker is a good stepping stone, as is the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

You can be scared, but don’t let it paralyze you. Take this as a lesson in paying attention and being proactive in your privacy and connected life.

For more, take a look at Operation Clambake.

<cruise>It’s… it’s like… I have the power to help. You, you know, help people. I’d like to go on the Internet, have fun and play… but… I can’t do that… maybe if I… (laughing hysterically) change the world… then we can all go on the Internet to have fun and play. We are the experts. (begins counting with fingers) We can cure illness. We can decriminalize the criminals. We can rebuild people. We have the technology… We are Scientologists. We are the Incomprehensible Missive Force. (cue Mission Impossible music)</cruise>

Although the video has been yanked from YouTube, Google, and various other sites repeatedly, it is located here.

Watch for yourself, then try to figure out what the fuck you just watched… If it wasn’t an example of a very, very bad ad libbing session, I don’t know what is.