Self-improvement often requires shedding old habits and breaking from the familiar routines that impede success and fulfillment. Welcome to my creative destruction.
So the new year is right around the corner (for West Coasters anyway) and, if you're like me, you've been mentally preparing yourself to replace the phrase "two-thousand nine" with "two-thousand ten," which would be a natural progression, right?
Well, not so fast! Apparently, we're being beseeched to use a different pronunciation: "twenty ten." There are several news articles advocating this and even a Facebook group with 593 members promoting it. I don't know why people are feeling the need to police other people's English, but I'm not gonna complain about it--this time. It's a new year AND a new decade! Celebrate good times, people. Come on!
...knows that he knows nothing at all." So goes the lyric in Erykah Badu's "On and On." Similarly, the theme song for "Valerie's Family" (later named "The Hogan Family") claims, "Life is such a sweet insanity; the more you learn the less you know." Whichever way you see it, that's the state of mind I'm in right now--exposed to so much information that I don't know what to believe anymore.
It all started when I entered a blog post about Rihanna's new video "Hard." I knew what to expect in the comments section and sure enough there were the usual doomsday scenarios along with their supporters and detractors. But in addition, someone left a different type of link, one that led to a video that explained the self-imploding trajectory of our economy and offered a utopian alternative called the Venus Project. I opened another tab to Google "Venus Project" and I entered the site, but noticed heavy animation that might eat up my bandwidth or crash my computer, so I closed the site for later viewing after the film.
I continued watching the film and followed along just fine, but several times throughout the video I noticed a few masonic symbols being flashed around. At that point, I started to doubt the credibility of the narrator. That's when I realized how deep into these superstitions I really was and I started to fear for my sanity. From then on, I decided to divorce myself from seeing everything in terms of conspiracy theories. I was determined to see the rest of the film with open eyes and total receptivity to whatever was being presented.
After the film ended, I tried to return to the Venus Project site, but my internet connection went dead. Figuring my fussy connection was acting up again, I tried other sites and entered them just fine. I then came back to the Venus Project site and, boom: the connection went dead. It only took a few more tries for me to realize what was going on. So then I began thinking of possible conspiracy theories related to this suspicious occurrence. Clearly, someone didn't want me to see something! Apparently, the Venus Project offers alternative solutions to our current oil- and coal-based energy resources. Realizing this, I soon connected my inability to view their website with my failure to re-locate previously posted information about L.A.'s Dec. 6 blackout, and I drew the conclusion that maybe it's the energy companies that are evil! But then I had second thoughts, asking what if this were really a decoy to distract me from my original investigations?
And then I reached a point where I realized I have to get past this craziness! It's too much! My mind is reeling from so much conflicting information out there, I don't know what to believe is real in the matrix. I don't know if I should take the blue pill or the red one, reject both because the colors are masonic, or kick myself for going down this rabbit hole in the first place.
What I'm (almost) certain of is that the conspiracy theorists probably know a little bit of the truth. They are probably correct in identifying the actual problems, but they overreach by blaming everything on the same group of people. They share their partial knowledge of the truth with others but then add extraneous information to reinforce their limited understanding. Some of them may even be intentionally misleading others to fulfill their own agendas. What I now realize is that I have to separate the wheat from the chaff and focus less on the "who" and the "why," and more on the "what." Learning how to prepare for the "what" may, in time, reveal the true perpetrators and their reasons for conspiring against us. They may end up being the same culprits called out by the conspiracists; but then again they may not.
In spite of my (hopefully) more rational approach to conspiracy theories, I can't quite shake one particular impression I've gained from all of this: a heightened mistrust of the mainstream media since it is funded by elites who aren't always looking out for our best interests. To an extent, I already knew this to be true due to the profit motive. But, I now realize that media-manipulation may be much more pervasive than I thought and it may have much more dire consequences (although I'm clearly grasping at straws as to what they might actually be).
At this point, I'm not expecting (or even hoping) to know the full truth. I just want to know enough to protect myself and my loved ones and warn anyone else willing to listen. So when I see a string of "experts" discouraging the pursuit of higher education and I sense this discouragement shifting now toward home-ownership, I'll share that information. When I get wind of new technology that could potentially be misused to invade our privacy, I'll call attention to it. When I sense that media images are being manipulated to promote racial stereotypes and social discord, I'll speak on it. It may not mesh well with my other posts on music and eating, but that's me. I worry about the world, but I also live in it. And living in it means that food makes me sing, music makes me whole, and stupid things irritate the "you-know-what" out of me.
Hopefully, it's not too much of a roller-coaster ride for the reader. I just want to offer my perspective on the world as my understanding of it shifts with the various tidbits of information streaming my way. Hopefully you and others will strive for a better understanding of the world as well and share what you know with me. As another lyric in Badu's "On and On" goes, "Peace and blessings manifest with every lesson learned." So keep learning, people. Always!
I remember this song from my childhood. I was too young at the time to detect (or even relate to) the apparent satiric nature of the song and its supposed "ambivalence toward the American Dream." According to the song's Wikipedia article, "["I Love L.A."] celebrates living the dream ... while giving a nod to those who have been unable to fulfill the dream.... Newman also presents this dichotomy by incorporating the names of L.A.'s Century Boulevard, Victory Boulevard, Santa Monica Boulevard, Imperial Highway and 6th Street into the lyrics of the song. Traversing any one of these roadways from end to end will reveal some of the wealthiest and some of the poorest areas of the city."
If this interpretation of the song is true, then I can totally relate now that I'm an adult. Add "Crenshaw Blvd" to that list and you've got my situation spot on. Crenshaw Blvd. starts from the commercial Mid-Wilshire district and ends in the affluent and bucolic Rolling Hills Estates. Along the way, it traverses neighborhoods that represent the entire spectrum of middle class livelihoods. My neighborhood would be towards the lower end.
I live near the stretch of Crenshaw made popular by the movie "Boyz in the Hood" and similar films--the street most readily associated with "gangsta rap." Although I've seen seedier areas along Central and Gage Avenues, I suppose I wouldn't be surprised if a suburbanite were nervous about visiting me. So when my friend from Montebello asked if it was safe for her to come to my house, I wasn't TOO insulted. I myself have driven in questionable neighborhoods to visit friends, so I understood where she was coming from. I, personally, managed to keep those feelings to myself so as not to offend the gracious hosts/hostesses, but not everyone is me so, whatever.
Surprisingly she was willing to come and even park her car on my street so that we could ride in my car towards a restaurant in the Mid-Wilshire area. As we drove down Crenshaw we witnessed a car narrowly escape a collision as it unexpectedly made a wild U-Turn across several lanes of traffic from it's initial position parked on the side of the street. It was obvious, to me, that the collision wouldn't happen, but my friend went into hysterics as if death and destruction were sure to unfold before our very eyes. It didn't.
Later, we were sitting at a red light on Venice Blvd. where she noticed a large group of people (maybe 50 or 60) standing randomly on a corner near a strip mall. I admit it was strange to see a large group of people standing in a location far from anything that might accept such a large crowd (a church, a concert, a bus stop, etc.). But the people themselves (mainly adult Latinos) didn't look suspicious to me. In fact, they reminded me of the work-bound people I see during my morning coffee-runs, departing one bus and frantically rushing for the next bus before it speeds away--far from the gun-toting gangsters she was likely expecting. Needless to say, I wasn't nervous, but my friend made this barely detectable--but I still noticed it!--charade of making sure the car door was locked while we waited for the light to turn green.
Finally, we made it to our destination in Mid-Wilshire where she could eat and relax a little. But on our way back home we noticed another car exhibiting erratic behavior. I made a comment to the effect of "Man, people sure are driving crazy tonight," after which she responded, "Yeah, I've noticed that when you're in the more uneducated areas, people tend to drive crazier."
Uneducated people drive crazy? Really? I'm aware of several stereotypes associating bad driving with specific groups of people, but "uneducated" isn't one of them. In fact, my friend comes from the group that inspires most of the "___-s are bad drivers" jokes, and her city of Montebello is teeming with people of that persuasion. I could have pointed this out to her, but I didn't. For one thing, I'm not quit-witted enough to think of a comeback that quickly. And even I were, it isn't in my nature to "give a person a taste of their own medicine." More importantly, I believe blanket generalizations are simplistic and just plain false.
Like her comment about uneducated drivers. I work (and drive) in an academic community, which by default should have one of the highest percentages of educated drivers in the city. Nevertheless, I've seen some stunts that left me dumb-founded as to why anyone would operate a several-ton vehicle in such a manner. Heck, I'm working on my second master's degree myself, and I once ran into a parked Frito Lay truck! At the time, I was young, impatient, and more prone to do stupid things. That would be the stereotype that came to mind if I saw erratic driving behavior: young and stupid. I'd assume this, particularly at nighttime when the identity of the driver is obscured--which was the case when my friend and I were in the car.
My question is, why did she assume the people in my area were uneducated? Again, I'm working on my second master's degree and I live here. And I'm not alone. My neighbor just across the street from me graduated from UC Berkeley. Don't get me wrong. I know these are anecdotal examples and I'm aware of the abysmal numbers of college-degreed people living in South Los Angeles. Still, although we may (or may not) be worse off than Montebello, they're not doing so great either. Their statistics are skirting below California's average right along with ours.
Some may think I should have "put her in her place," but again, it's not my nature. All my life, I've avoided the neck-rolling, finger-snapping, "sistah-girl" caricature people associate with black women. It's partly genetic; both of my parents are mild-mannered. But I also just hate bad attitudes and I resent being associated with them. Besides, my mild disposition has an advantage in that it apparently makes people feel comfortable enough to be frank with me. As off-putting as their remarks may be sometimes, I at least know where they're coming from. Moreover, I've found that when you "choose your battles" sparingly, people tend to listen to you more when you actually have something to say.
My friend's comments could have been uncharacteristic and may never happen again, so I'll let it go this time. But if future conversations yield more slights against my neighborhood and its inhabitants, I might have to "educate" her in my own reasoned way. If it continues, I'll simply ban her from visiting my home. I never want it to get to the point where I'm name-calling and stereotyping her ilk. Like I said, it's not in my nature, and I resent when people make me act against my nature. Besides, acting like that might make me appear ignorant. And the last thing I want is to give her a another reason to believe people who live here are "ignorant"--or, in her words, "uneducated."
With the decorations, the carols, the festive spirit, and (most importantly) the expectation of presents, children's Christmas was always my favorite time of the year. Now with the obligatory pressures concomitant with adults' Christmas, I've grown weary of the holiday. What I mainly look forward to now is the food and the relaxation.
This year the University forced us to take two weeks off, which provided me with a much needed vacation. Unfortunately, I also work in a physiology lab and had to use the time off to play catch up on experiments. Monday through Thursday of last week were four of the most productive days I've ever spent in that lab. It was really rewarding, but it was also draining. I worked so hard that I almost got sick. I even had to walk twenty-five minutes to and from my car each day--in the bitter cold and wind--which added to my exhaustion and the threat of becoming ill.
So how did I spend Christmas Day? I took off! I spent the entire day resting and eating exactly what you see in that picture: chicken, dressing (a.k.a. stuffing), green beans and potatoes, collard greens, yams, brown 'n serve rolls, sweet potato pie, and cherry lime "Sinkist." (Happy Holidays indeed!) I started my day eating two slices of pie for breakfast, I played with my cats, I took a nap, I showered, I ate that huge dinner, I played with the cats some more, and then I went to bed. (Ah. If Christmas could only come everyday of the year.)
I didn't go out to visit anyone until the following day. First, I went with my mother to visit her aunt-in-law in Carson. While there, we conversed with our aunt and her friend and played with her dogs while we waited for our food. Our aunt-in-law is originally from the Philippines, so we had a mix of American and Filipino foods: deep fried turkey, potato salad, green beans, corn, pork adobo, steamed rice, pancit, suman, bibingka, and flan de leche. Everything was good (especially the adobo)!
After eating, we visited my uncle's grave site in Cypress where my aunt got a cramp in her leg and had me drive her capacious Buick Park Avenue back to her house--but not before first taking a side trip to another cemetery so that her friend could visit her husband's grave. I've only driven a handful of cars before and they were always--by design--small and cheap, so fear doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what I felt navigating that luxury liner through unfamiliar parts of L.A. and Orange Counties. Still, I got us back home safe, sound, and in one piece. Afterward, we ate more food, played with the dogs, and then we left.
Later that evening, I drove to my friend's house in Tarzana to celebrate her 40th birthday. Driving at night in an unlit, unfamiliar suburb is always an adventure, particularly when the Evite map gives you the wrong directions. Luckily, the right directions were just a cell phone call away, so I eventually made my destination.
While there, I played with my friend's dog, conversed with some people, watched other people play with her dog, exchanged pet-related stories with friends and strangers, and then I ate. My friend is Jewish-American and her husband is North African and Israeli. Thus, I ate pita stuffed with chicken, falafel, and tahini dressing; some potato-stuffed pastry; two kinds of cabbage slaws with lemon dressing; mesclun salad with vinaigrette; some sort of diced cucumber and tomato salsa/salad; apricot tart; and lemon cake with a tofu-based cream cheese icing. Everything was good (especially the cake). After eating, I talked some more, laughed with everyone as we watched the dog make a confusing nest out of a blanket, talked some more about dogs and cats, and then left.
Sunday, I stayed home, watched "It's a Wonderful Life," and entertained while my father payed us a visit. I ate, slept, played with the cats, and FINALLY got around to blogging about it all.
I'd say my Christmas weekend was a nice one indeed. It had the right blend of relaxation, time spent with loved ones, multicultural dining, respects paid to lost relatives, vehicular misadventures, and interaction with various carnivorae. All that and I didn't have to spend a dime!
Like the O'Jays, I love music. Lot's of it. The kind that makes you move and groove. The kind that not only makes you dance but tells you how. Because of my love for music, I'll probably spotlight a song or two every once in a while on this blog.
Today, I'm starting with this mega-post featuring a variety of songs that represent my musical tastes and the reasons behind them. For you R&B fans that care to walk down memory lane with me, keep reading! For those unfamiliar with the genre but are open to the exposure, you keep reading too!
BASS: I grew up mainly listening to R&B. This probably influenced my musical aesthetic because the instrument that resonates with me most is BASS! Shameless, thrashing, in-your-face bass. The stronger the better! Tom Browne's "Funkin' for Jamaica," One Way's "Pull (Fancy Dancer)" and the Whispers' "Keep on Loving Me" all have bass that would slap you in the face if it could! Other base-rich songs include Slave's "Snap Shot," Shanice's "It's for You," and Jeffrey Osborne's "Only Human."
BEATS: Compliment the bass with an intricate beat and you get popular favorites like BBD's "Poison," Mary J. Blige's "Real Love," and Erykah Badu's "On and On" along with less popular songs like Faith Evans' "I Just Can't," Caron Wheeler's "I Adore You," and Ledisi's "Joy."
JUST PLAIN GOOD MUSIC: Even if a song lacks strong bass, if it has interesting instrumentation, it's solid gold for me. D-Train's "Something's on Your Mind," Evelyn Champagne King's "I'm in Love," D'Angelo's "Left and Right," and Jill Scott's "My Love" really get me going.
VIOLINS: I love string instruments, especially violins. The violins in James Brown's "It's a Man's World" and Jill Scott's "He Loves Me" are mesmerizing. Even the synthetic violins in Pebbles' "Girlfriend" are sweet on the ears. Other than violins, I never thought a string instrument could sound so pretty until I heard the mellifluous guitars in "Visions" by Stevie Wonder. Now I can appreciate the rich guitar instrumentation of India Arie's "The Truth."
BREAKING IT DOWN: Because I like a good groove, power ballads usually do nothing for me. But every rule has an exception and Monica's "Why I Love You So Much," Tony Terry's "With You," and Whitney Houston's "I Have Nothing" are three. A song that starts off bland but has a good "breakdown" towards the end has a better chance of winning me over. Case in point: "A Heart Is a House for Love" by the Dells. The gospel direction the song takes, along with the addition of the bass and the repition of "stand up" and "build it up" always put me in a tizzy. Another song with a hard-hitting "breakdown" is Rachelle Ferrell's "Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This."
MOODY MUSIC: Grooving is good, but I also like somber, moody music played in a minor key. James Brown's "Try Me," Mary J. Blige's "My Life," and Babyface's "Soon as I Get Home" all fall into this category.
ASCENSION & DESCENSION: I like weird elements in songs, like ascension or descension along the chords. An extreme example can be found in the opening of Janet Jackson's "Miss You Much" (ascension), but many songs have subtler offerings. (Many are in this post!)
GOOD SINGING: All of the above can be thrown out the window if the vocals are banging. Mariah Carey's "Honey" readily comes to mind in this case. I love a good ad lib, so although the music is somewhat boring, Carey's liberal use of ad libs really resonate with me.
COMBINING THESE ELEMENTS: Michael Jackson's "Who Is It" has many of these elements with that aggressive bass, that kick to the beat, those violins, the overall somber mood, the alternating two-note descension and ascension, the hee-hee's, da-da's, and "taint-of-another-brother" ad libs. All of it gets me going. Love.That.Song!
NON-R&B MUSIC: With the demise of R&B, I've had to venture out into other genres. To my delight, I've found many appealing songs out there. I hear strong bass in No Doubt's "Ex-Girlfriend," emotive violins in the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby," somber piano keying in Maurice Ravel's "Gaspard de la Nuit," and spirited guitar and banjo playing in Sheryl Crow's "Redemption Day." And I can get just as excited about the 3rd movement of Beethoven's Sonata #14 as any fast-paced R&B track.
These are just a few of the treasures sitting in my iTunes library and my CD rack. I'm completely open to new sounds, so please share some of your favorite songs--R&B or otherwise--if you think I might enjoy them.
After seeing "Precious" for myself, I may have to eat my own words regarding my earlier statement about it not perpetuating African-American stereotypes.
Well, sort of.
I still think Barbara Bush didn't know what she was talking about and was likely trying to redeem herself from that tragic comment of hers. But I do agree that the movie stereotypes African-Americans. And boy does it ever stereotype us!
Almost every negative stereotype you can think of was depicted in that movie, oftentimes exaggerated beyond belief. For instance, Precious couldn't just be overweight (as many African-American women--including myself--are); she had to be morbidly obese! She couldn't just come from a "broken home" (often ascribed to single-parent, African-American families); she had to come from an egregiously abusive home. She couldn't just be a pregnant teen; she had to be impregnated by her father, who, in turn, couldn't just be an absentee parent--he had to be an incestuous creep who preferred sex with his own daughter over her mother. And to top everything off, Precious finds out she's HIV-positive. (Of course.)
And the exaggeration continues: Precious' mother, Mary, couldn't just lack involvement in Precious' education (which is the case for far too many African-Americans); she had to outright FORBID Precious from learning anything. Mary was as lazy as a mother could be, forcing Precious to do all the cooking, answer the doorbell, and pick up her money from the welfare office. Mary cheated the system, pretending to take care of Precious' children in order to collect more welfare money, when she barely took care of Precious herself.
(Lord! I can just see the Bushes now, discussing the film over scones and Earl Grey tea. After the film, they engage in a lively debate on whether or not the film is an accurate portrayal of black people. Slowly they come to a consensus that, indeed, the film is NOT an accurate depiction. Then Barbara Bush comes on NPR to share this epiphanous revelation, feeling proud to have denounced these pernicious stereotypes. Sigh...)
But I digress.
Precious' mother had no redeemable qualities at all, which made her one-dimensional. Other characters in the movie were also one-dimensional, almost to the point of being caricatures. For instance, Joann ("Hey") was an immature, gum-smacking classmate of Precious, who was shallow, annoying, and cackled wildly at tragic situations.
Another classmate, Rhonda, was a West-Indian woman with an unrealistically thick accent that no one could understand. In reality, West-Indians usually tone down their Patois to be understood by Americans, so I don't know what that was all about. You could tell it was contrived because the actress spoke slowly as if she had to "cone-sahn-treht" really hard to get the accent right. In addition to her "funny accent," Rhonda displayed that tried-and-true stereotype most readily ascribed to black people--the girl could dance! Later in the film, the class had a party during which the camera zoomed in on her--and only her--doing some "booty dance" of sorts.
The other classmates who were non-black had issues and strong personalities too, but not nearly as farcical as their African-American counterparts. Even the administrative staff at Precious' alternative school exhibited negative stereotypes. For instance, Sherri Shepherd's character had a major attitude, talked on the phone constantly about non-work-related business, and stood cowardly behind while she encouraged her colleague to investigate an apparent burglary.
So through the actions of these characters, we get a visual representation of black people being fat, lazy, dysfunctional, sexually perverse, pregnant before their time, education-averse, cheating the system, AIDS-ridden, gum-smacking, immature, mercilessly derisive, speaking with a "funny" accent, dancing provocatively, having a bad attitude, unprofessional at work, and unreliable during a time of crisis.
What's bothersome about these depictions is that all of them were associated with the darker-skinned characters, while all of the virtuous characters who reached out to Precious to save her from her dismal existence or who simply said kind words about her were light, racially-ambiguous, or white. (This includes the math teacher, the counselor, the social worker, the English teacher, and the nurse.) What's most worrisome is that the book the film was based on apparently depicted the English teacher, Ms. Rain, as a darker person, and her darker skin color played a pivotal part in Precious' transformation. But I guess that would disrupt the "light-is-right" theme the filmmakers seemed determined to portray.
Many will say it's just a movie so it doesn't matter, but depictions like these do have an impact on how the audience perceives the groups represented by these characters. Moreover, the exaggerated nature of many of the depictions not only make African-Americans look farcical, it leaves the viewer little choice but to associate these negative stereotypes with black people. (The association would have been less impacting with more subtle depictions.) If anyone held any preconceived belief that African-Americans are f*cked up, it would be further calcified after viewing this movie. The filmmakers could have avoided all of this with a simple decision to keep Precious' English teacher as a darker-skinned woman. That one example would have deflated my entire argument. But they didn't. They deliberately chose to make her light-skinned to continue with their dichotomy of good and bad behavior based on color.
My concern with all of this is that I really believe these decisions are made intentionally in order to influence the viewing public's perceptions. I just want to know why. What were they trying to say with all of these deliberate portrayals? What take-home message do they want people to leave the theaters with? Sure, the overt message of "triumph over tragedy" (or "breaking the cycle of violence" or "believing in oneself" or whatever) will resonate in people's conscious minds, but what message will be festering at the sub-conscious level?
When any arm of the media tries to shape public opinion as I believe was done with this film, that's when I start to worry. And as you may have noticed, I already worry far too much as it is!
Today's luncheon of Falafel King shawarma and chips was so loud I had to eat it in the car while listening to NPR and watching my billboard friendstare me down. Why did I resort to dining in the parking lot? Because I'm too anti-social to eat at the restaurant and I'm too self-conscious to crunch my lunch in that egg-carton of an office they have us working in. Another reason is that I have the worst eating habits of all my colleagues and I don't want people to know the details of my daily diet. People talk, and I refuse to give them fodder for gossiping about me. (You may think I'm paranoid, but you never know. Someone may overhear an innocent detail about my life and repeat it to the wrong person who might later use it against me. Believe me, it happens!)
I digress.
I eat in my car a lot. I know it sounds sad, but it gives me an "oasis" in which to retreat. We're packed in that office like sardines and I sometimes need to escape from what feels like one big cubicle divided into twelve. One of my co-workers teases me because I walk on my toes whenever I wear noisy shoes. I do it to avoid announcing my arrival every single time I enter the room. The dividers between the cubicles are really high, so I don't know who all is in the room. But, because of those noisy shoes, everyone else knows my whereabouts (and thus how much I work), and I hate that!
Whenever I make a phone call, I walk all the way outside of the building so I can have privacy. I work in a loud urban environment next to a major boulevard, yet I feel more privacy outside of the building than inside.
I don't want people to know when I arrive. I don't want people to know when I leave. I don't want people to know what I eat. I don't want people to know what I say on the phone. I'm sure no one cares. But will they listen anyway? Yes. How do I know? Because I listen to them. I have no choice in a room like that. No matter who is talking, I can effortlessly hear the entire conversation. Even when they're on the phone, I can make out the gist of the entire conversation. I can hear everything and everyone, and I hate it! I sit near the printer, so every time someone gets up to retrieve a printout, it irritates the bejesus out of me! These little things add up to the overall frustration of working in an office like that. Every once in a while, I need to get away from it all. And so, I eat in the parking lot.
The thing of it is, I love the actual work that I do and I wouldn't trade it for the world, especially during economic times like these. I don't even hate my colleagues necessarily. It's just that the office makes them the most irritating people in the world. I'd be on the brink of lashing out at Mr. Rodgers, Mother Theresa, and Gandhi if they were in there with me.
In spite of all the annoyances though, I love my job, I'm grateful for it, and I know when to hold on to good thing when I have it. So I quietly endure the cramped conditions, and every once in a while I dine in my car under the mocking gaze of that masonic voodoo magician.
C'est la vie, je suppose. N'est-ce pas, Dr. Facilier?
