Father's Day 2012.... @#$%!

Dad and "Conehead": Summer 2000

As I've told many of my friends and family over the past year, I'm never emotional about my Dad's passing when I "should" be; the times that people expect you to be distraught. I find myself pensive, emotional, and forlorn when I least expect it. Sitting at my desk in the middle of the day, driving to work at 9:50 at night, or at 4:00am after I've had a dream about him.... and almost always alone. Maybe I'm protecting others from seeing me the way I get or maybe in the company of others I'm placated... I don't know.

But today I find myself alone with some time. And after reading everyone's postings and tributes to their Dads on this Father's Day, it's struck me.... and I'm very affected. And I have mixed emotions about the fact that it's happened when it "should." I miss my Dad, dammit. I always feel like swearing when I say that because I'm still pissed that he's gone. It's fucking bullshit.

But I'll move on and try to refrain from further filling the Internet with curse words and profanity. Isn't there enough already? I agree.

The photo above is of a summer visit I made to Paradise to see my Dad during the summer of 2000, I think. My Dad would have been 50 yrs old and I would have been 23. (I can only guess by how new that shirt looks and how skinny I was.) I found that shirt while at a Savers in Orem, UT with my friend Mike Pionke. the movie it's from is nothing special, but "Conehead" was my Dad's nickname for me, which he called me all the time, usually on a day like today. I'd call him on the phone and it'd go like this:

(ring)
Dad: Hello.
Me: Hey Dad, what's up?
Dad: Who is this?
Me: Your son? Craig?
Dad: Oh, Conehead?
Me: Yup.
Dad CONEHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!
Me That's me.

At the time, it made me think he was such a dork, but I'll be damned if I wouldn't give everything I have to hear it again.

I've been telling lots of stories about him recently... like how he called everything "world famous." His "World Famous" potato salad... that maybe 25 people even knew existed. Or how whenever we pulled up alongside a hot-rod or classic car he appreciated he'd honk the horn and give the driver a big "thumbs up." Or how he gave a $500 donation to a Secret Santa project I organized one year (the biggest single donation by about 5 times), but NEVER, EVER touch the pie in the fridge, CAUSE IT'S HIS!!!

My Dad loved me and all his kids. He was a tender soul with a frightening defense mechanism, but I loved him. Like all our Dads, he represented exactly what I did and didn't want to become. Unlike some Dads, however, he stuck around and saw it through. He never abandoned his family and gave much of his life to his role as a Father. I should hope to become so selfless.

I don't get to call him today, but I hope somehow he still knows that I love him and I'm so glad he's MY DAD. He made me who I am and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

I LOVE YOU, DAD!

I MISS YOU SO MUCH.

-Craig, "Conehead," "Goose"

Jetblue? More like Jet-Poo, Get It?!

This is a letter I sent to Jetblue today:

"To Whom It May Concern,

I boarded the flight Thursday evening without any issues. The check-in personnel were great and very friendly as were the folks at the gate. I sat at the very rear (last row) of the plane in the aisle seat. Everything was what one expects from a plane boarding. But after the in-flight safety instructions, the flight attendants gathered in the back of the plane and I could hear everything they were saying. Two males, Elijah and Cameron, were the most vocal.

The comment that first caught my attention was, "I bet nobody knows where their life-preserver is!" I thought this was an odd comment and so I paid closer attention. The conversation lasted a few minutes about how noisy the passengers were during the safety announcements, what was the point of their (flight attendants) being there if no one was listening, and how they wanted to stop the announcements and tell everyone to shut up for a few minutes. They basically lamented their duties and importance as employees and blamed the passengers for their problems.

If this is where it stopped I would have probably let it go, but it didn't.

Elijah left the rear of the plane and as he was heading toward the front a passenger (possibly another Jetblue employee, I noticed there were a lot of passengers with gloves on cleaning up the plane when everyone was getting off the flight) indicated that the man in front of her was still using his iPad after the "turn off all electronic equipment" announcement had been given. Elijah stopped and said, "Sir, you need to turn that off or we will remove you from the plane." I thought this comment jumped the gun a bit. Of course the passenger didn't immediately turn it off, because who wants to pay hundreds of dollars on a flight and then be spoken to by a flight attendant like you are a child.

Meanwhile, in the back of the plane, Cameron was still complaining about passengers. I turned around and said, "You know, there's no sound-proofing between here and there. We can hear everything you're saying." He replied, "Yeah, we know. thank you," and continued talking. For some reason... I don't think he understood what I was getting at.

When Elijah returned from the front of the plane, he and Cameron again began lamenting their plight as flight attendants and considering whether or not to have the plane "return to the gate and have the man escorted off by security and delay the flight for 2 hours." I tried to get their attention by saying back to them, "Yeah, please don't do that." So that they knew I could still hear them. They ignored my comment and shut the doors to the back area for the rest of their conversation.

At this point, we were next to take off and I was wishing I had just driven to California....

Luckily, for the rest of the flight I didn't have to hear the flight attendants talk bad about the passengers behind their backs. But no matter how far I tried to lean away from the aisle, when either Cameron or Elijah walked by they would bump into my arm or shoulder. I would have thought this was inevitable, but since I was back by the restroom I got lots of traffic passing by me and only one passenger bumped into me... and he immediately apologized!

So, the experience related above is one of the reasons I would have rather driven the 10 hours from Salt Lake to Southern California (Which is about $80 cheaper for me) than deal with rude flight attendants. Over the last 10 years I've noticed a steady decline in customer service on flights. Flight attendants have become less pleasant and more like cranky aunts and uncles or over-inflated hall monitors. They snap at you with instructions prefaced by a "sir" or "ma'am," which only makes it sound more detached and contemptuous.

I understand that their job is stressful and under-appreciated. I waited tables all through college and know that the customer service industry is generally thankless and requires thick skin. BUT! I know how awesome airline employee benefits are. (I still can't believe how family flight discounts have remained given the state of the economy and the airline industry in general.) So, they know what they're getting out of the deal and no one is forcing them into this line of work.

I never write letters of complaint. I avoid this because I have little faith that they are seen by the right people, taken seriously, or account for any real changes. I admit that it's cynical, but I've never been proven otherwise. I full expect to receive an auto-response, form email that says, "Here at Jetblue we take your feedback seriously... Customer Bill of Rights... blah, blah, blah."

But, I'm gonna try anyway. For kicks.

My flight to California was a miserable experience where I felt trapped and at the mercy of cranky people who resented my being there. I'm really not looking forward to my return flight Sunday morning.... and I will avoid flying on Jetblue in the future. I might also post my experience, since I've already gone to the trouble of writing it down, on Facebook and my blog. My NPS (net promoter score) is presently a "0".

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,
W. Craig Tovey

'The guy at the back of the plane...by the toilet.' "

Introducing The Denny Tovey Mustache Memorial Month

Ode to a mustache and its greatest iteration.


I've been obsessed with this option in men's grooming for as long as I can remember. I was born in the 70's and a small kid in the 80's. At this point the mustache was still worn by the "cool" kids. (mullet, tank top, cut off jean shorts, Camaro) But as we moved in to the 90's it went far, far out of style. But WHY?! This has been a staple of men's fashion since Cain was shaving his beard and stopped at his upper lip: "I just killed my brother in cold blood, but THIS is bad-ass!"

I mean, for hundreds and possibly thousands of years the mustache has been seen as "super cool." Ask Hispanic kids, they get it. They never stopped sporting 'em. Or black dudes. It was only snotty white kids that decided around 1989, (while listening to Depeche Mode and The Cure) that the mustache all of a sudden was lame. And unfortunately it has stayed that way.

So now, and probably for the last 4-5 years, we're seeing the mustache re-emerge in white pop-culture, but only by the hipster-indie kids in "ironic" fashion. They walk around all day as if they're pointing at their upper lip saying,

"HEY! Remember this?! Isn't it weird that I'm wearing this?! I mean, I'm totally weird, right? I also have this old film camera and I use a type-writer! Isn't that weird and dorky, and don't you think I'm special and loveable now? PLEASE! Does anyone NOTICE ME?!"

And on that front I got all those fags beat. (Yeah, I still say fags. I could hide it, but what's the point? If gay people are still getting mad about that they need to relax. I've heard plenty of gay dudes talk and they are just as closed minded as the next person... which is me in this case. ) Anyways... I was sporting an ironic mustache in March of 1999*. And not because I wanted attention, but because I was fascinated with it (and at age 21 I could finally grow a decent one). "Why did it ever leave?" I wondered. But on the other hand, what was the appeal? What great things does it do for the geometry of your face?

*Yes, I know that I'm coming across as the annoying, "I was into this fad WAY BEFORE you were," guy, but you know what? I just pointed that fact out before you had a chance to, so I beat you at that too! I win, you dick. And you can't make fun of someone who is hyper self-aware, so go f*** yourself!!!

Where was I? ....oh, yeah! The reason I was so obsessed with the mustache was because my Dad had one, A BIG GNARLY one that scared people. It wasn't a gimmicky handlebar mustache, or a manicured faggy (there it is again!) mustache. It was a thick, broom-like, Wilford Brimley, Sam Elliot, man's man mustache! And my Dad had a fairly long upper lip (not freakish Ron Perlman long, but pretty damn prominent) which gave his mustache more real-estate on which to take purchase. He would shave it occasionally (maybe once every other year) but it was totally his thing! It fit him too. He was a car mechanic, built hot rods, rode Harleys, and he got in plenty o' fist fights. So this mustache role model had a big impact on me! And as I descended into my 20's I couldn't get this fashion accessory out of my mind. At least once a year since I was 21 I've sported a mustache, but usually not for longer than a month or 6 weeks. (The photo of me in the banner above is from 2007) Why? Persecution, mockery, and scorn! ... and plus it makes my nose look big.

*Psst! Hipsters! The wayfarers you're sporting! My Dad was wearing those before you too! You can't win, you're extremely unoriginal and dull! No amount of wacky, ironic, retro accessories can fix that!

So when I'd wear my mustache, I'd get dudes saying, "That's awesome," with a laugh and a pat on the back. But mostly I'd get girls saying, "that's gross!" all Paris Hilton-y. And of course there's the comment that is like kryptonite to a mustachioed man: "You look like a child molester!" Not a cop, or a porn star, or a cowboy... a child molester. Thank you, ladies. Thank you so much. Did I mention you all look fat and ridiculous in those gaucho pants? Well, you do. ALL OF YOU!

But despite this persecution and the current hipster wave (that I hope craps out soon. I'm ready for the next fashion fad for young sheep-like humans who are hellbent on following trends to convince themselves they are not sheep-like humans. Now that's the ultimate ironic statement right there!) I'm excited for a time when the mustache is just okay again, in earnest. It's been around longer than any human being living and I hope it continues. It's left mainstream white youth culture for too long.

So, why this diatribe about mustaches? Well, I've been thinking of a way to honor my Dad. He passed away a year ago this month. I've been thinking of something I can do in his memory. What do people do to remember their loved ones who have passed on? Something they can get others involved in.... Wear a ribbon, a bracelet, make t-shirts, put "In Loving Memory" stickers in the back of their car windows.... So, it came to me and here it is.

For anyone who's willing to - friend, family, or otherwise - I'm declaring April as Denny Tovey Mustache Memorial Month: Let your mustache bloom! From this day forward I commit to wearing a bold and proud mustache for the entire month of April in memory of my Dad. I encourage anyone and everyone to join with me. This isn't an ironic, silly gesture, it's a serious one. Every morning I'll look in the mirror and think about Denny Tovey, who not only wore a mean mustache, but was all at once: a great giving man, a mean son of a bitch, and a real hoot! He left FAR too soon.

I prefer the "3 Musketeers/ Marc Maron" styled mustache. But you can choose your own.

Now, if you're offended by the way I've described my affinity for mustaches and my disdain for several groups of individuals, then you are invited to ignore this and flip me off behind my back. My Dad pulled no punches and people either understood him and loved him or didn't and hated him. If you're offended by what I've written and can't see the humor in it all, then Denny wouldn't have liked you anyway and you would disgrace a mustache by wearing it!!! And damn you. Damn you to pieces!

That's all I got. Over and out.
--------

"Perhaps we die twice. Once when our heart stops beating and again when the living stop telling stories about us."
- Phil Cusano

DENNY TOVEY, December 3rd, 1949

Dad in front of our house, Summer 2001

Today, my Dad, Dennis Keith Tovey, would have turned 62 years old. He died on April 7th of this year after fighting Leukemia for 10 months. His illness and death took me completely by surprise even though I watched it unfold each day and knew his passing was a very strong possibility right from the start.
It just doesn't seem RIGHT. I mean, it didn't fit into the narrative of his life. My Dad escaped death so many times and he was still extremely strong and lively before he was diagnosed. I realize that no one expects to lose their loved ones. It comes as a shock to everyone, but I've never dealt with it before, not with such a close relationship. I still find myself thinking of him, shaking my head, and saying... "Damn, really?! I can't believe this." I feel like I was reading an exciting book that just took a left turn and ended  abruptly. It's very confusing.

 I miss him. I don't know how to move forward without him as a part of my life. It makes me really, really sad. Today, on his birthday, I want to share some thoughts about him that I wrote and spoke at his funeral. I hope those of you that loved him, and those of you who never knew him, will find it useful. Here goes:

"Denny, My Dad."

by Craig Tovey

First, I want to talk about my beliefs and my Dad’s beliefs as far as life, death, and what lies beyond. Second I want to talk about my Dad's personality and character, and his time here on earth.

PART 1.      

      My Dad and I shared a faith regarding the purpose of this life. It’s called the plan of salvation. I'll start by talking about the big picture. I believe we are ALL children of a common Father. He loves us and before this life gave us the opportunity to be born into this world. The purpose? To get the bodies that we now enjoy and often mistreat. We came to this life to obtain a body, to learn it’s strengths and weaknesses, to try our faith and obedience, to learn to love and forgive, and after a time…. leave that body temporarily behind and move onto the next phase of an eternal progression. I want to talk about the two major obstacles we mortals face in this world: Sin and Death.

SIN

This life is both brutal and beautiful, painful and sublime. We all make several poor choices here in this life and sometimes mistreat each other and ourselves, and it leaves a mark. To return again to God we would need to be clean of the mistakes, sins, and regrets of this life. We need to be pure to return to our perfect Father. He provided the means for us to be forgiven of our mistakes and screw-ups. He sent our savior Jesus Christ to rectify this. Christ has paid for our sins and if we choose to accept his sacrifice and follow his teachings, we can experience forgiveness and be clean again. As followers of Christ we’re trying to learn how to screw up less and less, but when we do, NOT if, but WHEN we stumble again, if we are sincere about our desire to change, and rededicate ourselves, we are repeatedly forgiven. This is the beauty of the atonement of Christ, the Redeemer.

DEATH

Now… the other problem of this life, BESIDES the problem of making ourselves unclean by selfish and disobedient actions, is that to continue on our eternal journey, we’re going to need our body again. In death we are separated body from spirit. Like a hand in a glove, our body and spirit are inseparable in life. It’s only when we die that our spirit leaves our body behind. This vessel is not who we are. We wear it like a glove, and it is imperfect and mortal. God also sent Christ to over come this obstacle for us. Jesus broke the bands of death and re-emerged from his tomb after 3 days. He rejoined his body, but not just his earthly body. He resurrected into a perfect immortal body that can no longer be separated form the spirit. The beautiful and marvelous fact is that this gift is given to all men whether they choose it or not. Every person ever born on this earth will be reunited with his or her body one day. Because you came to earth, were born and died you will one day know immortality, our spirits will reunite with a perfect and incorruptible body. This is discussed at length in the scriptures.

“And have hope toward God… that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and unjust.” ACTS 24:15, Bible

“But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ.” MOSIAH 16:8, Book of Mormon

“We need not doubt the reality of the Resurrection simply because we do not understand it. We witness the constant miracle of birth; it is real, although not fully understood. The coming of a newborn child occurs under the direction of a loving Father in Heaven. So will the resurrection of everyone who has lived, who now lives, or who will yet live upon this planet.”  -Elder Neal A. Maxwell, Apostle of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

This thought brings peace to my soul. One day I will see my Dad again. His spirit is no longer with his body. But because of the mission of Jesus Christ he will be resurrected. The disease, death, and decay will be a distant memory. He’ll have a body that will be perfect, flawless, and eternal. Maybe not today, this year, or next even, but someday soon, when the earth fulfills the measure of its creation we will be reunited with our bodies…. every last one of us. Until then, me, my family, my friends will all take turns passing from this life to the next leg of our journey. One by one we’ll all experience death. Some will be peaceful and timely, others will be premature and tragic. The thought breaks my heart, but there is another thought that attenuates the pain… that from here on out, as we all slip from mortality, guess who will be there to welcome us to the other side? Denny Tovey… and I don’t think we could be in better hands.

Denny at age 23.

PART 2.      

      It might come as a surprise to hear that I’ve been thinking about what I would say at my Father’s funeral for at least ten years now. I went to a funeral about that long ago for the father of a friend and I was struck by this thought, “What will people say about me when I’m gone? What will I say when MY DAD goes?” 

      A funeral is the summary of a life. Who’ll show up? What will they say? Will any of it be true? I’ve often thought about how I can explain my Dad to others. Typically, a funeral is an exercise in hyperbole and superlatives. Everyone becomes the “most” and the “best” at everything they ever did. Every positive character trait becomes exaggerated, and every negative one disappears. I’ve struggled with this when thinking about my Dad. I want to tell the truth, I want to be honest. Those are virtues he taught me to value. But that’s a difficult task when it comes to my Dad. As soon as I think of a strength, I think of a weakness. And vice versa. The one thing I feel comfortable saying is that my Dad elicited a strong reaction from those around him. You either loved him or hated him (and sometimes both at the same time) but you never felt indifferent. He was terrible and great, but never mediocre. My Dad could be a truly terrifying, violent, and fierce human being. I’ve never been as afraid of something in my life as when my Dad lost his temper. BUT! I’ve never known anyone more unrepentantly loving, giving, tender, vulnerable, and sensitive. My Dad made me believe that the world was full of morons and idiots, (some of them are in this room right now…) but many, many times I saw him drop everything to help a person in need. He might try and start a fistfight in the middle of a busy intersection, but he would visit sick and dying people in the hospital of his own accord. He was grouchy, hated kids screaming, and told everyone exactly what was on his mind, but he was a great storyteller, laughed often, and he loved to have fun. But I don’t want to dwell on what made him human, his weaknesses. I’ve had enough humanity for the time being. Suffice it to say my Dad was deserving of the superlatives. He was outstanding at everything he did… both good and bad.

In the past I’ve had people ask me to tell them about my Dad and it’s always stumped me. The best I can do is say,” That’s a great question, how much time do you have? Did you want to cover this in one sitting or over several visits?” Now, I’m faced with the same question essentially. I want to describe my impression and experiences that make my Dad who he is.

LIFE IS A BATTLEFIELD

My Dad is a fighter and a warrior. I’m guessing that if he took a truly accurate job aptitude test, it would say that he should have been A) a WWII soldier that hunted and killed Nazis, B) Muscle for the mafia, or C) a cowboy in the wild west. I’m guessing that right now God has him on some security detail or planning an attack on the devil. My Dad viewed life as a battlefield. He hated wearing neckties and often said the reason was because he was sure someone had tried to strangle in the premortal war in heaven. I remember one time in high school I made the mistake of accidentally surprising my Dad at home. I fell asleep in the living room after cross-country practice, and Dad came home and didn’t know I was there. He was getting something out of the laundry and had his back turned as I approached him, and I said, “Hey Dad.” I couldn’t believe how fast he spun around with his fist cocked about to take my head off. It happened so fast it startled me too! 

This fight in him served him well when he was battling Leukemia. He fought bravely. It’s just a shame Leukemia isn’t an ogre or sasquatch or something, cause then my Dad could have easily whacked it to pieces with an axe, or a lead pipe, or his bare hands.

MISBEHAVING

My Dad liked to push the limits and have fun. When I was a kid he always said, “If you want to do something illegal... just tell me and we’ll do it together!” Whether it was racing go-karts in the church parking lot, lighting fires, riding motorcycles, shooting guns, or anything else. My Dad wasn’t having fun unless it was bordering on illegal or deadly. Honestly, I think it’s a wonder he didn’t get himself killed on several dozen occasions… or, you know, every time he got in a car. I know I was afraid of dying when I had to drive with him. 

Although my Dad was phenomenal at misbehaving and having fun, he was always honest when he got caught. He had a love/hate/respect relationship with authority. He would tell me about the several times he would push his car well over 120 MPH, just for fun, and then pass a cop car. He’d then, of his own accord, pull over and stick both hands out the window with his license and registration and wait for the cop to catch up to him and write him a ticket. He figured if he didn’t make the cop chase him he wouldn’t take him to jail.

INTEGRITY HARD WORK

My Dad was an incredible and talented mechanic. To provide for his family of seven children and keep their mother at home, he worked extensive hours doing back-breaking physical labor repairing cars. I’m sure every one of you at some point benefitted from his knowledge of cars and mechanics. I know I did. But more importantly I learned to appreciate hard work and despise laziness.

My Dad was honest and fair in his dealings with his fellow men. He was a tithe payer and gave 10% of all his earnings to our church. He contributed to the missionary and humanitarian aid fund liberally. He never told me this but I happened upon a year-end statement from the church. My Dad kept his promises and told the truth. From him I learned to value integrity and honesty. To do what you say, and say what you do. In today's world, these are endangered virtues. Telling the truth has given way to “misspeaking,” and keeping your word has given way to “flakiness.” Denny was a man of his word.

I could go on and on about my Dad with hundreds of stories and lessons, but I’ll save some time for everyone else. I will say this. I will miss him and I’m sad he’s gone. It feels like it wasn’t his time. He had a lot left to do, to learn, and give. He wanted to serve a mission for the church. It will take me some time for me to make sense of why he's gone. No matter what... I’m grateful he was my Dad. The good and the bad, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I know my Dad isn’t gone forever. He’s gone home and he’s waiting for us, and I can’t wait to see him again. My favorite scripture is in the Book Of Mormon. For me it fits all occasions because it gets at the purpose of why we’re here and what we’re all working and striving for. I think it especially fits today, thinking of my Dad. ENOS 1:27 reads:

“And I soon go to the place of my rest, which is with my Redeemer; for I know that in him I shall find rest. And I rejoice in the day when my mortal shall put on immortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure, and he shall say unto me: Come unto me ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the mansions of my Father.”

Kids, This Won't Change A Damn Thing... But More Power To Ya!

Approximately 3,000 young folks gathered at the Galivan Center in Salt Lake City on Saturday (Sept. 24th, 2011) to run 2 miles up State street to the Capitol building... in their unmentionables. I was vaguely aware of the event before Saturday. I'm not all that "in the know" about hip things to do or activist type stuff. A friend mentioned in passing that she was looking for the right pair of underpants to run in, but I just thought, "She's really wacky anyway. It's probably just her and some friends doing some watered-down streaking." But boooooooooy, was I wrong!

Saturday at about 5:15 I got a call from a friend visiting Salt Lake. There was urgency and excitement in his voice, "Dude, there are thousands of people down here about to run in the streets in their underwear! I'm just telling you you should be here, one photographer to another." So I hung up the phone and answered the photographer's gathering call: fabulous photos you'll regret not taking. I grabbed my camera and headed downtown. I parked WAY too far away because I assumed parking near the Galivan Center would be hellish. It wasn't really. Maybe all these semi-nude runners car-pooled? That's very activisty of them. Or it may be they ran there? Warm-ups? At any rate as i walked the several blocks I saw undressed people heading in the same direction. I even passed two lads taking their pants off in a parking lot.... on second thought that may have been something else.

The Galivan center was brimming with several thousand stripped down youths. All of a sudden I felt the odd man out for having my pants on. I was a clothed outsider in a sea of flesh and colorful skivvies. It was truly bizarre how fast the social construction of norms flip-flopped. I tried to blend in as best I could.... I smiled and frequently yelled, "Wooh! Yeah! We're doing it!" But I think everyone saw through me.

There was a stage with a DJ in boxers and the event organizers shouting directions. At one point they led a warm-up and stretching session. The whole spectrum of how a person might attend a public event in their underwear was represented. On one end were the underwear purists, nothing flashy (literally), just their regular underwear and some running shoes. Then there were the costumed folks, loads of people in Superhero type underoos, some cowboys, some sesame street themed outfits, lots of wigs and hats, some sexy lingerie, a bunch of dudes with Pac-man masks. And on the other end, of course, were the thoroughly shaved men in a banana-hammocks. Thanks guys. 

The event had several professed purposes and some that just lingered in sub-text. Officially the gathering was for a Guinness World Record for the most people running in their underwear. That portion of the event had some strict rules for those that wanted to be counted. Men had to wear boxers or briefs and couldn't wear basketball or other athletic shorts. Girls had to have a shirt on over their bras until the counting was done. But you got the feeling that this was the "blah, whatever" part of the evening. It was really just a legitimate way on which to piggyback the real purpose.

The event organizer... I forget his name, and it doesn't matter, dressed it as a protest run against the uptight "sin" laws here in Utah. Laws that are particular to Utah and blamed on the predominant Mormon culture. (I say "blamed" like I don't believe it, but I do.) People were there advocating gay marriage and equal rights for LGBT folks, some were for raising the alcohol limit in beer above 3.2%, and others wanted more bars, or just more stores to be open on Sunday. Some people had respectable causes, but the event was open to the cause of one's own choosing. And choose they did! On kid wrote, "I want to be able to long-board downtown" on his back. Another guy wrote, "Virgins and Lesbians... thanks for nothing!" He was also dressed as Flash Gordon, FYI. Other people were there for sheer spectacle. "No cause, no purpose. Just want to be in public in my underwear." Small fantasies being realized silently in their hearts...

Then you could sense, and this was a very tiny portion of the crowd, there were a couple exhibitionists... the pervs. Dudes that were WAY, WAY older than everyone else, a stone cold expression on their face and a dead look in their eyes. They were enjoying things in a "different" way.

But it needs to be said that all-in-all, it wasn't a sexual event. At least not for me, and didn't appear that way for anyone else... at least not the guys... visually speaking... ahem! I've never seen the big deal with people's underwear. Most bikini's are as, if not more, revealing than underwear and bras. ( I refuse to say panties. It makes me want to die.) I think being "sexy" or "erotic" is all about context; the dark, the mood, the intentions of both parties. All in all, I've seen more/worse at beaches in Italy. And even topless beaches don't become instant orgies or sites for rape. When it's all out in the public and everyone's doing it... meh, who cares about some skin?

It was a really fun event to attend, honestly. I didn't really care about the causes that were represented. I have my own beliefs, and I'll do and vote according to my conscience, but the camaraderie and positivity of all the people there was refreshing. I'm a big fan of community and anytime I see strangers coming together and uniting in a cause it restores a little of my faith in humanity... even if humanity is runnin' around in its drawers. And I really do believe in free speech, demonstration, and protest, even when it might oppose my personal morals. Our country needs to be this way, so I'm all for it. But, the big question for me is... will this make a bit of difference? I mean, even a little tiny bit?

For a reality check on how powerful this event was, KSL.com, the #1 news website in Utah, picked up the AP story... but it was about 126 words long and buried in the "Odds & Ends" section. It was nestled right between a thought provoking story about a dozen clothes dryers being stolen in South Carolina, and a gripping article of a man stopped by Atlanta airport security for carrying fish in his luggage. KSL is king in this market. It's not just #1 for TV, radio, and online news, it's #1 with a f***ing bullet! #2 is miles away. KSL is a great indicator of the majority viewpoint here in Utah. And that's how this event was seen by the overwhelmingly conservative, taxpaying, voting public: marginal and quirky. The laws are the way they are for a reason: old people vote. Boom! The end. And the older people in this state are Mormon. If you want to get through to these people and make them more tolerant of your lifestyle and gracious, legislatively speaking, of your wants... running down the street in your underwear ain't the way to do it. I'm just saying, it doesn't provide quality information, much less a compelling argument.

This event fits right in to the conservative majority's existing schema. Namely, activists are silly hooligans. This is my issue with gay pride parades. Not the cause, not the message behind it, but the method. What are you communicating to the people's who's minds you're trying to change? "We're here, we're queer, get used to it?" (And also ass-less leather chaps.) So, you've proven you're not ashamed to come out in public? Congratulations. You won't be marginalized anymore? That's awesome. Being gay is portrayed as a flamboyant circus-like parade of techno music, rainbow flags, public affection, nudity, and leather-studded fetishes? Uh... I'm going to leave the conversation now. It's not you, I just remembered I have a big presentation next freak, I mean week!

To be persuasive, unfortunately, we need to understand our opposition; what they value, respect, and hold sacred. Then and only then can we approach them in a way that doesn't scare them off. And even then changes will happen a little bit at a time. This is the problem with the causes behind the undie run... they're adversely overshadowed by the undie run! How do individuals become more open-minded and tolerant? Well, the way I became less of an uptight, judgmental, butthole Mormon wasn't by force. Over time, through first hand experience, I met people that were different from me, their religion, sexual orientation, political views, and saw that they were still good. Some of them possessed more love and compassion in their heart than many Mormons I knew. I slowly started to realize that drinking, smoking, a homosexual lifestyle, or other practices that my religion prohibited are often practiced by loving, caring human beings. I learned the sin/sinner dichotomy. And this is how the predominant LDS culture in Utah will be softened up to allow people to live according to the dictates of their conscience... through first hand experience with other humans.

That's all. I expect someone will be offended by this. Oh well.

I'll post a link to photos in a minute.

LET'S TAKE ROLLER-COASTERS TO WORK!

Today I read about how many injury investigations there were from 2009-2010 at the three theme parks here in Orange County, CA, namely, Disneyland, California Adventures, and Knotts Berry Farm. Now "injury investigation" doesn't mean deaths, head wounds, or broken bones.... it means bumps, scrapes, and sprains. When I read this I just imagined poor people holding their elbow at the end of a ride and going "Oooohh! It hurts so bad!" and hoping to God and all his angels that they can get a settlement that will pay for their cigarettes, bud light, and lottery tickets for the rest of their lives.... or at the very least a refund of their admission. But whether they are legitimate accidents or just litigious gold diggers, here are the top 5 rides that had injury investigations for 2009-2010!

1. Ghostrider, Knotts Berry Farm = 28
2. Splash Mountain, Disneyland = 14
3. Xcelerator, Knotts Berry Farm = 12
4. Pony Express, Knotts Berry Farm = 11
5. Space Mountain, Disneyland = 11

The following all had 10.

• Disneyland: Jungle Cruise, Matterhorn bobsleds, Pirates of the Caribbean
• Knotts Berry Farm: Timber Mountain Log Ride
• California Adventures: California Screamin'

There are a couple deaths...  but not in the last 2 years. Both at Disneyland, one occurred in 1998 and the other in 2003. One fellow was struck dead by a flying 9-pound cleat that came loose on the Sailing Ship Columbia ride. The other  was crushed when his car derailed after a wheel fell off on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride. Those sound scary, but the state of California reports investigating injuries at a rate of 5 in every 10 million rides taken at Disneyland's two parks, and 17 in every 10 million at Knotts. Those are pretty good odds considering that EVERY YEAR you have a 1in 6,500 chance of dying in a car crash and a 1 in 400,000 chance of dying in an airplane crash.

So here's my idea... we take roller-coasters to work! Public transportation within the city and across the country is all roller-coasters. Can you imagine the fun we'd have every day. "Honey I'm gonna head to the store to grab some milk. WEEEEEEE!"

I'm All Shook Up

Yeah, take what THIS GUY says seriously...

I have always assumed that comedy was the one sacred thing that all Americans, nay, all HUMANS still held sacred. In a world belabored with "political correctness," "mis-speaking," "cultural sensitivity," it's always been comforting to me to have comedians and comedy shows be a place to cut loose, say what's on everybody's mind, and have a good laugh at ourselves and our ignorance. I assumed this was the case because I've heard things said in TV, movies, and stand-up comedy acts that I wanted to say in real life, not because I really believe them, but because IT'S FUNNY. I heard them, laughed, and thought, "comedy allows you to say whatever you want SO LONG AS SOMEONE THINKS IT'S FUNNY." So you can imagine how upset I was when I read something that undermined this, my dearly held assumption....

I read that Tracy Morgan had to apologize for anti-gay remarks he made during a performance... AS A COMEDIAN. Excuse me, he CHOSE to apologize for offensive remarks. No one made him do anything. He caught some grief for saying that if he found out one of his sons were gay that he would "pull out a knife and stab him." When I play this line in my head using Tracy Morgan's voice and inflection.... it makes me laugh. It's SOOOOO obviously a joke. A good one. It's hyperbole. It's honest in that it addresses how upsetting that can be for some parents. And mostly it's funny cause it makes fun of ignorance. It's not funny cause he was serious. It's funny cause he was totally NOT serious. His stage performance is an act. Whether or not Tracy Morgan is a violent homophobe or not is beside the point. He's a comedian, g*dammit.

And all the queer folks were all upset about him promoting violence towards homosexuals. Yeah... you people need to settle down and think this one through. And yes, I did say "you people." Deal with it. You're telling me that you're afraid someone watching TRACY EFFING MORGAN the well known COMEDIAN is going to hear him say that and think, "Great point, Tracy! My son/brother/friend is gay and that's a great idea, I'm gonna go stab that son of a bit*h!"

I'm not supporting violence towards anybody, especially against gaylords, cause lord knows they're so very weak and helpless. I'm saying I don't think a comedian has to apologize for anything he says, UNLESS it doesn't get a laugh. Your job is to make people laugh. If you fail at that.... then by all means you owe the world an apology. We listened to you in good faith and now our time has been wasted. But if we laugh, fair play. It was relatable and ridculous and clever and entertaining.

If comedians can't make fun of anyone and everyone... then what good is comedy? What would happen if George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, or Louis C.K. had to apologize for offensive things they said in their routines? Their apologies would last twice as long as their acts!

This is a problem people.... this is a problem. Comedians apologizing, politicians taking pictures of their crotches... what next? Nerdiness suddenly being considered cool?! Oh wait, we're there. Next stop, the effing Apocalypse. If gay people think they have it bad NOW...

P.S. The obviously ignorant terms for LGBT peeps is sprinkled throughout this post for comedic effect..... see it's funny because here I am saying that it's not about hating gay folks an yet I'm using derogatory terms. The IGNORANCE is what's funny. Archie Bunker, people. Archie motherf**king Bunker.