Heroism.

Status Report

Wearing: DARE shirt. As in “Donuts Are Real Expensive.”

WinAmp is playing: Wollt Ihr das Bett in Flammen Sehen? – RAMMS+EIN

Last ate: Grilled Cheese, baby.

Last round of masturbation: Two nights ago.

Entry Start Time: 11:28 PM

Based on Esther’s “Senses”.

Raise the bar. Raise the bar. Ever since my 100th entry (How To Be Yourself), I noticed I’ve been trying to outdo myself. After Pussism, I wondered how I’d ever top it. I created a fucking religion. After my Brief History of Timmy, the epic 14-parter, I wondered how I’ll ever write something that long again. I know I will. I’ll outdo myself. On the one hand, it motivates me to keep writing, to see just what I will produce. But, conversely, I’m content to write the worst shit known to man. Why? Maybe I’m just not a perfectionist. And maybe, just because I don’t like it, somebody else will. Raise the bar. And so I keep writing.

Poptart asked that I write about heros. Or was it singular when she asked me? Maybe. My first impulse was to recite something that happened to me in 5th grade. We were asked to write about who our hero (or was it plural) is. I remember running through ideas. Tim Taylor (The character on Home Improvement, not the hockey player. Sue me, I liked the show.) Spock. The Fonz. I ended up writing about how we shouldn’t have heros. …Or was the topic we wrote about role models? Whatever, same thing. But, in the spirit of actually answering the question… I’ll answer the damn question.

Spock: Let’s face it, I wouldn’t be Timmy without having watched Star Trek. Spock taught me that if you’re smart, you can nerve pinch somebody and avoid combat. *laughs* Spock. Do I really need to write this out? They killed him. THEN BROUGHT HIM BACK. (Okay, okay, they killed Kirk and brought him back. I read a book “The Return”, about how the Borg take Kirk’s corpse and resurrect him. I’ve read it three times. But, the fact is, Trekkies had a fucking fit after they killed Spock in Star Trek II. Even if it was a hero’s dead. Hey, Spock saved the Enterprise! He’s a hero!) Um. Yeah. Even if vulcan logic is more common sense than anything, relying on some sort of rational thought is core to me. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.

“Weird Al” Yankovic: I can only pale in comparison to the comic genius of Weird Al. If only I was musically talented, I could do some damage. Alas, I am musically challenged. The only thing I can play is my penis. And that’s another thing with Weird Al: he’s not sexual at all. Can anybody imagine Weird Al being a porn star? I can’t picture him having sex without pulling a rubber chicken out of his partner’s Vagina. I’m harmless, but not THAT harmless. Look up. Look down. Now look at Mister Frying Pan! *BONG*

Arthur Fonzereli: The Fonz invented cool. Don’t you wish you had the power to turn on Jukeboxes simply by hitting a wall? My Aura will never be that strong. ..He’s the Fonz. Is there anything else I need to say? Aaayyyeeeeeeeeeeeee

Q: Another Star Trek based hero. Mon Capitan! I so wished they had made Star Trek X about Q. Instead, they decided to combine all nine previous films into one crapfest. Q in a nutshell: He is god. No, actually, he’s more powerful than any Christian god. I’m curious, can your god change the gravitational constant of the universe? *smiles* That whole snap-fingers-white-light-flash entrance and exit thing is something I’d kill to do. Hello, Worf. Eaten any good books lately?”

Charley Reese: Read him here. The man just rocks. I wish I could have such knowledge and perspective of history and current events. I’ve been reading him for a long time, and he never fails to disappoint me. On the rare occasions I disgree with him, he still comes off as intelligent and witty. Lying, directly or indirectly, is a mortal sin for a public official in a free society. It erodes trust, which is the glue that holds society together. And it is entirely unjustifiable.

Bob Dole: I don’t really know why, but I have this huge fascination with Bob Dole. No, it’s not the fact that he can get boners. He just.. He’s Bob Dole. The man is a war hero, which isn’t something we can say for our current president. Spent a significant amount of time in the hospital recovering. I forget which hand it is, but he always holds a pen with it. I don’t feel like checking it, but I think he was hit with machine gun fire. Bob Dole never struck me as the kind of Republican that could destroy the world. He strikes me as the kind of politician that, even if he did a lot of good things, they wouldn’t be remembered at all in the long run. Not that I know anything about his voting record. I do know he’s had two wives. But, damn it, he’s Bob Dole. Bob Dole doesn’t like it when people talk bad about him. Bob Dole: A better man, for a better America.

Wendi: Thinking one last time, I’ve decided my big sis is one my heros. I’ve always looked up to her, one way or another. I was an annoying little pest to her when I was little, always wanting to hang out with her and her friends. Of course, we’ve both grown up since this. She says the right things to me, even if I don’t recognize it at the time. She has the street-smarts I’ll never have. She knows how to survive in the world, whereas I haven’t a fucking clue. High School is just a competition to see who can be the weirdest.

So yes, I don’t really think we should have heros. What is a hero? To put somebody on a pedastal. To see someone as something they’re not, emphasising their positive attributes and completely ignoring their negative attributes. Someone is a hero only in our minds. In a way, I suppose it gives us hope. There’s somebody else out there who’s done something, why can’t we?

I’m content to never have any real heros, except for the purpose of humoring the question. Admire, maybe. Praise, maybe. But, nobody will never be my hero. We are all human, one way or another. We have faults. To ignore our faults is to ignore who we are. You are not special. You are not a unique snowflake. We are the all-singing all-dancing crap of the world. We are all part of the same compost heap.

(Lori just told me she’s eating a weiner. *smiles* I know there’s some white weiners in the freezer…)

I can’t really think of any other way to explain why I don’t believe in heros. Oh. It’s partly because of turning sports stars into “role models”. Basketball players are good at putting balls into a raised rim above the ground. They aren’t fucking curing cancer. Who erradicated smallpox? I have no idea. JFK is only remembered because he got shot. I only hope Bush lives out his term so he’ll be remembered as the most hated President ever. And in America, oh baby, do we hate our Presidents. The mere distortion of heroism turns the wrong people into people we look up to.