A good reason to maintain your car

When a mechanic tells you your car is in immaculate condition, they mean it.

They don't want to mean it. It's like someone at Best Buy saying, "We won't even try to upsell you because it's clear you know exactly what you want and exactly how to fix it." Or one of those overly aggressive salespeople at Sears who takes one look at you and says, "I'll bet your siding is just dandy."

As I've mentioned before, I'm one of those anal people who actually fills out the maintenance book on his car. I've never missed a service appointment, even though my car is six years old and I'm past the one-year anniversary of being poor. Yesterday, I got my 55,000-mile oil change and tire rotation. And as is always the case with my current car (which I bought new), the mechanics could clearly see that I wasn't going to be fooled into unnecessary repairs. 

This is in stark contrast to my previous vehicle, which constantly required expensive repairs that always seemed to come in pairs. "You need a new fuel pump ... see you next week when your hoses pop off!"

The lowlight of that era was when I went to see someone about my broken window tracks, and they told me the problem was a burned-out motor. I had hand cranks.

"No you don't," the guy told me with a straight face he should patent.

I never did get those windows fixed. For that reason, but also because it was funny to slide them up and down with suction cups.

We live in a society that upsells everything these days, from car repairs to books and everything in between and on the outer edges. Need is almost never part of the equation. So in keeping my car up to speed, not only do I gain the satisfaction of a reliable vehicle, but also the satisfaction of one of the most aggressive industries telling me, "Nah, you're good."

Good indeed.

Rules of rhetorical engagement

Some interesting developments have transpired in the days since I wrote the post “Can’t get no Lambo satisfaction” — namely, the subject of that post, Don Domingue, took interest in what I said. When I didn’t reply to his correspondence as quickly as he apparently wanted, he declared victory and said he was done with me.

After reading the Lambo entry, Don posted a link to it into the SB Nation thread, along with this commentary:

This is as polite as it got.

He e-mailed me personally to alert me to the comment. Later, he typed up a reply to my post that he deleted almost immediately thereafter. I won’t repost it here, because I agree with him that he should have thought twice about posting some of that. (CORRECTION — The comment wound up in my spam filter, which I discovered after he said he didn't delete it. It is now on the thread.) It reminded me of other times when someone made similar remarks, which I’ve dealt with both personally and as a representative of a publication. What these incidents have in common is that someone took rhetoric much farther than it needed to go. To paraphrase Tom Hanks in the SNL sketch where he must quell the disturbing impulses of the Mr. Belvedere Fan Club, it’s time again for our exercises.

The rules below apply not just to me or to Don, but to anyone unnecessarily agitated over some opinion writing they find in the press.

1) Pick your battles. The quickest way to look petty is to engage every critic you encounter. You come across as someone with misdirected passions; someone with way too much time; someone who has to win every argument, no matter how pointless; someone with an exaggerated sense of self-importance; or any combination thereof. If you must engage, engage with intelligence and discretion.

2) Make sure you haven’t wandered into the wrong debate. Not everyone who hates the color of a car (or wants higher taxes on the rich, etc.) is a jealous welfare leech. Tailor your response accordingly.

3) Let your argument stand for itself. Use facts. Make your case, ground it in rationality and otherwise do the best you can. Accept that some will agree and some will disagree. Accept that you may be proven wrong (and try to anticipate that as you go). Accept that there is a degree of dissension among thoughtful people. Don’t base your argument on who has the most zingers or who is cockiest, because you might find you’re the only one playing that game. Even if you win, you lose.

4) Find common ground. Not only does common ground humanize an opponent, but it underlies a primary purpose of debate: persuasion. When people are reminded that they’re more alike than different, amazing things can happen. That’s preferable to escalating volleys of useless sniping.

5) Take the opportunity to be better. One of the most devastating ways to tilt a debate is to snap preconceived notions. It can be as simple as conceding a point: “Yes, I was wrong about that.” Or, “That’s a fair point.” Or perhaps use a little-known tidbit about you that helps explain your stance: “I don’t want you to think I’m a monster. When I was a child, I skipped lots of meals because we couldn’t make ends meet. I vowed then that my adult life would be different. All I want is the opportunity to be able to do so.” If it doesn’t change minds, at least it will open them up. Taking the high ground is never a bad idea.

6) If you must insult, use relevant insults. I know it’s hard to imagine in such an ideologically divided age, but calling someone a “liberal” isn’t so devastating if they actually are one. “Socialist” also lands with a thud because actual socialism is a rare force in the U.S. (This works with opposing ideologies as well.) Overly broad stereotypes suggest not just ignorance, but laziness. A well-placed slam is unexpected and memorable. But, most importantly, it’s accurate.

7) Don’t physically threaten, even jokingly. “Fighting words” should stay metaphorical. This goes whether it’s anonymous bluster or claiming you’ll sic your neighbor — notorious for his anti-media tirades and his Mardi Gras assault on a local publisher’s daughter — on me. Or whoever, since this is purely hypothetical.

8) Don’t prove your opponent’s point. The best tip of all.

Am I perfect on all of these points? Of course not. But I strive. I hope Don, his critics and everyone else do the same, so that discourse in this country improves.

My social media biases

I’ve been asked a few times recently how to use certain forms of social media. There’s no catch-all answer, but over the years I’ve evolved a personal MO for each outlet that I use. As is fitting with evolution, these uses are subject to change and/or obsolescence. Here’s how it currently stands:


Blogging

Not Right About Anything is my outlet for the majority of my work. I like to comment on current events, as well as create cartoons, graphics and videos. I did such things long before the Internet was a thing to most civilians, so I find that having this platform works well for me. I treat it as a publication, giving its entries the most time, energy and review (even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes). I recommend a blog platform to those with more to say than social networks allow, and who want a potentially wider audience. When I started this blog in 2004, social media had yet to catch fire, and it was frequently the center of my online communication. Direct feedback has trailed off considerably since then, but the focus of content has changed little in nine years.


Advice: Blogs are an involved form of social media. If you find yourself writing a lot, it might be useful. If you’re into shorter prose, or want to share with just a handful of people, Facebook and Twitter might be better.


Facebook

Currently, I use Facebook to make witty statues to make friends laugh, and/or share personal details that I’m comfortable to share with my friends, relatives, co-workers and former bosses. When I first signed on in 2005, Facebook was exclusively a college site. As the status feature evolved and the site’s reach expanded to everyone, I wrote less about politics and other controversial topics and became more neutral, not to mention more careful in my words. I’m still funny, though, I like to think. Given the site’s reach, I find myself perhaps most mindful as to what I say and share there than anywhere else.


Advice: Chances are you’re on Facebook already. If somehow you’re not but are curious, it’s probably the best place to start online.


Twitter

I was a relative latecomer to Twitter, joining in 2010. I demurred for awhile, because I frankly wasn’t impressed with 140 characters; I’m not known for brevity. Anyway, everything I heard about Twitter suggested that it was an even more insipid version of the old MySpace bulletin board. But it grew on me, and now I like it very much. It allows me to toss off one-liners to an instant audience, as well as see an amazing cross-section of live-tweets from other people. And not just friends, but athletes, actors, politicians, professors, pundits, scientists, businesses and publications. It’s where I, like millions of Americans, first learned of Osama bin Laden’s death. I like also that I can share my links to a different audience than the blogosphere and Facebook. And that I can live-tweet events in a way that is less annoying to followers than it used to be on Facebook. This also helps tremendously in the frequent instances that I regret tweeting something. Additionally, I often test out blog ideas in their infancy on Twitter, and sometimes participate in memes that later become rich blog fodder (such as Aged Bands and Rejected Olympic Events).


Advice: Twitter is terrific even if you choose to never tweet. Follow the right people — they don’t have to follow you back, another bonus — and you might feel like you’re in the coolest town square anywhere. If you do tweet, you’ll learn the art of being short and concise. That’s useful to everyone.


Google+

I’m on it, but I don’t use it very much. I feel like if it predated Facebook, nobody would have ever heard of Mark Zuckerberg. Google+ has video chat, which I’m amazed hasn’t caught on like it should; after all, weren’t TV phones always representative of the future? The future is here, friends. I may use this more in the future when I move away again. That remains to be seen.


Advice: If you’re into video hangouts and smaller Facebook-type circles, look no further. But if you want to find me, I’m more likely to be elsewhere. I could see myself using this more if I became semi-famous or otherwise sought out for some reason.


MySpace

I never especially cared for MySpace, and I signed on in late 2006 only because it filled in the friend gaps that Facebook did not yet reach. Having blogged for two years already and being used to the clean, HTML-friendly stylings of Facebook, the garish frames of MySpace and the nickname system seemed juvenile by comparison. But for a couple of years, it served its own niche for me. I blogged very personal entries, the kind of things that I wanted only my close circle of friends to see. I also used it for a few months as a weekly aggregate of my Not Right blog entries (not that anyone cared). Later, the bulletin board became a must-read. But it died out quite suddenly when Facebook opened its virtual doors to everyone, leaving MySpace to become a ghost town of Mafia Wars players and spammy friend requests. I still have a profile, but mainly because I’ve been dragging my feet about saving the photos that I don’t have anywhere else. With the site’s new redesign, I may have to get on that pronto.


Advice: If you’re into music, MySpace might be worthwhile. But its relevance as a social network is long over.


LinkedIn

I hear a lot about LinkedIn as an indispensable business tool. In my experience, it hasn’t been as productive as I initially thought. But that’s because I don’t work in a particularly corporate field. For those who do, it seems to serve a considerable purpose. Obviously, it’s the kind of site where you put your best face forward, much less conducive to the casual vibe of other online networking. Also, they make you pay for a better experience, which I currently don’t. As it currently stands, I have my résumé out there and a handful of connections, mostly with people with whom I’m connected elsewhere.


Advice: Check out LinkedIn, especially if someone with whom you’d like to network is active there. Creative types might find it less fruitful. And unlike the other sites I use, money talks there. 


E-mail

I always enjoy getting real e-mail that isn’t Facebook notifications, mailing lists or ads for C1al1s. So drop me a line.


Advice: You have it. Come on!

Can't get no Lambo satisfaction

So there’s this man from Lafayette who adorned his gold Lamborghini with purple stripes to show his support for LSU. The Independent linked a piece from SB Nation about it, with a note to check out the comments; apparently, the owner was getting a lot of hate, which I assumed would be in the form of a UL vs. LSU, “How dare you do that in Lafayette?” kind of thing.

Boy, was I wrong. This two-way row was much more interesting.

Anybody who’s ever written anything on the Internet knows that someone, somewhere, will troll you. You can write about how much you love puppies and some spoilsport will ask where you get off on promoting rabies. It’s practically a given. Most of the time, it isn’t worth dignifying with a response.

But that’s exactly what the subject of the article did. Lots and lots and lots of times. And what started as a debate on the style/gaudiness of the car became an elaborate deconstruction of everything that’s pitiful about people with too much money to spend, too little empathy for others and endowed with a strong need to have the last word.

To be fair, the people attacking him are juvenile at times and, like the man himself, are better off just ignoring the whole thing. But the guy does himself no favors with his reactions. I’m not going to taunt my OCD by citing and parsing the best quotes that the car’s owner makes to commenters, because there are entirely too many; take a look for yourself. But I will note that one of the first responses he makes to a critic is to ask the critic about his own theoretical Lamborghini. In other words, call me back when you’re consuming at my level, then I’ll care what you have to say.

Not this again.

A very prevalent attitude in Louisiana — one that, possibly more than anything else, has me pining strongly for blue-state pastures — is the obnoxious flaunting of wealth. Many rich people in the South tend to have little to no humility when it comes to vast riches. As the state’s love for chemicals and disdain for regulations and education attest, we’re a business state where quality of life is strictly secondary. As is often said, toxic waste smells like money to us.

Consequently, the prevailing attitude is, if you’ve got it, flaunt it; if you don’t, then obviously you’re a welfare-gorging leech. Not to mention jealous as hell, which incentivizes the haves to double down on their having. They cannot fathom anyone having other goals in life, such as creating art or music, or simply earning a decent standard of living — winning the toy race is all that matters, so why shouldn’t one be unabashedly arrogant about their conspicuous consumption?

You get the impression that if these people were an undefeated football team, they’d scream around town in Hummers, slapping teddy bears out of little girls’ hands while shouting, “Yeahhhh!! We’re 16-0, fools! Aren’t you jealous of me? If you are, maybe you should form your own team and go 16-0, little girl!” Meanwhile, the kids are crying because the players made short work of the only thing they have.

No one likes a sore winner, especially when no one else is playing the game.

But I digress. Back to the Tiger car.

I can live with the flaunting part. It’s not my style (not that I’m in danger of having much to flaunt), but I accept that it is for some. And even though I’m a fan of fuel-efficient cars and am not a big LSU fan, I think the Tiger car is pretty cool. Above all, a person is expressing himself as he chooses and no one’s getting hurt. I dig that no matter how someone chooses to do it.

What irritates me (and everyone else on the thread) is not his car or his wealth, but his condescending attitude. He thinks everyone is jealous of him, and by the time he gets to blabbing about Obama and socialism, it’s clear he’s flailing to box everyone into his reality. But arguments like his land with a thud for people like me because I don’t want what he has. I’d be happy with a job that allows me to pay my bills and otherwise be a responsible person. Otherwise, I have everything I want. People like this guy don’t get that, just like they don’t get how their arrogance hurts us all. Including themselves.

They don't criticize him because they're jealous, but because he insists that they must be.

They're just asking for this

For the past two days, this hashtag has been trending on Twitter:

#LiberalTips2AvoidRape 

I hijacked it a couple of times, as people tend to do with hashtags. But when I got to one idea of mine, I decided to stop. I was going to say something like, "BENGHAZI! #LiberalTips2AvoidRape"

But then I remembered Poe's Law, and I have a reputation to protect. 

Seriously, check out that hashtag link. It proves, in spades, my longstanding theory that conservative political humor cannot be funny. Not only is it excessively mean, it's like they picked buzzwords off a partisan list and saladed them together (which is what most right-wing humor is). The most common joke is about how bullets are faster than a police call, which wasn't funny the first time.

Also, it's incredibly degrading toward women. Not to mention, based on false outrage toward a comment that everyone knows wasn't misogynist — but for which Joe Salazar apologized anyway — for which conservatives apparently thought they'd put him in his place by being 10,000 times more sexist, vicious and bloodthirsty than he ever was.

George Carlin once said rape could be funny. But his bit mocks the "Eh, she was askin' for it" mentality. He didn't joke about rape — he ripped those who make excuses for rape.

I'm sure the GOP will solve its woman problem any day now.

A dream not worth following

I was playing for the Saints and they lost after blowing a huge lead, in part because I was burned for a long touchdown by a wide receiver. After the game, I walked with my helmet and shoulder pads to a waiting car. The car was being driven by my cousin, with his wife riding shotgun, and my brother in the backseat. We started talking and the conversation steered to where I went wrong — at which point the conversation switched from dream football to my real-life struggles. I began to explain some fact and got cut off, upon which I slammed my helmet/pads into the car by the facemask and yelled, “Fine, you don’t want to hear what I have to say yet again? Then fuck it, I’m finished talking to you ... No, I didn’t interrupt you this time, you interrupted me ... Goodbye.” I stormed off, immediately realizing this was going to be awkward when I had to get back in the car. My brother rolled down his window and said, “I left some chocolate on the shelf for you.” I turned to the shelf that was suddenly there and ripped open a bag of dark chocolate. That’s when I noticed that the nutrition label noted one gram of trans fat. I sighed and put it back. “At least he tried,” I said to myself.

I walked on over to a party to which I’d been invited. Was it ever a star-studded gala, featuring a wide variety of well-known comedy stars and other celebrities. It was a private thing in someone’s New York City apartment, just famous people hanging out. I sat next to Bill Murray, who shared my uncouth eating habits, and everyone else watched the action at our table. I didn’t take any pictures, instead soaking in my good fortune. Everyone there treated me as one of them, and I felt like I belonged. I recall saying something pretty funny about Bill’s slurping of his tacos, which got a decent laugh from the crowd. But then Bill added something so funny that everyone — including myself — roared over.

Just as I took a huge bite of taco, a young guy sitting next to me asked, “So you’re like a big comedy writer, right?” I pointed with my index finger as I finished my bite. He gave a look of impatience, and my bite didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. Finally I swallowed it, and as he was standing up to leave, I grabbed him by the lapels and said, “No, actually I’m unemployed! I am a writer, though.” It came out more squeaky and desperate than I meant it to sound. Suddenly a gruff old man with a mustache, he retorted, “There are 200 others like you in this town.” “I know,” I replied with resignation. “Anyway,” he continued, “You have to fill out 154 pages of tax forms to get work.” To which I countered, “I’d rather fill out 154 pages of forms than be one of the 200.” He nodded, at which point everyone simultaneously got up and headed for the exits. “Are you coming to the after-party?” he asked, almost threateningly. “Yes sir,” I replied, “Just let me finish this last taco and wash my hands.” He nodded with some hesitation, as if I’d said the wrong thing. I finished off the taco in a few seconds, washed my hands in the restroom sink aaaaand — they were all gone. They’d even turned out all the lights.

Just then, I realized that I’d left my relatives in the car on a bad note. Hopefully they’d still be waiting and I could make amends. But they were gone too. And so was everything on the shelf.

Then I woke up, convincing myself with some success that none of that had actually happened.

Discouraged

The more you need to get away from it all, the harder it is to do it.