John Mayer and Douchebags

I read John Mayer’s blog post for December 26. It made me laugh. Douchebag. Apparently, google searches for his name and the word douchebag alone bring up quite a few hits. Top on the list was another musician. Several other muscians and actors followed. He discusses the pleasure of the sound of the word, likens the air flowing through the lips to sliding across a wooden floor in woolen socks. I suppose it does have a sort of enjoyable wwwwooooooshhhh across the lips. Only it’s douchebag!  Eewww! Douchebags are gross. Think about it. They are bags of water with a tube attached to clean out the vagina. I suppose the bags themselves never get into the vaginal canal or touch whatever is rinsed out, but still. Ick.

Mr. Mayer…If it is indeed Mr. Mayer. My ex suggested to me that Mr. Mayer does not write this stuff himself. However, having heard interviews with him, the tone and style of his blogs are quite consistent with his natural speaking voice so I tend to believe Mr. Mayer wrote the post. Mr. Mayer…Mr. Mayer?  No, Johnny.  Johnny then goes on to analyze what precisely makes a douchebag. He points out that it is quite possible that those using the word douchebag probably do not like the objects of their affection because they are different than the users of the word, and that they are often expanding artistic direction in ways that do not appeal to the users of douchebag. Johnny concludes that true douchebags are those who treat others with disrespect. It is implied that the douchebag word users are the real douchebags.

Johnny doesn’t say this, but it is quite likely the douchebag word users are jealous of the objects of their affection. The word users are sitting home flinging word shit on their computer at actors and musicians who appear to live the diamond life, being famous, getting the girls, spending the big money. And there is something about the level of vocabulary of the type who regularly employs the word douchebag and in the context described by Johnny, as well as the types of people they choose to use it about. They criticize what they are paying attention to, the actors and the musicians. I started to type that they probably read People and Us mags, but actually, they probably don’t read paper at all. They get their news from Yahoo front page and Myspace entertainment. Then they call people they don’t like douchebags. They ignore politicians and people creating real harm. It is not a word used to discuss those I would perhaps consider douchebags, people like George Bush, Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, and their ilk. I actually prefer fascist terrorist-producing sociopath dictator wannabees myself, but douchebag does seem to have a ring to it that may be quite appropriate under the circumstances.

Anyway, interesting blog choice, Johnny Boy.

Advertisements

Little Fish

I made this story up for my daughter one night when she wanted me to tell her a story. The next night, “Tell me the story about Little Fish.” Huh? I had thrown it together on the fly. But she remembered every detail so as I began telling it, she would fix it. Together we recreated it. Then every night I had to retell it. After a bit, it gained nuance and tone. I finally wrote it down. She still loves it.

Little Fish lived in the ocean. She wanted to swim up the stream where she had been born.

Little Fish decided it was time to go. She started up the stream.

But then she saw a fisherman fishing along the banks of the stream, so Little Fish went back to the ocean to wait for a while.

She waited and waited and decided again that it was time to go back up the stream.

Little Fish swam and swam, past the place where she had seen the fisherman.

But as she swam, she saw an eagle, high in the sky, looking for a fish to eat. So Little Fish went back to the ocean to wait for a while.

She waited and waited and decided again that it was time to go back up the stream.

Little Fish swam and swam, past the place where she had seen the fisherman, and past the place where she had seen the eagle high in the sky.

But as she swam, she saw a giant fish, lurking in the shadows along the riverbank, hoping to capture its next meal. So Little Fish went back to the ocean to wait for a while.

She waited and waited and decided again that it was time to go back up the stream.

Little Fish swam and swam, past the place where she had seen the fisherman, past the place where she had seen the eagle high in the sky, and past the place where she had seen the giant fish lurking in the shadows.

But as she swam, Little Fish saw a monstrous brown bear, reaching into the water, looking for its next meal. So Little Fish went back to the ocean to wait for a while.

She waited and waited and decided again that it was time to go back up the stream.

But every time Little Fish swam up that stream and back, she grew a little bit more. And she was no longer such a Little Fish, but a very Large Fish.

This time, Little Fish swam boldly past the place where she had seen the fisherman, past the place where she had seen the eagle high in the sky, past the place where she had seen the giant fish lurking in the shadows, and past the place where she had seen the monstrous bear.

And Little Fish made it safely to the top of the stream to the place she would now call home.