RIP RH

My step-grandfather passed away a couple weeks ago. I didn’t know him very well–he’d only moved up here from Florida a year or two ago. Before then, I’d see him only on the major holidays. The last time I saw him, it was at the hospice just hours before his death. Read more

Better Heard and Not Seen

Confession time: I can’t stand Laci Green. More accurately, I can’t stand the dozens to hundreds of people who are like Laci Green. They’re people who are mostly popular simply because they’re hot. Kinda like a donut: Pretty on the outside, empty on the inside, and some part of you deep down thinks you could put your dick in it. I used to throw shade at Lisa Foiles for the same reasons, but now Laci Green is who’s first to come to my mind.

When I first started seeing people share her videos, I kinda got it. I could see the appeal. She’s a hot, young, quirky girl who talks about sex stuff. But it was my sight that was betraying me. I wasn’t quite absorbing the things she had to say because I was too often distracted by her bubbly facial expressions and epic boobs.

There’s a trick I’ve learned after years of listening to Loveline and talk radio… You get a very different impression of a person if you can’t see them and only hear their voice. Especially if the person talking is attractive to you. Read more

Father’s Day #0

My first born has yet to be born, but while she exists in utero, I can [technically] have my first Father’s Day.

I had a suspicion that my wife had something in store for me, but I couldn’t predict what was actually bestowed to me. First, she treated me to one of my favorite breakfasts: Eggs Benedict. It was her first time ever attempting the dish, but it did not disappoint. A poached egg, thick cut bacon, and an English muffin… All my favorite players for the first meal of my day.

Then came the gifts. I don’t know where she found the card, but it was perfect. The message described our relationship with our child flawlessly. I couldn’t help but show it off to others. Read more

Clips or It Didn’t Happen

Fuck it. I’ll write about the recent casting of stones between some recent episodes of The Other Side podcast and Whiskey Thursday.

Whenever Cody Baier (or equally, Max Vader) recounts an event, it reminds me of TV shows that will have scenes with a theater troupe re-enacting events the audience has already seen. It’s like a cartoonish interpretation; most of it is inaccurate, applied with artistic license, and has just a dash of agenda in the mix. So whenever I listen to Cody and his crew, rather than address everything he says with, “But that not how it happened,” I can distill it down to one simple problem:

Cody doesn’t know what podcasts are.
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R.I.P. Hatman

Earlier in this blog–that is, 2 goddamn years ago–I described this blog as the text incarnation of my old solo podcast, Hatman in the Morning. That show was partially a testing ground for bits I thought might be funny, but didn’t take long to become a dumping ground for my emotional baggage. Since I no longer had time to do that kind of regular podcast, I’d hoped that I could use my blog as a therapeutic outlet. That didn’t really pan out either, since I only ended up posting about three entries per year since.

Well, I’m here to tell you now that the Hatman is dead. The idea; not myself. I’m not writing this posthumously after some suicidal misadventure… Something you might expect after listening to so many episodes of Hatman in the Morning. Also, I ditched that damn hat years ago. Look, protip: Taking regular, current photos of yourself could be a good plan.

But, that not what I’m really getting at here. Read more

Rachel Bryk

So, how disgusting is it that news blogs are cashing in on someone’s suicide? I’ve been seeing a lot of clickbait to news blogs with a headline that reads something along the lines of “Trans Woman Game Developer Cyber-Bullyed into Jumping Off a Bridge”.

Thanks to the current state of social media and scandals like GamerGate, there are three hot topics that are bound to draw attention: Female game developers, transgender people, and online harassment. The reactions I’ve been seeing are very telling: Suckers get riled up because they see only what they want to see and pass it along to others without thoroughly reading the story.
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Edith Keeler

I’ve come up with a new way to describe depression. It’s like those time travel stories where someone goes back in time and prevents someone from getting killed; only to learn that history needed the person they saved to die in order to prevent a worse fate. And you’re that guy that should have died.
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The Only Shame is to Have None

I really hate to blame the victim…but I never let that stop me.

Of course, if someone is preyed upon, the true villain is the person doing the preying. I’m not saying, “Well, what was she wearing?” here. Calm down; I’m not a monster. What I’m saying here is “Make a fool of me once, shame on you. Make a fool of me twice, shame on me.” There’s a growing resistance the latter part of that idea. And the key word, I think, is shame.

Social media is the battleground for a war on shame (among other things). Now, shame isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s built into our biological wiring; like pride or jealousy. It feels bad, but much in the same way that pain alerts us of injury. Shame is a social device that alerts us that our behavior may be unhealthy to ourselves or others.
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So… Robin Williams.

I’m one of the many millions of people on the entire surface of the Earth that feels his loss. But I do find that in the wake of his death, I’m able to talk with more people openly about depression. I can talk about how it feels and how it works without coming out and turning focus to me. People are so caught up in Williams’ celebrity that no one’s asked yet, “How do you know so much about this stuff?”

The first thing that seems to confuse people about depression–especially Robin Williams’–is how he could feel so sad. He was blessed with talent, money, fame, adoration… How could someone with so much not be happy?
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Aged Whine

All my life, I’ve lived among the geek community–the geekosystem, to be cute. My peers range from greyed, middle-aged folks (many bearding or balding) to budding teenagers, with new generations entering the fold each year.

As this age range broadens, so does the generation gap, and it’s becoming a point of disconnection between many of my friends. The older members will often become annoyed and dismissive of the younger crowd. Meanwhile, the younger members meet with frustration when they reach too far in believing they share through osmosis the same maturity as their elders.
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