It is no secret that I am not a fan of Catholicism, or really any religion in general. To be honest, Catholic mass is more responsible for my conversion to atheism than really any other single factor (full disclosure, I was never Catholic). I have been as appalled by the sex abuse scandals as anyone, I am just less surprised than most. After all, what good can possibly come of telling someone to spend their entire life ignoring a biological urge and rejecting the possibility of sharing your existence with a family of your own?

What has motivated me to finally say something on the subject is the recent public relations counteroffensive by the Vatican and its representatives to manipulate the emotions of its followers around the most significant religious holiday in Christianity. Yes, Rome is in full spin mode, and it couldn’t possibly be any more ridiculous than one of the richest, most prolific, most high profile and powerful sects of a religion playing the victim card. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“World’s highest profile trannys.”

Now, of course the Vatican is not going to admit outright fault in the abuse allegations and certainly they will have to defend “God’s voice” and his “infallible” nature, even if Benedict was directly linked to many of the global cases of abuse and cover-up during his tenure as the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Yet, I do not see the logic in the pontiff’s personal preacher Rev. Raniero Cantalamessa arguing during a Good Friday homily that the attacks on the pope are similar to the anti-Semitism that led to the Holocaust.

Religions are often shameless in playing this victim card, but to compare a multi-national scandal of abuse towards children and the subsequent criticism that follows as comparable to Hitler stoking the flames of racism to clear the way for ethnic cleansing is outright irresponsible and dishonorable. Although, if anyone were able to see parallels, I suppose it might be a former Hitler youth and German infantryman. Yeah, let’s not forget that people are shocked that Benedict may have acted unscrupulously in the past when he was once considered the future of the Aryan race and was complicit in the genocide around him.

The Vatican distanced themselves from the comments of that reverend as they acknowledged the comments were not the most prudent. However, the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano on Saturday denounced what it called the “vile defamation campaign” against the pontiff. How precisely is it defamation to make true statements about a person and the institution of which he is the head? Perhaps there would be no defamation campaign if the pope and the Catholic church had nothing for which they could be held responsible.

“How is his fashion sense not a sin?”

Finally, at Easter Mass today Cardinal Angelo Sodano, dean of the College of Cardinals defended the Pope as “unfailing” and denounced the “petty gossip” about his involvement and responsibility with the sexual abuse scandals. For information on the countries involved in Catholic sex abuse scandals, see this link. Suffice it to say, the staggering amount of accusations hardly seem so frivolous as to be lumped together with gossip. Trivializing the legitimacy of the pain of so many is, in my humble opinion, not the way for the Catholic church to care for the faithful and prove to the rest of the world that they can repent for their infallibility.

This callous attempt at rebuffing allegations seems to me like a petty parry of a serious issue in favor of making it about their own hurts. Yet, I am not sympathetic to the pontiff and his damaged credibility, or whether or not his emotions are suffering because so many have stepped forward to decry the abuse of children. I do not feel that the church as a whole is the victim of discrimination and slander akin to anti-Semitism circa 1940. If there were a right way to handle the uprising of abuse victims against an institution that accounted for abusive priests while marginalizing the victims in order to shield their own image, this is not it.

–Casimir

I wanted to expound a little about something I tweeted on earlier this morning. I’m referring specifically to this. Normally I’m blissfully unaware of such trifling things, but this particular morsel was thrust into my periphery by Mr. Jerry Holkins (Tycho, if you’re nasty) over at Penny Arcade.

Now, just to put this out on front street, I hate reality television. Hate it. Period. The fact I can even say that is something of a personal miracle as there are very few things that stir in me the tempest of rage and raw emotions reminiscent of more youthful days. I’ve found the churning crucible that once composed the core of being, slowing, cooling in ferocity inversely proportional to the increase in my age. I briefly entertained the idea that maybe I’m just not an asshole anymore. But, I think I know better.

Getting back on topic, personally I don’t find the value in what this entire gorram country can’t help but steadily funnel into their gullets; in some cases – witnessed empirically – beyond all volition and reason. Night after night, on virtually every channel, the minds of my friends and neighbors are inextricably drawn into the event horizon of this reality black hole.

Up until this point, I’ve been able to keep my distance, watching those around me succumb to reality television’s siren song, but now it’s treading much too close to home. They’ve brought the battle to my doorstep and I can’t sit idly by. Ok, maybe this is starting to border on the hyperbolic, but it can’t be a good sign when they are creating reality television programs about nerds, for nerds, on a digital media delivery service available to Playstation 3 owners.

Even as inherently ridiculous as this idea sounds, it is no more or less ridiculous than every other reality TV show ever; meaning tons of money (and congratulatory handjobs) will no doubt be exchanged. As someone who does everything within his limited power to avoid watching television, I suppose I shouldn’t be overly concerned. Thanks to the advent of mediums such as OnDemand, Netflix, and Hulu I don’t really need to watch television. I can filter the shows I want to watch when I want to watch them.

As the years have passed by, since the inception of reality television dating back to shows such as The Real World and Survivor, I’ve had to question more and more “what is entertainment”? Is watching purportedly unscripted situations in typically bizarre or exotic locations cast with drooling morons such as you and me truly entertaining? If the invisible hand of the market is any indicator, the answer is a resounding and deafening “yes”.

Peace.

Employment. It is something we all must do. In what I consider a fairly unfortunate manner, this life is constructed around making a living. Trading a good or service for legal tender. Jobs are the foundation of life in the world (for the most part). Some of us are lucky in that we get to do exactly what we want to, what we are passionate or inspired to do. This percentage is incredibly low. Most of us work in order to fund what I call our “actual life”. The portion of day where we use the money earned to engage in the endeavors we actually desire, but no one will pay us for.

I am no different than this second group of people. Sadly, and perhaps even tragically, I don’t feel as though I have a passion in this life. Sure, there are things I like, even things I love, but none drive me to, or convince me that that’s what I’m supposed to be doing with my mortality. Even with the absence of a singular, overwhelming talent, I am content for the most part in being in the second category. I have never liked money. I find it rather repulsive. But, of course, like everyone else, I do require it. It is necessary if I wish to, well, live.

I’ve had an abundance of time to converse with myself about this very subject due to being fired from my previous employment in mid-June of this year. I felt quite ambivalent about it. Still do. I would make a tired argument about justice and deserved fairness, but these concepts are not in particularly high volume here in the real world. So, regardless of my partial anger or lingering feelings over my termination, I find myself now with millions others: Unemployed.

To be honest, not having a job has been wonderful. Yes, there are times when boredom creeps up on me like a vagrant in an alleyway, but that happened to me while working as well. And probably more often. Without the uncomfortable constraints of employment, it has freed me up to do the things I had to make time for before. Now the things I like to do are all I have left. But, this freedom does come with a price.

I know that not having a job is not ok. Not only does society say this is so, but my ever-dwindling bank account does as well. Even during my uninterrupted periods of pure leisure, my mind is plagued by this gnawing feeling. An ever present awareness of this unwanted necessity to find a new job. So, for the past couple months, as I splash in the cool, refreshing waters of personal fulfillment I also have been succumbing to the drudgery of job hunting.

I have spoken to others like myself. Wandering souls, ronin, samurai without a master. They have been on their journey for longer than I, but like them, I am coming to the unfortunate and dark reality that not only is trying to find a new job terrifying but trying to find a job when there simply aren’t any is much worse.

I have spoken to a number of recruiters, people whose job it is to find jobs for people like me, and the consensus is pretty much the same; you’re fucked. Granted, they may not present it in quite those stark of terms, but I believe myself capable and intelligent enough to interpret and translate their professional jargon into words we can all understand.

To be fair, I have had a few potential leads. All of which, aggravatingly, have fallen far short of even beginning to take corporeal form. Like an after-image or shadow dancing just out of my periphery. One moment it’s there then POOF, it’s gone. I’ve tried not to let these set backs get me too depressed or angry. Mostly because I don’t have a fucking choice. As I mentioned earlier, we all need jobs.

So, I guess I will continue to do what I have been doing. Trying to not let that nauseating taste in the back of my throat completely undermine the perhaps once in a life time reprieve from the tedium of a typical job. At the same time, searching through a limited amount of employment postings with diminished odds of success due to saturated unemployment. I think I finally understand how a homeowner attempting to sell their home feels. You’ve got something really extraordinary to offer, but no one’s buying.

Peace.

Within recent, recollectable time, life feels like it has sped up to a speed at which I am more a participant to my own life rather than at the helm of the U.S.S Me.  As if life is moving at such a rate that I am more watching the events of my life unfold rather than be Tom fuckin’ Cruise in the film adaptation of my life.  And some asshole behind me in the theater keeps sneezing and breathing too loudly so I miss half the good scenes.

Much of my conscious wakened state is spent at work.  This is to be expected.  I’m not some hippie college student anymore taking bong hits from weed I found under my roommates sofa cushion.  Unfortunately.  My current work environment is such that I arrive at some time when the sun is just beginning to start its journey across the pale blue vastness of our visible horizon, blink once or twice, and then it’s time to go home.

Home – post work – typically consists of trying to forget all that I’ve done over the past eight or so hours at work.  This activity can take all night, which usually translates to me not actually relaxing at any substantial portion of the evening.  Alcohol tends to lend a hand at times, but much like any night of intoxication, the effects are far too temporary.

Stress has built up to a point that even among my nightly leisure activities I find strain and scouring.  I have choices between anime, manga, movies, music, television, massively multiplayer online role playing games, etc.  This multitude of choices only hinders as opposed to helps.  I have too many relaxing hobbies to partake in and that breeds pressure and tension.

I believe a vacation may be desperately in order, but I think any place I chose to go would produce its own unique array of issues that eat away at my psyche.  Cas is actually in town this week and while I always welcome the time to spend with him – as I typically only spend time with myself – it is also a dangerous change in my daily routine.  So much so that fatigue is induced at an alarming rate.  I will do what I can to maximize our time together as it seems to only come around three times a year tops.  I guess having a life will do that.

I may make my life sound unmanageable, and while at high frequency it feels just that, I do find some time for moments of peace and enjoyment minus any damaging strain.  I wonder if drugs might be able to slow my mind to a crawl capable of processing more than a handful of moments each day.  As far as I know, drugs can do anything and everything.  So perhaps my hope should lie in pharmaceuticals.  If I can’t rely on them, who can I?

I hope that eventually this fast-paced mind fuck I call my life will slow and perhaps when it does I will pine for the days when I had too much to do.  At this point in time, I’m not sure that moment can come soon enough.  I would prefer to keep my blood on the inside and not shooting out of the orifices in my face.  Peace.

When it comes to interacting with other human beings, I’ve never particularly excelled at it.  While I am capable of it, and for most of the time can feign it well enough to get me by, it is a talent that does not fall within my inherent skill-set.  That being said, you may easily discern that online social networks are not high up on my list of important things relevant to my life.

My first experiences with this global phenomenon started mid-way through my college years.  My friends and peers all began to talk about this web-based service where one can create a profile, add images and pictures, and most importantly add other members as friends.  You may know this service today as Facebook.  Some interesting facts about the Facebook reveal it was a Harvard exclusive in its infancy, before it spread out and infected all college campuses across the country.  Nice to know the brightest minds in the nation spend their time making things like Facebook.  Forget cures for cancer or global crisis aversion; I need my whole school to know I love the new Strokes album.

At any rate, after much apprehension and resistance on my part and persistence on the part of my friends, I signed up.  Note:  actual sign-up may have been completed with a sustained grimace.  In the beginning, things were fine.  I slowly began to “connect” with people I actually knew in real life through the means of this social web-service.  Filled out my profile, not trying to give away all of my life’s secrets and value.  Added some candid photographs.  Posted on some walls.  The illusion was complete.

Since that time, as with all things that grow too quickly, it began to distort and contort in repulsive, unexpected ways.  On September 11th, 2006, Facebook opened its doors to all who wished to join.  Once being a social symbol for those seeking a higher education, now available to the 13-year old girl who needs to share with everyone her admiration for American Idol, or the aging parent looking to reconnect with their forgotten and dissolved youth.

This was only the first of crimes to come.  The most flagrant of these recent offenses was the addition of Applications and the social stock (also spelled ’stalk’) ticker.  Now, every time I log in, I can see a fairly detailed listing of all activities my friends have been participating in over the last day accurate up to the minute.  Debra just went from “It’s Complicated” with Steve to “Single”.  Boy howdy, I’m there to “console” her.  All I have to do is load up the “Catch Debra Off The Rebound” application and I’m home free.  (Seriously, look it up, it’s there).

To show a more sympathetic view, I do understand the allure of these fads.  The popularity of the Internet and especially connecting with others through its warm bosom has been increasing at an alarming rate.  These sites function as prisms to point and focus the magnitude of interest.  Much like how reality television is still going strong after how ever many years of poisoning our collective consciousness with their creative-less programming and plots.  It’s easy, and ultimately distracts us from the otherwise tedious doldrums that we call our lives.

Clearly even I have fallen victim to their siren song.  I may not be proud of it, but I have come to terms with it, much like a terminal patient.  I can only surmise the future will be grim.  Its dark shroud covering all that was once green and alive.  It has already begun.  The next advancement, the next trend lurking just below the waters is now friend suggestions.  It apparently isn’t enough that I have 100+ friends online – the term ‘friend’ meaning any person asking to add me to their list and me answering yes even if said interaction is the first.  Now, out of those 100 people, they most likely have hundreds of friends, and obviously I should be friends with all of them too since we have a common point of compatibility.  It’s like some kind of perverted transitive relationship.  If I’m friends with Barry, and Barry is friends with Chuck, then I guess I must be friends with Chuck.

The next step will likely include features such as persistent friend news stock tickers; want to keep up-to-date on all your friend’s activities?  Well, desire no more as you will see nothing else as hundreds of updates are projected directly into your retinas.  And integrated thought status changes; allowing for up to the nanosecond changes in your third-person status statements taken directly from your thoughts.  “Adam Coleman is wondering if it’s socially acceptable to shampoo and condition his pubic hair.”