Snuggling With the Enemy

I am having a crisis of conscience as I am toying with the idea of sending my first tweet.

I have dozens of followers on Twitter but I have never actually use the service, that is, I have never “tweeted.”

I’ll be honest. I don’t understand Twitter.

I have asked a lot of Twitter devotees, “What IS Twitter? Isn’t it just the status updates from Facebook without the rest of Facebook?”

Nearly two years ago, I deleted my Facebook profile. (See Block this Application, May 2010)

I have never missed it, never looked back and never regretted it. Despite almost-daily pressure to rejoin from friends and co-workers, I just don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

It’s weird when people react to me like not being on Facebook is the equivalent of not having an email address or telephone. It’s not like that at all.

So it seems that Twitter is a way for people to publicize their conversations, as long as they keep it short.

One guy I work with said he doesn’t use twitter that much because “it’s just a bunch of people telling you what to do.”

I’ve also been told that the service Twitter provides is called microblogging. So it’s like broadcasting your Post-It notes

“Micro” is a good way to describe my level of interest in it.

Nonetheless, I’m curious about it and the door is not completely closed.

So here’s the deal.

If I get 500 followers on Twitter, I’ll start using it. Tweet the word out. Tell your friends to add @scottritcher as soon as they can. The race to 500 is on!

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For the past few months, I’ve been wearing socks that don’t match each day. I prefer one wide-striped sock usually on my right foot but not always and one solid.

When the weather gets cold enough each winter, I recommit myself to one simple oath: “I refuse to be cold.”

The transition to walking around completely insulated against the elements consists of a base layer of long underwear, upon which I simply add more of the same clothes I wear every day. Double shirts, double socks, et cetera.

This morning as I put my socks on, I made my traditional winter transition to wearing two pairs of socks.

I had to make a choice. Would both pairs not match, even the two that aren’t seen? Would a secret match exist within the four individual socks? That is, one of the hidden socks would be a match to one of the visible socks?

While I ultimately decided that all four socks should be unique among the set, a larger realization occurred.

This is a sock-making machine.

For the first time in my life it occurred to me that socks are probably not manufactured in pairs. There is probably a big machine somewhere that spits out 20,000 socks an hour, the loose products of which are then paired up by a machine that packages them, or by an 8-year-old kid with one of those plastic guns that stabs a white I-shaped tab between the two, uniting two socks, at least until they are removed from the purchaser’s feet for the first time.

Socks are born alone and die alone. The pairing of two so-called “matching” socks is merely an illusion that has been so masterfully perpetuated that I never realized it was not the natural order until I was an adult man. Today.

I have to add a caveat. This new insight into the sock world has not been confirmed or denied by any professionals with knowledge of sock manufacturing processes.

If there is a reader in the audience who can, in fact, confirm that socks are actually made two at a time, as pairs, please let me know.

The Killer showing off his new socks.

The single sock theory neither sours nor sweetens my love affair with new socks. It only provides new insight into something that is likely different from the way I always presumed it to be.

Nor do I imagine it matters much to Jerry Lee Lewis, a man who has the means to live the dream, it has been said, to wear a band new pair of socks every day. Oh that I could live like that.

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Things didn’t work out the way I had hoped. Brown eventually dropped out of the race, not becoming the nominee.

Perot, after leading in the polls – unprecedented for an independent in nearly a century – amazingly dropped out of the race after alleged “dirty tricks” by Republicans threatened to disrupt his daughter’s wedding.

Perot eventually re-entered the race several weeks before the election, but by then it was too late.

The grassroots energy of his campaign was gone, the local offices had been shut down, supporters had scattered or realigned with other candidates, and the straightforward, steady-handed Perot was now shadowed by a cloud of unpredictability.

I voted for him anyway.

This was the first election that I had become emotionally invested in, traveling to see Perot speak, doing the yard sign and bumper sticker thing, following the news, watching polling numbers, and helping distribute campaign materials.

Years before the election, my roommate and I saw Perot being interviewed on the Donahue show. He had impressed us both to the point where we agreed that he should be president, though no such topic was discussed, as I remember. We just felt he was a no-bullshit guy who said what he thought and got things done.

By the time November 1992 rolled around, the opposing candidates tried to dissuade voters from going for Perot and “splitting the vote” by arguing that voting for the independent was akin to “throwing your vote away.”

Perot urged voters to go to the polls, take a moment to reflect about who they thought was best qualified to manage the massive problems of the federal government, then, as he said, “vote your conscience.”

I liked that idea a lot, so I held out hope for a surprise upset and a Perot presidency.

In the end, Perot’s take at the voting booth brought in 19% of the electorate. George HW Bush pulled in 37.5% and Bill Clinton won the presidency with 43%.

I was despondent.

It’s strange for me to think about that, because now I totally love Bill Clinton.

It took a long time for me to truly warm up to Bill Clinton. It was well into his second term, a good five or more years after he was first elected.

It wasn’t any particular event that changed my mind about Clinton, but in retrospect, it seems like it just took me a while to realize that a lot of what he was trying to do were things I supported and things that were for the good of the country.

No Clinton story is complete without reference to a scandal or two, but it was perhaps those public indictments of his character and personal life that caused me to feel more sympathetic toward him.

Over time, it certain became clearer to me that the opposition to President Clinton had little to do with his policies. It was all personal.

I’m thinking about all this because the United States has a president at the moment whose every good effort seems to be marginalized and discounted for personal reasons.

Even after his “pass this jobs bill” speech in September, in which President Obama offered his support for a laundry list of historically Republican projects and ideas to get people back to work, the blockade of opposition went up even higher.

The Republicans simply cannot allow Obama to succeed in any way, lest he be credited with saving the country from a second depression. Instead, they’re willing and prepared to welcome economic catastrophes, if only so he will get the blame.

While millions remain unemployed, uninsured, or even homeless, they’re looking only toward the next election.

My hope is that the same transformation which happened in me as someone unenthusiastic about President Clinton could be happening in millions of Americans who have been heretofore unenthusiastic about President Obama.

The results of the local and state elections earlier this month certainly seem to suggest some support for the idea that Americans are beginning to tire of the Republicans, whose most common policy objective over the past three years has been that of simply saying “no.”

Jerry Brown and Bill Clinton in 1992

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Possibly one or the most amazing and hilarious things I’ve ever seen in my life.

This 56-year-old dude Miljenko from Chile is such a big fan of Julia Roberts that he got a tattoo of her. Then another one. Then another one. I could go on, but just repeat that 79 more times.

Yes, this frickin’ South American dingdong has 82 tattoos of Julia Roberts. Why, that’s just plain loco.

But in your face, Lyle Lovett. No wonder it didn’t work out. Erin Brockovich needs a man who can show some dedication.

This story was reported in Stockholm’s Aftonbladet newspaper which is the world’s most reputable and trusted source for news about people with tons of Julia Roberts tattoos.

Nice of that guy to shave, take a shower and sober up before the guys from the newspaper came over.

What a bummer that he got all these tattoos before he saw “Sex and the City 2.” Now he’s gonna have to get all that sweet ink covered up with pictures of Miranda in a sexy burka.

I’m just kidding. I don’t even know who that is. Okay, well, I know that Miranda is a character from that show and that all girls love that show and that men don’t understand it and they wear ridiculously dated clothes that are supposed to be “high fashion” and that they made a two movies of it and the second one was apparently in such bad taste that they don’t even show it on the 25¢ TVs in the Greyhound bus station and Ferris Bueller’s wife is in it and she bears more than a passing resemblance to Seabiscuit.

Anyway, this guy loves Julia Roberts. Apparently.

You call yourself a fan? Of anything? Okay then, step up to the plate and let’s see 82 tattoos of it that you got when you were totally happy and sane. Like this guy.

Way to go, Miljenko! Making us all look like we hate Julia Roberts.

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Windows 98. Nothing else exudes the confidence and secure feeling that says your money is safe.

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A fine example of the Swenglish language is on the back of this truck at Stockholm Arlanda Airport:

“Söker du parkering? Follow me!”

- or -

“Looking for parking? Följ mig!”

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Old phones are funny, but I don’t know. $275 is a lot of money to spend to make everyone laugh when pull out your phone. Twenty bucks maybe.

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I’m not sure what else I can say about this. I mean, it’s just really important that you are wary of this cat.

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Despite the “no advertising please” sign that is posted on nearly every door and mailbox in Sweden — including mine — it seems like it’s still okay for the Church of Sweden (Svenska kyrkan) and a number of schools to put their pamphlets through my door.

The picture on the front of this magazine from the church (which shows the shoes of some people kneeling while wearing churchy clothes) immediately reminded me of the Heaven’s Gate cult.

Heaven’s Gate was a California mass suicide in which all the “victims” got saved from the cleansing of the Earth by being beamed up to space.

You see, a lot of people don’t realize this, but the planet Earth was wiped clean in March 1997. The Heaven’s Gate people, thirty-nine of them, laced up their matching Nike Dunk Pro SB sneakers, got in bed, and escaped just in time. You call it mass suicide, I call it a quick getaway to sweet freedom in the sky. We’re quibbling over semantics here.

Either way, Nike couldn’t thank their lucky stars enough for all the free promotion that came out of the event by way of news photos. Just do it, already.

A spaceship, which was following the Hale-Bopp comet (pretty foolproof disguise, actually) collected their souls and whisked them away. Finally, dudes, let’s GTFO.

The method of escape was a delicious pudding, laced with phenobarbital and a vodka chaser. Kool Aid was already taken, so the Gate had to do their own thang.

Once on board the ship, it was quite important that each member took $5.75 along with them. I’m not sure if this was for snacks or what, but this is true, each corpse at the scene in San Diego was found with a five dollar bill and three quarters in their pocket.

Update: Those people are now living in a kickass paradise somewhere a few light years past Orion. Unfortunately, Nike has no distribution in that area, but I hear five bucks goes a long way.

The Church of Sweden is a Lutheran denomination that has nothing to do with Heaven’s Gate – to my knowledge – except that their magazine cover sure looks a lot like some crime scene photos.

It was the country of Sweden’s official church until 2000. Pretty late to lighten up on that one, but Sweden can’t win ‘em all.

Money from general taxes still fund the church, though Swedes can opt out when filing their taxes if they don’t wish to support it.

Most people don’t opt out for the simple reason that paying taxes in Sweden is as simple as answering yes or no. When your tax forms come in the mail, all the numbers are already filled in. All you need to do is confirm that the total is correct, which you can do online, by phone, SMS or even the tax agency’s iPhone app. If you want to opt out of giving the church some money, this creates extra steps in the process and – good news for the church – most people just don’t bother.

I didn’t bother opting out either. It took me seven minutes to do my taxes in Sweden this year. My American taxes, however, usually take all afternoon and I still don’t know if I’m doing it right.

The church’s leadership is elected in general elections exactly as the Swedish Parliament. You just have to be a member of the church, a resident of Sweden and over 16 in order to vote.

Their website says that “up to seven million people” are members of the church. Up to? Okay, so it could be five people or it could be 6.99 million. We’re not sure, but it’s definitely no more than seven million.

(Coincidentally, I just bought a washing machine today and I paid up to seven million dollars for it. Well, up to 44 million kronor. Sounds like a lot, but delivery was included.)

Given that the population of the entire country is 9.4 million, it seems that figure of 7 million may have been, well, pulled out of the heavens.

A 2005 study commissioned by the European Union found only 23% of Swedes willing to report that they “believe there is a God.”

Another 23% indicated that they “do not believe there is any sort of spirit, God, or life force.” These are the godless atheist socialists you hear about when Republicans in Congress talk about how health care destroys society.

The majority, 53%, said they believe there is “some sort of spirit or life force,” which doesn’t exactly sound like someone who is a dedicated member of a church. I’m no historian, but I’m pretty sure Martin Luther didn’t subject himself to abuse from the Catholics and the Holy Roman Empire because he thought there was probably ”some sort of spirit or life force” out there.

I’m also not sure how the Church of Sweden is counting their membership, but it doesn’t seem very accurate.

If everyone in Sweden who believes in any god is a member of the Church of Sweden, that puts the membership number only around 2.1 million people, according the EU’s statistics.

Sure, 2.1 million is, in fact, a number that is “up to seven million,” so I guess they’re right on that account.

Oh well. The good news is that the church is responsible for all the cemeteries in the country and — even if you don’t believe in anything — they’ll pay for your funeral.

That’s right. The Church of Sweden provides free funeral services for every Swedish resident. The family left behind pays only the undertaker’s fees.

All in all, it seems like a really nice little send-off for all these damn atheists on their way to Hell. But since the Church of Sweden also performs gay marriages, the clergy will probably be on the next boat right behind ‘em. Bon voyage suckaaaaahhhhhhs!!!!!

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