Artistic Footprint

Relativity.

Einstein’s two theories on relativity are combined to relate space and time, a strangely philosophical scientific theory. My idea of relativity is more of human and less of science, but has little to do with Einstein. “Life is relative” Regardless of our genetic similarities, every human has a totally unique mind, and from birth developes a spacial, relatable concept of the world using their five known senses. This amounts to things larger than grouped ideas about theology, nationalism, or political or economic systems. Have you ever thought that what you see as the pigment of blue might be a completely different pigment to someone else? for example, a pink and blue maple tree. But they’ve had those pigment differences since birth, and those arrangements look natural. The same must apply for time, culture, values both numerically and morally, and spacial sense.

Time: To many, we don’t have enough of it. Life is too short and we must make each second worthwhile. To some, life is too long. Things aren’t working out and we’d just like the pain to end. Some have abolished the invention of time as a whole and live their lives freely. Some categorize the history of mankind as one generation, another perhaps dates as far back as the industrial revolution or medieval times. Others see history as time from the very beginning to now, and occasionally have the mental capability to make it relative and answer the “how did this happen?” with stunning perspective.

Value: What makes us valuable? How do we make our lives valuable? We’ve numerically calculated value with GDP and dollars, but this is merely an invention, and really has nothing to do with value. A teddy bear can be more valuable than the home it sits in, yet the dollar value and time spent obtaining such commodities is incomparible. True, inherent values are those which make time better used to add value to our lives. And of course, those values to one person may be the dollars and the salaries. To others its the fine wines and ballet concerts. To some it’s the notches on their belts and the lives in their grasps. Perhaps the size of a family and large home-cooked meals, or a collection of photos from countless adventures. To many, it’s the closeness of death that adds value.

Time with little value is wasted time – a long time
Time with much value is used time – a short time.

With added value, time decreases. “time flies when you’re having fun”

Spacial sense: No number exists without a value. You don’t just have the number three or 30. You have three apples or 30km. And again those numerical values mean nothing if you haven’t experienced them. You don’t know what 3 apples looks like in comparison to one, just like you don’t know how far 30km is, let alone travelled that distance. What you would describe as a “long distance” say, across town, would be a small increment of another’s concept of distance, because they are used to longer travels, say – across a country. But even then, that is infinitely small in comparison to an astronomer’s concept of distance, measured in light years. Could you relate to a light year? Can you look at two stars through a telescope and say: “oh yea that one’s about 3 light years, and the other one is about 70.” Even if you could, does it make sense in your mind? This is the reason why we don’t understand what some people are talking about. It literally is a different language between minds, regardless of the international concept of numbers. Everything you sense, be it speed, distance, brightness, loudness, texture, palatteability, good and evil, is relative to your mind, and coincidentally is relatable to your species. Specifically those that think the same way you do. It is the same reason why a picasso is a work of genius to one group of people vs. a hideous combination of colour and shape to others. Because their minds do not agree.

In retrospect, ticking clocks, dollar signs, and numerical values are a true language invented by us, and used to relate to one another, but are organized too simply by us to be universal, and unaccomodating to the individual.

How we change.

people who live day by day have seasonal or part time jobs, pay rent, buy used and make do. They’re more instinctive, realistic, animal, quick on their feet, and have instant fixes for the issues facing them. as opposed to year by year folk who have careers, marriages, salaries, mortgages, debts, educations, retirement plans, investments, holiday arrangements. They scheme, plan, and sort out the pros and cons of problems to sort out a stable resolution. they are always looking ahead and are rarely surprised.

The more this thought pops into my head, the more often I see that we cannot change who we are, what we do, what we enjoy, what we hate, what’s attractive, scary, fun, logical, or insane. Whether we choose to or not, everyone has something they want to do, somewhere they want to be, someone they want to become. We have a definition for the perfect human being that none of us can achieve.

Are you not cool enough? Are you mean or annoying? Do people not get you? Are you healthy? Are you honest? Do you have an addictive personality?

The first half to solving these problems is to acknowledge the existence of these flaws, and figure out where they came from. But the second half, the one I am concentrating on here, is… how do you fix them to become this impossibly flawless person? Of course I am cynically arguing that it’s not possible, you are you because of your experiences. But one thing is for certain. When we notice our problems, we don’t dig deep inside and make a conscious effort to change. When has a new years resolution actually worked? Instead, we change our environments. We seek out friends, hobbies, habits, and homes to train our minds to adapt. Perhaps its forcing yourself into what you don’t like in order to like it. Maybe you face your fears to see yourself overcome it. Maybe you avoid it entirely by making new friends.

However you overcome your flaws, my point is that you don’t change them directly, you’re smart enough to alter your environment, but in reality, it’s the environment that fixes you. This would explain why a vacation from work refreshes your motivation, or an excess of drugs or alcohol brings unfortunate light into your life. It would also explain why meeting someone new after a tiresome and destructive relationship teaches you a few things.

Change is good for the lessons it teaches you and for the hopeful peace that comes from finding your niche. But changing too much can be stressful on the mind and cause it to shut down, just as damaging as living a placid, colourless life.

Watched this and somehow it hit home:

Idiot Drivers, this is for you.

You may be asking yourself  “well… how do I know if I’m an idiot driver?” well I’ve put a lot of research into this study, and boy do I have an answer for you.

The John Smith or Jane Doe:

We’ll start it off nice and simple. Most likely, you live in an urban setting. You’re likely a 9-5er, and you pretty much only drive on one route because you like routine, eventhough another way might be faster or more efficient, but you never thought of that. You probably ACED your drivers exam because you’re a keener like that, but of course your lack of intellect turned you into a monotonous operator with a 2 second memory buffer-zone. You’re comfortable changing lanes without signalling, but when you DO remember to warn others of your intentions, you are completely oblivious to the fact that your blinker needs to be turned off as well. But that’s ok. Your dashboard consists of a few minor things. a switch for your wiper, a knob for your radio (not to be confused with the superHUGE knob that makes the car turn), and of course a brake and throttle. All of these dials, switches, knobs, and buttons feel really good when you play with them randomly. You’ve probably got a pet fish at home, and you like the cell-phone commercials because you think they relate to you. You listen to hit pop music on the radio, but you have no idea how an engine works. “step on pedal, car go fast!” (fast of course being no more than the speed limit, because you stand for the law and enjoy getting in the way of people who like to live life for themselves) In fact you rarely think for yourself, you just stay between the white flashing lines and even speak to roadsigns, often with an upwards inflection. You’re the kind of person that enjoys their rushour commute and don’t mind being a sardine in a sandbox, squeaking by in civilization. Your driving skills clearly reflect your social skills and grasp of the norm. You’ve always dreamt of travel and adventure but quickly you turn on the TV to make them go away.

You MAY also fall into one of these special categories.

The Pickup Driver:

(two subcategories): You’re from the country and have no business or experience for that matter, driving in the city. But you still drive like it’s the outback, and the highway is just another dirt road with no one on it. wanna change lanes? go ahead. Don’t worry about that person on your corner, you couldn’t see him if you wanted to. Yea. You change your oil and do all your own repairs, because that’s what a real man does. Which is probably why your truck is a clunker and throws out thick black smoke instead of accelerating. Your carbureted rustbucket is “great” for climbing hills and towing big loads. You’re the kind of person who shits in a public toilet and doesn’t flush, not because you’re an asshole, you just shit like you drive your truck.

OR, you’ve got some family roots tied to the lovely province of Alberta (which is a bit of a paradox because Alberta has one family tree: a stump) and you’ve just cashed in on your dream truck. A ford F-350 that you paid double for so you could turn it into something from Monster Truck Madness (barely street legal). Oh wait that’s not cash, that’s financing with a downpayment from your oil rig wages, a mirror-image of the province’s financial fuckups. Make a turn on a highway at more than 100km/h and your truck will flip off the road, but you don’t care, its insured. And of course when you’ve got a truck like that, it’s almost illegal for it to be clean. You boast how innefficient your 7.1L V10, rear wheel drive monster by smashing head first into a lake of mud and slap on a pair of truck-balls on the hitch. You replace those huge tires annually from all of those fast-food parking lot burnouts, and assume that you’ve got fantastic control in rain, mud, or snow eventhough you don’t. You can’t put two and two together; no weight in the back means no fucking traction, idiot! You’ve got a 70% chance of owning a Harley, Boat, or Camper, and a 90% change of having a gun rack and a shotgun. You’re a good person though. You go to church every sunday and are close with your family. You’re a republican, eventhough you don’t know what that means, don’t have a passport, and love war movies. After a long day of drinkin, muddin, and shootin stuff you come home to your loyal bud light and KFC family pack to watch football.

The Ricer:

This one’s a real hoot. Your computer skills are at par with your video-gaming, and are likely in school for IT. Your small stature is the opposite of your attitude, and your girlfriend is always riding shotgun with her IQ surgically removed. Her timidness and high-pitched voice is a blatant annoyance to everyone but you think its hot because you like control. You practically live in your car and drive it all night for fun. But enough about you, lets get into that car… fuck ford or GM, this is a most likely a honda civic, toyota celica, or subaru WRX. If you’re driving a hot Nissan ZX3 or something, then you either own your own IT firm or are part of an asian mafia. But shit it’s not a honda anymore. This car has been ripped apart to the frame and put back together again with somewhere close to a million dollars worth of upgrades. 25″ rims with 26″ tires, practically no suspension, and a skirt that is inches from the asphalt, resulting in your car being allergic to speedbumps. Speed for you is a necessity. Other drivers on the road are just pylons in your way and you scower the streets looking for someone to race for cash or girfriends. You added a new muffler not for the performance but because you like the sound it makes. In fact you like it so much that you want the whole world to hear it, but of course then no one can hear that over those new subwoofers. CLEARLY you have the best taste in music and blast Lil’ Wayne or Soulja Boy through town so that everyone can enjoy it! how nice of you. The amp is so powerful that the hinge on your trunk is threatening to go stellar and your license plate is vibrating off. You speak in L33T (which is like digital jibberish) when you text your friends to meet you at the movie theatre or to show up at your next Final Fantasy XIII gaming night.

Or then you could be a bald, white, wife-beating nobody who drives a purple dodge neon that’s actually like… 7 dodge neons (all of different colours) put together. All you could afford was a muffler and a second-hand spoiler that looks like it came from the NHRA’s Funny Car drag races which you bolted to the trunk yourself. You think you’re hot shit, but really those people are all laughing at you. Actually there’s not much else to say about you. You have no friends and no body likes you or your ugly car.

The scary thing I find out this little study of mine is that it’s far more real than I’d like to admit. Perhaps I’m not cut out for the city, but these are ROADS. A car is a human’s arch-nemesis, and we don’t mix well. Why do we go and make the worlds most dangerous method of travel MORE dangerous by driving like a bunch of assholes? How is it possible that upgrading your car to dangerous levels is legal? why are people so ignorant when they drive? I drive a LOT, and I’m sure a lot of you do too. But from what I see? How you Drive is a perfect example of the person you really are. You’re either a bitch or you’re an asshole, you’re stupid or you’re ignorant. But at least maybe this post will promote a little awareness.

If you’ve got some time to kill, I highly recommend the following lectures, mostly found from Ted.com’s best of the web.

some of these are pretty long, but totally worth your time, and are rated by me as “Life Changing”

A.J. Jackobs abides by over 700 rules set by the bible for a year

Sam Harris: Science can Answer Moral Questions

Robert Sapolsky: The Uniqueness of Humans

Douglas Adams: Parrots, the Universe, and Everything

Elaine Morgan: An Old Woman’s lifetime acheivement of proving that humans evolved from Aquatic Apes, yet to be embraced by the scientific community:

Vilayanur Ramachandran: On Phantom Limb Syndrome and how humans learn by watching.

(search for more from Vilayanur. This guys on to something.)

Christopher DeCharms: Invents a realtime MRI that allows the brain to relieve pain and “program ourselves”

Noah Feldman says Politics and Religion manipulable technologies

Barbara Egnrenreich: Teaches us about how optimism masks our true necessary response

And Check out this clip from Season 5 episode 5,  of Rescue Me from FX networks, Sheila Keefe played by Callie Thorne, a NYFD firefighter’s widow after 911.

Some people get the travel bug and go see the world. I got the snowbug. I do firedances on occasion to please the snow god Ullr and bring big coastal dumps. I’d happily skip on work to be knee deep in pow, but I fixed that problem by getting a job on the hill. Problem-solved (sort of)

The thing I find interesting is that there are many different ways to enjoy the hill (or perhaps I’m just addicted to categorizing things):

Moustached-grandpa: has a ski-in/out chalet, is a local at the family resort and knows the resort like the back of his hand. He’s loyal to this hill alone, and is uncomfortable anywhere else.

Overconfident business-man: who believes he owns the slopes, and his skiis have been custom-made shitty. LOVES moguls and the opportunity to advertise their successes on the chairlift. (their trophy wives usually don’t ski, and spend their time in the resort spa all day)

Little Fat kids: Sweatty, Stumpy loud and often annoying little shits. But hey they enjoy the field trip that gets them out of school, and a little exercise and time away from their PS3 is a refreshing change

Steeze Junkies: – well in my opinion just look plain fucking retarded. They wear pants and jackets in sizes that no human could fill, their bulbous eyes hidden behind impractical sunnies, they taught themselves how to ride – with an invisible friend or sitting in the back seat, power sliding from side to side. But they can rip up boxes and rails like nobody’s business.

The Escaped Pro: This guy is the shit. Drives an old pickup, lives in the backcountry, and literally is known by a select few. The phantom of the slopes, he was born with a snowboard attached to his feet, and at the first sight of sponsorship, realised that money can’t buy the love he’s got for true solitary pillow-dropping. He realises the bad taste that corporate sponshorship does to his riding style and would rather make his own friends.

Ski-bums: People who live out of their vans, on the dull when they can get it, eat canned beans over toast, ride broken equipment and have no style – I think I fall into this category

The Bi-sexual: This person does it all. owns 3 pairs of skis, 2 boards, a split deck, snowshoes and a set of skins. Usually not seen on the chairlift, but digs a snow-pit to put their AVI-one to use and then hits the backcountry. The total undisclosed pro who rides for themselves only, and wets themselves at the possibility of riding where no-one has ridden before.

In any shape or form, it’s awesome to see people so in love with a mixture of gravity and frozen water.

To Be Continued……

Your legs are screaming, your heart is 10 beats behind, amongst a cage that doesn’t fit the volume of your lungs. Your jaw opens like a shark, bearing teeth like a starved wolf pouncing on its scared-stiff prey. You’re pushing the limits as you’re shot into the air and you feel something squeeze adrenaline into your bloodstream, instantly racing ou to your fingers and toes. Everything “fits” as you place your board back on earth, fuelling your transition. Your eyes dart back and forth, focusing on the next feature to hit. Nothing can stop you now. The snow pounding back at you is synced to the fast-paced beat of the track in your ears, motivating you to launch higher, go faster. You’re not thinking about anything. There’s just not enough time for your cognitive mind. Everything is autonomous and all you know is that you just fucking want it. You shove that toe edge in like you own the bitch you`re sticking it to. She reacts by throwing a huge cloud of pow and shreddies into the air like a curtain for your glorious entrance. You reach the lift and in seconds you`re on your way to hit it again, with more rage.

This is what I call: `being in the fucking zone` its the difference between a good day and a bad day. Complies with any sport, specifically jib. Its the reason why you can`t ever get a spin right vs. stomping and riding away clean. It`s why you smack into the gound in a big splat vs a rolling tumble and landing on your feet and not even giving a shit. It`s pain vs. good burn. Things hurt less, the body works as a unit, every move is timed perfectly, and there`s a surreal perspective on the edge of control. You`ve seized the reigns and cranked down on the bucking bronco and turned its fire into your own. There`s a breif lucid moment where the only phrase that sparks your neurons is: `fuck yea`

little is known (on my behalf anyways) of what goes on to make your brain tick to the gold medal clock. First thing is the conditions. Sure you can definately make fun out of a shit-piss foggy rainsoaked day, but it`s not as likely. A bluebird with either sweet groomies or *meh* maybe just thigh-high of fresh will do. Just the sight of that is an immediate stoke to the fire inside. Next is the people. You`d never go to a theme park alone would you? Who else do you have to share the conversation of `dude I fucking rocked the gnar of that cliff eh?` Having someone ahead of you (hopefully who knows the ropes) shows you where the best hits are and how to hit them. Failing that you`ve always got your mates to push you over that edge, out of your comfort zone and into the air. Third is a good set of tunes. Anything faster than your heartbeat will do, because for some reason your heart and your step will lay rubber on the asphalt to keep up. I listen to a playlist of tracks that make me feel like I`m Travis Rice or Jeremy Jones (farfetched of course.) Lastly is a constant supply of dirty drops, rails, booters, rollers, spins, shreds, and chutes. A constant high of blasting up and over and not looking back because you`re too all you care about is the next one.

And at the end of the day, you`re left with a good sore pair of legs being tendered by a cold brew in a womb of a churning mountainside hot tub.

How to live without money.

The funny thing is, that in this world, you can’t. We have created a culture where you no longer live by natural selection but by financial succession. People can work in an economic sandbox toying with innessential trades of passive income to survive in a material world.

Does the evolution of money, inflation, taxes, and trade exemplify the root human instinct? The harder you work and the more optimistically creative your mind, the more successful you are. Sounds like natural selection to me… The prospect of inflation and taxes seems to be parallel with the concept of community, and trade the exchange of information and invention.

But in some ways, money personifies humans in a way that is far too systematic, calcuated, graphed out way that is scary and over simplified, creating an easily markettable norm of categories that are inherently inhuman. Categories that are concerned with survival in a material world as opposed to a realistic, resolved method of living that allows resources to sustain a worldly community.

We know already that the supply of resources in the human food-chain is obviously top-heavy, and has created an infatuation of gluttony within the poorer communities. The cliche of white western citizens with an obvious “head start” is being naturally assimilated by the masses of those who seek opportunity where we once took it for granted. Do they have the sense to correct our mistakes and learn that we weren’t capable of doing it right? Do they notice that our lavishing lives of comfort and adventure they so eagerly want are horridly greedy and unnattainable for eternity?

I’m trying to invent, in my brain, a method of community, trade, and progression without the concept of corruption, instability, and innaccountability of the economy. Community has been tarnished by digital ostracization and an ease of personal access, trade has been misinterpretted by false advertising, manipulation, and corner-cutting, all through the veneer of a neverending supply as if we have created our own heaven at the expense of our own hell.

Locally, I want to live in world of paying it forward. Where one good deed begets another for the benefit of a tightly nitted group. Specifically close friends and family, because it appears as though that is the limits of a structurally sound community. Its difficult for me to be comfortable around friends that are more financially successful and willing to cover for me in desperate times with no perspective of retribution, but I have to step back and understand that my relationship with them is not based on a tab, statement, or chequebook. We keep a mental tally in our heads that is expressed amongst ourselves that determines who owes who, and has nothing to do with a trade system, but the necessity to keep the well-oiled machine of a community running on track. I believe it is important to understand that people shouldn’t meet halfway by balancing an account, but that a certain placement, possibly of no cost at all, can be equal in value and maintain a strong relationship.

So lets rebuild the concept of community and understand that money cannot govern our emotions, desires, friendships, or sustainability. Instead, realise that the appreciation of smaller, well-suited friends and family have the power to continue the world within, and alter the world without. Think twice about who you really are your friends, and develop your own true community that touches your life directly every day. This malleable bubble of teamwork changes with your values as well as theirs, but somehow you will always find like-minded people who will accept you and your beliefs into a system that preserves them.

Something about the way the “free first world” is turning strikes the thought in me that… perhaps humans were not meant to live in such a large community. This coming from a Great White Northerner with a sparse population of 30 million. But regardless I find that taking a large amount of people, all who have different needs, ideas, and beliefs, and categorizing them as one entity with a common governing body just doesn’t quite cut it.

From what I see of city life on a daily basis is that people have some sort of constant confusion, lack of awareness, an automaticity in their stride, and bewilderment of the crowds among them.

People ride together on busses, all heading to the same direction, but they can’t stand the confrontation of another person trying to make room to sit down. This idea of a personal space or private bubble, sewn together in designer clothes, senses cut off with headphones, eyes dazing the busy streets to avoid contact with another pair.

We no longer know our neighbours by name and spend statistically 25% of our time glued to a flickering screen that sells useless products and services through fear.

Social Networking has been redefined from the baseball field to a digital game, obscuring our identities with our photoshopped lives, not just our makeup and vanity. Friends and family are always far enough away that the best way to communicate is, again, through electronic means, hidden behind a backspace key.

As a crowd, humans are not an intelligent species. We’re more like a flock of birds or a school of fish. We mimick each other or our idols, develop styles that help people judge us by our cover, and shy away from an opportunity to make a decision for ourselves. I think this is very scary for our little brains up there in this big world. It’s a lot to take in and most minds can’t grasp the big picture, and would much rather conform to the simple, easier ways about things. But that’s really dangerous! thats where the weak, ignorant, and malleable neurons follow what the big man on the TV tells us.

I think that humans inherently were designed to live in smaller communities, and we’re having problems evolving our brains to be compatible with the expansion of the metropolitan. In towns and villages, the people are much more calm, they take their time, enjoy a life with no traffic or crowding. They rely on eachother for help to keep the community intact. A small community can still fit the definition of a team, whereas a city relies on paperback systems and automated programs.

I’m sure anything with the word ‘Valentines’ in the title would likely attract like… 90% chicks to 10% dudes, so hopefully I’ve left my bros out of the loop in this obviously sentimental, estrogen-infested post. But hey – love is just as universal as laughter, and they usually both go hand in hand. These are my thoughts towards probably the most powerful and greatest emotion humans have.

I like watching people in love. Especially those getting through the hard times. Self repair turns into a true human ability to share compassion and a desire to mend. Maybe that’s what the love songs are all about. The attempts to make a crashed world on a minute scale better. The one chance for people to retribute their mistakes by giving back to another person. An uninsisted pay it forward to create the greater good, the anomaly on the selfish gene map. Love may be the one chance humans have to save themselves. The true unexplaned ruler of the universe. The hole in the heart. Not dependency or infatuation, but a necessity to survival.

Some people find love at a young age. The “highschool sweetheart” syndrome. Those that manage to seize the reigns and harness its relentless speed are the lucky ones who seem destined to live the fairy tale. Some have no comprehension of what this new feeling is and no preparation for its wrath. The turmoil of a constant tumbling into the abyss of jealousy, infatuation, necessity, and one-way streets and do not enters. In fact the idea that your emotion defines love is not even considered, and once you do, she’s long gone and there’s nothing you can do. It’s an inevitable, constant, undying feeling that won’t go away. Nothing could save you from this infection of affection. But you can’t do anything about it, even though you know in your head that you MUST. The scheming, conniving love that blotches your imagination with images of a perfect, blissful world. How every part of your life would come together if she was there.

I don’t believe love is exlusive. I think it’s pretty fucking limited. There are girls out there that were the epitome of awesome. So fucking perfect, fit every nook and cranny that needed to be filled. But somehow they just didn’t hit the spot. That instinctive, head over heels, hot and bothered, stammering level of affection that most often causes awkward silences, slurred speech, and a just plain lack of control. Of course being out of control is scary shit. And as soon as that scared shitless feeling creeps up, things inevitably get uncomfortable. Independence is shattered, ominous woes of potential hurt, the edgy feeling of opening up with the hopes of trust are big changes that question its worth. Eventually your heart tells you that the world is a shit place and you need to protect yourself better. Go through this enough times and eventually you’re wearing a spiderweb of steel and thorns that keeps your independent, headstrong body locked away, wondering why.

The funny thing about love is that you have no control over it, no matter how much you’d like to think you do. You can’t control who you love, when, where, or why. Trying to force it and just wanting to be with somebody, anybody, is a futile and painful approach. It’s why someone dates hurtful people regardless of the advice of their friends,  its why you maintain a constant feeling of loss when someone gives up on you, it’s why you happen to meet the right person at the worst place or time, doomed for disaster.  But it’s also the same reason for this immensely forceful attraction that makes you fight to the bitter end and make things work. Its leaving a career for a person, or disappearing off the face of the planet in lust.

I would define love as an attachment. Something that isn’t complete without the other. It is nothing – has no value, no place, no direction, no engine without it. This is my call to all you unhappy folk. To be blunt and painful, life is nothing without true passionate love. But on a lighter side, a very select few of us manage to find it, and even fewer of those can harness it. This cannot be taken as a calleous, abrasive amplification of your despair, but a shock to get your whole ensemble motivated. Fight for what you need. Persist, be a fucking dick, break a nose and knock out a few teeth. This is LOVE and the two of you NEED it!

Hopefully this reinforces the love that you have, or it makes you ask the questions that need to be asked and sets you on your way.

Women: Genetically chained to being a stay-at home mom? Caregivers of the universe? Queens of the submissive male phsyche? A rat race to become a trophy wife?

Whos to say that they can’t be whatever they want, just as us bacon-bringers always had the opporunity to do? From what the golden age trend portrayed, women have always had this “job” to do. Their full-time, 24-7 career of mothering, cleaning, and household commanding officer. Not an easy career choice by any means, I sure as fuck couldn’t do it, but it’s the job that literally keeps the world turning, so mad props to them.

The workforce is making a turn, and of course over the last couple decades, women can be seen in every trade and discipline. Women want to be entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers, culinary artists… and firefighters, medics, soldiers. I believe that they should have always been entitled to this, but situationally, they naturally used to lead a domesticated family-oriented life.

I speak more about the blue collar grunt work of trade careers. The firefighters, paramedics, military, construction – shit like that. The human resources folk of these trades have decided that the best Public Relations investment is to meet quotas of female to male ratios, of minority to majority equilibriums, and I think that’s a crock of shit. First and foremost, I have come across many a woman that could whip Schwarzenneger into shape, and I would expect nothing less than someone looking to fulfill the requirements of a job that needed it. Put simply, if you’re a chick and you want the job, I’ve seen examples of women just like you who can easily make the cut. There’s a reason for tough jobs – they’ve got a tough fucking job to do, and they need tough people. That has nothing to do with if you’re white, black, male, female, green, martian, arab, or jew. They need the best people for the job to get the best results of a rough day at work.

Let me give you an example. You’re driving home from work and some douchebag drunk driver hits you head on. The lower half of your body becomes completely entangled in the spiderweb of steel and aluminum. You’re barely conscious as your blood pressure rapidly drops as your perfuse blood onto the floor mats. You’ve got minutes to live. Who would you rather have save you? someone who got the job of rescueing you because of concessions made by their department? or a faceless human in a uniform who is the fucking best of the best because the application system picked them to succeed in that exact situation?

If you want the job, play the part.