#91 Live And Let Die
The other day a friend of mine said something that “rang pretty true” to me. We were speaking about our world, and about global and personal change, and he said, and I’m paraphrasing, “People need to learn how to not take things so personally.” This simple edict seemed true to me at the time, and I would argue that any competent person who even briefly considers the “truthiness” of this notion will agree that if everyone in our world learned how to not take things personally, then a lot of our personal and world wide conflicts would die a quick death.
I agreed with my friend’s sentiments at the time we were speaking, but I was mostly thinking about interpersonal relationships and international issues. It wasn’t until this morning, when some latte sipping asshole in a behemoth truck cut me off while making an illegal left hand turn out of a Starbucks’ drive thru that I realized how much my friend’s advice applies to me. After all, when this latte-death-truck cut me off, my blood pressure probably went off the charts, and that’s not good for my sanity, or my heart. Luckily, I remembered my friend’s advice, and so I didn’t even honk my horn at the oblivious driver of the latte-death-truck. Instead, I realized that if I’m going to survive in this world, I had best learn how to not take things like this so personally.
As I continued to wax philosophical on the subject of “taking offense,” I began to think about the persona of America, and how it is evolving, and I realized that if I could pick one attribute to be associated with my national identity, it would be that we are a nation who does not take things personally. I would like to be a member of a nation that is known for having a great sense of humor, and for letting “bygones be bygones.”
Now I know that we live in a day and age in which this American Persona I am imagining seems like nothing more than a far fetched dream, but I’ve always been an optimist and a dreamer, and I see no reason to give up my hope, especially now that The Obama Fairy is bringing us all change for Christmas (No, seriously, we’re all going to receive some pocket change from the I.R.S.. It’s Obama’s new economic stimulus plan designed to buy everyone a lollipop, so they can shut their traps and quit complaining.).
So I, Mike Oppenheim, an American author, am hereby composing the following list, a “List of Forgiveness,” to show the world that I am an American with the ability to forgive and to forget; I am Mike Oppenheim, an American, and I am no longer going to take the following things personally:
I hereby forgive the dumb ass driver of a white Suburu who didn’t realize that red hexagonal signs with the word STOP clearly printed in large, bold faced, capital letters posted at most every intersection in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon are not a form of modern art, but are rather a legal traffic directive that must be adhered to so that bicyclists like myself can safely travel alongside cars without ending up in a hospital. It’s okay, dude. You didn’t kill me, and so I’m going to hope that the cliché that is our shared experience will somehow make me stronger.
I hereby forgive the aforementioned selfish and seemingly unaware moron who cut me off this morning and nearly caused me to rear end him, which ironically, would still be considered my fault under California Law.
I hereby forgive the 43rd President of the United States (He Who Shall Not Be Named) for spearheading the most ridiculously arrogant and shortsighted imperialistic military action of the new millennium (so far…(gulp!)). Even though most of the major problems our nation now faces can actually be traced back to you and your appointed administration officials, we all make mistakes, and I can’t really blame you for believing in yourself, because people who don’t believe in themselves are usually depressed, and I suppose that giving your entire country a fit of economic depression is better than you reverting back to your depression, which caused the alcoholic ways of your wayward “youth” (Read: your twenties, thirties, and part of your forties.). Man, this forgiving business is harder than I thought! I, uh, um, like, for…for…forgive you.
I hereby forgive New York Times Crossword editor Will Shortz for a) making me feel stupid all the time, and b) for making the Sunday Times Crossword utterly impossible to complete. Will, you’ve taught me how to give up. Thanks.
I hereby forgive the American Music Industry for slighting non-attractive artists with real talent in favor of sexually desirable talentless hacks with no concern for artistic integrity because you have families to feed, and jet planes to fuel. No wait. No, I actually do not forgive you, and I hope that the internet crushes your business model and creates a new market for creative musicians to express themselves in; let people with vision and integrity be heard!
I hereby forgive my mother for not letting me see Nirvana, Guns and Roses, Metallica, Faith No More, and Nine Inch Nails live in concert, when I was a kid in the early nineties, and these bands were still young, good, and, in the case of Nirvana, full of people who are actually alive. I forgive you, Mom, because now that I am older, I understand that if you had let me stay out late as a teenager and see these incredible once in a lifetime shows, then I could have become addicted to drugs, booze, and cigarettes at a far earlier age than I actually did. Thanks for looking out for me, Mom!
I hereby forgive the following baseball franchises for defeating my beloved Oakland Athletics in one or more various playoff rounds during the last twenty years: The Detroit Tigers, and the….no, this is like the music paragraph; I can’t forgive any team for beating down on the holy baseball gods of Oakland; that would be like forgiving the Jews for killing Jesus.
I hereby forgive all Jews for all past grievances, both real and imaginary, as filed by Muslims, Christians, and Mormons, and I’ll even further extend a forgiving branch of olive-ness to the Jews that run the Media and Hollywood and therein forced President Elect Barack Obama on the American populace.
I hereby forgive Jew-blamers for trying to scapegoat real world problems on a class of people that technically don’t even count as a race, given the multi-faceted ethnic locality of the countless Tribes of Israel (Say it with me, everyone: “Ashkenazi Jews are not from Israel; it’s not a race, it’s a religion.”).
I hereby forgive Steven Spielberg for crippling cinema verite with his classicly magical, warm cup of cocoa, I’m okay you’re okay, we’re all part of a team, and that team’s name is spelled L-O-V-E, rinky dink, pathetically simplified Hollywood endings that have plagued American Cinema for more than twenty-five years now. You ignored Stanley Kubrick’s dying wishes for how “A.I.” should have turned out, and thereby ruined his last film, but it’s okay, “dude.” I can now forgive you…oh wait, I already forgave you when I forgave all the Jews. You are now doubly forgiven.
I forgive all of my friends who have ever made fun of me, talked shit to me, and told me that I’m crazy and over rationalize everything (and boy-oh-boy is that a long list!). I have rationally come to the conclusion that I can rationally explain and excuse everything, and without your ridicule and abasing post modern shit-talking, I wouldn’t have the thick skin it takes to punch out weekly columns from my high horse that stands on a soap box (Really, I should post a picture of me sitting on a “high horse,” which is standing on a soap box, but I’m not sure if they have lenses large enough to capture the amazing highness of my horse.).
And in the spirit of rationalization, I also forgive cigarettes for being so damn magically addictive and thereby constantly fooling me into resuming smoking time and time again after repeatedly quitting for months on end, mostly due to the cigarette’s enigmatic and unpredictably predictable ability to insert a fake sense of nostalgia and longing for them that never seems to go away. If this passage didn’t make sense to you, then you are lucky; and I suggest that you don’t ever smoke.
I hereby forgive my father for failing to start an incredibly successful and wealthy company for me to inherit at my current age, and then run into the ground, cause, hey, man, that sounds like fun, and I’ll never get to do it. Thanks a lot, Dad, all you ever did as a parent was to focus on instilling good values in me, and encouraging me to question every aspect of my reality so that I am always making my own formed opinions and not being goaded into amoral action. Your hard efforts have paid off: I’m a professional writer (read: professional borrower of money) and I have no family business to ruin.
I hereby forgive my brother for incessantly beating the crap out of me when I was a kid, cause if I’d had a little brother like me, and I was capable of violence, I probably would have actually killed me; thanks for not killing me, bro, I love you forever.
And lastly, but certainly not least of all, I’d like to forgive myself for making mistakes and realizing that they are mistakes as they are happening, but stubbornly refusing to stop making them as I make them. And also, I’d like to forgive myself for not doing the best I am capable of every second of my life, because sometimes I get self involved, and I worry about things that are out of my control, and this causes me to take things personally, which in turn creates a negative mindset, which then allows for me to act selfishly, which doesn’t do me, or anyone else in our world any good.
