from the edge of the deep green sea

About 3 weeks ago I included “Telenoticias” in my Facebook.  ”Telenoticias” is Costa Rican television news network in Costa Rica.  I could say it is the most respectable, but in a country where television networks are a fucking joke, “respectable” loses quite a bit of credibility.

Anyhow..Telenoticias and some of the blogs I read have been plagued with comments around the news that some cop in Costa Rica is a neonazi.   Apparently there are plenty of these clowns.  They get together, get drunk and celebrate  that they find some kind of logic in Hitler’s beliefs.   The photos can be striking – I think we as human beings have developed a “Pavlov’s dog” instinct and twitch in disgust and rage when we see a swastika:

People immediately see a threat and have demanded that this person has no place in police enforcement.  That how come he could pass all psychological tests considering how dangerous he is.

I for one, think the whole situation is a joke.  If Hitler was brought to life today and saw the photo above, he would immediately proceed to take a cyanide cocktail.  The irony of dark-skinned people being nazis is beyond this blog post could ever hope to explain.  The guys above are only seeking attention and they have found that by being different in this matter will make them stand out.  That is all.  Perhaps they have found some kind of logic in “Mein Kamp” and if they have, who the fuck are we to judge?  I’ve never read any of Hitler’s books, but I doubt they can be as dangerous as the bible in the hands of any fucktard extremist.

Now the question that begs to be asked is: “should this guy be allowed to be a cop”.  A cop should be a person that protects and serves the community regardless of their sex, age, religion, or any trait in particular.  Following neonazi beliefs would go against those principles, so I think there would a conflict of interests that would not make him a good cop.  I’m seriously debating this one and I really can’t reach a conclusion.  I know he is not the best candidate, but at least he’s open about it – how many elements of the Costa Rica force are sexists, homophobic, racists underneath and are allowed to continue working because they haven’t exposed their demons (yet?)

And if you think about it – an aptitude for a particular position based on beliefs can be a touchy subject.  Think for instance of doctors…do you think a doctor who is a catholic and could make a decision based on “god’s will” is the best candidate for the job?

Food for thought.

Regardless of your faith, this is one hell of an image:

The debt collector is at your doorstep, and he means business!!  Isn’t it scary how his head is titled towards the door as if to listen if someone’s home?

I really hope whoever lives in that house had faith in good ol JC, cuz he will royally fuck them up if they thought otherwise – AMEN!

BTW: I get these images from a Facebook friend who keeps posting this type of shit…why I don’t erase her?  I’m a masochist, that’s why.  :-)

Call me a nostalgic fool, but I like to look at old photographs when I’m away from home.  Photos can be tricky – it depends on the mood, the place, and the alcohol level in your bloodstream that makes you appreciate something more than before.

Today, this shattered my world in two:

That is Kía sitting at the table and demanding (not waiting) for her portion of non-dog-food to be served to her hastily.

Due to my traveling, my mom and dad have taken care of Kía ever since I left…This was about a year ago, and now Kía and Max (kía’s brother) were “adopted” by my parents.  My dad has taken it to next level with the dogs.  I don’t know to this day if this is an age issue, but he’s grown obsessed to the point that he defends these dogs with his life.   He has also gone through the trouble of undoing any type of obedience I ever gave these dogs.  This, has unfortunately been a constant confrontational issue…but today, as they say, I saw the light.

I just took a glimpse at Kía’s photo above, and I felt her so damn close and I succumbed in accepting my dad’s “craziness”.  The way he treats these dogs is just a reciprocal action on how much these dogs love him.  I don’t think there is anything as pure as the love of a dog towards you, the communication efforts they go through to let you know how they feel, and the never-tiring ecstatic happiness routine they pull when you have been gone 5 minutes as if it had even 100 years is just fucking priceless.

I have taken this for granted, and it breaks me apart, once more, that it’s not my dad going ape-shit over these dogs; but rather myself becoming cold and used to the most sincere love there I could possibly be exposed to.

Touché Dad, you were right again and again.

How about I open this with one my favorite NIN’s songs, Ruiner:

“…the ruiner’s your only friend, well he’s the living end to the cattle he deceives, the raping of the innocent you know, the ruiner ruins everything he sees…”

My sister sent me a photo from Facebook posted in a group called “Photos of Jesus, I believe in you”.  The photo that was posted was of a HORRIBLE car accident in which all of the people in the car were killed except for a little boy (in case you want to see the picture, click here, but you have already been warned, it’s a pretty fucked up accident).  For all I know, the little fucker could have been a scoundrel who jumped into the car after the accident to scavenge the bodies, but for an army of shit-for-brains Facebook users, this is the ultimate proof that god exists.

Now before I proceed, let me clarify that I don’t think these people are stupid because they believe in god.  I don’t care what they believe in (as long as it does not hurt me), but for fuck’s sake, is it so difficult to stop for a second and THINK for oneself?  Just because the whole flock sees a picture where one person testifies that this is irrefutable proof that there is a creator, doesn’t mean that you should just jump in the stupidity bandwagon before thinking for a second.

What baffles me most is the domino-like-effect of stupidity that this brings:

“this is brutal, that’s why I always trust him” (dunno if this guys misspells on purpose or is a complete idiot)

You trust that you will not end up dead like the others?

“this is for real, I know because the god that I serve creates miracles and takes care of their children”

Really? Aren’t the other dead in the car god’s children as well?

“and for the ones that do not believe, this should be enough.  God is great and forgiving”

Seriously, all I see are dead people who god managed to let die…how is this proof that god exists?

“if god did exist, that accident would have not happened in the first place”

BAM – at least one fucker of 1,000 makes some sense – now THAT is a miracle, my friends.

The list goes on, but I gave up after a while.  NIN – please sign me off.

“…the ruiner’s a collector he’s an infector serving his shit to his  flies, maybe there will come a day when those that you keep blind will  suddenly realize…”

Maybe…just maybe.

See, my friends, I have a special gift – I associate music with every aspect of my life and emotion and I remember it forever (talk about a talent that is completely futile).  Anyhow, my life is a continuous soundtrack of emotions accompanied by the mellow, the metal, the up-beat and the fucked-up…and yes, ever the “romantic which I would never admit”, but I just fucking did.

I was just browsing my iPhoto Library and I came across the following jewel:

This picture, my friends, marks everything…  A day in Miami, an unbearable climate, a losing connection, a contract lost, a contract gained, an emotion spent, and a lifetime earned.  It simply reads “Think I Better Follow you Around”, at 5:18 a.m…I wrote it and I stared at it for 45 minutes.  Hoping the sunrise would disentangle my life as efficiently as a fucking goldfish riding a bicycle, I sat and I stared out the window with the message I had just written…

Going back in time, all I can think of is, undoubtedly, who the fuck are you?

Digressing the thoughts and regurgitating the feelings, cautious and eager – calculating and disbelieving, enthused and enthralled (throw me a fucking bone, I’m running out of adjectives here!!) – all I can say is…THANK YOU.

Last year I completed 0% of my commitments – as selfish as they were (they were all about seeing bands and using the mother fucking word fuck less fucking times), I failed in every one of them.  But in this moment, and anywhere in-between the self-indulgence of posting what I thought would make me happy in 2011, I can say that I’m truly happy.

I don’t know what’s next in 2012…and I won’t care…as Candlebox once sang back in the 90s: “I’ll take everything as it comes my way” -  whether it’s good or bad, or amazing ,it’s up to me to decide.

And “The National” – I’ll see you onstage this year, count your hyper-ballad sorry-ass on it:

PS and note to self: I need more Port.

Today was a beautiful day in the morning…no rain and I think I saw the sun’s rays almost shining after 7 days of pure Seattle weather here in Costa Rica.  I woke up and showered while chilling to an  amazing band I recently discovered – nothing would spoil my day; heck – I think I was whistling while I was getting dressed.

I checked all the pre-reqs for getting my new Costa Rican passport as the old one has no empty pages left, everything in order:

• Appointment slip     √
• Old Passport     √
• Bank Payment of $32     √
• Costa Rican ID copy    √

I was fucking golden, my friends – this was going to be a piece of cake.

Once I arrived the migration offices, I started to get worried when I saw the sign on the door where they are supposed to call you: “Please thanking for waiting”…  I then looked inside the office you enter once the guard verifies your papers…the remains of what once seemed to be a “Take a Tab” machine…not looking good.

I sat and waited…the guard came out at 10:20 am announcing only the 10:00 am appointments could come in…which meant they were 20 minutes late.  At 10:40 I was able to go in, they checked my pre-reqs and once they understood that I had to cancel my old passport, the guard asked if I had payed the $30 cancellation fee to the bank, which I obviously didn’t since the list of pre-reqs for any type of transaction is nowhere to be found in the fucking aberration they have for a web page:

Luckily the bank was next door..paying this and getting a copy of the passport only took 20 minutes more, and probably cost me about 15 spots in the queue…ah, the motherfucking queue…

I got my last passport 5 years ago, and the system was laughable.  Basically there are about 80 static chairs in a room on rows of 10, the last person in sits in the last spot in the back, and as the queue advances, you have to move to the chair to your right and so on.

Today, things are different: the chairs are now orange instead of green – everything else is the goddamn thing over and over.

By 11:45 the 3 windows that were attending people turned into 1 since it was lunch time!!  By then I was just laughing…

Incredibly long story short, by 1:25 p.m. (only 3.5 hours later that I was given an appointment!!!) I was able to hand in documents, they took my photo and 4 minutes later I was out.

In the US you apply for a passport in the Postal Service offices, which are sprawling everywhere.  Why must it be so damn complicated here – and why are using the same system that has proved to be the most efficient way for people to waste their time?

I don’t know if it’s the fact that the school in front of my house decided to have a mega-potpurri of the most hated nursery rhymes of all times,  but today I feel like I smashed my testicles again and again in a drawer when I woke up.

It could also be the fact that I sat down yesterday with a couple of clients explaining them for the mega-fourieth time how to use a system that my 5-year-old nephew could use (and I’m pretty sure they did not get it).  Or perhaps it’s the  fact that I receive e-mails from people asking me shit just because they are so damn fucking lazy to fire up their search engine and find their answer.

Point in case – the secretary of a client of mine e-mails me (and this is a recurring issue, the first time she asked how could she manage to block the pornography her husband was watching) and tells me how to import data from her Windows laptop to her new Mac.  That is a valid question, and I think “I’m gonna be nice and find her a nice article that explains it”.  I send her the link and I warm her that her computer must be running Lion.  30 seconds later I get an e-mail back asking me “how do I know if I am running Lion” and THAT is what pisses me off.  If you copy and paste her e-mail in Google/Bing/Altafuckingvista you not only get the answer, but you get millions of answers to the question.

With the Internet, there simply is no reason to bother other people with trivial questions.  BTW, I know many of you who read this blog have asked for my help – this is not aimed at you, trust me – it’s a pleasure helping family and friends when they have done their research and they e-mail with “I have looked on google but I have not being able to sync my hacked phone with…”.  That makes us think that you at least TRIED something before trying to use us as your search engine.

The funny tidbit about this is that most people think that looking cute and stupid and saying:

“I’m sorry, I’m just computer illiterate”

justifies their laziness and their attention span that makes Dorothy from “Finding Nemo” look like a fucking Einstein.

Fuck you too, Dorothy.

Today I caught up with a friend whom I hadn’t touch base with for quite some time.  We met for lunch without watching the clock, we tried to see what had happened with each others’ lives.

I asked about her relationship and the answer was far from good.  While she was explaining the reasons and ended up with “what do you think”, I only thought to myself:

“DO NOT SAY WHAT YOU THINK, DO NOT FUCKING SAY WHAT YOU THINK”

Luckily, I was on beer #2 and I did stay put.  Not a single word of truthfulness was spoken from my mouth.  All I said were lies, on how things could change for the best, on how it was too quick to judge, and blah blah blah.

I know far too well how the story unfolds.  If I say one milligram of truth, that is enough for her (or anybody in a relationship) to blather it out later on to their significant other.  My name will eventually come up and I will be to blame for the whole ordeal.  They will then reconcile, and suddenly I’m the real asshole.  It sounds surreal, but I’ve seen it happen before.

I was just preparing dinner and the conversation came back to my mind.  If I could back, would I change my response if I knew that it would help her be happier in the long run?

I’ll let  Depeche Mode’s Policy of Truth address it:

You’ll see your problems multiplied
If you continually decide
To faithfully pursue
The policy of truth

Sorry for the title, but that’s just what Spotify is: Crack.  Delicious, awesome, blow your brains out quality crack.  I’ve been using this drug for almost 2 weeks and I swear I cannot get enough.  Even worse, I have tried to get people to get on the Spotify crack pipe and I have succeeded.  Nephew, niece, friends, sisters, colleagues.  They are now addicted to Spotify, and shortly after, so will you.

Great, what the fuck is it?

Ok..so you are not sold on the “crack for music” description…so I’ll try to elaborate.

Think of Spotify as an iTunes that has all the music in the world – that’s it!  First, you must sign-up for an account (limited to some countries which kinda sucks, but if you sign-up in the US for instance, it will work in other countries).  Once you get your account, all you have to do is type whatever the hell you want…

Chances are, you will find the song/artist you are looking for.  You will also quickly find recommendations based on your music tastes.

You can then create playlists and post them in places such as Sharemyplaylist.com, people subscribe to your playlists and you gain points in cool karma heaven…or something…

Even your friends from Crackbook will also show up in Spotify.  They can even collaborate creating playlists with you, which I think it’s an amazing feature.

Yeah…very nice, but have you heard of Torrents?

Yes…you can always download all the illegal music that you want and put it in your hard drive and accomplish the same thing, but you are missing the point.  The nice thing about Spotify is that you can really find new music by the collaborative model they built, and you are not infringing with any copyright laws of any kind.  It’s win-win, really.

So where’s the catch, how the hell do they make money?

Of course this is not free…well sorta.  If you can stand ads in-between songs, then you can just use the free version.  With $5/month, you get to skip the ads, and with $10/month you get premium sound quality and you get to take your music with you offline.  That means that you can place it on your iPhone/iPod and take it with you on trips.

This last bit sounds pretty cool, but it has happened to me various times now that my offline playlists simply disappear and I end up with 32GB of nothing, which would suck on trips, so I’m not t touching this feature with a 10-foot-pole…yet.

So how much is Spotify paying you to write this, you dirty, cheap whore?

Nothing!  I just love an idea when it’s well implemented (I’m a DropBox advocate).

Do you have any invites?

Yes, I have 8 invites for the US store, so just post in comments if you want one and I’ll send you the invitation for music crack heaven.