Question: When y’all were in college and it came to the idealistic notions that virutally all of us have at that age, how did you express them? Like, did you find people who shared your interests, band together and work to change the minds of others? Keep it to yourself? I ask this because last night, I met for the first time the horror that Political Correctness hath birthed, and either I was a dirty hippy in my past life or students these days are engaging in pragmatism far earlier than they should.

The jist: A grad assistant with the school brought forth a non-binding resolution to the campus’ SGA so it could declare March 19-23 “Peace Week,” where and faculty and students would be encouraged to talk about the Iraq War. There would be movies shown in the student lounge and speakers and so on and so forth. Well, since the resolution was only brought to the SGA by a senator and not actually “sponsored” (aka, correct paperwork not filed), a vote wasn’t going to be taken. Before they’ll even consider it, however, the resolution is going to have to be reworded to, at the very least, be more “inclusive” to everyone’s views, which, on one hand, is probably not a bad idea. But the other reason? They don’t want the SGA—a group that’s been back on campus only since 2005—to be associated with the school’s Social Justice Club, a group they consider “too far to the left”—a direct quote. ("We need to make this more PC,” was another direct quote that almost made me choke on my tongue.)

Seeing what are supposed to be, in my mind, young idealists not just drinking the corporate Kool-Aid, but mainlining it, a few things came to mind as I scraped my jaw off the floor. Outside of the fact that the resolution was essentially slapped together based on a few discussions the grad assistant had with her classes when it could’ve been better easily substantiated by an informal poll of students, I was stunned that the group would not take a stand, whatever that stand would’ve been. I mean, the SGA couldn’t have said “We support getting troops out” or “We need to send 60 zillion more troops to the Middle East” while also supporting discussion from the other side? (Incidentally, at least two of the senators said they agreed personally with the resolution as it stood.) And as far as not being associated with the other club ... well, that was more out of concern for the individuals being associated with what they perceive as being an unpopular group than it was concern for the group itself, pure and simple, and it’s a sad, sad day when you have to temper your thoughts because you’re concerned people won’t like you. All this to say, it was a puss move on their part.

Story’s after the jump.

Just got off the phone with the Patient Assistance Program trying to find out when my meds are going to arrive: I was told that oh, they’re on back order and we have no idea when they won’t be on backorder, but we’ll send them out when we get them. This after the new (on) crack team reception people at my doctor’s office forgot to put the scrip in the SASE I provided for them FOUR WEEKS AGO. I had a month’s worth of meds when I started the refill process; I now have four pills left.

After fighting with the paper over getting paid on time and getting some mad-horrifying news about someone I still kinda sortaused to love, the last thing I needed to hear was that I’m now going to have to shell out $130 I don’t have because of someone else’s incompetence. I can’t even begin to tell you how defeated I feel right now*.

I know I brag, brag bragyammer on like a big starstruck goon about all the cool people I get to see in my travels, but if I could just get y’all to indulge me once again as I tell you about seeing author, poet and activist and living legend Nikki Giovanni speak at my alma mater ...

Man.

I mean, how do people attain such clarity!?? You couldn’t even believe it as she was talking. And what really sucks is that events like that are so hard to cover, because there’s no way to capture the brilliance of it in any way even close to how it actually went down. She was talking about her children’s book Rosa, which was obviously about Rosa Parks and how the bus incident really went down as opposed to how it’s taught in the history books. One of the best parts was when she was talking about how the day she came into Atlanta to accept the Coretta Scott King Award for the book, James Tate, the infamous bus driver that started it all, died. Well, journalists, as is our wont, were pestering her to give them a sound bite about how she felt about it, and after she got fed up with the pestering, she said, “Welp, another one bites the dust,” just to be an ass. Naturally, the journos went to the Tate widow with her pithiness, to which the Tate widow replied:

that reminded me of how, as much as Mother and I get on each other’s nerves, she really is an amazing creature: We were sitting at the VU Chorale show, and at the end, they sang F. Melius Christiansen’s “Praise to the Lord,” (yeah, I knew that one without looking at the program just now. Snerk.) And as we’re sitting there, I notice that not only is she singing along, but she’s singing the alto harmony part. Apparently, it was a song she used to sing with her church choir. I was just kinda like, “Huh. Look at you. That’s ... really pretty cool.”

the chorale director and music chair of our esteemed Aaaaaaaaandy’s alma mater (and Ima let y’all look it up so you can see for yourself.) Then again, if you conducted a group as amazing as he does, your name could be Yingly Wingly, and it wouldn’t matter. Took Mother to see a performance by them tonight for an assignment I had and, no lie, they were perfect in every sense of the word. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t get that crying thing, but if there was ever a time I SHOULD’VE, that would’ve been the time. (@ Aaaaaaandy: Were you part of the chorale group? If so, I bow to your greatness.)

And I am deVOURING World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Talk about your creepy political allegories. Man! JB gave it to me yesterday when I stopped by the office, and I’ve been glued to it ever since. Iff’n I hadn’t been so tired after a 5 HOUR COUNCIL MEETING last night, I’d have probably plowed through it, it’s that good. Wiki does a good job of outlining, but it’s a book about the aftermath of the zombie virus’ descent (yes, as in flesh-eating, living-dead people) on Earth 10 years out. The author, Max Brooks, wrote it as a compilation of the interviews he conducted with survivors from all over the world that weren’t allowed to be published in the government’s white papers on the incident, and it’s just unbelievable. The insight is amazing.

It’s a nice diversion, anyway, since Mother and I had another one of our knock-down drag-outs earlier. See, it looks like someone—and we suspect it’s her creepy forner neighbor who got evicted a year ago—tried to break in to her storage unit at her crib by taking a hack saw to the lock. They didn’t get all the way through, but there is a substantial chunk taken out of the hook. Anyway, after panicking enough to get me to rush her to the locksmith yesterday (because, you know, the would-be thieves were going to return within the one or two hours that I couldn’t get to her) we got a heavy-duty German circle lock that ain’t no one gonna break. And you know how people get flummoxed when they’re panicked? Yeah, Mother was on Defcon 5 and couldn’t get the lock on. So today, I go over and, well, lookee there, I get the lock on. Granted, the door on the locker is a bit warped, and it could’ve been tough for her yesterday since she was on Defcon 5, but it was on now and that was the point, right?

No. No, no. Because then, she insisted that I get the lock OFF to prove that she won’t have a problem doing it herself. And when she’s sitting there clucking and rending her garments, it’s never easy to do anything except pray for death, doesn’t matter whose. Long story short, SHE got the lock off, but is going to take it back because it’s too hard to get off and on when she wants to go in and, oh, put her Christmas tree away or look at the 50 year-old stationary bike she has in there.

When the whole ordeal started yesterday, I came into the office and unloaded on a couple of my colleagues, one of whom was kinda taken aback at my frustration. And when I later went back into her office to apologize and clarify that no, I really DON’T hate my mother even though it may sound like I’m going to throw her out of my moving vehicle, she of course said, “Be glad you HAVE a mother.” And you know, thanks, I get that, but I defy ANYONE to try dealing with her for one week and see if they wouldn’t be driven to drink after the first three days. No one has any idea how difficult it really is.

But you know the other thing I can’t talk about? That’s doing just fine, thankyew. So at least I have THAT going for me.

By now, y’all have had to see his Purple Goodness’ performance at the Super Bowl (where Rex Grossman took a shit on the Bears’ whole season and fucked it up. Yeah, yeah, rain nothin’. He choked. Period). All I’m saying is, when the marching bands came out, I totally flipped my shit. He is the master, and we are all but peons in his raspberry universe.