"This Food's Not Cultured Enough," or: The 5,999,998th Thing to Be Offended About...

I just...can't anymore.

My question is: when did we as an American society denigrate into nursing bruised egos and hurt feelings? Or, specifically: when did college campuses make a spontaneous transformation from institutions where students cared about higher education to places where spoiled, complacent numbskulls with a victim complex gripe, bitch and complain about every single little problem that floats its way into their little narcissistic bubbles? Newsflash, dear children: real life can be offensive. It seems we as a generation have forgotten the golden rule to dealing with things that rustle our jimmies: if you don't like something, don't do it/be around it/partake in it/etc. You'd think kids with a college education and a $30k a year tuition could grasp such an elementary concept.

But no. They're too preoccupied protesting about how the food served in the cafeteria is racist.

At least that's what's been going on at Oberlin College in Ohio. Student groups representing the different cultured populations of the student body are calling out Oberlin's dining department, and the catering service they use, of "a litany of offenses that range from cultural appropriation to cultural insensitivity."

Oh, look! Racism allegations are in the news. Please, show me something I haven't seen.

It goes even further: the African-American student union, ABUSUA, demanded that the dining hall start serving fried chicken once in a while, which apparently was unsuccessful. Many students wrote fiery editorial letters to the campus newspaper, demanding that the caterer, Bon Appétit Management Company, be fired and replaced with chefs who, in the words of one student, "have the respect and autonomy to cook the food they love."

Tomoyo Joshi, a Japanese exchange student, put forth the argument of food as cultural representation: "When you’re cooking a country’s dish for other people, including ones who have never tried the original dish before, you’re also representing the meaning of the dish as well as its culture. So if people not from that heritage take food, modify it and serve it as ‘authentic,’ it is appropriative."

Are...are you kidding me? Are you really serious with this crap? Cultural insensitivity? Because they maybe forgot to put orange sauce on the orange chicken? If they were really serious about such a rampant abuse of cultural appropriation, why have they not protested at franchised places like Panda Express, where, apparently, even Chinese people are split between revulsion and appreciation and where some people don't consider it authentic? Where are the passionate student unions with the picket signs then?

Yeah. I didn't think so.

At this point in time, I'm so used to seeing the news littered with things that people get pissed over that I'm practically waiting, watch in hand, to see when the next thing people get offended over settles in. What can we get pissed at next, folks? The air?

This dude put it best in one of his tweets I found quoted in the New York Times:

When you're defending the cultural authenticity of GENERAL TSO'S CHICKEN, you're a living Portlandia sketch.

— Fredrik deBoer (@freddiedeboer) December 19, 2015

Couldn't have put this better myself. You can't write this kind of insane, childish and downright stupid behavior for even the funniest of sitcoms.

In fact, this is what all this should be: funny. Hilarious. Side-splitting. All the level-headed people in the country should be rolling around on the floor, laughing until the veins in their neck burst. But I can't say that I can expect something like that due to the continued rise of the evil influence of -- dare I say it -- political correctness, that chokes the ever-loving life out of this country.

This is America now, folks: where people who may not fully prepare the rice and pepper steak to a T are guilty of committing the same egregious crime of those shallow animals (I hope they've died out) who once burned, lynched and tortured other fellow human beings because their skin color was different. Yes, definitely: there is a total, irrevocable connection between the two charges.

Gimme an ever-loving break.

But hey, I'll vouch on behalf of one thing these Oberlin nimrods didn't see fit to do: at least they haven't demanded that a professor or the dean resign from their position, as our diminutive, low-brain-celled, elitist friends at Yale have proudly done. So I must give these fellas credit in that department. Bless yer hearts, yew really are try-in'.

Let me go broad for a second. I really used to take great pride in our generation. In some instances, I still do. I don't fully buy into the bitter notion that this is, as Sorkin avatar Will McAvoy puppets, the "worst period generation period ever period!" But in these types of instances, it's hard to disagree with The Social Network scribe's old-guard news anchor. This type of pissant grumbling by the old folks is not a new phenomenon, but c'mon, when you get down to the basics of the situation, you're crying in your soup over food! (No pun intended.) And this is why all the adults think this country's on the 3:10 to Hell when our generation takes charge. You social justice warriors ain't doing us any favors with our generational reputation. You've probably given Time more fodder for a sequel article to this one.

Have we already forgotten the lessons in the well-justified and well-deserved open letter that the good Dr. Everett Piper issued to the Oklahoma Wesleyan student body? This ain't a daycare, it's a higher learning institution. You're supposed to be challenged, not coddled. And you're supposed to deal with the situation, not throw a temper tantrum masked by sit-ins and picket signs. So why don't you recognize that fact and go make use of the astronomical tuition you (or, more likely, your parents) shelled out by actually studying what you're passionate about. Because frankly, kiddies: this food protest is a waste of air and a waste of precious time.

It actually mentally hurt to read the New York Times article from whence this story came. After I briefly caught a glimpse of the upcoming story on the news before the channel was (unfortunately) changed, I had to Google the article in order to suspend the disbelief I had found myself in. But it only further boiled the cauldron of pity, disbelief, semi-hatred and just plain ridicule I had for the students that concocted such a miserable, headline-grabbing shrill protest. I instantly wanted to take to a public platform and scathingly denounce these simple-minded, blubbering brats for spewing drivel under the guise of advancing social justice and cultural sensitivity. In their mind, they think they're doing something good for society, when all they're doing is blowing a rusty old horn for a recital they hardly practiced for.

Of course, I can still lambast them, and I probably will. But after researching and writing this, the strongest emotion I have left is sorrow and pity. Sorrow for a time when a person's moral convictions become so sensitive and so twisted that the mere sight of a harmless, slightly-inaccurate dish of culturally traditional food can throw them into such a misplaced righteous anger.

You're getting upset over food; something that you will eat and that your stomach will ultimately break down and digest until it flows through your bowels and comes out as a nice, brown, neatly-compacted log of excrement. Food is meant for nourishment, not a beauty contest. Get over yourselves and your self-righteous, self-serving indignation.

And that's all the words I have for this spat. Go ahead and feel free to start a discussion in the comments.

Archie Pelago - Off-Peak OST

Rarely do I stumble on a full concept album that I actually enjoy. Being a person that someone would consider a "singles" person, I have to say that coming across the soundtrack to this online game took my breath away. Its surreal beauty makes me feel like I'm dreaming...only I'm wide awake. But you wouldn't know that while you're listening to this music.

All I've uncovered so far is that this group, Archie Pelago, is a trio of musicians based in Brooklyn. One of the members is also a game designer, who put out a first-person perspective game to accompany this awe-inspiring soundtrack I've come across. It's called Off-Peak, for any of those interested in downloading and playing it for yourselves, and I have PewDiePie to thank for stumbling on it and piquing my interest.

As I said before, one of the main draws of the music is that it makes me feel like I'm stumbling through a dream world, quite often how my dreams work when I'm actually sleeping. It's surreal. It's otherworldly. It makes you feel like anything can happen when you close your eyes and spin this music on high volume through your earbuds, Beats or any other headphones of choice. The songs are immaculately mixed, with a wide variety of instruments, both physical and computer-generated, that compliment each other in glorious aural harmony. The otherworldly violins, basses and saxophones really pull me in, personally.

Seriously. Close your eyes and relive some weird dream that you remember having one night as you slept. This stuff will be the perfect accompanying soundtrack.

Take a trip over to the band's Soundcloud and experience the album for yourselves.

Another Life Update (Northwestern Road Trip)

Hey, all! Hope everything is going well with you and yours and whatever else you're involved in.

My goodness - it's already September. 2015 flew by pretty quickly, I don't know about you. But just as I look towards the future with great optimism, so to do I look with the same optimism towards the final months of this year and the coming of '16.


So, here's what I've been up to since I last posted in February: I ended up quitting my part-time job at the Ralphs grocery store (believe me, I don't miss that one bit) because my parents (whom I'm still with) decided to travel the Pacific Northwestern coast. So after my two week's notice was fulfilled, we packed up our motor home and began our westward trek.


Our first technical stop was San Francisco, where we paid a visit to my older brother, who was settling into his new job at the international airport. It's always great seeing him, and we were glad that he was doing well and warming up to his job. The city itself was great as well: we traveled up and down the streets in rickety period trolleys, we drifted to the notorious Alcatraz prison in the middle of the bay, and we smelled all their was to smell at Fisherman's Wharf.

I personally made a stop at American Zoetrope and the cafe beneath the offices, so that was a plus for me. Sadly, Francis Ford Coppola was nowhere to be seen. And no, I did not go into City Lights Bookstores, although I regret not doing that.

We then moved on to Sonoma and Napa Valley. Being the amateur wine connoisseurs they are, my mother and father had to tour any and all vineyards we could. Sadly, since I was but one year under this country's legal drinking age (and still am, as of writing this), I had to skip the festivities.

After the Redwood Forest, the rest of Northern California just wasn't that impressive to me. It was a little too country for me; especially Arcata. But then again, SoCal just spoiled that for me.

. . .

Oregon was okay as well. Besides stopping off at the state aquarium, it was just another pass-through state, really.

. . .

Washington was as far west as we got. We had to see Seattle: the home of that city's most famous native son, Dr. Frasier Crane. We also saw the houseboats that were featured prominently in a scene from the 1993 romcom Sleepless in Seattle. Never actually saw the film (yet).

Then we ended up staying near Spokane, which decided to have a heat wave. But at least we had the pool to cool us off.

. . .

After crossing through the Northwest, we had to make our way to South Dakota. Long story short, as full-time RVers, this was the state where we arranged our permanent address to be (a ton of RVers choose South Dakota). So we had to stay there for a bit while we got driver's licenses and passports and whatnot.

. . .

Then we made our way down to the Southwest. Utah was a fun stop: to cross it off my bucket list, we visited the Golden Spike site, and they brought the historic steam locomotives out on the tracks (despite them being replicas, but pretty darn good replicas, at that).

We visited the beautiful Canyonlands and Bryce Canyon National Parks. There's nothing that beats natural beauty: the thousands upon thousands of pictures my mother took still couldn't do the site justice.

. . .

And then we finally wandered our way back into Southern California. Our home sweet home.

We ended up for a bit in San Diego until our old spot opened in Orange County. We arrived at our old haunt a week ago, and that's where we've been since.

. . .

Anyway, that's been the past four months in a nutshell. I gotta find myself another job, while I'm trying to get a freelance video editing service off the ground simultaneously, whilst also looking for crew jobs on commercials or small films. So that's been consuming my time, as of now.

I realize I haven't kept up as much as I should've, but a lot's been going on. But I plan to make it a goal to keep this site updated. Bear with me as I do.

The Update on Me

It's been a good start to the New Year.

Sunny Southern California is like heaven on earth...compared to the Ice Aged winter wonderland that my home state of Michigan has become. I have a steady part-time job earning a good personal income; while it may not be a basket of fuzzy kittens and lavender rainbows, I’m still thankful to be earning money.

I’m still chasing down the dream of breaking into the film industry. I've been writing a consortium of short scripts; two of which I am resolved on shooting and editing during the summertime. One’s a serious drama, the other’s a quirky comedy. I've made a few connections here and there during my time in Cali – while many of the emails and copies of my résumé have had few responses back, I will not let this probability douse my efforts! 

One script I wrote has generated interest from two different filmmakers; I passed along my blessing and continually keep in contact to check up on how production’s going for both adaptations.

My graphic design is looking good. I just finished up the advertising campaign for a good friend’s start-up business back home, and I've been developing illustrations for a joint collaboration on the first in what will hopefully be an outstanding children’s book series.

So as far as my life is concerned, I’m not complaining, and I have a lot to be thankful for right now. Each day as I move along and continue to grow my passions, I grow as a well-rounded person. This can be said for my writing: getting back into the blogging mood really helps the creative juices flow again.

So after a long hiatus, it’s good to be back.

From UCLA to the HWY: Jim Morrison On Film and the Doors' Formation

See? Even broke film students can go off and start a little rock band that could eventually be hailed as the greatest in rock history.

Here's a nice little treasure I stumbled upon; from The Smith Tapes archives on Soundcloud.com comes the Doors' legendary frontman on how the iconic group started.

For those of you Doors fans that weren't aware, Jim Morrison attended film classes at UCLA in 1965, eventually producing a student film and graduating with a filmmaking degree. After the college days, he ended up living on the beach, ran into an old chum named Ray Manzarek, and...well, I'm sure you know the rest.

Jim ended up putting his film skills back into use long after he and the Doors became established as a dynamic rock group, when he wrote and directed a short film called HWY: An American Pastoral in 1969. Parts of this rarely-seen film can be viewed in the quintessential Doors documentary, 2009's When You're Strange, as well as what seems to be a minute portion of Jim's UCLA student thesis.


As a film student, music lover and devoted Doors fan myself, I mind myself fascinated by Morrison's life and his interests and character. Even though he made relatively few films in his lifetime, his respect and passion for the cinematic arts was relevant in other manifestations, like his poetry and some of the lyrical content of Doors songs (such as the ironically-named "Twentieth Century Fox" or his poem "The Movie" off the An American Prayer album).

Anyway, that's today's interesting little tidbit.

Malice, Misogyny and Murder: The Isla Vista Killings

I'm sure many of the readership here are aware of what took place on the campus of the University of California, Santa Barbara, so I won't be doing a re-hashing of events.

I had read up on the case, and when it comes to murders and violent crimes, people look for a motive; why did the killer do what they did? Elliot Rodger's rationale for his spree is one that deeply shocked me.

Sprinkled throughout the 141-paged autobiography/manifesto he left behind, Elliot made repeated references to how bitter and angry he felt towards women, perceiving them as having constantly rejected him and complained about women not giving him a chance to prove how "worthy" he was. He bemoans the fact that despite how his life had started out idyllic, that his first childhood friend was a girl, this woman he eventually knew would become the bane of his existence:

"[She would] eventually come to represent everything I hate and despise; everything that is against me, and everything that I’m against"

He goes on to paint himself as a victim of the "wickedness" of women, stating that he was "unbeknownst to the horror and misery the female gender would inflict upon me later in my life. In the present day, these girls would treat me like the scum of the earth; but at that time, we were all equals. Such bitter irony."

He continued to share his pain by trying to gain sympathy from the public, posting video and text rants to Facebook and YouTube, one video of which baffled me greatly as he stated his grievances about feeling shunned and rejected.

We've all been there, men and women alike. We've all been rejected by somebody, we all throw ourselves a pity party, men crying "who do women hate me?", women crying "why do men despise me?" Eventually, we need to look at ourselves, think "What the hell am I doing with my life? I'm wasting my time with this," pick ourselves up off the ground and move on with our lives. That's life, life isn't fair. We might get let down and rejected by a significant other, a crush, or who could be the love of our lives. It might hurt for the longest time, but it's possible to come out the other end; a little bruised, but wiser. We eventually resolve it in our own way.

But as recent history told, Elliot took that step much too far. Obviously something wasn't clicking inside his brain when he tried to rationalize his feelings.

While reviewing what his thoughts and feelings were before he committed his crime, the ones which stuck out to me were his contradictory (and essentially hypocritical) statements, of which I will use the above video I've linked to illustrate my opinion.

At one point, he asks "women" (implicating the entire female gender) why they are so "repulsed" by him, later in the video, he goes on to say that he "deserves women," that he tries to dress nicely in order to impress them, that he's polite and "the ultimate gentleman." I read that Elliot had suffered from mental illness, I feel like a big chunk of that might have been narcissistic personality disorder.

On one end, there's someone with an inflated ego. But this was pure obsession; obsession with himself, obsession with the twisted thought that women, and the world on top of that, was out to get him. Contained in his own world, Elliot figured the best way he could solve his problems: revenge, a tactic which is never the answer to a problem.

Also, it once again brought forth a stark reality for some; stereotypes and objectification. From his writings and his musings, I think Elliot never really did feel anything for women, other than that they served only as a means for his desirous satisfaction. You hear him talk about how he never kissed a girl, how he was still a virgin and never had sex, how he had never even held a girl's hand, and how he felt that because they never offered affection to him, women were in the wrong and deserved to be punished. Sure doesn't seem like someone who cares about a girl's personality or feelings.

But he didn't just reserve his firebrands for females, he also came at the men he perceived as douchey, loser jocks and "jerks" that women seem attracted to.

If the Internet had their way with diagnoses, they'd probably label him as a "nice guy", albeit an extreme case of one. I guarantee you the Internet will be abuzz with misogyny accusations against this kid; and they'd be correct in assuming so. But everything on the Internet can get taken and run with, as it's seen with the #YesAllWomen Twitter hashtag, so I assume digital blood will be spilled on this issue.

The reality of this event was an eye-opener to me, because it reminded me of some experiences I've witnessed. I've had some friends who fell into the same feelings of despair, a couple even tried to commit suicide. Thank the Lord that they never followed through on that and that they're still alive today, but after seeing those happen and seeing what Elliot had done really made me see how serious it is when people go through these moments; how important it is for people to come alongside them, talk with them and prevent them from doing anything regrettable; or, if it's a serious case that could put people at harm, take any necessary action to prevent a tragedy, including institutionalization. It was said that the police was called to Elliot's home in response to his suicide threats; after convincing the officers that he was a "polite young man," they didn't pursue the case further. Many feel that despite this, they still should've kept a closer eye on him and his activities, and I agree whole-heartedly.

Another lesson I took from this event was the persistent reminder that life is precious, and you never know when, where and how you could lose it.

The emotion I came away from this tragic story with was a great deal of sadness. Sadness for the innocent victims who lost their lives in this kid's blind rage. Sadness for the families of the victims and sadness for Elliot's family, who will find it hard to live down what he had committed.

Rest in peace for the victims who died at Isla Vista, and I pray that comfort, love and forgiveness find their way to the families who were scarred by this horrible event.

Tracing My Family History

I'm a self-professed history nut, whether it be American, European, world or family history. Learning about the past and the lives of notable people is always interesting to me; it lets me see what influenced their lives and played a part in why they chose to do what they did. Which is why biographies tend to score high on my reading lists.

I've been interested in tracing where my family history came from. Y'know that show that runs on TV, Who Do You Think You Are?, where they take famous personalities and trace their lineage? (Yes, I've seen both the American and British versions of the show.) It's sort of like that journey, only without cameras following me, and...I'm not famous...as least not yet...

I've known ever since I was old enough to remember that our family had its roots in Germany and Italy. Think about it, how much more German can you get with Finkbeiner?

I've scoured a lot of sources on what exactly my surname means and where it came from, and so far, I think I've found my favorite definition, taken from the Dictionary of American Family Names, through Ancestry.com:

"German: altered form of Finkbunter, a habitational name from any of various farmsteads named Finkbunt, from Middle High German vinke ‘finch’ (or perhaps viehten ‘pine trees’) + biunte ‘enclosed plot’."

Interesting; we were named after birds. Awesome.

Another interesting take on it comes from this site:

"One who had frivolous ideas."

Well...I wouldn't say "frivolous"...but sometimes, you have to take it like it is.

Anyway, I was able to find out from where and from whom the current Finkbeiner line started. It started with my three-times great grandfather, John Finkbeiner (whose name I believe might have been anglicized from Johann, just a bit of a hunch), who was born on a farmstead in March of 1829 in the Kingdom of Württemberg in southern Germany. I estimate sometime in the early 1850s he emigrated from Germany, headed for North America. He settled in Canada for a time, where he met and married my three-times great grandmother, Regina Mohrlock. They had their first four children while settled in Canada, then moved down to America shortly after the Civil War, ultimately settling in the town of Sebewaing, Michigan, where they had five more children. Great-great-great grandpa John lived a fruitful life before dying in 1915 at the age of 86.

One of John's sons, great-great grandfather Emmanual, was father to my great grandfather, Leland, who was father to my grandpa, who is father to my dad, who is father to my brother and I. Given that nice, long counting, that would technically make me a sixth-generation German-American. And that is a heritage I'm glad to be proud of. I haven't uncovered much of my mother's side, as of yet, but hers is a combination of Italian and Irish (given her maiden name of McMahon), namely from the Sicilian region. Mamma mia, my friends!

I like to keep in touch with my cultural heritage whenever I can, which I why I find myself gravitated towards things German or Italian.

When it comes to food; easily both. Spaghetti, pizza, ravioli, tortellini...(crud, my mouth is watering just thinking about it!) Hamburgers...oh, those glorious Hamburgers...frankfurters, German sausage...and maybe some sauerkraut here and there.

Two of my favorite novelists, John Steinbeck and Kurt Vonnegut (whose brilliantly-written biography I'm reading currently), were ethnic Germans who had their roots in the same country, but whose families made great lives here in America. A common thing I've found in their writing, more notably Steinbeck's, is that despite their European origins, they wrote of their love for America and their pride as Americans. My family may have come from Germany and as much as I love German culture, America will always be my first and foremost home, because that's who I am.

Anyway, that's a little bit of info into my little journey. I still keep up on it, here and there, and it's always interesting. What about you, do you have any interesting family history stories? Let me know in the comments.

Thanks for reading!

[UPDATE (5/16/2014)]: When I got back on Ancestry.com and went perusing through some of those leaf hints that they leave on certain relatives, I went back to some that were linked to 3-times-Great-Grandpa John. Even though I still haven't technically paid for full access to all their records as of yet, this little surprising thing popped up.

Although the lead was quite small, I discovered in this "Millennium File Record" hint a Johann Georg Finkbeiner.

So, two thingies here:

1) My anglicized name theory was spot on, like a boss.
2) The irony is delicious, given that in my acting background, I had a lead in my school's production of The Sound of Music; the Captain's first name is, in fact, Georg. Whoa...

ANOTHER THING: I have a few anecdotes on some of my family's military history: my father was an Air Marshal stationed at the NORAD mountain base in Colorado, serving in the Air Force from 1983 to 1987. He told me some wicked cool stories about his time there, from monitoring and tracking Soviet missile signals and intercepting coded messages from the Kremlin, his run-in with the commanding general of the base (whoever was the commanding officer of NORAD for most of the 80s, I forget his name)

On my mother's side, my uncle Thomas "Tommy" McMahon served in the Vietnam War until December of 1969, when he was killed in action. He was 19; the same age I am, as of writing this sentence. It was a harrowing thought, and when seeing his name on the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. during my senior year trip, it was the most sobering and reflective moments of the entire trip. It's like a part of this lost uncle, who died when he was still a kid, has always stuck with me, inside me, for some odd reason.

So far, I have not been able to find any relatives who served in either the Civil War or both World Wars. I'll for sure be digging into that one.

On #CancelColbert

I use Twitter, and I'm not blind to any of the trends that come and go on this site. And as of currently, the Twitterverse is in a war of words concerning the hashtag #CancelColbert, referring to a Twitter campaign by activists wishing to have Comedy Central's staple news satire "The Colbert Report" removed for accusations of racism from its namesake host, Stephen Colbert.

So here's the basic rundown: in the latest episode of the show, Colbert made an attempt to mock Dan Snyder and his handling of the Washington Red Skins racism controversey. Snyder, the owner of the NFL team, has come under pressure from the Native American community to change the name of the team, as the term "redskins" carries racist undertones. This is something I don't disagree with, since you can just glance at the historical record of the 19th-century United States and see all you need to see when it came to relations between the American government/people and the Native Americans. Not a pretty thing.

In an attempt to make up for this heated debacle, Snyder has formed an organization called the Washington Redskins Original Americans Foundation, which, on its site, is said that its mission is to "work as partners to tackle the troubling realities facing so many Tribes across our country." Some might see this as a step in the right direction. For Colbert, not so much. I'm assuming he saw it as a double-edged sword kinda thing, for Snyder to try and save his reputation by raising charity but not changing the name of the team. I think it sounds a little dubious myself.

Anyway, with that full context now in place, Colbert was attempting to satirize Snyder's efforts, but to many, he tripped up big-time. He followed up with this quote from that segment of the show:

"I am willing to show the Asian community I care by introducing the Ching-Chong Ding-Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever."

The exact same quote was tweeted by the official @TheColbertReport account (the actual tweet has since been deleted. This account is managed by the Comedy Central network; Colbert's personal Twitter handle is @StephenAtHome, and even he expressed shock at the former's using the quote). Many red flags were raised, and outspoken outrage was poured.

Suey Park, a writer and activist, took to Twitter with her first use of the now-widespread hashtag, calling shame to the way "comedians hide behind satire as an excuse to joke about things that aren't funny." Okay, agreed. Humor has its limits, and there's a fine line between jokes and insults that has been crossed many times, some with disastrous results.

But what's been used as collateral damage in her argument? White people.

To quote her first Twitter post directly: "#CancelColbert because white liberals are just as complicit in making Asian Americans into punchlines and we aren't amused."

Oh, it's the rhetoric that truly makes me disappointed. The icing on the cake was her statements during her HuffPost Live interview with host Josh Zepps:

"White men definitely feel like they’re entitled to talk over me. They definitely feel like they’re entitled to minimalize my experiences, and they definitely feel like they are somehow exempt and so logical compared to women, who are painted as emotional, right?" I believe she also went on to say that white men can't have valid opinions.

Here's where I draw the line. Those statements are nothing short of a personal attack and a grossly-exaggerated generalization placed on those who don't deserve it. I will agree to the fact that racism has been perpetuated by some white people. Just look at the 1960s, it's a veritable encyclopedia on civil rights struggles. Racism, and hate, in general, has been done by everyone, not just white people, but they seem to be the perfect scapegoat. But as times change and generations change, people change. Sure, there are still racists, and there will always still be racists. Hate will never be fully eradicated, and that's a sad truth. But there are more and more people who are on the side of justice and equality and will work to suppress the hate and promote peace in the world. And some of them are white; are you calling them racist as well?

I'm a white man. I don't talk over people. I share my thoughts but I also listen to the thoughts of others. I respect authority and those who are older than I am, when they deserve my respect. In some fields of study I know more than others, but there are many other things people are more experts at than I am. So, I wouldn't presumptuously call myself "so logical". I respect women and their accomplishments. So, no, her statements on HuffPost Live don't meet her generalizations of all "white men".

I've said it before and I'll say it again: not all white people are racists. Just like all police officers are not bad (that's another one going around) or all rich people are not corrupt and arrogant, these types of broad statements have no credence. It's sounds like nothing more than bombastic rhetoric to me.

I found this interesting quote on Facebook from Tae Yang Kwak, associate professor of history at Ramapo College of New Jersey:

"Is there such a thing as "white privilege?" Absolutely, and it is pervasive. Is there such a things as "white, male privilege?" Absolutely, and it is pervasive. Is every white man an idiot, incapable of valid reflection, analysis, or opinion? No. C'mon! Some of my best friends are white! (They are, but that was a joke.)"

I agree with Ms. Park's right to free speech; as an American, she is free to make her points and her opinions, and no one should minimize her importance and the importance of what she may say. But don't make loaded statements such as the ones she's been making, or be prepared to back those statements up. I will sit here any day and personally defend my honesty and my good character against any accusations I see made against me, perceived or direct. By lumping white people into her category of racist and indifferent, I suddenly become involved. And I will gladly explain myself.

I'm not a perfect person. I mess up from time to time, I make mistakes, I say things without thinking. I've been angry, I've been hypocritical and I've been wrong and I've hurt people close to me. But I own up to what I did, I say I'm sorry, I move on and I learn from my past. But that makes me human; just as human as Ms. Park and Mr. Colbert, and everyone else on planet Earth. But never have I held any racist feelings in my heart and I have never hated anyone because of the color of their skin. As Americans, and as citizens of the world in general, I believe everyone has the right and the chance at life, liberty, freedom and the pursuit of happiness. You, me, the neighbors, the guy down the block, the businessman, that guy at the bus stop, people in Japan, China, Germany, Spain, Italy, Britain, America, everyone in the world...we all should have the chance to be who we want to be.

I'm a Christian, and I live by the Bible. Jesus commands to show love and do good, even to your enemies, and to be an example for Christ in the world. But I know I will continually trip and stumble, because even though I have salvation, I am still a sinner. But I try my absolute best in my life and go out of my way to be kind to others, and that's all I can offer.  And I've found some who don't like me, for good reason or not, but that's something I have to live with, because not everyone is gonna like who I am.

And I'm sure that there are many, many more here like me, with white skin, great personalities, honest ethics and strong morals that stand for justice and equality for everyone on this planet; the oppressed, the free, and everyone inbetween and outside. These are the type of people that don't deserve the label that Ms. Park has put on them. These are not people who are racists.

The original @ColbertReport tweet was really mishandled, and I don't think it should've been tweeted in the first place, at least not without proper and clear context. But making statements like the ones the Twitter activists were making in the name of advancing social equality using white people as collateral? That's hypocritical and makes them sound just as guilty as the people they are accusing of being hateful.

"Hi, I'm Bill.": On the Set of a Professional Indie Film

Being a film student in my position, the opportunity to work on any movie that comes to town is like finding the lost mother lode underneath your backyard. Do you mine it or do you foolishly sell it off and cheat yourself out of a fortune? I'm sure you get where I'm headed with this.

One of my instructors at MPI passed a notice onto our Facebook group page that extra intern help was needed on the set of an independent feature being shot in the Troy/Detroit area. Since the film industry is starting to slowly bloom in Michigan, I was riding high on a wave of opportunities coming into the state. Also, this would've given me another chance to re-live the experience of being on an active film set, like I was a couple years ago...but that story's for another day.

The aforementioned film is called Dial-a-Prayer, brilliantly directed by Maggie Kiley and it stars the great William H. Macy and the very talented Brittany Snow, whom you've seen in Pitch Perfect.

I thought to myself: "Hey, an internship! It's not paid, but what the hell? The experience is all worth it." I'll be getting paid for this one day, and besides, everyone needs to start off at the bottom in this business. Hang up your pride, friends.

So on Saturday, March 8th, I headed over the production office/set, not knowing what I was getting into. I was excited, but nervous. I knew how strictly regimental these film sets operate, and I was determined not to screw anything up and have myself booted to the street. However, my apprehensions were lowered when I met with the set designer named Kim. She was very nice and very open about all that was going on. She gave me the rundown of the story (which I won't reveal in detail because the film hasn't been released) and filled me in on all the last-minute things that needed to be finished before shooting commenced the following Monday. Determined, I wanted to get to work.

That day was spent creating props and set decorations that would adorn the walls and office spaces of the shooting location. I also had some MPI friends come help out as well, so that was an added bonus. While this part of the production wasn't really my forte, I wasn't complaining. It was all very interesting, because as an aspiring director, it's important to understand how all the departments of a film production work, since I would basically be the boss. Like I said, the experience was all worth it.

But I was still eager to maybe see some shooting going on. So a few days later, I went back to the set on the 13th. This time, there was definitely more action.

They had to change the overall look of the set: the movie takes place over the course of a year or so, and as you know, seasons come and pass. It starts out around Thanksgiving, segues into Christmas, and so on and so forth. Like any office, they have decorations for the holidays. So, I was put on decoration duty with a friend from school. The cubicle area we were in was right across from where they were filming one of the scenes that day, so we got a pretty good look at the set and the acting. I couldn't have been more lucky to see this.

After a few hours or so, the cast and crew broke for lunch. I was shocked when everyone came in the room; this wasn't as big of a crew as I once thought. As a rough estimate off the top of my head, there were probably about a hundred people there, in total.

As I got out of the line, I noticed an empty seat at the table where the cast were. Who was sitting at a forty-five degree angle from the seat? Mr. Macy.

I could not have gotten to that seat faster.

I came upon the group as he was in the middle of telling stories about his experiences filming movies. This time around, he was talking about shooting the 1997 Mark Wahlberg vehicle Boogie Nights, in which Mr. Macy co-starred.

If you haven't heard of it, simply this: Wahlberg's an underground porn star in the late 70s. Enough said.

As he was going along with his stories, I had a small side conversation with a woman who was one of the supporting cast. I asked her what role she played; she filled me in. She asked what I was doing there, was I just visiting or was I part of the crew? I let her know my film school told me about the place and I came down to see what I could do.

As I said the words "film school", all eyes at that section of the table turned to me tentatively. I was met with "Oh, really?" "Wow!" "What school is this?"

This will be a moment that will forever live with me, in both glory and irony.

Mr. Macy leans over the table.

"You go to film school, huh?"

With a smile, he reaches his hand out towards me.

"Hi, I'm Bill."

(The angels sang choruses amongst the clouds. As I shook his hand, a heavenly beam of light radiated down and illuminated the spot where we were. Just kidding, none of this happened.)

I was so stunned, in my starstruck haze I didn't even think to introduce myself and tell him my name. I kick myself for that.

But we talked for a few more minutes, he asked me what I was going into. When I told him directing and writing, he quipped about giving me a call when I needed him for a role.

I just might take you up on that offer, Bill...

But long story short, after that day I was stuck back behind-the-scenes doing the grunt work. I never really got to sit down and talk with him again; the last lunch I was at, he was studying his lines. And we all know it's a grave sin to throw an actor out of their mojo. Hopefully, I'll run into Mr. Macy in Hollywood someday, and I'll be struck dumb if he actually remembers who I am when that happens.

So, that's my little story. If there's any sort of moral to it, it's this: when opportunities are presented to you, take them. Go for it, go all out and do everything you can, no matter how big or how small your part in it may be. You just might learn some valuable lessons and make some valuable memories.

UPDATE [9/21/2014]: The Hollywood Reporter had an article on the story I came across recently, published before filming began.

"Ban Bossy"? Let's Just Throw Out the Whole Dictionary, While We're At It...

In writing this blog, it's become amusing to me to point out the stupid that goes on in everyday life. And sometimes, it just spreads like an uncontained epidemic. Personally, I'm not the type to judge anybody for how they act or what they believe; if that's what you wanna do, go for it. But if you make a stupid point, like the one I'm about to introduce, in the public eye and the public consciousness, how can I not help but question the intelligence of those involved?

To keep it short, I stumbled across this article a friend of mine shared on Facebook and I just couldn't help not addressing this.

Sheryl Sandberg, the COO of the aforementioned Facebook, has launched a campaign aimed at getting women, name young and impressionable girls, to have more confidence in themselves and their abilities. At first glance you'd be like, "Okay, great. Sounds cool."

But how, pray tell, do they go about it? Well, if you check out this promo video for the campaign, which features and is endorsed by luminaries such as Beyoncé, Jennifer Garner, Jane Lynch and former Secretary of State for the Bush administration Condi Rice, they basically try to get girls to shed the label of being called "bossy" if they aspire to be leaders.

As quoted from the video, "by middle school, girls are less interested in leadership than boys, and that's because they worry about being called 'bossy'." It goes on to say, "We need to tell them, 'it's okay to be ambitious. We need to help them lean in!'"

The promo finishes by proposing the idea to (figuratively or literally, it's never really specified) "just ban the word 'bossy'." I assure you, Daniel Webster would be doing somersaults in his grave if that was actually put into motion.

Now, if they were referring to it in the figurative sense (which still is unclear), sure, I guess that works. As they say, words matter, and no one likes to be labeled with hurtful terms. But is being called "bossy" the end of the world? That label should be on the bottom of everyone's "hurtful names called at me" list. I'm sure people in executive positions have been called worse names than that, and depending on the thickness of that person's skin, they couldn't care less about the opinions of disgruntled others. Oh, you think I'm bossy. Well, sorry about that, but screw you. I'm gonna do my own thing, and if that makes you upset, I left you a pack of tissues so you can cry me a river.

That's one part of finding confidence, is letting the hateful words slide off your shoulder and not let it deter you from following what you want to do. But, bossy? I'm sorry, but it's true: only sissies fret about being called that.

This seems to become fodder for a few network commentators, including Glenn Beck (who I rarely follow, but this is a small exception in this case) and fellow TheBlaze host Dana Loesch (there's a woman who finds this whole thing ridiculous?! Say it isn't so!), who said her piece in a way so brilliant that even I couldn't have thought of phrasing it like that.

And another thing, since when was promoting confidence in fellow human beings only limited to women? I know for a fact that there are some guys who need an upgrade in the confidence department. My point is this: encouraging others to follow their dreams is a universal thing, between both genders of man and woman. Everyone needs encouragement, everyone needs to be helped along the way. That just gets on my nerves when things are so selective like this whole campaign.

Now don't misconstrue me, I'm all for encouraging kids of all ages and all genders to follow what they believe in and become whatever they wish to be. That is the cornerstone of the human experience, to have the freedom to make something of yourself. But does it have to be done so condescendingly?  Do I hear hypocrisy blowing in the wind?

And thus ends my musings for the day. Comment if you have anything to contribute.