The Top 12 List of Things That Are Annoying About Lists

12. Lists that count down from the highest number first as if it were building a sense of overwhelming climactic tension that will compel the reader to finish the stupid list.

11. Lists whose itemization suspiciously seems to purposefully avoid nice round numbers, like 10, or superstitiously avoid numbers like 13.

10. Lists that contain absolutely no relevant information so as to act as a filler in order to meet their designated quota of items.

9. Lists that poke fun at their own topic, as though obsequiously attempting to appease those readers most likely to be unimpressed with the list generator’s wit.

8. Lists that are too snooty, snobby or goody-goody to even come close to mentioning the word "scrotum" (as though no matter now refined, no one furtively grins at the mere mention of the word "scrotum").

7. Lists that are associated with other lists and cannot act as a stand-alone list.

6. Lists that make a blatant error in judgment such that, oh, let’s just say… item #5 should clearly be in the place of item #6 and vice versa.

5. Lists that place an obviously inferior rank to a higher ranking item like, oh, let’s just say… item #5 should be in place of item #6 and vice versa.

4. Any item in the number 4 slot, because 4th place doesn’t exist anywhere in the world – tournaments, sports, game shows or Olympic events.

"Hey dude, I came in fourth!"

"Nice job, now go make the fries."

3. One word items, as though brevity really is the soul of wit.

2. Scrotum

1. Lists that pompously assert arrogant authority on a topic most people could care less about.

Obama Election

I’m sure there were many black voters who voted for Obama simply because of the color of his skin. I’m equally certain there were just as many, if not more, white voters who voted against him for the same reason. But I am confident that, in the United States of America, you do not win or lose an election by a landslide on that premise. You win it by uniting people in your favor, and you do that by the merit of your character and the integrity of your beliefs. Barack Obama is not our President-Elect because he is black, he is our 44th President because he was the most capable American for the job.

Yet we cannot ignore the profundity and implications in having the first black President. While his platform is about change we need in our social, political, financial and foreign policies, was it not also about a personal internal change for each of us? While it is obvious these external changes and the subsequent impact will need time to become evident, did you not feel a sudden transformation within? Or am I the only one?

It may seem like hindsight bias, but I had not doubt Obama would be President, if only because of the disaster of the Bush administration. Yet, there is no possible way I could have foreseen or predicted the effect his election would have on me as an American. Because up until the television screen flashed his confident and charismatic picture proclaiming him President-elect, I saw him as a black candidate. And I am not exaggerating when I say that immediately after the announcement, that modifier dissolved and he was simply, our President.

There will be those who will claim him as their personal President, because he is black. He will be disowned by some Americans because he is black. But just as in the days past of professional sports, those attitudes and that intolerance will become a thing of the past.

His effectiveness as Commander-In Chief has yet to be proven. He has inherited a mess and because of the color of his skin, he may be scrutinized a bit more sharply and criticized a bit more heavily. But I think it is because of the color of his skin and the unjust but real prejudices it carries, he will strive that much harder and work that much more diligently. Not to prove anyone wrong, but to win over those who hesitated for just a brief second at the polls, and battled between what is best for our country and present-but-eroding prejudices. That’s just the kind of American Obama impresses me as.

I would not be so naïve to say that Obama’s presidency will create a racial utopia in this country, but I do believe this election illustrates a move toward that harmony. And did we not get a glimpse of that harmony as Obama supporters rallied and celebrated on the evening of November 4, 2008? The diversity of age, skin tone and gender was beautiful and provided amazing contrast to the relatively bland uniformity of the defeated party.

This accomplishment does not belong solely to Barack Obama, it belongs to we, the people, white and black, male and female, young and old. It is the highest restitution that can be paid to those who endured years of injustice, inequality and oppression. It is also redemption and release to those who bore the burden of a shameful and ugly past. It is the final abdication hypocrisy in our constitution. And, forgive me if I was idealistic, but this new-founded unity gives me hope for the world. For it a country as vast, populated and diverse as ours, the world’s leading superpower can overcome the barriers and conflicts of its past, does it not also lend credibility to leading the rest of the world in that same peace?

Let those who stood together and celebrated on Election Day not forget that this is more a victory for the human race than it is for the presidential race. Mr. Obama has asked for our help and he wasn’t just blowing smoke. We who supported him have anted up, but now it’s time to play our hands…for even as you read this, forces are conspiring against the unity achieved that historic evening. It may come in the cowardly form of a would-be assassin, but I doubt it. President-elect Obama’s number one enemy is amongst his proponents – indifference, apathy and a feeling we’ve arrive when we’ve only just taken the first step.

No matter what kind of president Barack Obama will reveal himself to be bears no relevance to what we revealed ourselves to be as Americans. In reflection, Barack Obama’s election is not so much about who we voted into the oval office, but what we’ve ousted from ourselves – adolescent thinking, primitive ignorance and old-world prejudice.

House of Cards

If there was ever a single memory that could exemplify my mother's cruelty and hatred toward men, it would be when my step-father Dennis, gave her a card. Valentine's Day, birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas or anniversary – it didn't matter what the occasion…I don't think her comments could have been any more hurtful.

Most women would be happy just to have their husbands remember any such occasion, ecstatic at their spouse's thoughtfulness. Most men don't really know why women enjoy receiving cards, but all men know they're supposed to buy them. I believe there are only three basic card-choosing personalities. There are those that pick cards with scrutiny, indifference or brazen confidence. All three surround a basic core of knowledge that they'll never find the perfect card.

The Scrutinizer picks one after sorting through every single "For Wife" card in at least three different stores for whatever the occasion might be. For them, an exhaustive search, hopelessly fruitless as it may be, is merely a ritual that must be performed in order to justify their inevitable failure. They can at least rest easy knowing they tried their hardest and, with any luck, at least come close. These men also sincerely believe it's the thought that counts.

The men who choose a card with indifference may or may not believe the thought counts, but that's not why they're indifferent. These men are also likely to be lottery and/or roulette junkies, as they undoubtedly choose cards with the attitude that no one knows a woman better than another woman. In their case, that woman they trust so heavily on is Lady Luck. Choosing a card haphazardly is part blind chance and part caution. These men know, or learned the hard way, to at least open the cad and give it a cursory scan. They're not scanning the prose for perfection, they're merely making sure they do not inadvertently select an inappropriate or offensive card. They hone in on words like "fat" and "old" like a falcon circling the grass below for a scurrying rodent. And it doesn't matter what the context is those words are used in, or if they are part of a much larger word. Better to be safe than sorry, these men take no unnecessary risks. They will throw out cards that say "I want to grow OLD with you" and "I'm InFATuated with you." But what's truly at the heart of the indifferent card-selector is a feeling that he will have a lifetime with this woman and, with any luck, he'll get one right eventually.

The brazenly confident man places all his hopes in his macho façade, of which he is completely aware. He doesn't necessarily have to be a biker or a bodybuilder. In fact, it's usually the love nerds that exhibit this characteristic. .They make claims like, "I know exactly what to get my wife!" while their peers look on with that knowing disbelief coupled with admiration. These men take notes, literal or mental, on the reaction they received from the previous occasions where cards were presented. Some consult horoscopes, other derive mathematical formulas, but the most clever pull the old "I'll buy more than one" trick, though only the very wise know not to give all of them at the same time (multiple cards in one shot paint a very thoughtless picture). These masters know to spread it out so she doesn't get three cards – she gets one card now, one card later and another cleverly hidden (but not too cleverly) in a place she's certain to find it unexpectedly. But not matter how many cards are purchased or how these confident men came to their decision, they have absolute faith they're getting closer.

No matter what category of card man they are, they all know one thing – women love to get cards. It's the neutrino of love, hard to explain in layman's terms, so let's just accept it and move on. But all they're really concerned about is making sure the woman they love gets one.

I'll never know what kind of card man my step-father was, they divorced immediately after I graduated from boot camp. We never were close anyways and my insights in to the male psyche and greeting cards are only recently developed. But on the occasion in question, imagine the most emotionally bland card on the most important day of your life – you still get a card and , unless it is a reused one from last year, I don't think it would warrant chalking the entire day up as a loss.

My mother's reaction was not over the card itself, it is what Dennis added to it…

"I love you all ways."

His fault was in his distracted biological spell checker, missing "all ways" where it was clear he meant "always." Correct in spelling but not in usage. No matter, all I remember is my mother taking the time to appreciate his stupidity, making fun of him. Oh, it wasn't in a playful way, she clearly meant to humiliate him, to ridicule him, and in front of me and his own two children. And I saw the look on his face and the hurt in his eyes. It gets worse.

In an effort to extract himself from her ungrateful claws and redeem the card, he resorted to feigning that it was intentional, that he really loved her in "all ways" possible, which subsequently brought my mother's vicious laugh of incredulity to a higher pitch. I'm sure Dennis felt like an illiterate buffoon and an impotent romantic.

I don't know what lies behind my mother's hatred for men. But I'm certain I know why, after getting married, I loathed the thought of buying cards for my wife and, incidentally, never picked up birthday or holiday cards for my mother. It got to the point where my (ex) wife ended up shopping for her cards on my behalf. I can't even recall signing them.

My mother's birthday is coming up. I can't remember the exact date, I just know it's somewhere close to my son's. I bought her a card from the prison commissary, which is nice because its selection is entirely in the hands of the vendor, abdicating any responsibility on my part. I will send it a few days before the day I suspect is her birthday. She'll get it on or about the target date and that will suffice. I'll limit my words to a select few – the less the better. I will put due diligence in my penmanship (I'll share another memory sometime about my schoolwork when I was in the 2nd grade).

I'll go over the spelling twice.

It's a card from her incarcerated son.

She'll be happy.

It's the thought that counts.

Arbeit Macht Frei

It’s daylight, but you dare not go outside for fear you’ll be recognized. Besides, you don’t have written permission to travel. State-sponsored hatred inflated by public ignorance has made it dangerous for you to be you. Political propaganda and pop culture has twisted lies and misinformation into a reasonable facsimile of the truth. It is much better to hide and obey, secretly longing to escape to a place where you might be tolerated. But there is no such place, except the blurry details of lands across the seas that are impossible to get to. The other alternative is to assume another identity and try to pass yourself off as one of them.

It wasn’t all that long ago when the first legislation made it a crime for you to not publicly declare yourself. Next came the ordinances that restricted where you could live, tightening the noose until it was practically illegal for you to live anywhere. There are officers in charge of you and every detail of your life; overseers given unlimited power to send you away for the slightest infractions. The state-induced behavior modification programs were cleverly supported as "therapy." To avoid the prison camps, you must admit that your very existence is in and of itself a crime in order to be eligible for their therapy. Then, you had to confess that there was no hope for you – that you are every bit the detestable, loathsome boogeyman society knows you to be. They use these confessions to reinforce current laws and bolster support for more stringent controls. But as long as you work hard and honestly in therapy, you’ll remain "free." Polygraphs, proven unreliable for the desirable citizens, are used periodically.

When the news shows yet another one of you who has gone astray, your heart sinks because the rise in hatred can be felt like the August heat. You will be sneered at, spit at, threatened or beaten and it’s best to lay low. Talk of legalizing your execution is heard in the whispers of the damned and party crescendos. Sometimes, you wish that were so. The despair can get to the point where you are constantly wishing they’d just take you away and get it over with. On the days you manage to muster the resolve to persevere, you swear that just one more straw and you will run – which is exactly what they want.

"A free society is a place where it’s safe to be unpopular."

… Adlai Stevenson

That isn’t WWII era Germany or an Orwellian Neo-Nazi future. That isn’t fiction or a rise in anti-Semitic sentiment.

This is the reality of sex-offender legislation. Before you discount these parallels as the stark ravings of a lunatic sex-offender, consider where you stand on the issue of freedom and security, with freedom and human rights being interchangeable. If you are a true proponent of freedom, then it should not matter to you whose freedoms or unalienable rights are being infringed upon. Anything else is elitist. If you crave security, you probably are most apt to fear first and understand later. You are therefore most likely to be a constituent of politicos who are more concerned with capitalizing on those fears, rather than enlightening the public.

"Those who would sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither"

…Benjamin Franklin

I’m sure I will catch a lot of flack comparing sex offenders and the Jews who suffered under the Nazi regime. Except I’m not comparing the two groups; I’m comparing the treatment of them. It is inconsequential that the Jews did nothing to warrant such a vicious and malicious campaign. The common element is that Jews and sex offenders are equally offensive to the societies that harbor hate against them. To those Germans, being Jewish was offensive. It did not matter if those Germans were ignorant, ruminating in the fear and humiliation of a defeated society to the point where any charismatic demagogue could fan the flames of empowering anger. Germany was a proud and robust nation and it was given a channel to direct those feelings of fear and hopelessness. This is the objectification of hatred and, sadly, it offers a false sense of safety and security to those in the grips of terror.

"How fortunate for leaders that men do not think."

…Adolph Hitler

The least desirable of a society’s population tends to be the focus of that hatred. In America, the least of you is the criminal. Of that group, the sex offender beats all, hands down. Even amongst other inmates and criminals, the hierarchy of rationalization is almost comical. I am slightly amused by someone else using my past as an excuse to be intolerably cruel. That very cruelty is indicative of society and makes a clear distinction between the conditions in which a prisoner lives and the treatment he or she receives.

"One of the tests of the civilization of people is the treatment of its criminals."

…Rutherford B. Hayes

I do not contend that my behavior is excusable or did not warrant appropriate corrective action. And while it can be argued whether or not prison is an effective measure against crime or cruel and unusual punishment, that is a separate issue.

The point is that sex offender legislation says more about the society that condones it than the group it is enacted against.

"As you have done unto the least of these you have done unto me "

…Jesus Christ

The Idolatry of Christ

I get confused looks from people who ask me, "Are you saved?" It’s not because I’ve responded with telling them where they can go (I used to). On the contrary, I earnestly implore clarity of their questions with, "What does that mean? What does it mean to be saved? "That’s not rhetorical, an answer is definitely expected. Invariably the respondents, unwary of the amount of discomfort I’m about to cause them, shoot out the standard-issue retort, "why, it means you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and personal savior (AJCALAPS)," as though they were explaining that 2+2=4. "Ok," I continue softly and kindly, "But what does that mean?" Suddenly, the discomfort I mentioned earlier begins to set in. This is the onset of don’t question the fragile core of my faith phobia. I give them a few seconds to consult the how To Win An Argument With a Pagan chapter of their fundamental Christian playbook to find the appropriate response. The operative word here is appropriate because to a fundamentalist, there can be no correct answer. By correct of course, I mean that which reflects some universal truth. The conversation continues almost identical to the previous innumerous soul savers I’ve encountered and typically fulminates into "If you don’t worship Christ, you won’t go to heaven."

"Aaah!" I reply, "so you’re an Idolator?" As though I have just proved that 2+2 sometimes equals 5.

At this point they’re pretty steamed and through gritted teeth proclaim that they will pray for me. Somehow, I get the feeling that what they’re praying for is me being smitten by the wrath of G-d, or their own, whichever comes first.

For many Christians, the idea of Idolizing Christ is completely absurd from many angles. One could argue that Christianity has the market cornered on deciding what is and what isn’t idolatry, as any worship of anything non-triune is considered such. In other words, If the Judeo-Christian god warned against idol worship, and Christ is the succession of that G-d, how can worshipping Christ be idolatry? It would be best to first decide and define what idolatry really is. When I think of idolatry, I think of the Jews who, shortly after being delivered from Egypt, while Moses was being given the Ten Commandments, became so flustered, bored or just plain scared, that they lost faith in the G-d of Abraham and created the golden calf. They danced and sang and worshipped with bodily gyrations and genuflections. Of course, Moses got his sac in a twist over this. But what was he really pissed about? Was it that they were worshipping something else? Something other than the G-d that just delivered them from 400 years of slavery? Or was it that he saw they never truly had any faith in G-d at all? What is a false G-d? Is it not a G-d that we imagine is external to us? Separate? And therefore, isn’t idolatry the external worship of any Idol, be they true or false? We can go even further by asking ourselves "what does it mean to worship?"

I don’t want to contest whose G-d is the true G-d. I think that is up to each of us individually. Your G-d is true if the instructions on how to apply your theology in real life results in contentment. I walked away from Christianity 23 years ago, mainly because of the people important to me were idolizers. I was being told one thing and being shown another. And yet, it was stressed how important it was to attend mass. It was the same thing – get up early once a week, stand, sing, kneel, pray, rise, listen, repeat – go downstairs and have cake and coffee, listen to the adults engage in meaningless banter, leave, listen to adults bad-mouth the people we just worshipped with! My point is, when our worship doesn’t reach the core of our being, when it becomes rote and mechanical and never internalized, that’s when it truly doesn’t make a shit bit of difference who you’re bowing down to.

Christianity didn’t work for me then. So I chose a path that felt right at the time, or at least had more appeal; Buddhism. I toyed with it more than anything, I don’t think I was mature enough to understand the concepts, especially coming from a religious practice that was spiritually bankrupt. Now, from my perspective, I can’t necessarily call Buddhism a religion…it’s more a road map to existence. What appealed to me was the internal reflection that was a major cornerstone of its practice. Oddly enough, it would be Buddhism and its appreciation for this internalization that brought me back to investigating the truths expressed in Christ’s teachings. Now when I read passages in the new testament, particularly the Gospels, I feel something internal. It wasn’t the holy spirit as far as I know, and it wasn’t AJCALAPS, it was a kinship with universal, spiritual truth.

By many standards, my refusal to externally worship Christ or to AJCALAPS marks me as unchristian, a pagan, a heathen. Yet when I consider the basic qualities and attributes of Jesus Christ – humility, compassion, self-reflection, self-correction and passivity, I see those parts of me that are Christian. My girlfriend is Jewish. She is the most kind, compassionate, understanding, surprisingly humble for being as beautiful as she is, and very passive human being I know. She smiles and is thoughtful to a fault. In other words, she is a Jewish woman that exemplifies Christian attributes. What more could anyone want? Is not the point of Christ’s teachings to learn to love, be more loving, forgive and be more forgiving, to do for the least of us that which we would do for Him? And with every kindness she extends, I see a piece of the world that is ugly being made smooth and beautiful. But for Christian idolators, this isn’t enough; one must AJCALAPS in order to be found acceptable to their G-d. In other words, their faith is so weak that they need others to stand next to them, shoulder to shoulder, in order to justify what they’ve accepted as the truth. Because they lack an internal connection to G-d, they need to associate with others who also have no internal connection.

When I consider the idolatry of Christ, I think of just that, people holding hands, hording together worshipping an external representation of something they can’t understand nor have the ability to connect with. To them, his status of G-d, Messiah, personal Savior, is more important than h is purpose or the

The Tao of Beavis & Butthead

Uh-huh-huh-huh-huh. It's been a long time since we've heard that soft, distinguished, staccato chuckle closely associated with Generation X's intellectual disfigurement. For many, it hasn't been long enough, marking it down as conclusive evidence that civilization came to a global end. For die hard disciples, it's been far too great a gap since we've been graced by the wisdom of Beavis and Butthead. No matter what side of the pro-con line we may place ourselves, it's quite possible they are a symbol of cultural bankruptcy and the only significant philosophers of the modern age.

I have always been a fan… and until my girlfriend's disbelief that she could date someone who reads Shakespeare and "watches those two idiots" it prompted me to explain the fascination. I never truly understood why. It was much more than the comical bond of two social misfits, the slapstick humor only cartoons can depict and the adolescent locker room jocosity that drove me to worship. There was something much, much deeper, and I think I've figured it out.

The Tao of Beavis and Butthead lies in simplicity itself, however crude or crassly they express it. And it's not because they're simple minded. Sure, their pursuits are puerile, but the architecture of their philosophy behind those pursuits is profound. Their wit might be dull, but their precision, intentional or not, is as sharp as a samurai sword.

Nothing exemplifies this simplicity more than the dharma of what's cool and what sucks, the yin-yang, black and white classification of individual experience. Yet, this same hard-edged view has flexibility in moment-to-moment discernment. Thus, what was cool five minutes ago might now suck. There is judgment, but never pre-judgment, anticipation, but never hope or fear. This is what most Eastern philosophies call,"living in the now."

Small examples of this can be found in their television series. The rapid, convulsive laughter of "huh-huh-huh-huh" and "hehehehehe" are spewed forth as Beavis and Butthead writhe in physical pain. It's not that they're enjoying being hurt, they're merely appreciating the humor in the moment. There is also the principle of non-attachment illustrated in watching Butthead choking on a chicken nugget and, with ever depleting air, manages to squeak out, "this sucks!" while calming grabbing the remote to watch music videos.

The quintessential Tao of Beavis and Butthead is best demonstrated in the movie, Beavis and Butthead Do America. In this epic parable, we see the boys moved to action when their television is stolen and are swept up into a world they never knew existed, or cared to. They are mistaken for hit men and hired by a shady character to "do his wife" AND get paid for it. With this opportunity to "score" and earn money to buy a new TV, they are ushered around the United States, which does not impress them in the slightest. Despite their lack of culture, they never lose sight of what's important to them, something few can claim.

At one point in the saga, as they are lost and, dying of thirst in the desert, Butthead proclaims, "The sun sucks!" as matter-of-factly as Stephen Hawking explaining the nature of space and time. And he's right, in that instance, the sun indeed sucks. Yet, if they were watching a psychedelic rendition of the sun in a Jimi Hendrix video, it would undoubtedly be labeled as "cool." For them, the sun is the sun — it never changes, they merely acknowledge their state of being in relationship to it and move on. In either instance, it's that relationship that's changed.

Also, in the same dire straits in which Beavis and Butthead are crawling on their bellies, parched to the cellular level and facing death, Butthead takes time to appreciate and magnanimously point out to Beavis the hilarity of two vultures "doing it" while waiting for them to die. This unmoving adherence to their Tao, even on the verge of a horrible demise is what makes them so profound. They may be obnoxious in finding lightheartedness through vulgarity, but they never take themselves or their lives seriously.

Throughout their ordeal, which includes being hunted as terrorists by the ATF, making it all the way to the White House and meeting President Clinton, they remain unchanged by their external experiences. Despite never having scored and not getting paid for it, thus unable to purchase a new TV, their outlook on life remains confident in the balance of Good and Suck.

Alas, our heroes find their stolen TV abandoned at the side of the road, being too worthless to pawn. They simply pick it up and take it home…no complaining, no lamenting, not even losing themselves in over-excited joy. They maintain a steadiness most people will never know.

In my own pursuit of truth and the root of happiness, I am beginning to find wisdom in the most unlikely of places, whether intentional or not. Some things are appealing to us and we never know why, not consciously anyway. It is independent of whether or not we're actively attempting to discern it. Perhaps there is something innate in us that recognizes universal spiritual truths, a primordial instinct to seek out reminders of that truth so we can purify our minds and lighten our intellectual and emotional loads.

Uh-huh-huh-huh-huh, I said, "Load!"