So apparently My sexual escapades are not fitting for blog entries. Now, any sensible person will tell you that your choice of life partner has more effect on your financial well being than any other BUT since certain of those among us who are celibant against their will are hating…let’s try a new topic, the art of casual conversation.

When I ask you, peon in Debtor’s Prison, how your day was, how you are doing, etc, the correct answer is “fine.” I don’t care if you just got your arm amputated and your puppy died in a vain attempt to save your mother from a burning building.

Next if I ask you a question you should immediately identify how I am trying to seguay into a conversation about myself. Obviously I don’t care what you think. If you just stare blankly I will eventually launch into a monologue that will amount to talking to myself without the stigma BUT you can create the illusion of dialogue with phrases like “I don’t know what do you think?” I could ask for your frikkin name and that is still the best response you can give.

Next if I ask “Are you around at [such and such time]” the correct response is no response simply wait for me to tell you where to be at that time. Of course you are around, you’re unemployed or underemployed. You have no money therefore no worth therefore no life. But for the pathetic sound of your voice a thank you might be in order.

The point is you are a non-entity. That’s why people talk over you, cut you off or treat your latest contribution to a conversation as if it never happened. The sooner you learn this and start playing by the rules the sooner your life will start to make sense albeit in a tragic sort of way. But buying into the rules has it’s advantages. It’s like hazing. Play by the rules, believe in the rules, work to get to the other side of the coin.

I am just beginning to come out of the acute depression of getting my interview cancelled for my dream job.  The sad thing was it wasn’t even so much the prospect of finally getting a job that enticed me, it was the opportunity for the dignity of putting on a suit and speaking with another professional in a competent matter about an area of law I happen to specialize in. I was talking to Triforce about it and he likened it to enjoying a date regardless of whether was going to be sex. He then laughed in my face.

The worst thing wasn’t missing the interview or the job that went along with it. It was the timing. When you’re unemployed and seasons are generally meaningless all calendar events sneak up on you. But it has recently come to my attention that Memorial Day is next weekend. The working world slows down and a glut of interns hit the market…permanent hiring is put on hold until after Labor Day. It currently is the 5th month of the year. Labor Day occurs in the 9th. So sad.

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I tried not to write about it.  I didn’t want to be just another liberal blogger uninentionally calling attention to the “birther” movement and thereby adding legitimacy to it in the subconscious minds of many Americans who vote.  When the White House went above and beyond any legal requirement of any American citizen to do anything (not to mention presidential candidate, not to mention sitting president) and released his long-form birth certificate I patted myself on the back for staying out at least one pointless debate.  And now they want his college records.  And of course the birthers are not satisfied with the long-form birth certificate.

So let’s go over what we know.  Birthers are racist, and not the pseudo-intellectual “there exist some gifted negroes but as a race they are intellectually inferior” but the “there are just some things nobody with mongrel blood should ever, ever do and being president is damn sure one of them.” All Republicans, racist or not, know that birthers are racist and deliberately pander to this group for political points by pretending that the birthers really care where Obama was born not as much what he looks like and who he was born to.  Polls indicate that over half of people who identify themselves as Republicans don’t believe Obama is American or aren’t sure.  Believe it or not, I can live with that.  Or rather, I have to – I’m black in America.

But here’s what makes me angry.  It’s the fact that so many people, with nothing to gain to from this slander and libel against the President, don’t get angry and don’t stand up to make any sort of change.  Case in point: If you haven’t struck up a conversation with an acquaintance or stranger about how absurd this birther thing is, then guess what? Black or white, you’ve failed the racism/self-hatred test. 

Ok, let’s back up.  Raise your hand if you’ve overheard a birther talking on the bus or in a bar sounding all authorative like he’s king shit of fuck mountain?  Yeah all right, all of you.  Now, raise your hand if you’ve EVER heard someone DENOUNCING birtherism loudly and in the same manner? Now put your hand down if you’re at a small liberal arts college North of the Mason Dixon line with no division 1 or division 2 athletics.  Yeah, not a single hand raised.

Look people.  It’s 2011.  We know that progress isn’t guaranteed with the passing of time.  We’ve seen slavery, holocaust, genocide and the like.  It’s not just that we know what our primal demons are like, we also know, as people how extremely cowardly we are.  I mean, you won’t come to the defense of the President of the United States? Your President? Supposedly the most powerful person in the world?  If not then guess what, you’re not coming to the defense of the gay kid who is being bullied.  You’re not coming to the defense of the Hispanic-American who is having his citizenship questioned by an angry mob.  Come on people, we need to start controlling how the masses think.

Oh, you’re one of those “you can’t control how people think” people are you?  Ever heard of advertising? Your deepest most sacred convictions are bought, sold, bundled, divided and sold again every day on Wall Street.  Your very concept of what it means to be American is 80% commercials you’ve watched during Major League Sports.

So read a book, figure out what your convictions are, and PLEASE don’t just STAND UP for them if they get attacked in front of you.  Convictions aren’t to be used for self-defense only.  ADVOCATE for them.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate stupid people as much as the next guy.  But you know what I hate even more?  A coward.

I am tired of this meme going around about the 5 slacker commandments.  First, I am insulted that people keep forwarding it to me.  Are you paying attention?! I invented these.  Second, I am pissed that people keep saying I am the poster boy for this, it’s really a backhanded comment when you think about it.  It’s like telling a woman you like her make up.  You’re not supposed to see or notice make-up.  Same thing with bullshitting your way through a law firm.  But the most important thing here is this simple point:  The 5 “slacker” commandments aren’t ONE way to succeed at a law firm, it’s the ONLY way.  It’s not like I’m cheating at a game I could win if I played straight up and just worked harder.  If I did what people who wish they were me pretend to think I ought to do then there is a 100% chance I end up like Benito.  Let’s review.

1: Look like shit so it looks like you’re working hard

That’s work people.  I look good no matter what.  I look good with stubble, I look good with a beard, I look (especially) good naked, I look good and smell good no matter what I’m wearing or how long I’ve worn it.  I have to do some really filthy shit to look how I look on the average work day. I have to wear alot of sweaters to cover up my shredded six pack.

2: Keep a Filthy Office

Again, this is work.  If you work at a peer firm there are people who clean your office.  And this trick is old.  It’s not even so much that your office is dirty or cluttered, it’s that it’s never static.  The landscape is always changing.  Everything looks different.  This ain’t “Catch Me if You Can,” you have to pull this shit day in and day out for years.

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I haven’t written much lately.  I go to the statuesque bf worth missing sleep over.  That’s about all I can handle.  Unfortunately I have friends.  Friends who have alot more time on their hands than I do.  Friends who make demands on my time.

The sad phenomenon I am noticing is that when I do see a friend it’s not the friend I wanted to see most, but the friend guilts me into it, usually through pity.  Consequently I am distancing froom people I care about and confiding in people whose death would rank on par with a patient’s who I’d spent a total of about 10 minutes with, was old, and had family there.  I have always taken for granted that the average person values what I do and understand how long it takes.  benito and his new best friend Latrine always lament that just because they are unemployed and underemployed respectively that everyone thinks their time is worthless.  I for one do, but not because of their employment situation but because 1) I know Benito and 2) Latirne is called latrine because he seeks to maximize the amount of time he spends on the toilet.

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First let me provide a link

http://lawprofessors.typepad.com/legal_skills/2011/04/new-scholarship-is-the-law-school-scam-blogging-movement-influencing-the-legal-profession.html

And no, we’re not mentioned by name but many of our brother/sister blogs are.  But this is not about us.  It is about academia OFFICIALLY recognizing us. 

When you don’t have a job one of the things you suffer from is a lack of identity.  That’s how I feel right now.  But I do have this blog.  And in a strange way, I feel oddly validated.  So check out the link.

I still consider myself unemployed.  While I don’t spend 10 hours a day looking for a job like I used to in the past, I’d say I still put in 20 hours over the average week.  I spend another 35 hours doing what I need to do to get by, which mostly involves acquiring the necessities of a modern western lifestyle without having to pay for them or do something illegal.  However, for the first time I see how people cease to be unemployed and graduate to simply not working.  And for the first time my life does not seem so bad.

I have been spending a fair amount of time with an underemployed fellow.  While he won’t write for the blog directly or let me go into too many specifics about his plight, he has shared some details about his life that makes me feel pretty good about where I stand now.  Basically, he has all the disadvantages of a job and none of the benefits.

Let me explain.

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S’up losers? The following story is too deep for most of you.  In the original post I state there is a message for most of you but I lied.  You can read this and feel morally superior to me if you want OR you can read it with an OPEN MIND (unlike Erin and SG) and thoughtfully consider my position.

If I had to identify one thing that is the foundation of my mental and emotional health it is my concise moral code. I am not going to tell you what it is because that would detract from it’s utility. When you share a moral code wayward lost vulnerable people adopt it, then they debate it, then they try and codify it, etc.

But I will say this, one can think of “morals” as a predisposition – like the child of alcoholics are often predisposed to becoming alcoholics themselves. I am predisposed to experiencing discomfort when I engage in certain activities and I have created a code BASED on these predispositions. Now, I realize this is deep so before I go any further let me state up front: my story is about epic greatness involving a SMOKING hot slam piece Russian chick that I am vacillating about whether to take to poundtown via the Hershey Highway BUT it’s relevant to you pions as well because it can teach you how to avoid this “shame” phenomenon Benito writes so much about.
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Hello, my name is Benito Mario.  I am a 31 year-old balding two-time graduate level ivy-league grad who is unemployed, living with his mother and has never held a full-time job for more than 18 months.  My two older brothers each earned their GEDs after age 35 and are millionaires.  They refuse to employ or speak to me because they feel our parents favored me due to my academic success.  They won’t come by the house if I’m there unless it’s Thanksgiving or Christmas.  My mother tolerates my presence in part out of stubborness towards them.  That’s my reality everyday when I wake up in the morning. Oh, and I have $200k in debt that I have no way of ever paying.

Now, here’s what I could have said

Hello my name is Benito Mario.  I’m a doctor (of the arts).  I stay on campus, I try to give something back to the kids you know? Do you like my hat? I’m a free spirit, I could NEVER do the 9-5 thing.  I mean, corporate America? Hello?? I’m the first in my family to go on to do post-graduate work, and if you’re going to do something you might as well do it all the way right?  I mean you can’t go ivy-league for undergrad and then settle for less afterwards right? My older brothers give me a lot of shit about the debt but come on, they are plumbers who never even graduated from high school.  They resent me because I was the favorite. In fact, I’m the only one who ever checks in on mom.

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I’m one of those guys who constantly gets accused of making everything about race.  Everything from healthcare to the judiciary system, employment prospects to school admissions.  I’ve had a lot of discussions over a lot of beers and every now and then I get tired of being the only voice answering the meant-to-be rhetorical question underlying all these conversations “ok, you’ve got a black president, what more could you POSSIBLY want?” I begin to doubt myself, just a little, and then I read about Kyle Bristow’s “White Apocalypse,” a novel which the author insists isn’t a racist fantasy and it renews my resolve to at the very least not give the slight nod white people look for after a borderline statement to see if you’re one of those “reasonable” colored folk.  But here’s what’s interesting.  The racist fantasy is also a revenge fantasy.

The novel supposedly begins with the discovery of a mass grave…filled with white people.  Ancient white people who somehow got to the North American continent before Native Americans presumably by crossing a frozen Atlantic Ocean. Then the Native Americans slaughtered them, millenia pass, and suddenly directors of the Southern Poverty Law Center are being assassinated and self-hating white people are exercising their liberal guilt by dating non-whites.  Ok, so obviously Bristow (who sure as hell is no looker) lost a girlfriend (or more likely crush) to a black guy.  Sexual insecurity has long been a hallmark of racism, particularly American racism.

Read on to find out what makes this book extra special

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