Month: October 2016

Send in the Clowns

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Clowns. They’ve been popping up in the media a lot more frequently than they used to. Clowns worldwide have been scaring the shit out of regular, honest folks. This new, viral, phenomena has taken the internet by storm, with people getting together, dressing up as creepy clowns, and trying to frighten others for the lulz. To give you an idea of exactly how bad the clown problem has gotten, there’s a Wikipedia page dedicated to clown sightings for 2016. Hundreds of clowns have been sighted over the world, most notably in North America. Clowns are now being banned from schools, from workplaces, and even entire communities. When did clowns become such a menacing part of our culture? Was it the Joker, from the new Batman films? Was it Stephen King’s IT? Or maybe it’s the fact a clown is currently running for president of the United States?

trump-ugh

Scariest Clown sighting of the year

Here’s the kicker, people. I don’t actually remember a time when clowns were popular. I’ve never heard of a clown actually doing a birthday party, except in movies from the 80’s. I’ve seen clowns at the circus, but the circus is something I’ve only been to a handful of times in my life. I’ve never sought out clowns. I’ve never said to myself, “You know what, Mr. Charlton? This day needs more clowns”. In fact, the only time I can remember using the word clown is when I derisively call someone a clown.

I did some research. When I say research, what I mean is I typed ‘when was the last time clowns were funny’ into a search engine. And what I found will shock you.

Clowns have never been funny.

There’s a bizarre notion people before our time weren’t funny. I never really imagined the Romans sitting around, laughing their asses off because Julius made a snide remark to Anthony regarding his footwear, but sarcasm has been around for a while. There were also clowns, but looking through the lens of time shows us clowns were performers showcasing demon tricksters. Clowns showed both the light and dark side of humanity through pranks. What I’ve learned is clowns have been jesters, fools, and pranksters.

You ever met someone who’s a “prankster”? They’re assholes.

“It was just a prank, brah” is the calling card of these jester jerkoffs. Youtube is filled to the brim of dickheads who have confused sadism and masochism with humour. That’s what these clowns are about. The point I’m trying to make is this; clowns are greasy performers, not funny people. We used to laugh at them because they’re terrible human beings, not because they’re comedians.

Why have these clowns started popping up? We stopped laughing at them cruelly, which is the only way to laugh at clowns to keep them at bay. We’ve ignored them for too long. Clowns were ridiculed for years, derided and called out for their foolishness. This was the natural order of things. It was the way to drive the demon spirits away. In our age of extreme tolerance, we’ve forgotten that if there is one group of people who should be laughed at, it’s clowns. We, unfortunately as a society, collectively decided to take clowns seriously. We said “Maybe clowns aren’t so bad, maybe we shouldn’t be spraying them with water, hitting them with pies, or forcing them to pile in clown cars. Clowns deserve every opportunity the rest of us do.” And that’s led us down the dark path we’ve taken. A prominent clown is running for president. The media surrounding him is now a circus.

We’ve stopped laughing at clowns. I guarantee if this clown gets into office, then no one will be laughing for at least the next four years. What can you do, dear reader? If someone is acting like a clown, then make fun of them. They’re the necessary punching bag we need. Clowns serve a very important function in society, and that’s to provide the rest of us an outlet to express our rage and disgust. It allows the rest of us to get along. To not just tolerate out differences, but to celebrate them. Because is some clown is going to spray his face orange and turn democracy into a crazy fun house, then maybe they deserve to be taken down a peg.

 Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. This is going to be the last long form post I’ll be doing for the next month. November is NaNoWriMo, and every damn word needs to count! I’ll still be posting, but it’ll be more of a diary about trying to squeeze out a novel in thirty days.

 

Mr. Charlton Goes Hog Wild for Sausage

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Let’s make some sausage people. LET’S MAKE SOME GODDAMN SAUSAGE!!!!!!

There’s a lot of bullshit when it comes to cooking. There’s this myth that a kitchen is a sacred place, where chefs shouldn’t be questioned, and time-honored practices shouldn’t be questioned. Sushi is incredibly hard to make and should be left to a professional. Steaks should be done on a grill. Mushrooms soak up water, so brush ’em off one by one. These aren’t facts, it’s bullshit, perpetrated by an industry with its head up its ass.

Sushi, steaks, and sausage all have something in common, and that’s skipping rope. You’ve got a rope? Good. Go try and skip rope. Seriously, get off your fat ass, grab some rope or an old Playnendo controller and try skipping rope. I’ll wait…

Now, you’ve probably not done the above instructions, and I commend you for not doing as I say. The world has enough sheep. I do have a skipping rope, though, and I’ll put it bluntly; Skipping rope is hard. It takes practice. It took me a week of doing it every day before I could even put five consecutive jumps in a row. Now, sushi, steaks and sausage are similar because you’re not going to be any good when you start. It takes practice. You’re going to fuck up occasionally. The beautiful thing about sausage? If you make a mistake, you have a bunch of flavored ground meat. With that being said, let’s stuff some meat into tubes, people.

Mr. Charlton’s Curry Chicken Sausage

We’re going to whip up up some tasty sausage, with a twist; We’re using chicken this time. Why? Because this sausage is a request, and Indian spices are awesome. Here’s what you’ll need.

Tools:

  • A cutting board
  • A paring knife
  • A bowl, or two
  • Spice grinder (coffee grinder or pestle and mortar work)
  • Something to grind the meat
  • Something to stuff the sausage

I’ve got a stand mixer with a meat grinder / sausage stuffer combo. Works A-OK.

Ingredients:

  • 2-3 pounds of chicken, with the skin (I just grabbed a whole chicken)
  • Hog casings
  • A bunch of salt (2-3 tablespoons worth)
  • 5 cloves
  • 1 tablespoon Cumin seeds
  • 2 teaspoons Cardamom seeds
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons Coriander seeds
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons Fennel seeds
  • 1 – 3 dried chiles (depending how much you like heat)
  • 1/2 teaspoon Cinnamon powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon Tumeric powder
  • 2 – 3 garlic cloves
  • Hunk of grated Ginger (about a tablespoons worth)

Note 1: Nobody is going to really notice if you use powdered garlic or powdered ginger. Except me. I’ll notice.

Note 2: If you’re lazy, you could get away with replacing the spices with curry powder, but it will absolutely make a huge difference.

Making the damn sausage:

  1. Grab that chicken. Grab it! You need to get all tho bones out of that sucker. Explaining it in words would be almost goddamned impossible, so I’m going to let a pro show you how it’s done.

I’m not going to lie, this gets me excited.

  1. You got the bones out of the chicken, right? Cut up the chicken into 1 inch pieces. Keep the skin. KEEP IT! It’s fatty, and you need fat in sausages. Chicken is all kinds of lean, anyways.
  2. Save the bones for delicious chicken stock, or throw them away. I don’t care.
  3. Put the chicken onto a cookie tray, then stick it in the freezer for twenty minutes. Put the meat grinder stuff in the freezer, too. You’ll want it cold.
  4. All those seeds, cloves, and chiles? Put ’em in a pan and toast them for a bit. When    your house smells like a tasty Indian restaurant, grind them up.
  5. Mince the garlic and ginger, set aside.
  6. Chicken should be ready to go, so take it and the grinder out of the freezer. You want it almost frozen, like a meat popscicle. You don’t want it solid, though.
  7. Assemble the grinder, get a bowl and get ready to grind!
  8. Grind the meat. Throw the chicken into the hopper and push it down.
  9. Once the meat is ground, throw all the spices, garlic, ginger and salt in the mix and toss it with your hands. Put it in the fridge.
  10. Clean up the grinder.
  11. Get the casing ready by cleaning it. Smells funky? That’s because it came from the end of an animal’s asshole.
  12. Now that it’s been rinsed out, put in on the sausage stuffer, tie off the end, then get the meat.
  13. Stuff the ground meat into the hopper. This is the tricky part, and it’s a whole pile easier if you have someone to help you. It’s not something that’s easy to explain, but after the first batch you’ll get the hang of it, I promise.

Here are some pictures of the chicken sausage I made. With time, practice, and some equipment, you too can bask in sausage glory.

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Chicken: Deboned

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The spice must flow.

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Chicken: Organized

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Grinder, looking for meat!

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Chicken: Ground and Spicy

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Separating a pig’s asshole

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Getting ready to stuff

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Almost done!

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Finished product

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Breakfast the next day

The big question; Is it worth it?

Eh……..

I love making sausage because I love being in the kitchen. The truth, you’re not going to be saving any money by making these. Even if I’m using super cheap cuts of meat, I’m still breaking even. On the other hand, my sausages are far, far better than anything you’d be buying at the supermarket, mostly because even the cheapest cuts are better than the leftovers most sausages are made out of.

In the end, if you love to cook and you appreciate good food, give it a go. If cooking’s a chore, then all I’ve done is give you a job you aren’t going to enjoy.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I did two sausages recently. Chicken might be my new big thing.

p.s.s.  There’s both a Dune reference and a Judas Priest reference in the pictures. Because I’m topical.

Mr. Charlton Throws a Sausage Party

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Sausage. People have been stuffing meat into tubes since human beings were scientifically classified as human beings. It’s the artful method of preserving the meat and blood of an animal with salt, encasing it in the intestine of the same animal. Making sausage predates agriculture, which makes it one of the oldest foods people have prepared. Put it this way, sausage is older than bread, the mighty staff of life. Who knew?

If you’re one of my Facebook friends, you’ll notice that I’ve thrown a ton of pictures up featuring the sausages I’ve been making at home. Since roughly the end of August, I’ve made a least six different batches of sausages, ranging from Bratwurst to Chorizo. It’s caught the eye of a couple of people, and they want to know how I go about making it.

Let’s rewind the clock back to Christmas of last year. It was the first year I spent away from my family, and I was up at a ski resort with Kat and her family. Being the wonderful people they are, her family surprised me with gifts. One of the gifts was a meat grinder and sausage stuffer for my stand mixer. This was both awesome and daunting because I’ve always, always wanted to make sausage, but had no clue how to go about assembling cased meat.

The grinder / stuffer sat on the shelf for eight months. It wasn’t until Kat bought me some sausage casings for my birthday that I finally got the nerve to make sausage. I didn’t know anything about the casings themselves, so I did some quick research after sticking them in the freezer. I made some coffee, sat down at the computer, fired the old beast up, waited the ten minutes until I could actually use it, then peppered some hog casing questions into Google. First big note on sausage casings was at the top of the list;

***DO NOT FREEZE THE CASINGS***

So I spat out my coffee, and pulled the casings out of the freezer. A little more research told me they could be stored in the fridge, in a salt brine. They were completely covered in salt themselves, so I submerged them into some water and started to pull them apart. I found out pretty quickly that natural sausage casings are pig intestines. After a good ten minutes of playing with hog entrails, I needed some answers from Kat regarding the casings.

“Hey, Kit-Kat, I know this isn’t exactly a polite question to ask in regards to birthday gifts, but how much did you spend on the casings?”

She seemed a little perturbed by the question. Naturally.

“They were a lot more than I thought they’d be.”

“Yeah, ok, that kind of makes sense. You got me a lot of casings.”

“I did?”

I was still hands deep in digestive guts. “Yeah, there’s only one little label on the package, and it says 30 x 36.”

She finally walked up and came over to the bowl of casings, as I rinsed my hands. She leaned up against the counter. “That’s all the butcher handed to me when I asked for sausage casings. I asked him for casings, he asked me if I wanted natural or synthetic casings. I went with natural. Are those the casings right here?”

“Yep.” I walked back to the bowl. “I think that label, the 30 x 36, is the number of casings times the length of each casing.”

Kat cocked an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

I looked down at the bowl. “I’m saying we have over a thousand feet of pig intestines in our house.”

Because of this, I’ve been making sausage like mad. I don’t want to waste these casings, and even though they’ll be good for another couple of months, no problem, I still want to hustle and get them used up. Every weekend, I get myself a large cut of meat, grind it up, then stuff it into a sausage casing. This weekend was no exception.

Now, I was going to list a recipe here on how I go about making sausage, but I thought I might tell the story of why Mr. Charlton’s been going hog wild on the frankfurters. I made sausages yesterday and I’ll be making sausages tomorrow. The only question that remains is… What kind of sausages should I tackle tomorrow? Should I do a Caribbean jerk sausage? Maple bacon? If you fine and lovely people have any suggestions, let me know and I’ll try and make it happen.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I did a chicken sausage yesterday, flavored with a Garam Masala spice I put together. It’s the biggity bomb, people.

Mr. Charlton – The Laggard

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I sit on both sides of technology. One one hand, I spent my Wednesday evening ranting about how the internet has turned everyone into some sort of huckster. That Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are full of narcissists who are screaming at the top of their lungs to look in their direction. I also know that’s pretty disingenuous coming from a guy who has a website with his name as the address. The irony is not lost on Mr. Charlton. But it’s true that I’m completely clueless when it comes to social media.

On the other hand, I spent my Thursday evening creating procedurally generated terrain in JAVA. I can replace the processor in my computer, even making sure the thermite paste is properly applied. I can create 3D models and have them sent to a 3D printer. I have a number of computers. Two of these computers run Linux. I have, at one point, had a computer with three operating systems on it. Mr. Charlton has spent decades now breaking computers, and I’m at a point where I can safely be trusted with one.

The picture I’m trying to paint is I both love and hate technology. I love computers, but I hate carrying a cell phone around.  I think the internet is a wonderful, fantastic tools for communicating and sharing ideas, but I absolutely loathe Facebook, Instagram, and Google. I think new gadgets are neat, but I’m convinced that if you can’t open a device and fix it, then you don’t actually own it. I should also mention that almost all the technology I own is really old.

Which puts me in the camp of, what Kat has labeled me, the laggards. The late adopters of technology. I’m using an old Galaxy SIII for my phone. Both my little lappy and my tower PC were bought in 2009. I didn’t actually own a cell phone until 2006. The only thing I own that’s even relatively new is a laptop that Kat’s parent gave to me. Either than that, everything I own is crazy old, in terms of tech progress.

The thing is, I don’t actually need my computers and my cell phone to do more than they’re already doing. The only thing I haven’t been able to install on my phone has been Pokemon Go. My computer can’t run the newest and greatest games anymore, but everything I play is pretty old school. My computers are almost exclusively used to write and design stuff, and they do that just fine. Truthfully, I’m saving my pennies right now to upgrade the beast of a tower I have, but I’m in no rush. Until it bursts into flames, the workhorse is still sitting happy besides my desk, churning out the polygons. Why am I so damned adverse to change?

I thought about this long and hard, and it boils down to two things. I hate being pestered, and I’m a minimalist.

Let’s start with being pestered. I don’t actually like having my cell phone on me. Sure, it’s great for emergencies, but I’ll be damned if I can remember the last time there was an emergency that needed my immediate attention. For the most part, it’s an electronic invitation for someone to pester me. And it’s not a human that’s usually being a bother, it’s Facebook, or Twitter, or Pinterest, or maybe it’s…

“Mr. Charlton! Neil DeGrass Tyson just tweeted a picture!”

… look, this is what I’m talking about. Alright, I’m turning the push notifications off. How on God’s green Earth do you…

“Hey! One of your friends just spammed a massive invite to everyone they know on Facebook! Are you able to go to their party taking place 2000 kilometers away from you tonight?”

Goddamnit! How do I turn off every one of these stupid noti….

“Man, someone from Instagram is at the gym. They want you to know they are at the gym. Here is a picture of them at the gym, in gym clothes.”

Turning off the push notifications on my phone wasn’t easy, but I managed to get it done. Still though, I don’t need to be connected to the network at every goddamn second of the day. The way apps are designed, you’d think it these programmers used to be crack dealers. The people who work at places like Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest use various psychological tricks to keep you coming back to their sites. How many times have you checked Facebook today? Five times? Ten? Is it more?

On the minimalist side of things, I’ll put it bluntly. My phone, for me, isn’t a sign of status. I don’t care if you have a better phone than me, or if you have a MacBook Pro, or if your computer has way more RAM than mine (it’s important to point out that most people rarely need over 8 gigs of the stuff. Anything over that is overkill). Some people like to call it ‘Keeping up with the Joneses’. I refer to it as ‘The Biggest Dick Waving Competition in the Universe’. The only time the brand name is important is if I’m working for that brand, and they are paying me to sell it. This rarely happens in my life.

I’ve caved recently, though. I’ve given up the idea that I can succeed as an adult without social media. If this is how the world is going to be, then I have to accept it. So feel free to follow me on twitter @SandyCharlton. Twitter only allows me to use 140 characters, so that might be a problem. Brevity is the soul of wit, and you’re about to find out how witty I’m not.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. LinkedIn is also a weird one for me. It’s like Facebook, except with less ignorance and racism.

p.s.s. I actually don’t have an Instagram account. Those people who are social media savvy, is this something the hip young kids are using?

p.s.s.s. Social Media Savvy is code word for narcissistic sociopath.

A Steaming Pile of Internet

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There’s another reason I didn’t post anything for two weeks. It’s because I didn’t have anything interesting to talk about. Nothing I was doing was particularly interesting at the time. I wasn’t reading anything worthwhile, I wasn’t examining any fascinating new articles. I was staying inside and playing video games and watching television. I needed a break from brain thinking, and loaded up my mind space with cerebral junk food. There’s nothing wrong with that, except, it left me with nothing to scribe about and no desire to make something up. I own a small slice of the internet, though. Not a very big slice, mind you, but a slice non the less. As the proprietor of this tiny slice of web zone, I’m now considered a “content creator”. This is where we enter bullshit territory. So pucker your assholes, because Mr. Charlton is going to rant for a bit.

See, before the internet, the world was filled with musicians and writers and designers and inventors and artists and a whole mess of crazy people who made things. They usually worked with marketers, entrepreneurs, publishers and another heap of humans to package and sell these things. These marketers, entrepreneurs, and publishers were the gatekeepers. They decided who got to be successful, and who didn’t make the cut. For years, this seemed to work in favour for the latter group. There’s always been this undercurrent of hatred for this group, these so-called suits. They’re business people at their core, and they’re interested in making money, not making dreams happen for artists. Fair enough. Then the world wide web took off, and soon it became easier for the painter, the poet, or the filmmaker to create art and sell it without the middle man, these so-called suits. We entered a new world, where people who created things got to deal directly with their fans and the purchasing public. Awesome, right?

There’s a problem, though. Back in the day, the artist used to think “You know what, these gatekeepers have shitty taste. If the people could only hear my music, then I’d be able to be successful. I’d make it if I just had the chance.” Those artists were wrong. It wasn’t the gatekeepers who had shitty taste, it was the people. I wrote a post years ago, on the old blog, about how people have lousy taste. That includes me. I have abhorrent taste in music. I have a soft spot in my heart for terrible movies. My idea of decorating a house is minimalist, in which I don’t decorate my house (the added bonus of not having to dust shit is also nice).

The internet is steaming cesspool of pop-culture refined sugar, not because that’s what people want to make, but that’s because it’s what people want to consume.

I’m going to give you a choice. You can either get a fast food burger once a day, or you can splurge at the end of the week and get a three course meal at a fancy restaurant. The only caveat is you can’t have both. Most people are going to go for the first option. There will be a few people who’ll wait for the crazy amazing meal, but not everyone is into fine dining. The internet is taken this to heart, and the term is ‘content’. In order to be a viable website, you need to have new content. Every. Day. Even if it’s not particularly good content, people still need to be able to come to your space and find something new.

Truthfully, this has less to do with people’s shitty taste, although I will defend to the death that I’m right on the money with that. It actually has to do with how the brain is hardwired. The brain likes being rewarded with stimulus, and will fire some dopamine in your direction when it gets what it wants. The same pleasure centers fire up when you get a message, or a text, or a Facebook like, or browse a site and get something new. That’s why websites like Facebook and Instagram are constantly updating. It’s why people are constantly checking their feeds every ten minutes.

If you’re a massive organization, like let’s say Buzzfeed, you just need to churn out crap everyday. And that’s what Buzzfeed does. I’m not certain how many people contribute to Buzzfeed, but it’s got to be a couple dozen. If you’re flying solo, like myself, you have to make a conscious descision. Do I churn out crap everyday? Or do I try and have some standards and at least put together a legible article?

Here’s the thing. Even what I’ve just written here is pretty trashy. I haven’t solidfied my research, but rather just took a bunch of ideas I’ve been pooling in my head and vomited them out onto the page. Which is maybe why I haven’t been writing as much, ’cause I hate churning out crap.

The internet is both a blessing and a curse. The artist isn’t just an artist anymore, they’re a ‘content creator’. They now have to be selling themselves at all times. I like putting shit down on paper and online. I do not like adding a million hashtags to what I’m doing to try and whore myself out. Anyways, rant over. I’m going to get back at something more interesting later this week. I promise.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. You know what happens if I break my promise? Nothing.

p.s.s. Maybe it’ll be ’34 ways people are using the internet the way junkies use heroin’.

p.s.s.s. #writing #writerslife #doIreallyhavetodothis #Igetitsaneasywaytopromotemyself #anditsfree #butseriously #everytimeIseeapostlikethis #Iwanttostaplemydicktothebackofacar

Mastering Procrastination

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If you haven’t noticed, ol’ Mr. Charlton hasn’t exactly been posting a whole slew recently. Now, I could give you a bunch of excuses as to exactly why I haven’t been writing. You know what? Let’s try out a few excuses. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had to give an excuse, and it couldn’t hurt to flex that muscle. Just in case I ever actually have to start blaming things other than myself, like circumstances, scenarios, the weather, or other people.

  • I’ve been busy. (False. I’ve been getting caught up with season six of Game of Thrones and playing a lot of Fallout 3. )
  • I haven’t been feeling well. (False. I feel like the God/Prince I normally feel like)
  • The dog requires a lot of attention. (False. Pookie is about eighty-four in dog years, all she does is sleep and eat)
  • I’ve been learning new things. (True! Teaching myself some more programming junk, as well as a very specific program that’s used to write called “Scrivener”)

Long story short; I’ve spent a small amount of time learning some new skills, but most of my time in the last two weeks has been games and television. Some of the time, though, has been setting up a profile for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo.org). Time has been also spent learning Scrivener. I’ve been doing research for this novel I’m going to try and complete in a month. That’s also work, right?

Here’s what’s probably what’s going through your mind right now.

“Why the hell is Mr. Charlton telling us he’s being a lazy dickbag?”

See? I love it when you ask questions. Totally makes me feel like I’m not talking to myself. Here’s the reason. I’m making a point that procrastination sometimes tries to disguise itself as work. While I’m doing research for writing, or learning an incredibly complicated writing program, or getting setup for a writing contest, there’s one thing I’m not doing. Writing. Sure, it feels like I’m doing something, but truthfully there’s no actual work getting done, no words are being written down, no ideas from my mind brain are being chiseled onto the stone sitting on my desk. If I’m doing everything in an attempt writing

I like to write. I find it an enjoyable, and there’s a lot of people who find the hobby enjoyable as well. Musicians are the same way, there’s something incredibly satisfying about taking a song from your head and getting it onto an instrument and have it come alive. At the end of the day, though, whether your writing or making music or sculpting or whatever you’re doing creating stuff, it’s still work.

When I sit down, shit doesn’t just magically appear, I have to work to make it appear. There’s this weird idea (which is perpetuated by a number of pretentious folks) that creative endeavors just pour out of people. There might be a handful of geniuses that have absolutely had to write or paint or whatever, but for the 99.99999 percent of us regular folk, you actually have to do work. I love to write, but there is a slew of things I would rather be doing than writing. I would rather…

  • do nothing
  • eat some food
  • play a game
  • read a book
  • watch crappy television
  • go for a walk
  • put intoxicating substances, like scotch, into my body
  • touch myself inappropriately
  • touch someone else inappropriately (with their consent)
  • pretend I’m writing by mashing the keyboard

Procrastination goes even deeper. Sometimes, I’ll work on one project to avoid working on another. I lovingly refer to that as ‘Procrastinception’. It’s incredibly weird to think that sometimes you’ll do work to avoid other work. There a common theme in this ‘doing work to avoid work’ scheme. You’ll say to yourself “Hey, you know what? This place is messy, totally unorganized. I’m not going to be able to focus on the task at hand until I get this junk in order.” You’ll spend the next four hours arranging your bullshit into piles where you think it belongs, pat yourself on the back, then tell yourself that when you get some more free time, THEN, then you’ll get down to brass tacks and start working. If you’re a creative person, you’ve probably done this once or twice.

The secret is, there is no good time to start writing or painting or picking up the guitar. That’s a luxury many people can’t afford. Your home is always going to be a little messy, there’s always going to be interruptions, and there’s always something that’ll come up to pry you away from writing a book, or painting a picture, or laying down a track. In fact, try to learn to work when there’s chaos around, like when you’re at your job on your lunch break and everyone is yelling at each other.

I constantly see images online of people writing in nooks, with tea and paper. But if you’re like me, life is going on around you. You can try and fight the stream, telling yourself you’re  just  waiting for the right moment. Or you can get to work and learn to write or paint or play when

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I’m done binging on media for a while, maybe I’ll get some actual shit done now.

p.s.s. Seriously, if you’re into writing, check out Scrivener. Completely solid writing tool.

Clinton Vs. Trump Vs. Taxes

/ sandycharlton / Leave a comment

There was a debate recently between the two presidential incumbents. Hillary Rodham-Clinton and Donald J. Trump. I haven’t actually watched the debates. What I have done, on the other hand, is read the transcripts of the debate instead. This is not only a faster way of absorbing this clash of titans, what it also does is remove any kind of charisma and showmanship from the verbal sparring match, and leaves only the words. If you want to fell smarter and fulfill the role of smug asshole in your group of friends, there’s no better way than announcing that you only read the debates.

When asked how they prepared for the debate, Hillary responded by stating she’s studied the issues facing our nation. Trump responded by telling the press that he, along with some of his friends, sat down over burgers to prepare some solid zingers. This sums up what this entire election is about. One of these people is prepared to be commander in chief, the other is prepared to host an episode of Saturday Night Live.

I wrote about both Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump in the past. I’ll be honest, I was scathing towards Hillary and pretty light towards Donald. Both articles were written at a time where Bernie Sanders was still competing for the Democratic nomination. I’ve been doing a re-examination of why I was so harsh with Hillary and gave Donald a free pass. At first, I thought it was maybe some weird inherent sexism that might have been lying dormant in me, but I’m usually pretty self-aware of any kind of privilege I might be lugging around. It was definitely in part because I really wanted Bernie Sanders to win. But now that Hilary is the nominee, Bernie is backing Hil-Dog, and the first debate is over, I’m certain I know why I was so critical of Hillary and not with Donald. I fell like I can  criticize Hillary as a politician and an adult, whereas I can only criticize Donald as a faux  celebrity and an unruly teenager stuck in the body of a 67-year-old man.

About half way through the debate, Trump’s tax return came in the conversation. Trump hasn’t actually released his tax returns to the public yet. Nominees, for decades, have released their tax returns to the voters. This is to ensure the future president doesn’t have any conflicting interests between business and public service. The New York Times recently got a couple of pages of his 1995 tax return, and in that year Donald Trump took a financial hit of almost a billion dollars. This is incredibly significant because it would mean Trump could forgo paying taxes for over the next decade and a half. I’m not under the impression that Trump did anything illegal, but fact remains that he’s tight-lipped about his finances. In the upcoming weeks, that’s going to bode terribly for his campaign. Unless he reveals his tax return, he’ll jeopardize his presidential candidacy.

Looking back on the history of these two candidates reveals a lot about their character. Hillary Clinton spent decades working for various charitable events. When she was the first lady of Arkansas, she co-founded the Arkansas Advocates for Children and Families, worked with the Children’s Defense Fund, and served on the Arkansas Children’s Hospital Legal Services. Not to mention she practiced law during this entire tenure. Donald Trump, on the other hand, hasn’t spent any time doing any kind of volunteer work. He’s purportedly donated millions, but his actual time is spent being a business man. He’s a cut-throat, ruthless business mogul who specializes in real estate. That’s totally fine, but it leaves him woefully unprepared for the presidency. Because, on one hand, you have someone who’s dedicated most of their life to public service, while the other dedicated most of their life to themselves and their business ventures. .

Donald Trump, plainly put, cares about Donald Trump. That’s it. He’s not interested in public service, he’s not interested in politics, he’s interested only in what benefits Donald Trump. He’s always been that way. It’s his entire persona. I’m certain Hillary wants to be the first female president and earn a massive place in history. Her beginnings in politics were someone who championed the rights of women and children. She was someone who fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. She had to fit the mold of politics in order to accomplish her goals, as all politicians do, unfortunately.

The debates were a perfect allegory of the battle for the position  of commander in chief. You have someone who’s been preparing for a long time and has put a lot of thought into what they’re doing. The other person’s trying to win by being louder and more entertaining. It’s a contest being the class nerd and the class clown. Sure, Donald isn’t part of the mainstream political crowd. He just happens to be from the old family money, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, coke-out one percent. There’s still two more debates, though. Maybe Donald can forgo a tanning session to actually prepare this time around.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I’m now backing Hilldog.

p.s.s. To those who think Donald is better because he’s more honest and down to Earth, he’s a billionaire who spent the better part of the 80’s doing blow and lingerie models. He’s got more in common with the Wolf of Wall Street than he does with you.