Why do they always die on Wednesdays?

I don’t even know where to begin. A lot has happened since I took off, and I hope to get back into rhythm by the end of this week, because I’m hopelessly out of touch with the news lately. I’ve been listening to report after report after report about the attorney purging scandal, the Walter Reed Scandal, the death of Captain America… and it’s a lot to take in. So I guess I’ll start by addressing the most seemingly trivial.

I should start by stating that, despite the cult of dork that thrives within my pasty exterior, I’ve never really been a Captain America fan. Sure, I’m aware of him, and I’ve certainly read a few stories that feature him as a character, but I’ve never been able to delve into the baffling chronology of his own series. And it wasn’t just that. Captain America always seemed too perfect to me. Just like the way I could never find the appeal in Superman, I’m afraid to say the round-eyed idealism and superior ideals of Captain America just tended to bore me to tears. Which made it all the more confusing why his death had me so moved. Maybe it was the mere proximity to my father’s death, another person who always tried to do the right thing, no matter what the personal cost. Perhaps it was that he died standing for liberty instead of justice. Maybe I’ve just got a soft spot for wings coming out of people’s heads. I truly don’t know. But in the end I think it was a combination of those things (except for the wings. I’ll never get that). And another thing. Several times in the 60-odd years since his first publication, Steve Rogers, on several occasions, was finding himself at odds with his government. And instead of bowing to the majority or giving up altogether, he gave up the costume; no, he gave up his life, to continue to do the right thing and to fight for what he believed in. Vietnam, government corruption, Watergate, these are all things that cause him to take a stand. It’s not a left thing or a right thing. It’s not about anything but realizing when something you fought for or something you love no longer shares your hope or ideals. It’s about doing what you have to for the better of everyone involved. I didn’t want Cap badmouthing George Bush. I didn’t want him punching Iraqis in the face. I just wanted him there. And strangely, the part that killed me wasn’t the death itself, or even Bendis and Maleev’s stunning Civil War: The Confession book. It was that nobody bothered to tell Joe Simon. The 93 year-old co-creator of the character, who only found out his most famous creation was dead when the newspapers started calling. "It's a hell of a time for him to go” he said. “We really need him now".

I know that I’m making political allegory to a fictional superhero, but you dial up nerd, and that's what you’re gonna get.

So kindly shut up. I spend the bulk of yesterday listening to testimony from soldiers regarding the medical treatment they’ve received since returning from the war. Not just at Walter Reed, mind you, but all over the country, and it’s appalling. Personally, I’m not certain that this situation would be any different under any other administration, but nonetheless, for an administration that prides itself on supporting our troops, they sure have done a great job of pissing on their wounds. It’s pretty obvious how opposed to the war I am, and I know I’ve lost a lot of faith in our troops after a few of them have acted like complete savages over there. But that does nothing to change the fact that by and large our soldiers are poor and tired and over there because we sent them there. To let these people come home from a situation like that -with mental and physical scars worse than what you or I could imagine- and not provide proper medical care is unforgivable. And to deny that there is anything wrong with them at all is outright criminal. Remember how we denied PTSD after Vietnam? That worked out swell for all, let’s do it again. Can I give back my tax cut to help pay for some troops’ medicine? Can ExxonMobil? Somewhere along the way our priorities have gotten completely fucked, and it’s never going to be easy to right them when everyone’s going to have to make a sacrifice. But it’s gonna have to be done sooner than later, and I hope someone up top realizes this. Oh and hey, what the fuck, we sorta misled you about that global warming thing. our bad.

Okay, and just for the sake of putting some music up, here’s another Spiritualized song. This was how the title track of “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space was supposed to sound before Elvis’ dickhole lawyers got involved. It’s really beautiful sounding, and it crushes me that they couldn’t use it this way. If you ever get a chance to hear a live version, do it. I promise you it’s worth it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, We are Floating in Space” (original version) – Spiritualized

I’ll be back in a day or so with some new music (Sam Winch!) and less weepy crap, I promise.


P.S. I apologize for the amount of time it’s been since I last updated this. It would be easy to say that I’ve been inundated with grief and that I just haven’t been able to compose myself to post anything coherent or something, but the truth is that every time I start writing something it turns into some mushy half-assed tribute to my dad, and despite my best efforts, this will not turn into on my watch. It hasn’t been an easy time for me lately, that can’t be denied. Neither can the fact that everyone dies and it’s something we all have to live with. It never goes away, and forgetting about it isn’t an option. Fortunately, it gets easier, and you learn to live with the loss, and to hopefully everyone learns a thing or two. I’m not an expert on grief, and I’ve never claimed to be. In fact I’ve so far been one of the luckiest people I know on that front. But it occurred to me in the darkest period of mourning that I’m doing stuff like this for documentation, and if I seclude myself and my most emotionally active, then why am I bothering at all? I actually just heard a collective sigh of relief as I proclaimed that I’m gonna start writing about my feelings more. No, I promise it will barely be noticeable. I do, though, want to thank everyone that sent a card or a message or called to see how I was doing. On top of the wedding and funeral It’s been absolutely insane with me lately (I couldn’t get into ¾ of the stuff even if I wanted to), and I can’t describe how nice it was to be reminded that y’all were there for me. Reminded is a poor choice of words, though. I could never forget that. Assured. Thanks again guys and I love you all more than you know. It’s all too easy to forget how lucky and blessed you are sometimes, and I’m eternally grateful this isn’t one of those times.
The funeral was one of the nicest things I’ve ever seen and it was truly fitting. Only in my family could the younger brother of the deceased tell a story about punching him in the face and his son tell a story about him accidentally exposing himself to hundreds of my sister’s wedding guests. It was perfectly fitting. I’m not gonna get much more into it any more than this, but I truly walked out of there feeling like the luckiest man in the world.