All over campus I see people walking around with handwritten signs attached to their backpacks that read, “NO WAR.” Now I’m not a big fan of Bush’s calls for war myself, but I find it hard to take these silly little signs seriously. To be fair, I do respect the people that bear these signs, because I realize that you open yourself up to a world of judgment and grief when you wear your politics on your sleeve (or your back, as the case may be). But honestly, what do these people really think they’re accomplishing? Maybe they’re hoping that one day, President Bush will take a look at satellite photos of the college campus, see the “NO WAR” signs plastered across their backs, and then he’ll say to himself, “Holy shit, they’re right.” Then he’ll call up Saddam to patch things up because, as we all know, dictators respond to love. Am I being too fatalistic? Because I seriously doubt there’s a damn thing the public can do to stop this war.

Posted by KZ on 01/29/03

I’m sick of hearing about sports fans that riot after a big game. Are people’s lives so bankrupt that they feel the need to break shit every time a major sporting event comes to an end? I don’t know what the situation was like in Tampa Bay, but I do know that, after the Super Bowl, plenty of Raiders fans stormed the streets of Oakland and rioted just for the sake of rioting. There was no cause, and not even a remotely justifiable reason for the outburst of aggression. People weren’t protesting a grave injustice–they were, in fact, happily committing one. When the Raiders lost, people let loose and started breaking windows, flipping over cars, and setting fire to buildings. And the sad thing is, the same thing would have happened in the streets of Oakland if the Raiders had won. The post-game riots don’t even shock me anymore. But then again, they never cease to astound me, either. Human stupidity is so boundless and so enduring, that sometimes it’s almost enough to make me lose hope and stop caring. Almost.

Posted by KZ on 01/28/03

I’m really amused by pop-up ads that ask, “Don’t you hate pop-ups?” It’s fun to pretend that those little bastards are actually on our side, and that they’re doing us a favor by defecting and selling out their buddies. Let’s be honest: there’s really no lower form of life than the pop-up traitor.

Posted by KZ on 01/27/03

It’s definitely diet time. Since August, I’ve gained about fifteen pounds, which hasn’t made me feel all that great. But just a few days ago, my mother noticed that I look “rounder in the face.” That comment was all it took to guilt me back into exercising again. When your own mother calls you a fat-face, you know you’ve gone too far.

Posted by KZ on 01/22/03

Where we’re living in this town
The sun is coming up and it’s going down
But it’s all just the same at the end of the day
When we cheat and we lie
Nobody says it’s wrong
So we don’t ask why
‘Cause it’s all just the same at the end of the day
Don’t throw it all away

-Oasis, “Sad Song”

There’s still some hard feelings, but I’m counting on them to pass over time. Betrayal and misunderstanding are two very different things, but in the end, they can both have the same effect. There’s no such thing as a perfect person; and thus, there’s no such thing as a perfect friend. We often allow passion, irrationality, and even moments of stupidity to get the better of us, and I wish that weren’t the case. The sad irony of life is that it’s far easier to hurt the ones you love than it is to hurt a perfect stranger. And what’s worse, no true friend ever intends to deliberately hurt another. Times are hard, times are messed up, but they will get better. They must get better. Here’s hoping.

Posted by KZ on 01/21/03

It’s funny to think of how much importance we assign to pants (or trousers, as the English call them). I don’t know if it’s due to societal conditioning, or if it’s some deeply rooted instinctual preference, but it’s hard to take a guy seriously when he’s not wearing pants. Case in point: let’s say you and your friends are rough housing in a public pool, and a shirtless lifeguard tells you to stop. If you and your friends were rational people, you’d be inclined to listen to him. Now consider the same scenario, except instead of a shirtless lifeguard, imagine him free-balling in a tank top. If this pantsless lifeguard told you to stop horsing around, and you and your friends were rational people, you’d probably laugh at the guy and subsequently kick the crap out of him. A man without pants gets no respect. And really, that’s a shame.

Posted by KZ on 01/16/03

It’s been far too long since I’ve known the touch of a female’s soft embrace. I’m not talking about hugs, because I get plenty of those. And I’m not alluding to any sexual conquest, either. I miss the closeness of holding a girl and falling asleep with her by my side. Last Saturday, thanks in large part to alcohol, I had another opportunity to feel close to somebody. Now, looking back on that night, I’m reminded of how much I really miss that feeling.

In the course of our daily lives, many of us seek out the warmth of the human touch in a variety of ways. We shake people’s hands, or better yet, we give props by bumping fists or hooking fingers. We toss our arms around the shoulders of friends, and we’ll often tickle somebody with a conspiratory nudge with an elbow to the ribs. Many of us hug, while the far more affectionate will kiss. Some prefer to tousle hair, while others congratulate with hearty slaps on the back.

It seems to me that we’re all looking for something—that intangible feeling of content that can only be felt through a tangible connection with another person. It’s a kind of closeness to others that we all subconsciously desire and need. Though some may deny it, I believe we all long for those fleeting glimpses of intimacy, or at the very least, those daily moments of subtle camaraderie. Longing for the human touch is more than just a want or a wistful desire—it is a need in life that’s nearly as urgent as hunger or thirst. Granted, you probably wouldn’t die from a deficiency of hugs and handshakes. But even so, it’s those moments of contact, however brief, that make life a little more tolerable. The human touch keeps you sane. And more importantly, it keeps you human.

I guess in a sense, I’ m longing to feel human again.

Posted by KZ on 01/14/03

Why did you downgrade the McChicken to the small, sesame-seedless hamburger/cheeseburger bun?

Posted by KZ on 01/10/03

Just a minute ago, while cleaning my room, I came face to face with a huge daddy long legs spider that had set up camp in my closet. Whenever I see a spider, my first impulse is always to take note of its last position, hurriedly grab a tissue, and then crush the poor little bugger. But this time around, I felt more pity than usual. I was moved by the fact that this silly little thing was trying to survive by catching whatever stray insects it could in the dark isolation of my closet. I stared at it for a good twenty seconds, making a silent decision, and I wondered if the spider even realized that I was there. Finally, I turned off the closet lights, wished it good luck, and shut the door. I’m still trying to decide whether I’m a humanitarian, a man of honor and fair play, or merely an apathetic wuss.

Posted by KZ on 01/06/03

His name is Larry, but I like to call him the mad philanthropist. Every time he comes into the store, he heads to my department and clears the shelves—all in the name of charity. Last winter, I rang up his purchase of two hundred towels. This year, apparently, he’s all about comforters. When he came into the store tonight, he made a dozen trips from the bedding section to the wrap desk, dropping off armfuls of comforters. At first, when I saw the mess he was making, I was a little annoyed. The guy was chuckling and laughing with exasperated wheezes, and I figured he was just making a mess to screw with us. But then I took a closer look at him, and I recognized the goofy black-rimmed glasses, the graying mustache, and his wild and infectious grin. He ended up buying about twenty-five comforters, which added up to over $600. When he saw the total, he asked me, “you think the shelter will appreciate this?” The cleverest thing I could think to say at the time was, “maybe.” He just laughed with giddy approval.

Of course, how could the homeless shelter not appreciate his donation? For that matter, how could anybody not appreciate what Larry was doing? The world seems a little less desolate and a little less cold when you’re reminded of how large a person’s heart can really be. Larry, I salute you.

Posted by KZ on 01/04/03