Rest in peace to my great uncle Mike Baves, of Rankin, PA.
Rest in Peace Uncle Mike
A Narcissistic Killer and Moronic Responses
I read next to nothing about the murders that Elliot Rodger committed this past week. He’s another in a long line of delusional creeps who takes out his frustrations on the world in the most despicable way possible. In fact, just now, I had to Google his name just so I could write that first sentence. So why am I writing about this guy? There have been plenty of spree killers before him, and the public responses are often similar. I’m writing because I read responses to this particular case, which I feel have taken bad arguments to a whole new level.
Any time a spree killer, such as Seung-Hui Cho at Virginia Tech, goes on a rampage, the arguments are typically about gun control (and mental health). I stay out of those as I’ve yet to see a single obvious solution to this issue. This time, because of Rodger’s ‘manifesto’ and video, the response wasn’t just about gun control (after all, he killed three people with a knife – a major blow to those who simply wanted to use this case to argue for more gun control), but about sexism and misogyny.
Suddenly, certain folks, my Washington Post co-workers included, decided to use THIS incident to stand on a soap box and shout through the megaphone about sexism. These murders are society’s fault because society and movies are sexist!
I often find that keeping things simple is the best response to arguments by divisive ‘activists’ who are looking to re-ignite discussions after isolated, tragic incidents.
This guy (I forgot his name already and don’t care to look it up again) is just another in a long line of narcissistic spree killers. To use him as an example for how sexist this world can be is like using a 1500-pound man as an example for the obesity epidemic. These writers and Tweeters are using the killer’s ramblings as ‘proof’ to show how awful ALL WOMEN have it in this world. I’m not arguing that sexism and misogyny don’t exist, I’m simply stating that using him as a catalyst to complain about it is illogical, especially when real victims of his crimes – those who were killed and injured – have it much worse (not to mention those in mourning).
As for the killer himself, here’s what I know. He was lonely. He felt left out. He felt that he was owed a better life involving being around people (particularly, hot women). He went to parties just to see how things worked out for other people, but for him it never worked. (He was also a psychopath, and you know the rest of the story.)
Lots of people go through this (not the psychopath part). There is no shortage of socially awkward people (not just men – women too) who just can’t catch a break and enjoy life with the right people. That’s just how it is (or – more likely to be) in this day and age. Perhaps it was different decades ago, especially in certain areas, when people didn’t have their noses buried in smartphones and people were actually trying to socialize and find someone to marry before the age of 30. How things came to be, particularly in the U.S., is a much greater discussion.
For the sake of this argument, it is true that single, bitter men who want nothing more than company – or at best a family of their own – MAY blame modern feminism for making these natural goals more difficult (which does not automatically make them misogynists). I’d say the killer felt the same way, only to take it much further with disgusting statements that no civilized person agrees with, and then several extreme steps further to the point where he murdered people over it.
It’s quite clear to me that instead of having this incident be used as another example in the never-ending discussion about gun control and mental health, the killer’s extreme and delusional statements are simply being used as an example for angry people to express their frustration about what they perceive to be obstacles in their own lives. Let’s just hope none of them take that to the next level and go on a shooting spree, too.
35 Years Ago…
I celebrated my third birthday. I know there is video somewhere, but here are the photos I recently found. Click on the images to enlarge.
Christine and I.
Cake cutting time!
Me, my father, and Christine.
Christine, Matthew, my mom, a kid I don’t remember, Katie and I.
My Godfather, Jon.
My grandfather.
Kissing Katie.
A rocking horse!
My cousin Matthew.
My grandmother, Margie.
My uncle George and Aunt Kathy (may she rest in peace). They lived down the street from us in Beltsville.
Ice Champs – Again
The Screaming Squirrels won the winter B2 ice championship in Laurel on Thursday. It’s the fourth time we won at the Gardens Ice House (fifth overall), and including roller it’s the eighth total Screaming Squirrels title. Personally, it’s my ninth as a couple of us won on a ball hockey team (el Fuego) in Rockville back in 2002. Don Marks was on the team with me for all nine of them. Rob Myers was on most of them and the longest tenured player aside from myself.
Just keep in mind, while nine sounds like a lot (it is for some people in that stretch), we give ourselves up to three chances a year (two ice sessions and one roller), so yes, we lose, too.
RIP Kurt Cobain – 20 Years Later
Today marks the 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death. I’d say he was the Jimi Hendrix/Jim Morrison of my generation (it’s called Generation X – a term I despise but who am I kidding? That’s what it is). I became a fan the first few seconds of hearing Nirvana play ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ on Saturday Night Live. Goodbye, 80’s metal, this was the music I’d be listening to in high school and college. To this day, I hear this music and it’s suddenly the 90s again.
I believe 1991 was one of the best years for music in recent memory, when Nevermind, Pearl Jam’s Ten, Metallica’s Black album and Red Hot Chilli Peppers Blood Sugar Sex Magik all came out. Cobain and Nirvana rose to the top. Cobain’s death left a gaping hole as the 90s continued with related but not Nirvana acts like the Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots.
It wasn’t just the music. I’m a huge fan of Iron Maiden and Def Leppard, and as much as I like Bruce Dickinson and Joe Elliot, those singers didn’t captivate me like Cobain. It was Cobain’s voice, singing those deep-yet-simple lyrics, and that tortured (aka grunge) look. Perhaps we even owe it to his drug abuse and inner demons that contributed to the aura around him that was more likely to fascinate folks than push them away. This was a far cry from the big-hair-glam rock of the 80s, which suddenly became an afterthought. Cobain hypnotized audiences in ways that other talented musicians didn’t. He spoke to us, even when we didn’t quite understand what he was saying.
I sometimes picture an alternate reality where I walk out of the rain and into a dark Seattle coffee shop. In the corner, I see the glow of a cigarette and the silhouette of a man with shoulder-length hair and an acoustic guitar. He waves me over, and I take a seat nearby. He strums the guitar and sings for me, perhaps Come as You Are, and I just sit and listen, in a virtual trance. As the song concludes, he fades away, but the image and sound stays with me for the rest of my life.
I am not writing anything today – 20 years after his death – that I wouldn’t have written ten or 15 years ago. In fact, the moment the news broke that he had died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, it was apparent to me that he was a man I would write about at some point, even two decades later.
Rest in peace, Kurt.