A Precautionary Tale

I just finished a post a few minutes ago when I saw this news article and had to include it. It is for this very reason that I have kept everything about my own Anger Management sessions vague. I feel sorry for this guy, but now I'm a little worried about the attendance records I kept for the class... Will 'Mr Blue' be upset that I included his absences, and will "Mr Yellow" and "Mr Rainbow" want revenge, now that the world knows that they missed the very same classes, AND came late on the exact same gays-- err, I mean DAYS?

Allentown Man Gets Prison For Recording Anger-Management Classes

He posted secret video on YouTube

By Riley Yates Of The Morning Call

An Allentown man who secretly recorded his court-ordered anger management classes and posted them on YouTube was sentenced to state prison Friday.



Richard P. Mason III told Northampton County Judge Paula Roscioli that he wanted his daughter to see the group therapy sessions, which were ordered as part of his sentence on a terroristic threats charge, said Second Deputy District Attorney William Matz Jr.



Instead, the recordings landed Mason, 41, with a probation violation and a new sentence of 18 to 36 months in state prison on the threats case. Prosecutors are also considering bringing new charges against Mason for violating the state's wiretap law, Matz said.

The case is ''unique,'' Matz said. ''First for me; I think the first for our office.''


Mason was arrested in June 2007 for threatening to kill his brother in Hanover Township, Northampton County, while armed with a gun, according to court records. He pleaded guilty last year and was given three years of probation and 36 hours of community service.

Matz said Mason had attended several anger management classes before he decided to record them using his cell phone.

Mason admitted in court to posting online at least one video, which he said got 1,200 hits, Matz said.

Under Pennsylvania law, it is illegal to record someone without their permission.

Other attendees of the therapy learned of the recordings and ''obviously it was a major issue with them,'' Matz said.



The video has been taken down from YouTube. If investigators can recover it, Mason could face a separate wiretap charge for each time it was viewed on the Internet, Matz said.

Unauthorized recordings are a third-degree felony punishable by up to seven years in prison and a $15,000 fine. On 1,200 counts, the maximum penalty would be 8,400 years in prison and an $18 million fine.

Regarding this article, all I can say is: Where did they find a man who can serve 8400 years in jail? I've GOT to meet his doctor! Maybe it's Dr. Will Telliv?

I'm Ready For Love-- Oh, Baby I'm Ready For Love

This past year has helped me more than I was ready to realize!

I made a statement in class one week months ago wherein I asserted that every relationship everyone has ever had... has FAILED. I did make an exception for current relationships. It was a no-brainer statement, I thought... after all, if you were once in a relationship, and are no longer in that relationship, than it makes sense that the relationship has failed, right?

Wrong.

After a hotly contested battle of words, I was helped to realize that these associations did not FAIL; no, they simply ENDED. Of course, some of them DID fail, and magnificently so; there are some people who are simply not ready to give of themselves to the point of success in a connection. Saying goodbye while holding a gun on your partner smacks of spectacular failure...

As an example, I'm reminded of a comment made one afternoon decades ago by a relationships expert, on an episode of Sally Jesse Raphael or Montel Williams or Maury Povitch-- they said "In a relationship, both people should always give 60% of themselves, but only expect 40% from their partner."

Wise words. In effect, the expert warned that relationships should NOT  be 50-50; they should actually be 60-60, which I imagine would work very well for most couples, except maybe for a pairing of mathematicians who just couldn't wrap their heads around that particular solution.

In our ego-centric culture, it's not surprising that people are often holding out on giving that extra 10%-- they figure, 'Why should I? My significant other isn't!' For most aspects of life they would be right, but love connections are a special animal that allows us to think of others before ourselves... if we're doing it right, that is.

As a matter of fact, if you're ever wondering 'do I actually love this person?', your answer might be found in your actions-- DO you give more of yourself than you expect from your mate? Do you place all the collected actions in the relationship up to a microscope to determine who is giving more... who is the 'better' mate?

Here's a secret: If you put your relationship on a balance scale to find the 'winner', there isn't going to be one-- just a couple of 'losers'.

Well, here's one 'loser' that plans to 'win' the next time I jump on that bandwagon. I'm all about the learning and growth. Which, I will freely admit, is a big change for me.

If you were to ask me why I married my (now EX) wife while we were still married, I would say "Because I love her!" But if you were to ask me after a long night of drinking with my buddies, I would probably 'fess up with, "Because she has the best ass I have ever seen."

Not only would that be true, it would show a remarkable amount of immaturity on my part. But no more or less than my ex wife, who would have answered the question with, "Because he has great moneymaking potential." You see, we were BOTH immature, and getting married for SO the wrong reasons.

Although... in a historical sense, we both got married for exactly the RIGHT reasons! In humanity's past, potential mates were judged for their ability to contribute to survival (moneymaking potential) and the ability to produce a strong stock of children (good physical form). Of course, in the past there would be no divorce and we would stay married until death... or until one of us killed the other... which I guess, actually is 'until death', huh?

But NOW is not THEN. Now we get married (if we're smart) based on how well we get along, how much respect we have for one another... and how horny the other makes us (yeah, that one is still true, at least).

There was a time in the mid 1990's after I divorced my wife when I was looking for a woman who did NOT have any particular sexuality to me, because I thought it was that reason which caused me to choose my last mate poorly. I dated a nice person for a couple of years, but the relationship ultimately fail-- oops, I mean ENDED-- because there was NO SEX! She may have been just average-looking to me, but the way I treated her made her feel as though she were a pariah, or at least a bridge troll. That was unfair to her. We parted, but we are still on good terms-- I fessed up to her, using only the most circumspect of terms, and won her respect because of my honesty. Still, I felt like an enormous jerk, and vowed to be more open in the future.

Now I find myself free again; humbled yet wiser, modest and hopeful. I feel too old to receive trembling, heart-thumping love again; the best I hope for is a comfortable coexistence. But I worry, too- have I become too set in my ways to accept someone, anyone at all, living an entire life with ways completely their own? And although I'm not looking for a cover girl nor runway model, many of the eligible women my age have given up to the terrors of time and remind me of my dear departed grandma-- wonderful people though they might be, I feel too youthful to align with someone not my own mental age. The women who look the age I feel, I fear, not only don't remember that Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings; they don't even know who Paul McCartney IS!

Quite a quandary I find myself in. Of course, there's always my ex-wife; the mother of my child, the tortured soul whose head I creased with a soda can-- a regrettable move that began this whole journey of court-ordered self-exploration-- who constantly hints that we will end up growing old together. Knowing our relationship the way I do, I can't envision any future with her that doesn't end with a gun to my own temple, and her (or myself) holding the trigger. No, that's not going to happen, although I see us remaining casual friends until our natural (!) deaths.

I'm also feeling a little sorry for myself. My once-firm keg has become soft (I'm certain there once was a six-pack under it all, but no more); the rich mane of hair I sported in my 20's now resembles the fuzz on Phil Spector's head (Hm. Maybe I shouldn't reference Phil Spector in an Anger Management Blog); and the deep valleys and crags of my rock-climbing youth I now wear on my face for all to see. So no, I no longer look like Superman('s plumber), more like his Chia Pet. But I hear women of all ages appreciate self-deprecating humor, so I have a leg up in this Quest For (romantic) Fire.

No judgement, please. If you are in the market for a funny, smart, usually sweet recovering canoholic, I may be exactly right for you. I enjoy long sits at the beach, shuffleboard on the Lido Deck and dinner at 4:30. I am passionate about the grape-- a tall glass of red Welch's makes any meal a treat. Hobbies include staring out the window and staring at my silent phone. As a gourmet, I love the delicate flavor of strained Canadian bacon and Kaopectate. Call me! My number is Murray Hill 3. Gladys the operator can connect you.

Oh, and don't worry. An earring in the RIGHT ear means gay. One in the left just means I wanna be a PIRATE, and I'm keeping it. No ARRRguments.

Anger Management, Weakly

I'm feeling good, what can I say?

Have I given in to my inner wimp? For some reason, the past few weeks have been a walk in the park for me, a day at the beach. A skip to my lou, if you will.

You need to understand... it's not like there's been a moratorium on emotion-producing-events of late. No, they come, and as fast and as furious as car movie sequels, too. What has changed is me. My inner spring has become uncoiled... my trigger has become uncocked. When I walk down the street my hands are relaxed and swinging, not tensed into fists of destruction.

In the past, my first instinct when verbally assaulted by some stranger has usually been to mentally coil for attack, and to follow with an intense barrage of rapid-fire epithets. If that weren't enough to hold them at bay I would be forced to launch myself at them like the holy retribution of Jesus, raining down on them with a hail of fistfire. And soon after I would be escorted to a nice barred cell, and shortly thereafter to a bland courtroom where nobody understands the meaning of 'He Started It!'  

That is a thing of the past, my friends. I am all about the bonding now.

There's a soft, squishy chocolate center where my hard candy used to be. I can't say I understand how a transition like this could happen in such short order-- I'd have trouble believing it was my year of 2-hour-a-week anger management class, because change is tough and would take more than an obligatory court-ordered meeting-- but I really don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Yuch-- whoever came up with that expression has NOT done it!

Other changes I have noticed in the last few months: 

I cry freely, which is a talent I never knew I had. But for some reason I don't cry about unhappy things... when my folks died, for example, I didn't so much as well up or build a shine on my eyes! I DID feel a profound sense of loss at their passing, and my heart aches when I remember things we can no longer share, but I feel warm and glowy when I remember them. I guess I'm remembering their lives, not their deaths. 

No, I seem to cry at happy endings-- when the guy gets the girl, or when the hero beats the villain, or when things just work out for the best-- I'm a sobby Bobby! And man, it feels good to cry. It's like an emotional spigot opening up and letting all those tough emotions drain out of me. When I'm done, all that's left are the happy ones.

Little things are less important... a LOT less important. So apparently I don't sweat the petty stuff. I remember steaming up whenever my daughter made a life decision which I felt was not in her best interest. I'd start yelling, then she'd start yelling and becoming defensive, then she'd storm off and nothing would get resolved. She'd make her bad choices anyway and have to live with them, which is something she wouldn't have had to do, if I felt then more like I do now. She still makes bad choices and has to live with them, only now we get to quietly discuss the consequences before she does them, so she can make her decision unemotionally. That's why she doesn't have a skull tattoo on her face. 

I steer clear of trouble-- that's another new thing in my life. In the past, if there was even so much as a whisper of anything exciting going on, I'd find a way to be there... even if it meant missing classes, missing work, or missing a family event.  You might guess that had a negative effect on school, work and family, and you'd be right. After a number of failed classes, lost jobs and ruined relationships, it became much less of an appealing draw. I began to like the idea of long-term-- long-term anything was better than having to find new all the time. Boy oh boy how my perspective has changed! In my youth it was always about the new and exciting... now I'm thrilled when they can cook my burger the same way each time.

You know, maybe it's maturity. Maybe I'm just growing up a little, and the things which were fun and interesting to me when I was younger no longer have the same appeal.

Okay, I think I've got it. I'm claiming Murtaugh syndrome.  You remember Sgt Roger Murtaugh, played by Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon series of movies? Here he was, a month from retirement, and he was saddled with an insane partner, who would stop at nothing to get the man. Of course wherever Riggs went, Murtaugh had to go... whether it be jumping from a rooftop or falling out of a plane. 

So I feel like Murtaugh. After each crazy stunt Riggs gets away with, the exhausted and time-worn Murtaugh would issue his famous tagline:

 I'm getting to old for this shit!

And so I am. Whether anger management helped or not I don't know, but I am neck deep in 'I don't wanna put up with this shit anymore' and the only recourse seems to be an ego deflation. Yeah. People who get into arguments and fist fights are defending something-- whether it be their knowledge, their honor or the honor of another, and these are learned behaviors which can be reasoned away.

Well, they can for me, anyway. I suppose there's a great amount of power in the thought, "I AM SICK OF THIS." When I say that, I have just told myself that I am not going to do this anymore.

I have come to a decision. That final thought, the last piece of straw on the pile, has to be meaningful enough that I feel as though a chapter in my life has finished. Like the alcoholic who wakes up in a puddle of his own sick, it has to have an impact. In effect, I have to blow a hole in my own ego, to allow help from outside to enter past the defense zone.

Oh!

I guess anger management DID help after all... after I finally knocked my own ego down and let them in!

Howzit Goin', "Kids"? A PC Primer

Here I sit, too clever for my own good.

Last night's anger management meeting (countdown: 45 down, 7 to go) was centered around ME. Well it wasn't, but for a good 30 minutes it was me against the group. Now I'll weigh in here and you can tell me EXACTLY how wrong I am... but I won't listen to you, either.

This post is all about the grand bogeyman of the last 3 decades- PC. You know what I'm talkin' about...

Prime Chuck? Sorry, this ain't a blog about ANGUS management...

Penny Candy? Man, where have YOU been? Even BAZOOKA JOE costs a DIME these days!

Post Coital? Well, that's a topic for another blog... at $3.95 a minute.

 Okay, stop guessing.  I'm talking about POLITICAL CORRECTNESS. Like so many of our ill-conceived ideas, it was meant to be a positive step towards the end of the bad 'isms'-- you know, rac-ISM, sex-ISM, age-ISM-- but has taken on a life of its own with a growth that knows no upper limits. I fear it, I tell ya!

The story: After last week's meeting, I was collecting the largely uneaten plate of cookies I had brought to class (because I like to nibble in such situations, and because my grade school teachers imprinted me with the need to bring enough snack food for everybody, mocking me as they confiscated my tidbit). The room was empty except for me and the facilitators, and I saw them watching me casually as I cleaned up, so I threw a little small talk out. I said, "You girls (there are 1 male and 2 female facilitators in my group) must be watching your weight-- I notice you never help yourself to the snacks."

Oh, golly. Big mistake. 

There's one habit I have noticed among mental health professionals, and that is their tendency to analyze everything that is said and done. Perhaps it is their training, or their experience, but the end result is often the same... I begin to question my motives for everything I do or say. Another word for that, I think, is paranoia.

So you can imagine what happened next. Here are some comments, in random order:

I'm not a girl. (from the male)

'Girl' can be a belittling term... did you mean it that way?

Because I choose not to eat a cookie, does that automatically mean I'm on a diet?

Has it occurred to you that I may not like cookies... or have allergies?

Do you view us as children?

And the most pertinent comment to this blog: Let's make this incident a part of your time next week ('Time' being the occurrence when I speak to the group about what irks me).

Jeeeeeeeez! Small talk is some dangerous stuff!

The following week (that would be yesterday, for the timeline-challenged) each member performed the check-in routine, and when it came to me (OF COURSE) they couldn't wait to volunteer me for time. One facilitator asked, "Do you want to discuss the 'girl' incident of last week?" while the other corrected her and said, "more like the 'comment' incident!"

Political correctness pisses me off. Rather, the abuse of it pisses me off, so I thought I'd speak, if for no other reason than to air my grievances.

At this point you may think I am in the wrong. That's fine. Voicing my thoughts on paper always carries the risk of miscommunication-- you can't hear my tone of voice, nor see the expression on my face, or even see the 'tells' coming from my body language-- so I'll have to write that extra 999 words (since you can't see the 'picture'). Here's my take:

Political correctness is important to bring home the point about non-equal treatment of others.

So, no calling people religious or ethnic or racial slurs. If I were a Polish Jew, I would not appreciate being called a 'popkike'.

The line blurs when it comes to actions of a more general nature. Wanting to rename a decades-old sports team because the word has fallen into inappropriate status is, IMHO, a waste of resources and borders on hypersensitivity. Leave the Poughkeepsie Sambos alone.

I used to be young. I'm not old yet, but there are a lot of people younger than me. Plus, I happen to be a rather colloquial fellow. Also, I'm a dad of a teenager. Put those together and Viola! you end up with a guy who calls everybody 'kids', or 'boys and girls' or even, if the mood strikes me, 'whippersnapper'. However, I'm NOT the "You kids get the hell offa my lawn" kind of guy; more like the "You kids have a good time at prom tonight!" kind of guy.

Am I being politically incorrect if somebody finds offense in my comment? As I've mentioned before, I am not in control of how other people think, or define, or identify. The best I can hope to do is explain myself.

Even better: I can rebel against the unchecked use of political correctness. Hence, this post.

I'm calling for legal limits! I want the term Politically Correct to have a legal definition, and not just one of those namby-pamby definitions that only look at one side of a situation. No, I don't want to see it defined as 'the act of preventing insult' or something else so vague. It is a powerful weapon, no matter which side of the comment I'm on, and needs to be controlled.

I'm about to make a leap-- stay with me. 

Today's financial woes are a symptom of the same problem Political Correctness comes from. About 40 years ago, psychology (or psychiatry-- I forget which, forgive me. My knowledge of the details is sketchy) was on the rise and passed on the insight that children can be damaged for life by early emotional trauma. The result? 'Good' parents began spoiling their children to prevent any potential trauma, and were reinforced by psych talk even as their kids, convinced of their perfection, became megabrats who had to have what they wanted when they wanted it, at the expense of any morality, any ethics or anybody in their way. 

Flash forward to adulthood, and these now-leaders in society are making decisions based on their early impressions. Suddenly, 'the good of the nation' takes a back seat to 'the good of ME', and we all suffer as a result.

We all suffer as a result. Telling words. This PC revolution is causing everybody to suffer, in a subtle, seditious way. 

Over-editing is stifling creativity, stifling humor and stifling our future as a civilization.

HOW TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GOOD AND BAD PC:

Telling a fat joke to a crowd- GOOD PC

Deriding a fat person in a crowd- BAD PC

Being comically racist to a longtime friend- GOOD PC

Being angrily racist to a stranger- BAD PC

Old person calling young person young and pretty- GOOD PC

Young person calling old person old and ugly- BAD PC

Play this game enough and a pattern emerges: Am I a mean asshole or am I simply being misunderstood?

Political Correctness shouldn't be about being sensitive to accepted minorities... it should be about being sensitive to INDIVIDUALS.

On a one-on-one basis!

Seems like another way of saying USE MY COMMON SENSE- when speaking AND when listening. 

Jeez... why didn't you SAY so? Using my common sense?

That's something this popkike knows how to do...