Modern Day Mugging

"Dost Sam fear God for nothing?"
-Book of Job (updated)

Well, I was planning on writing about how reading " Keep the Aspidistra Flying", is mostly superfluous, seeing as I how I AM Gordon Comstock these days; but fortunately something much more interesting happened to me last night.
I was mugged.
I was walking east bound on Bloor, past the old Crossways mall, on the north side on the street. I've walked past there literally millions of times, usually much later and much drunker. I've never felt unsafe walking in that area. As I was walking, I glanced up at the stairwell and saw three kids hanging out and smoking. They looked up and saw me, and I kept walking. Again, no big deal.
As I was walking under the underpass (There's a huge bridge there that the Go train passes over), I felt a sudden weight on my back and an arm around my throat. I think I said "What the fuck!". My first reaction was that this was a friend playing a joke on me. Then another kid was in front of me and pushed me to the ground. The entire incident took about two minutes and was wonderfully Benthamite in its execution. When I was on the ground, I think one of them pushed something cold to my throat. I may be just imagining this last bit, as I didn't dare to look. The first kid, the one who pushed me, said "Got an Ipod, man?". A largely redundant question, as he simultaneously ripped it out of my right hand. My cell was gripped tightly in my left. This was well spotted by another assailant, as he then asked "watchoo got in the another hand, man?". To this, I boldly replied "Take it!". He needed no further encouragment. As an afterthought,the first asked "Got a wallet?" to which I nonverablly assented by handing it over. Sastified, they escaped eastward.
I watched them leave as I lay there, and then when it seemed safe to get up, I did so and continued walking to my girlfriend's place. A concerned citizen a few feet in front of me asked "Hey man, are you okay?". Thanks Batman, but by then there was nothing he could've done. I think I muttered something about forgetting it and I would just phone the cops when I got to my girlfriend's place. When I did get there, I rather abruptly commanded that she get me cigarettes, and so began the slow, dull process of getting things cancelled and phoning the cops.
What I find interesting, retrospectively, is my reaction to the entire thing. I wasn't frightened, exactly. Or angry. I just became a blank of automated responses, preprogrammed reactions. I didn't think "Damn, I'm scared! I should hand over xyz". For all the thinking that was going on, I could've been a pair of frog's legs responding to galvanic stimulus. If it makes any sense, I'd describe it as an almost active absence, like thinking would've slowed me down. As someone who has a tendency to overthink and live in his own head, it was a curious experience.
If anything, I might be responsible for introducing them to a better class of Indie rock and hip-hop. Who said there's no such thing as a silver lining? I hope they like Belle&Sebastian and MF Doom.

Local geek watches Ali G, global economy on verge of total collapse

It's been almost a week since I was fired from my job. What I'm finding odd is the lack of the almost total panic I expected myself to be in. Not having to work is a bit of a novelty for me; I've been employed since I was sixteen. The last time I didn't have a job is when I wasn't legally employable. Somewhat irresponsibly, I've been using this as a bit of a holiday and an excuse to catch up on books I've been meaning to finish. That and watching Ali G.
One that I've just finished was a memoir entitled "Blood done sign my name".The author's name is Timothy Tyson. He's a professor of Afro-American studies at the University of Wisconsin, and the memoir focuses on a racist murder that happened in his town when he was ten years old. For allegedly making a flirtatious comment to a white woman, a black Vietnam vet named Henry Marrow was chased down and murdered in broad daylight by the woman's husband, his cousin and the husband's father. Sadly, but perhaps predictably (This took place in North Carolina in the seventies)none of the men who involved were found guilty. Despite the fact that they had murdered a man while he was begging for his life, they hadn't even been arrested until the following day.
What made the book interesting for me the author's personal stake in this story. Tyson's father was a liberal Methodist preacher who constantly challenged his congregation on the issue of race, and got involved with a lot of the early protests about the obvious injustice that was surrounding the trial, as well as the larger problem of racism in the community and American society. I found it pretty refreshing to read about a preacher who challenged the community's prejudices, as opposed to catering to them (is that possible?). Tyson's father was left behind though, as the movement became more radical and viewed even white liberals with suspicion. Due to the problem of endemic racism, white liberals were in some circles considered to be even worse than out-and-out racists. The thinking went that while a racist would just say "I don't want them coming through the same doors as white people", the liberal would set up a committee to determine what exact door black people would be allowed to enter by. Tyson also refuses to give us solace with the idea that it was just a bunch of hillbilly rednecks that opposed the civil rights movement. He cites statistics that shows that the majority of people who identified as being Caucasian felt (before Dr. King's assassination)that the civil rights movement was going too far, too fast. This is really an interesting book and I'd encourage any of you who are interested in racism, religion and southern history (particular bugbears of mine, to be honest) to check it out. The writing is occasionally a little clunky and precious, but try not to let that get in the way of the way of this really interesting, tragic story.
I'll let you know more about Ali G once I've finished absorbing it all. The Borat character is inspired.

apocalypse sam

Well, it had to happen.
Enough has happened lately to warrant me actually sitting down and writing one of these. Figure I could use the practice, having not written anything except e-mails for several months now. Don't count on this being very interesting at first, unless of course you enjoy people taking pot-shots at Book City. I can't promise there won't be alot of those, but I'll try to rise above the pettiness. I guess I'll usually be writing about the type of things that interest me. Surprised? Those will include, but not be limited to: Philosophy, Music, Literature, Theology, Pop culture, Catholicism, Religion (I have a fondness for Christianity, but others can be pretty interesting), and of course my highly fascinating social life.
I recently had alot of free time forced on me, and needing some kind of creative outlet I decided, like millions of others people, that blogging was the way to go. Of course, when it comes to computers I'm completely retarded so I'll be desperately dependent on everybody to help me do things like link to other sites, and post photos. I should also warn everyone that not only are my computer skills non-existent, my computer's abilities are about the same, so we're evenly matched. So whenever something doesn't work, it'll be half my computer's fault.
Be forwarned, card carrying narcissist that I am, I have a hard time committing to anything. So I'm not sure how often I'll be updating. Although, card carrying narcissist that I am, I do love talking about myself. Stay tuned.