How I Personally Caused the Financial Crisis (part 2)

"So, Tyler...why did this whole thing happen? And how?"

Truthfully, I don't really know that much. But I'll attempt to explain...using an analogy. I suck at analogies, but I'll try anyway.

Basically, as I'm sure you're all aware, this whole thing happened because of equal parts greed and stupidity. Folks like Matt Taibbi will argue that "criminal behavior" is a large component...though I'm not qualified to speak to that. He's much smarter than I am...and also a much better writer...and his penis is probably a lot longer than mine.

So I'll just confine myself to my own personal experience, and hopefully that will explain enough for the layperson to understand.

When I started working at WaMu we had two families of loans -- "portfolio loans," and "secondary market" loans. Our portfolio loans featured two boutique products -- the 1-month Option ARM, and the 5/1 Interest-Only. These products were geared toward people who wanted low monthly payments. Equity would be accrued when property values increased (as they had for decades), or when borrowers paid for home improvements.

Our secondary market loans were all of your standard 30-year, 15-year, 5/1, 3/1, and 1/1 loan types.

Because of the risk involved, portfolio loans were marketed to very dependable borrowers; folks with a stable income and good credit. Since these products were considered too risky to sell on the secondary market (I'll get to that later), portfolio loans were held and serviced by Washington Mutual. Hence, "portfolio."

With me so far? Okay. Good.

This went on for some time, continuing throughout the housing boom of the 1990s. It worked fairly well -- people were qualifying for loans, but banks were still being held accountable for their more risky offerings.

But in the early 2000s, the secondary market started purchasing those risky "portfolio loans." All of those absurd, low-monthly-payment loans looked pretty tasty, for some reason. The driving force behind that decision were the biggest investors on the secondary market: Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. They are two government organizations that I still don't really understand (just like the rest of America, I'll wager). Though I do know a little bit. I'll also get to them later.

Anyhow, once Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac started buying all of these shitty loan pools...suddenly everyone wanted to get into the shitty loan pool business. Borrower credit standards were loosened. Property values started skyrocketing (which was okay, because anyone could get a loan!). Companies started targeting low-income borrowers via "sub-prime" "alt-a" and "emerging market" loans. Everyone was making money hand-over fist, and best of all, poor people were moving in to homes they couldn't normally afford. It was the American dream! Everyone wins!!!

Then the bubble popped, surprising nobody and everybody at the same time.

Now, for my analogy, where I will attempt to explain the issue with the "secondary market," what is meant by "the bubble," and why it suddenly "popped."

Imagine that money is a length of twine. You might own some twine, and you might make a good amount of twine...but it's not nearly enough to get you a home. So you go to a bank. Depending on how much twine you have and how much twine you make, the bank agrees to give you a much longer length of twine to buy a home with.

Shit, this analogy is falling apart already, isn't it? Keep it together, stupid...let's go.

Anyhow, after the bank gives you the twine, it measures that amount plus an extra amount (interest) and forms it into a little imaginary ball. Over time, this imaginary ball grows in theoretical size as other imaginary lengths of twine from other home owners are added to the theoretical ball...and pretty soon you've got a nifty, substantial, incorporeal ball of twine which you can take to the Twine Ball Avenue (Wall Street).

So the bank then goes to Twine Ball Avenue and shows a picture of that imaginary twine ball to twine investors.

"Look at the size of this damn thing!" the bank says.

"Wow. That's pretty big!" Twine Ball Avenue says.

"I know, right?"

"Totally."

"So, you want in on this action?"

"Sure, but, uh...where's all that twine going to be coming from?"

"Okay, I'll be real wichoo', because I like you. These borrowers aren't very good, so it's pretty risky. But the good news is that we're charging them massive interest rates, so the potential rewards are HUUUGE! High risk, yeah, but you could get a SUPER-DUPER HIGH REWARD!!! If you don't believe me, just ask those two."

The bank points to Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac...two immaculately dressed government officials with an armful of  "twine pictures" in their hands that they are cutting up and selling (mortgage-backed securities) to other hungry twine investors.

Behind Fred and Fanny is a boring poster that looks like this:

Yawn...amirite? The poster is pretty much ignored.

"GIMME DEM FINE-ASS TWINE PIKCHURZ, YO!!!!" Twine Ball Avenue screams...now literally frothing at the mouth.

And so it goes.

Essentially, the banks cobbled together a bunch of shitty loans. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac decided (after pressure from the Department of Housing and Urban Development) that, to encourage home ownership for low-income borrowers, it would start purchasing these pools of shitty loans. These pools were then chopped up and sold as Mortgage-Backed Securities to investors who should have known better.

But that was the mid-2000s. Money was cheap. Homes prices were skyrocketing. Life wasn't good...but it was better than it had been in a long time.

I was personally doing incredibly well. I'd managed to save a crap-load of money (the most I've ever saved), and I was working in one of the most fun work environments I'd ever been in. On top of that all, I was doing professional theater...and literally earning  butt-loads of money. 

Wait, no. I mean figuratively. Figurative butt-loads.

Whoops.

Back to my analogy:

Of course, as it turns out, giving twine loans to shitty borrowers is not a very good idea. Collecting enormous imaginary balls of these shitty twine loans and selling them to investors is an even worse idea.

This is because people tend to pay more attention to the "Higher Expected Yield" part of a graph, while ignoring the "Highest Risk" part. It's human nature. That's why lottery tickets continue to make millionaires out practically 0% of people every year. It's also why, when I was asked to pick an 401k investment option, I chose the "super-aggressive" portfolio and pretty much lost the entire thing in 2008.

Anyhow, after these shitty twine ball pictures are sold by a bunch of stupid bankers to even dumber investors, a couple of things started to happen. The pretend twine balls start unraveling (homeowners start foreclosing), and the dumb investors started to realize that maybe paying real twine to purchase a piece of a shitty imaginary twine ball wasn't such a great idea after all.

At a certain point, Twine Ball Avenue says: "Sorry! We're not buying these any more!"

"Whoa, wait, what? Why?" the bank asks.

"Yeah, those pictures of twine you've been selling us? Turns out, the paper was made of actual compressed dog shit."

"But, we've got, like, fifty warehouses full of those! What are we supposed to do with them?"

"Not our problem. Sorry, guys. Good luck!"

So the banks were now stuck with several warehouses full of dog-shit-paper pictures of twine balls, and those warehouses are really starting to stink. Of course, they own another smaller warehouse full of actual twine...but there isn't nearly enough to account for all of the pictures of twine, and plus, even the real twine keeps exploding into massive fireballs of stinky poo goo.

So when the going gets tough, the tough put their companies up for sale...or (depending on their political clout) they go begging for money. For those without political connections, the only option was "selling all your shit." Unfortunately, no one wants to buy a bunch of warehouses full of poo paper or twine ball poo goo.

Luckily, the banks had a back-up plan.

See...these banks were smart enough to know that investors would eventually figure out that most of their twine ball pictures were made of dogshit. This is why they bought "dog shit insurance" (credit default swap).

As the shit started to explode or fester, the bank called their dog shit insurance guy:

"Yeah, who dis?" the insurance guy asked, after picking up his telephone receiver, located on his desk in his office in his building in the state and country in which he lived.

"Hey bro!" the bank chirped cheerily into the receiver.

"Hey bank! What up?"

"Oh, you know, not much. Just chillin', mostly."

"Awesome."

"Oh hey, so, you remember that insurance policy we bought from you guys?"

"Yeah, thanks for buying that!"

"No problem, guy! Thank you! But, um...hey...as it turns out we've got a couple warehouses full of pictures of twine and they're starting to stink pretty bad. Can you come exchange all of those pictures with actual twine?"

There was a stunned silence on the other end.

"Uh, dude...we don't have that much twine."

"But we bought that insurance policy from you guys."

"Yeah, but we never thought you'd call us on it. Because, um...we don't actually have that much twine, bro."

"Oh. Well. Guess you shouldn't have insured us then, huh?"

"Probably not, but whatever, right?"

"No, dude. We need that twine, like, now."

"LOL Bankruptcy!"

"OH NOES!!!!!!!"

Three examples of those dog shit insurers were Lehman Brothers, AIG, and Bear Stearns. As you know now, things did not go well for those three in 2008-2009.

And thus began the great cascading failure of our economy.

At least...that was my view of it.

Of course, as the economy started disintegrating, I made the comparatively safe financial decision of "moving with my wife to Los Angeles to make a living as a creative professional." You know...like what I was supposed to be doing with my Theatre Arts degree all along?

Thus ends my analysis. I've pretty much forsaken the financial field ever since then...and good riddance, frankly.


I thought entertainment was a volatile business. Holy cow.

Anyway, I'm sure I'm missing a lot of details, but I'm writing a blog entry not a book. As I wrote in a lengthy comment to faithful reader, commenter, and friend Evan on my last blog, pretty much everyone (republican, democrat, banker, borrower) deserves their fair share of blame for this.

Some people had good intentions ("We should also give poor families more help to move into homes of their own." -- Bill Clinton at the 1998 state of the union address). Some people had not-so-good intentions ("Despite the problems in the subprime market, emerging markets still represent the future of the mortgage industry. As this nation becomes more racially and ethnically diverse, most of the growth in homeownership will come from minorities." -- Steven Holland, in a May 2007 article in Mortgage Banking magazine).

But there are two commonalities -- most people believed they were doing the right thing, and most people were, in fact, doing something incredibly risky, short-sighted, and stupid.

Myself included...to a lesser extent. I mean, there is nothing I could have conceivably done to fix things -- I was far too low-level. But at the same time, I knew that I was being vastly overpaid, and I knew that I was witnessing some very peculiar things first-hand.

In my next blog, I'll talk about how even low-level employees like myself were confused by the lax lending standards at the time. I'll also talk about the three people I hold personally accountable for the failure of Washington Mutual...which I consider to be a microcosm of the industry at the time.

If I ever write that entry...of course. I mean, shouldn't I finish the entry about how I was almost on a game show first? Or do maybe start the series about the three theater companies I helped found?

Well, for someone with less than 3,000 page views (THANKS FOR THE HUMILIATION, GOOGLE ANALYTICS!!!!) I guess I can just do whatever the hell I want. Like, right now, I'm just going to post one of my theatrical headshots, because I can. Suck it, readers. SUCK IT!

Gorgeous.

Click here to read part 3.

How I Personally Caused the Financial Crisis (part 1)

First, I'll give you my background.

In 2004 I moved from Bellingham to Seattle after completing my BA in Theatre Arts. Like every theater arts major, I eventually found myself working as a financial analyst for the nation's largest thrift bank -- Washington Mutual.

Like everything else in my life, I kinda' just "fell into it." My wife and I, both theater majors, decided to apply to a temp agency -- Adecco. She found a job working for a company that insured ski resorts. I found a job working with "rate locks." Oh...the twisted lives of creative folks.

When I first heard about "rate locks," I thought I was going to be installing actual, physical "locks"...on, like, ATM machines or safety deposit boxes or something. I had no idea. All I knew was that I was to report to the beautiful Washington Mutual Tower (now known as 1201 Third Avenue) to receive my training.

Needless to say, I learned about rate locks. But in actuality, the group that I found myself working for existed solely to publish something called the "Pricing Variance Report." It worked like this: every day a program would scan all of the locked loans and kick out "variances." Our group would research the variances, and either ignore them or assess a penalty that the loan officer, loan processor, or borrower would then have to pay.

Why did they need "people" to do this, when a single computer program could probably catch all of the same errors?

Turns out, it would have to be a pretty complicated program...and the cost of that program would be much more expensive than farming out the task to a bunch of temps. Inefficient efficiency...I guess.

This is because Washington Mutual (WaMu) had acquired several different companies in the late 90s and early 2000s...and each company used their own computer program. These programs were called "origination systems," and they tracked the loan from beginning to end. WaMu did not have its own origination system, so it just used all of the others ad hoc.

When I started working at WaMu, there were about 5 different origination systems. The one I worked in the most was called MLCS...which stood for Mortgage L-something C-something System. I think. It was created in 1984 (seriously) and it had not changed much since then -- it was text-based, and looked like something you'd find on an Apple IIe. It was the most popular origination system we had, mostly because it was so secure.

Anyhow, with all of these various systems, keeping track of lock prices was a hot mess. I'll explain later why "tracking prices" was so important, but let's just say that sometimes the bank and the loan officers did not always share the same motivation.

And the loan officers knew it. Most of the systems were not secure, and there was a shit-ton of human error and (sometimes) straight-up "intentional misrepresentation" that could take place. On top of that, occasionally there were "specials" that the systems just couldn't handle. It was a bureaucratic nightmare that could have been easily repaired by a uniform policy or system. But alas...that would have been difficult to implement across such a large, disparate company. Instead, WaMu tried to function with a cobbled-together mess instead, and I got a paycheck every two weeks.

Lucky me.

Eventually our group bloated to about 15 people as the company expanded. That's 15 people whose job it was to just "look at the variations explain them." Unsurprisingly, I was laid off in late 2006 when my position was "outsourced" to Colombia...........um, South Carolina.

Eventually I found my way to (or rather "fell into a job with") a company named Liberty Financial Group (LFG). LFG was a correspondent lender in a very nice building in Bellevue, and I worked as a "rate lock specialist" at the pricing desk. A correspondent lender is a company that has more infrastructure than a broker, not as much as a retail bank. There are other differences too...but they are boring, and if you want to read about it you can go here: http://mtgprofessor.com/a%20-%20type%20of%20loan%20provider/what_is_a_correspondent_lender.htm

My job was to publish a daily rate sheet and lock loans at various banks (such as Countrywide, US Bank, Chase, GMAC, and Greenpoint Mortgage). It was here that I discovered just how screwed up the entire industry had become -- gone were the days of the vanilla 30 year fixed loan. Now, most lenders were investing in bat-shit crazy programs...like the Option ARMs, interest-only, LIBOR, no-doc, SISA, NINA, CMT, et cetera. I had no idea what any of that shit meant...and I'm assuming neither did the borrowers.

On top of it all, I wasn't very good at that job, unfortunately. I made some pretty big pricing mistakes which still bother me to this day. But I was learning, and getting better with time.

Then, on one inauspicious morning in August (I don't remember the exact date), our boss poked his head into the converted conference room I shared with two other guys. Our boss was a quiet, laid-back, skinny older gentleman with 25 years of experience in the mortgage industry. This morning he looked absolutely terrified. He told us that the market was making massive, unprecedented moves...and that we had to "lock" every loan we had as soon as possible.

We did...but it didn't matter. The market shuddered, companies folded, homeowners started foreclosing, and worst of all I lost my job two months later. Several months after that, Liberty Financial Group also closed down, along with countless other mortgage businesses, both large and small (including my old employer, WaMu).

Turns out, I had entered the mortgage industry at the very start of the sub-prime housing bubble, and I sat and watched as it popped...which caused the financial crisis that ruined the world's economy.

Basically what I'm trying to say is: I'm sorry. For whatever small amount I may have contributed to this mess, I apologize. I had no idea what I was doing...and my biggest problem was that I assumed the people in charge knew what they were doing. I was wrong.

Click here to read part two.

In a State of Perpetual Frustration

I might have a problem.

I get frustrated with strangers very easily.

Now before I get into all of this, let me just say up front that I don't believe this is some kind of crippling psychological issue. The manifestation of this anger has never escalated beyond a "quiet snide remark that the person in question will never hear." It's never prevented me from enjoying life, or going places, talking to people, or making friends. Did I adequately cover all of the concerns for the "you should probably see a therapist" crowd?

Then again, I was recently diagnosed with anxiety. Maybe this might have something to do with it?

Shit.

Oh well. Screw it. Where was I?

 

The beginning. Ah. Okay.

Basically, I'm annoyed with people who are oblivious, indecisive, or distracted. It might be fed by my intolerance for ignorant people, or those who wear their stupidity as a badge of honor (I don't mind stupid or uninformed people...but I do mind when people are proud of being stupid or uninformed). But I think this frustration goes beyond that...because I seem to get annoyed with people when they're doing something that isn't even really their fault, and sometimes when they're actually doing something most would consider "polite."

 

My annoyance comes into play the most when I'm driving somewhere. I'm not an overly aggressive driver -- I don't tailgate, I'm rarely the fastest car on the road, I don't cut in and out of traffic, I don't "race" other cars, if I miss an exit I'll just take the next one instead of diving across a median, I never flash my brights or honk my horn, and I never ever ever make gestures or yell at other drivers.

But I am a somewhat aggressive driver -- I pass people, I don't always come to a complete stop, I generally exceed the speed limit, I get impatient, and I quietly call people the most vile names I can imagine when I see them doing something I deem to be idiotic (like constantly tapping the brakes when no one is in front of you, or not using your turn signal, or driving 10 miles under the speed limit in the fast lane).

I wasn't always like this. When I lived in Seattle, I used to be very patient behind the wheel. But since I moved to Los Angeles I've changed.

Which makes me wonder...is this city just getting to me? Or is this just a byproduct of "getting older, and tired of other peoples' bullshit"? Or is there something else wrong with my brain bits?

If it was limited to the road I think I could just pawn it off as typical "Los Angeles traffic frustration syndrome." But this pissed off at strangers attitude has infected all walks of my life.

For instance, walking. When I walk places I have a destination in mind. I walk with purpose; quickly and decisively. I don't like walking behind people standing four-abreast, having a fun conversation and plodding along at a snail's pace. First, they're blocking the sidewalk. Second, can't you have this discussion when you get wherever you're going?

I don't like lollygagging. If I go to a store, I immediately walk to the product I wish to purchase, pick it up, and move to the next product I wish to purchase. If I can't find a product, I stand out of the way of everyone else and try to locate the product. I'm always aware of my surroundings, and I go out of my way to get out of everyone else's way.

But it seems to me when I go to the store, everyone in there is just wandering about, blocking the aisles, and farting around for no goddamn reason (and don't get me started on the goddamn "self check-out lanes" -- when I have to wait for one of those to open up...watching people stupidly and slowly fumble their way through a simple transaction...I seriously worry that I'm going to have a brain aneurysm).

Sure, I know that people like to "browse the aisles" when they're shopping...I get that. And I know that people who are "taking their time" in the store aren't necessarily dim-witted sociopaths. I understand that everyone's different, and each person moves at a different pace.

But when someone stands in front of the pudding for five minutes with pursed lips and all I want is some goddamn vanilla and chocolate swirl Jell-O pudding which is delicious and it's right there and why won't you just move one foot to the left so I can grab that without me asking you to move or touching you and can't you see I'm standing here waiting for you to move and what is taking you so goddamn long to pick pudding it's just pudding it's not like you're buying a new car or anything just make your choice or get out of the goddamn way goddammit...it gets me cranky.

I just thought of another example. Today was I got into an elevator with a half-dozen other people. The first girl into the elevator took a spot by the buttons, put her finger up to the buttons, but didn't press anything. She just kept her hand there like she was deciding what floor to go to, but apparently she didn't need to go anywhere because she didn't press any of the goddamn buttons.

I tried to do what I always do: I get on the elevator, I push my floor button, then I hug a wall so everyone else can get on and do the same. But this woman took the "pilot" position, and just sat there with her goddamn finger hovering over the buttons for what seemed like an eternity (8 whole goddamn seconds, probably). She was probably just waiting for everyone to tell her their floor number so she could press the buttons for them. Some people would consider this courteous. I was just annoyed...so I reached past her hover-hand and pressed the "2" button and proceeded to board the stupid elevator.

And speaking of courteous, I now actively try to avoid walking too close behind people who are going through doors...because I don't want them to hold the door for me. Once again, I realize this is my issue...but I don't like it when people hold doors for me. I don't mind if they give the door a little "nudge" after they go through it (if the door opens out), or if they pass through the door and open it nice and wide so I can catch it as I follow them through (if the door opens in).

I don't like it when someone opens a door for me, or stops and holds a door for me. I realize this is totally bitchy and grouchy, but I just want them to continue on with their day so I can continue on with mine. Leave the "noble gestures" to your friends, family, and significant others.

Which reminds me -- when it comes to people I know, none of my complaints apply. I'm more than happy to doodle about in the store with my wife. When I drive with my family in the car, I'm more concerned with "their safety" than I am with "getting somewhere as quickly as possible." I don't mind if friends hold the door for me -- I think it's a nice thing to do.

However, strangers will quietly experience my full wrath. Even people who are trying to be "nice" (like the idiot who waves me through a stop sign when it's his turn to go) will feel my whispered vengeance...and if they're looking close they might even see an annoyed head shake and eye roll. I figure this is safe, because anyone that oblivious would never notice my subtle passive-aggressive gestures, but it sure makes me feel better.

All of this worries me, frankly. Not a lot...but a little bit. I'd always kinda' prided myself in believing in the true good nature of people -- that the vast majority of folks, when given the choice, will do the morally correct thing. I believe that most people are kind, intelligent, and are just trying to find happiness without harming anyone else. I love the Ian Maclaren quote: "Let us be kind to one another, for most of us are fighting a hard battle." (this quote is often mis-attributed to Plato). I also despise cynicism, arrogance, and hypocrisy, and try to avoid those things when I can.

I love humankind. It's my favorite kind of -kind.

But at the same time, I can't seem to kick this. I can't seem to stop getting pissed off at people over perceived sleights. It's the height of cynicism, arrogance, and hypocrisy...which is just so hypocritical.

So this is step one for me -- admitting I have a problem. I guess step two is trying to fix that problem. And step three would be "getting help." I don't want to have to go to step three, because it's expensive and time-consuming...so we'll just see how bad it gets. And who knows? Maybe it's not so bad, and there are a lot of people who feel this way.

Yes? No?

Either way...thanks for listening/reading. If you're reading this, it's highly likely that you're a friend or a family member...so thanks for keeping me sane. Seriously. I love you guys.

For Your Health (Part 9)

I've decided to write another entry to this compelling, interesting, and totally-worth-reading series that will no doubt become a viral sensation, viewed by hundreds of millions of people worldwide. 

Why? Because today, I experienced another "episode."

I'd been feeling shitty all morning...just achy, and "not quite right." I couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't really focus, and I was very conscious of my "breathing," which is always a bad sign.

All of a sudden (all of the sudden?) my body went numb. I experienced shortness of breath. My hands went "clammy," and I stood up from my chair, fully ready to face my imminent demise like a man. A man standing up in a cubicle.

As I stood up, I grabbed my bottle of Xanax and popped two pills (I'm only supposed to take one at a time, so please don't tell my doctor I took two -- he'd be SOOO PISSED). Then I went for a short walk around the building to calm my nerves.

I was still feeling crappy, but not "scary-gonna'-die-soon" crappy. I got back into the office, feeling a bit unsettled...maybe on the cusp of a relapse, but not quite going all the way there.

I thought lying down might help, but I haven't found any good "layin' spots" in this office building yet, and I can't go to my car to lay down (because it's a scooter, not a car).

After about 10 minutes of examining my options, everything chilled out. My heart stopped racing, my brain settled down, and a nice calm washed over my body.

This reaction pretty much confirms what I'd figured / hoped all along -- this shit is all in my head. I'm an anxious mess, for some reason...and all I needed was a little pharmacology to get me back on track.

Of course, I'm still exhausting every medical option -- I'm seeing a lovely Ear/Nose/Throat doctor at the moment, who is helping me address my "slowly fading voice," but when he examined me he did not see any nodules on my vocal cords (after gagging me with a goddamn mirror a couple of times), which is good. In my mind, nodules mean cancer...and if he didn't see 'em, they must not be there.

I'm also getting my wisdom teeth pulled in two weeks...so maybe that will help sort out whatever residual shittiness that's causing my head space.

Basically, I'm encouraged by all of this doctor-ing. I'm no longer convinced that I'm in the throes of some early stage cancer, or that I've been struck by some rare and fatal malady. Turn out I'm just an anxious guy with some teeth issues and weak vocal cords who probably just needs to start working out more, and eating better.

I can live with that.

I'm 'Bout to get all Political 'n' Sheeeit

So, Barack Obama came out in support of same-sex marriage...and I'm conflicted.

Before you freak out, it's not in the way you think. I'm a huge supporter of Barack Obama, and I'm an equally huge supporter of same-sex marriage rights. I have many dear friends who happen to be homosexuals, and the fact that they are denied the rights that are routinely taken for granted by heterosexual people is something I consider just fucking appalling.

Which brings me back to President Obama. Why am I not overjoyed that he finally spoke about his support for same-sex marriage?

Well, for one thing, he "unequivocally" supported same-sex marriage way back in 1996 (that's 16 years ago, a time when I was still embarrassingly uncomfortable around homosexuals...because I was a stupid 16 year old). I've always considered him to be a supporter of gay rights, even when he didn't just come right out and say so.

Also, in my mind, he didn't "say so" because it has not been politically expedient to say such things aloud. So he just skirted the issue, and became a "civil union states right" kind of dude. It was unfortunate.

I'm not upset with him for masking his true beliefs for the sake of political expediency (I'm not crazy about it, but I still really love the guy). What I'm upset about is the fact that something being so fucking "common sense" as supporting same-sex marriage has been viewed as a political liability for the last 16 years.

I mean...I don't get it. I really don't. I don't understand the idea that there is some untouchable "sanctity of marriage." I don't understand what harm could come from allowing same-sex marriage. 

How could same-sex marriage, in any conceivable way, be viewed as a threat to family, heterosexual marriage, morality, or a person's right to worship whatever the hell god they want to (so long as it doesn't harm anyone else)?

Marriage is not sacred. It's one of the least sacred things in the world, and it's never been truly sacred. Throughout most of human history, marriage has been viewed as more of a "financial transaction" than the modern view of marriage meaning "love and companionship." It's been a male-dominated preceding for thousands of years, and monogamy is a relatively new phenomenon.

If marriage is so sacred, why is divorce legal? Why is adultery legal? People talk about the definition of marriage clearly defined in the Bible (between a man and a woman, 1 Corinthians 7:2-3)...but they forget about some other parts that discuss marriage. Like the law where, if a man rapes a woman, he must pay the woman's father and marry the victim (Deuteronomy 22:28-29).

That's traditional marriage, in a literal, biblical sense. It was a financial transaction. A raped woman was damaged goods, so that's why the rapist had to marry her. Sorry, rapist...but them's the rub. Sorry rape-ee, but it's better than never getting married, right?

Of course, society has evolved past that way of thinking (for the most part). Forcing a rapist to marry his victim is ridiculous, just like how the concept of owning slaves (Leviticus 25:44-46) is ridiculous, and the idea that you must cut off a woman's hand if she stops a fight between her husband and another man by squeezing the other man's testicles (Deuteronomy 25:11-12) is ridiculous.

There are many "sacred" laws in the Bible that are, frankly, ridiculous. For those that are curious, check out The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible to see just how many Biblical laws are routinely ignored. You can borrow my copy, if you want it. It's a very fair-minded examination of the Bible that shows people tend to quote very selectively (as I have, admittedly, just done like crazy in this blog entry).

Sorry, I'm getting distracted. I realize most of my Christian friends and family are not hard-line "Bible Literalists," so me quoting these verses is entirely beside the point for the vast majority of the good, happy, fun-loving, open-minded Christians folk out there. I apologize for those cheap shots I was taking. Yay God!

But at the same time, know that I will not accept someone opposing gay marriage simply because "it's in the Bible," or that it "goes against the Christian faith and morality." Unless you're avoiding shellfish or clothes made from two different fabrics, you cannot make that claim without sounding hypocritical.

Because you know who hated hypocrites? Some dude named Jesus (Matthew 7:1-5).

Enough of that. No more religion talk. Where was I?

 

Obama. Okay. So, the point is, I'm glad he's finally come out and expressed the sentiments most people knew he held all along. I'm not doing backflips or anything, but it's a step in the right direction. It was a brave thing to do, but the fact that supporting same-sex marriage qualifies as "bravery" is just fucking ridiculous to me..

The Fool on the Scooter

This is a true story.

I'm riding home from work on my Piaggio scooter. About a half-mile from my house the traffic stops at a red light. Because it's legal in California, I ride up the center line, between traffic.

As I was riding past the lead cars, I was hit with a blast of "marijuana odor" from the vehicle to my right -- a newish pickup truck.

Now, when I lane-split, I typically pull up ahead of the lead vehicles, just to let them know, "Hey, there's motorcycle here now."

As I slowed to a stop the guy in the marijuana truck started inching forward.

Shit.

Because, when someone sees me and starts inching forward, either they want to race me off of the line or they want to mess with me. Or both. It sucks. I just want to get home, but some people need to be the "fastest and the baddest" on the road...and my mere presence challenges their perceived road dominance.

I hate these people. They are dangerous and stupid, and Los Angeles seems to be full of them.

Anyhow, marijuana-pickup-truck-dude-guy pulls forward and yells out his window at me:

"What are you doing, fool?"

He really punches the word "fool," for full dramatic effect.

I glance over and see a stubble-faced redheaded shithead in his late 40s. Of course, I'd love to explain the legality of what I'm doing, as well as the concept that being "stopped at a red light" is generally considered pretty safe...but stupid angry people have a hard time being reasonable; Especially when they're behind the wheel of a car. So I ignore him, and stare straight ahead.

The light turns green. As he goes tearing off, he delivers his parting shot: 

"Good way to die!"

He then proceeds to speed away, cut in front of me, make an illegal left-hand turn, run a stop sign, and pull into a dive bar parking lot.

Seriously. That's what he did. I'm not exaggerating.

Now, I'll go months without any problems like this. Typically, Los Angeles drivers know the law, and many will even pull over to the side to make way for motorcycles that are lane-splitting (I do this all the time if I catch a motorcycle in my rear-view mirror), and when they do, I always give them a thank-you wave. I've never been in a seriously dangerous situation, and "people being shitheads" is usually as bad as it gets.

All the same, though...it sucks when it happens. Makes me so irritated, generally, that I get home and go, "Goddammit...I'm going to sit down a write a blog about this."


Meta.

For Your Health! (part 8)

So.

The nuclear stress test came back clean.

Aside from one ER doctor's dubious interpretation of an EKG (which was summarily ignored by my "team" of cardiologists), my heart has passed every single test it was given.

This leads me to the inexorable conclusion: there is nothing wrong with my heart.

So.

What now?

Well, now I'm pretty sure I have some kind of panic disorder.

"But Tyler! You've never been an anxious person! In fact, you're the most laid-back, chill, easy-going, sexy person I've ever known!"

Yes, that's true. But, from what I've read, that don't mean shit. Panic attacks don't happen because a person is nervous, or because "sumthin' bad happend." To quote this document I'm reading in another window, "Researchers are not sure what causes panic attacks."

"So, that's great! Sounds like you need a vacation! LOL! Maybe just do some deep breathing next time or something, pussy! LOLOL!!!"

I've tried that...both the "vacation" and the "relaxation." Neither worked. I'm having an intense physiological reaction to...something. And it's fairly non-specific...which is why I think it has complicated and delayed an actual "medical diagnosis."

I don't know why it happened. I don't know how it happened. But I'm sure that something has happened, and that it's not getting better.

Luckily for me, these "mind" problems can be treated. There's an entire industry that has sprung up in recent years (called the "pharmaceutical" industry, apparently) that is solely dedicated to fixing brain problems. That sounds like that's my next stop. And if that don't fix it...then it's back to the drawing board, I suppose.

But...do you know the shitty thing? This whole thing is embarrassing. Like...super-duper embarrassing. Not "shut up and stop blogging about it" embarrassing...but it's close.

I've been ping-ponging around to hospitals and doctors' offices, getting my blood drawn, racking up hundreds of dollars in copay bills, totally convinced that I'm dying. I've been detailing my health issues to all of my friends and family...worrying people who are too far away to help. I've been moping around the house, scared to be "active" because I might have another attack. I've convinced myself, and everyone around me, that I've got some kind of serious medical issue...and that the goddamn doctors just aren't seeing it.

(and for the record, I might still have an issue...it's probably just not heart-related)

But the reality just might be that I'm having some kind of mental health issue -- something is just misfiring somewhere in that beautiful brain of mine. Countless hours have been spent analyzing bodily fluids, measuring organs, and monitoring my electrical pulses of what appears to be a perfectly healthy (if a little overweight) 32 year old dude. If there's nothing "physically" wrong with me, there must be something "mentally" wrong with me.

Anyhow, that's the next step. And since I'm 8 parts into this goddamn saga, I'll continue to update you all on my mental health trials and tribulations. You'll read every goddamn minute of it, and love it all...damn you.