Friday, January 29, 2010




1 : mean, contemptible
2 : of or relating to opposition to trade unionism or a labor union

some time ago (a year? 18 months?) there was a required class at work concerning "the dangers of labor unions." we were herded ten at a time into the classroom to watch a juvenile powerpoint presentation about the deceptions of labor unions and why we shouldn't/didn't have to/were too privileged to join one. we were also warned of the threat of union organizers seeking us out and trying to get us to "sign up" for better benefits.

Do not sign anything, we were warned. we stared back like children being warned of razors in halloween candy.

lo and behold, some weeks later, some goon shows up at my door, AT MY HOUSE, with some labor union shit he wants me to sign.

My mom told me not to get into the car with strangers, i want to say. i play dumb (which is what my mom actually always told me to do) and i tell him something like, i'm not a resident.

this makes me a YELLOW-DOG for two reasons:

1) the above definition: the act of opposing labor unionism, and

2) i am in a way contemptible for not being able to come clean with the man on my front porch. i have a problem defending some of my opinions. i worry that i am easily convinced. even though i could have told him that i work for a company where i get treated well enough not to need a union, i worried that he would stand there and try to convince me otherwise. when people are well-spoken i often begin to get flustered, see their point, question my opinion. my judgment clouds, i find myself gripping for answers and not finding them, my once solid assurance now slippery and transparent. and this, to me, is utterly contemptible.

thankfully, i don't make decisions in this state of cloudiness. but i do spend time (hours?) rolling it over in my head, questioning myself, my judgment, and ultimately my cowardice. i want to be resolute, steadfast.

maybe i'm just ill-informed. maybe if i had known all there was to know about labor unions i could have defended my point. or maybe i just don't care. if i cared i would have known more. if that jerk-off had come to my door asking me to sign something claiming that a film like Pink Flamingos has no cultural value, i would have verbally reamed him a new asshole with my point and sent him on his merry way. but labor unions don't mean as much to me as the cultural value of john waters' films.

maybe it's just not worth my breath. so i hold it in, and it comes out here in words, in breathless movements of my fingers on a keyboard.

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