Bullshattuck

Homelessness is an Issue For Everyone

(So I decided to write a sensitive, thought-provoking column for once - which resulted in a column that instead comes across as whiny and boring. In any case, this column was published in the
March 31st, 2008 issue of the The Daily Utah Chronicle)

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I woke up around 6:30 a.m. because of my dog's persistent whining. I slipped on my flip-flops and proceeded to take the dog outside to use the bathroom. While descending the stairs of my apartment hallway, I nearly tripped over a man in his mid-40s, curled up and sound asleep. The man was homeless.

I'm assuming he jimmied the lock to my "secure" apartment building and had decided to seek shelter anywhere he could because it was snowing. I gently woke him up and told him I wouldn't call the police as long as he promised to leave. He agreed to do so, and I discovered later that morning that he had indeed left my apartment building.

Those who doubt that Salt Lake City has a homeless problem have clearly never been to Pioneer Park in the summer time. Those who believe that the homeless of Salt Lake City are few in number have never driven past Rio Grande Street. Those who are willing to admit that Salt Lake City has a homeless problem but would rather ignore it have never discovered a homeless person asleep just outside their door.

It should be said that if Salt Lake City has a significant homeless problem, then the United States -- with a national homeless population of approximately 3.5 million people -- has a significant homeless crisis. After paying no attention to the homeless epidemic that has plagued our nation for years, we are slowly being forced to look the epidemic in its hungry face and admit that we've fallen short.

Considering that approximately 1 percent of the population has nowhere to sleep at night, it must be asked whether there is any truth to the idea that we've become "two Americas."

If all of Utah were suddenly forced to sleep on the streets at night, the outcry would be so great that America would demand change from its leaders, not with votes and ballots but with pitchforks and torches.

Nevertheless, a population larger than that of Utah finds itself spending every night in such opulent locations as communal shelters and cold park benches. Where is the outcry of the citizenry over such an injustice? Is it being muffled by a citizenry who is too busy becoming annoyed when asked for spare change?

Who should be blamed for the negligence of such a large population? Are these calamitous numbers a result of a failure in public policy or, as some would suggest, should the fault be squarely aimed at the homeless themselves? The simple answer would be to blame the homeless directly, assuming they bring such dire conditions upon themselves. The complex and realistic answer, though, is to understand that homeless people come from all walks of life and that the reasons for homelessness are as varied as the individuals themselves.

According to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, the causes for becoming homeless range from the more extreme causes of drug and alcohol addictions and mental illnesses to such benign causes as divorce, job loss and hospitalization.

With the economy continuing its downward spiral, the topic of homelessness remains a more relevant topic than ever before. Middle class families who might already be financially overextended are losing their homes, thanks in no part to the sub-prime mortgage crisis. Those who yesterday wouldn't have given a second thought to a beggar on the street are now being forced to scrape the bottom of their savings and rely on the kindness of family and friends to avoid becoming homeless themselves. Many people have gone through a divorce, have been laid off or have suffered from mental illnesses because of serving our country in a military capacity. One out of every hundred of us lose our homes due to these everyday life events. Shouldn't empathy be more prevalent as these are life events to which nearly everyone can relate?

I assume that I'm not the only person who, upon being asked for spare change, has rolled my eyes and thought to myself, "Why can't he just get a job?" I avoid judging people by their race, gender, ethnicity or sexual orientation -- and yet, do I make an exception when it comes to judging people by their economic status?

Most homeless advocates would agree that giving spare change to the homeless does more harm than good. Nevertheless, are we exercising the other options available that would cause more good than harm, such as volunteering at shelters and making sure legislation is being passed to protect the homeless? At the very least, are we treating the homeless population with respect?

Looking back on my decision to ask the homeless man in my apartment building to leave, I can't say that this was necessarily the best decision I could have made. How would most people react?

On the one hand, most people wouldn't likely feel that comfortable knowing that a homeless person was asleep just outside their apartment door. On the other hand, though, it's rather presumptuous of me to feel as though I have the authority to send a human being into the winter cold at 6:30 in the morning.

I don't know why this particular man was homeless. Perhaps he had a drug or alcohol problem. Maybe he had a mental illness from having served in Vietnam. He might have just recently lost his job or his family. I don't know why he was homeless, but I do know that it's not my place to judge him.

Not because homeless people are just like us, but because they are us.

Live Healthier, Live Longer

(This boring column was published in the
March 24th, 2008 issue of the The Daily Utah Chronicle)

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I've accepted the fact that April 19 will probably be the day I die.

"Why is Ryan dying at such a young age?" a few readers might ask. "Will it be a slow and painful death as he deserves?" most readers will hope. I believe I will soon die, for April 19 is the day of the Salt Lake City Half Marathon.

For some reason, I've deluded myself into thinking that running a half marathon is something within my realm of possibility. Unaware of my physical limitations, I apparently have never actually met Ryan Shattuck. He does not run half marathons, he does not have the capability of running a half marathon and he certainly does not refer to himself in the third person when writing about running a half marathon. Regardless of this obvious and painful fact, I obviously must have had a shot or two of something intoxicating ("Hey bartender, forget the Jack Daniels -- I'll just have barbiturates on the rocks.") the day I registered to run the half marathon.

I don't know why I think I'll last 13 miles when most days I try not to exert more physical energy than is needed to breathe. Rather, I subscribe to the Phyllis Diller philosophy of exercise: "My idea of exercise is a good, brisk sit."

I find solace in knowing that my aversion to exercise is not uncommon. About 6 percent of Americans exercise 30 minutes a day while 22 percent of Americans exercise three to four times a week. Some people do eat correctly and exercise regularly, but unfortunately these people generally find themselves in the minority. Many of us desire to stay in shape, but many of us -- including myself -- also lack the time, energy and motivation that is required. In fact, it's been statistically proven (i.e., I'm making this up) that if the same percentage of people exercised as watched American Idol, then Coke would begin product placements in gyms. Just make sure the Coke cups always face the camera.

Struggling to stay physically fit has long plagued modern society. We buy ab machines, go on fad diets, attend wellness seminars, buy health books, take nutritional supplements, go to yoga classes and count food points. Some even go as far as to buy workout videos with titles that include "Richard Simmons" and "Sweating To." There's no question that we desire to be in better shape -- health and fitness is a $14.1 billion industry while nutrition and weight loss are a $44 billion industry. We certainly have the best intentions when we buy these billions of dollars worth of abercisers, Atkins diet books and "Dancing With the Stars" cardio dance videos, which I promise I've probably never used. Despite such financial investments in the exercise industry, is something being lost in translation along the way? If so much money is spent, why do so many of us continue to be overweight and out of shape?

In other words, I may have an expensive treadmill, but that pile of laundry has spent more time on the treadmill than have my feet.

According to last year's fourth annual report from the Trust for America's Health, two-thirds of Americans are overweight or obese. The report also points out that Mississippi ranked the highest with percentages of physical inactivity and adult hypertension. It goes on to say that physical activity reduces the chances one has of dying prematurely. From this report one can ascertain that physical fitness is not as much a good idea as it's something on which our longevity depends.

Fortunately, there's hope -- or at least, there is here in Utah. We can be proud of the fact that, according to the United Health Foundation, of the 50 states in the U.S., Utah ranked sixth for the healthiest state in 2006. Our state might have our beehive's share of problems, but no one can accuse us of not being happy and healthy. Despite this achievement, we should be wary of resting on our statistical laurels. Like a broken elliptical machine, our ranking can go up or down without any warning at all.

As residents of one of the healthiest states in the nation, perhaps we can resolve to raise our ranking to fifth place. We can exercise more, we can find time to workout and we can eat healthier. We can be encouraged by the fact that we can change our habits at any point in our life. We can continue to strive to be physically fit well into our older years, as is demonstrated by 70-year-old Nobel Prize winner Mario Capecchi, who lapped me more than once on the track at the Field House a few weeks ago. We can make positive changes today that will not only leave us feeling better about ourselves tomorrow but will also lengthen our lives.

Which reminds me, I need to start planning for my funeral. April 19 is right around the corner.

My Facebook Profile Has An Existential Crisis

Um... I sure hope so.

Ever Wonder How Some Bus Drivers Spend Their Lunch Break?

This is a picture I took while leaving my apartment the other day.

Of a school bus.

Parked in front of the state wine store.

Now let's think about this for a minute. Sure, we could judge the busdriver for buying alcohol at the state wine store in between shifts. But if you drove children around for a living, wouldn't you also give in to your vices? Of course you would. Everyone would.

So the next time you take your children to board a morning school bus being driven by a bloodshot-eyed bus driver who's groggily taking a swig from his paper bag, remember: he drives children around for a living.

Be sure to thank him. Thank him for driving America's children. He'll appreciate it, as we weaves in and out of incoming traffic.

Thank you, bus driver.

All Dogs and Babies Go to Heaven

(This column was published in the
March 11th, 2008 issue of the QSaltLake)

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I just so happen to be writing this column on the very day my dog celebrates his ninth birthday. Now, for those who are of the opinion that “facts” should “matter,” I’ll admit that today isn’t ‘technically’ my dog’s birthday but the one-year anniversary of the day I adopted him. I don’t actually know when my dog was born as the Utah Humane Society, where I adopted him, was unsure of his date of birth. I’ve since decided that for simplicity’s sake, I would celebrate the anniversary of the day I adopted him as his birthday.
You know, similar to the way Karl Rove’s parents celebrate his birthday on the day they adopted him from a pack of wolves.

My dog is my baby. Anyone who doubts that simply has to hear anything that comes out of my mouth. “Did I tell you about the time my dog …”; “Isn’t it cute that my dog …”; “You’ll never believe that my dog …” Yeah, I’m disgusting. For those who happen to be familiar with the stereotype of the gay man who effeminately babies his dog, this stereotype was based on one person.

You’re welcome.

Most gay men either a) own a dog, b) wish they owned a dog, or c) are a dog. Why is this? While dogs happen to be popular with people of all races, sexual orientations and walk of life, dogs tend to be even more popular in the gay community. I know many gay people who have dogs. In fact, the last time I wet to PetSmart to buy dog food, I encountered so many gay men in the aisles that I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t somehow ended up at Try-Angles.

Compounding my confusion is the fact that I have a habit of drinking at both Try-Angles and PetSmart.

Gay men and women appear to have more of an affinity for dogs than straight men and women – is this true? One might assume this is because dogs are the closest way a gay man or woman may come to fulfilling their desire of having a complete family. My seasoned research team (who happens to go by the name of “looking stuff up on Google”) tells me that for those who happen to reside in the states of Arkansas, Florida, Michigan, Mississippi, New Hampshire or Utah, joint adoption is not an option. It only makes sense that gay men and women, in an attempt at fulfilling their desire to care for progeny, would turn to the next available solution.

By which I mean dogs. To those who assumed the “next available solution” would be “porn,” I say, “that is incorrect.” Though I will admit porn never has to be taken in for a rabies vaccine.

If by some bizarre twist of fate, Utah suddenly granted the right to gay men and women to adopt whomever we want (I call dibs on adopting Gary Coleman, but only because I’d be able to carry him around in a purse like a Chihuahua), would we be up to the challenge? I don’t know if I would; I have to admit that I’m comfortable with babying a dog instead of babying a baby. When I first adopted my dog, many friends thought I wasn’t “responsible” or “mature” or “even that smart” to be able to care for a living being who made the inconvenient mistake of not being me. I proved these people wrong by caring for my dog for a year now. Nevertheless, taking a dog out to poop twice a day is quite different from a baby who poops seventeen times a day. And needs to be fed. And won’t sleep through the night. And who needs to learn the entire English language. And who needs to have a chaperone at his or her prom. And who needs to know where babies come from.

I relish the fact that I never need to teach my dog where babies come from.

Someday, we may be able to marry and adopt. Whether five years from now, ten years from now, or a Larry King lifetime from now, we may someday find ourselves living in a state where we are able to marry and adopt freely, and will find that the only thing preventing us from doing so is our own cowardice. Perhaps we might benefit to remember the following:

If we can keep a plant alive for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for a pet.

If we can keep a pet alive for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for a relationship.

If we can maintain a relationship with someone for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for an adopted child.

And if we can keep an adopted child alive for a certain period of time, then we’ll know we’re ready to own Sea Monkeys. Cause damn, those things are really, really hard to keep alive. I always kill my Sea Monkeys.

But meanwhile, I have a bone-themed birthday party to throw.

Why Not All Lucky Charms Are Magically Delicious

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! The following is an old essay I once wrote about "luck," and am re-posting here as proof that I believe in recycling.

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A heads-up penny. A four-leaf clover. A shooting star. A rabbit’s foot. A ladybug. The number seven. A buckeye nut. A positive fortune cookie. A thumbs up. A horseshoe. A wishing well. Maxing out a credit card. Sending the bill to the 110th United States Congress.

All signs of good luck.

All of which are as effective as Uri Geller is at spoon-bending.

I consider myself somewhat pragmatic. I might also say that I’m an iconoclast. In fact, I would even go as far as to say that I am an unbelieving, skeptical realist. That having been said though, I’m also paradoxically superstitious, have my own ‘lucky’ rituals, and have faith in things that may or may not exist. In other words, I’m just like most Americans.

In other words, I’m an idiot.

From the athlete who wears special gym socks while playing the state championship, to the stockbroker who keeps a pocketed talisman while working the wall street, to the truck driver who always plays the same numbers in the lottery, to the casanova who wears the same underwear to get laid (gross); many people have their own ritual or amulet or number or tradition they use in order to bring them luck. Why? While adults are willing to give up on their Santa Claus, their Easter Bunny, their Tooth Fairy and their Fraggles Living In Their Basement (and by ‘adults,’ I mean, well, ‘me’), these same adults still hold on to their throwing salt over their shoulder, their blowing on the dice, their wishing on a shooting star, and their numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42.

It is truly an odd society, that is not able to realize that ‘luck’ is nothing more than faith stripped of spirituality. In fact, the entire concept of ‘believing in luck’ is a bizarre phenomenon, when considered. The following is, according to me, the ‘lucky process’:

1.) A non-particular person has an upcoming event, day, situation, or unlucky thing.

2.) This same person decides that they would like to influence the outcome of the aforementioned upcoming event, day, situation, or unlucky thing.

3.) The said person wears, obtains, uses, applies or takes a bite out of a talisman, an amulet, a random object, or a raindance-complete-with-headdress-and-shakers.

4.) Nothing happens.

5.) Instead of admitting that faith in luck is non-existent, this same person repeats steps 1 through 3, with step 4 also repeating itself exponentially.

Now I don’t necessarily believe that keeping a rabbit’s foot on one’s keychain is inherently and immorally wrong (aside from the obvious fact that there is now a rabbit in the wild somewhere with one less foot). But I do think it is dangerous when this belief and this faith in ‘luck’ crosses the line from whimsy to wishful thinking and pseudoscience. There’s nothing wrong with foolishly thinking that stepping on a crack will break one’s mother’s back; it’s quite another thing to step on a crack and then immediately calling a chiropractor in a panic.

Assuming your mother isn’t Laura Schlessinger.

Doesn’t the belief in luck remove the responsibility of the individual? We want so much to be proven correct about luck, and invest so much in convincing ourselves, that we’ll actually alter our perception of the truth. Is it more likely that we had a good day yesterday because our horoscope told us so, or is it more likely that we had a good day because, due to the Forer Effect, we convinced ourselves that we would have a good day. Our horoscope can’t possibly be written for us personally, especially when one considers that most horoscopes are written for thousands if not millions of different people. Nevertheless, we want so much to believe that the horoscope changed our day, and that the pocketed talisman helped us with the stock market, and that the four-leaf clover helped us ace that interview and that our lucky underwear helped us get laid, that in case there is a positive outcome, this clearly proves that luck works. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

At least that’s what my horoscope says.

Waiting for luck to change our destiny is as efficient and, dare I say lucky, as hoping that Guffman shows up, or that Harvey the Rabbit appears. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with keeping a talisman or an amulet because it’s fun. But to honestly believe that such an innocuous item can change the outcome of one’s destiny or even day is foolish. Being ‘Lucky’ is to be the Tanner Family’s cat on the TV series ALF. To be ‘Lucky’ is to be the main protagonist in the 2007 Newbury Medal winner The Higher Power of Lucky. To be ‘Lucky’ is to be the former Chihuahua of Britney Spears. To be ‘Lucky’ is to be a fashion magazine published by Conde Nest Publications. To be ‘Lucky’ is to be a village in Slovakia. To be ‘Lucky’ is not however, to have the outcome of one’s game or interview or test or day or life change, simply because of some trivial ritual or object.

I think Samuel Goldwyn said it best when he said, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

A quote that I’ve written on a napkin, and wear inside my left shoe everyday.

Just in case.

Saying "The Media Is In Love with Barack Obama" Hurts Barack Obama's Feelings

Don't get me wrong.

I'm all for Barack Obama. I think he's charimatic, he's a great leader, he's inspirational, he's [reason #3], he's [reason #4], and he's at least [reason #5]. But c'mon with the deification already.

This is Rolling Stones' current issue, with Obama on the cover. As usual, he's not smiling (hope never smiles).

This celesetial light behind him is rather confusing. Am I supposed to vote for Barack Obama - or pray to Barack Obama?

What Do You Get If You Cross the Left Hand of Stephen Hawking, the Right Hand of E.T., and the Face of a Homeless Person?

You get this statue of Leonardo da Vinci, in front of the Sandy City Library.

Here's hoping that the Sandy City Library has a better eye for books than they do for art. I wonder how many books a creepy statue of Homeless E.T. Hawking could pay for?

Cherlemons Into Cherlemonade

I thought the Chergate controversy was, for the most part, over. If you'll recall, I had the audacity of insulting the goddess Cher in a recent column, thus unleashing a tidal wave of Cher lovin' and Ryan Shattuck hatin'.

But no. Just like Cher herself, the Chergate controversy is refusing to die. On the bright side, it got me a mention in the recent issue of the City Weekly:

"Seems columnist/BullShattuck.com blogger Ryan Shattuck ruffled quite a few feathers over a remark he made in a column last week [“My 15 minutes of fame on Google?” March 3, Daily Utah Chronicle]. Sometimes you never know what’s going to set readers off. (As an example of how hypersensitive some people can get, this column once generated complaints from such far-flung places as Australia just for making fun of drowning-accident victims. If you can imagine.) But, after his column ran, letters to the editor and messages on the Chrony’s Website started pouring in.

See if you can spot the offending phrase in Shattuck’s sentence: “Many people want to be famous, whether it be the hordes of people auditioning for American Idol or Cher, whose desperate attempts at clinging to fame are marked by the fact that she’s had more farewell tours than most people have teeth.”

That’s right. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, and you don’t mess around with Cher."

Lesson learned. I think I'm now going to pray to Cher, and ask Her if She will allow this to blow over.

I Read Salon.com for the Poo

Came across this headline on Salon.com today. Who cares what the story's about? This has to be the best headline, I'm going to say, ever:

"What is your poo telling you about your health? It's the burning question that has everybody's head in the toilet these days."

Actually no, my poo isn't a burning question. And no, it doesn't have my head in the toilet these days. But aside from that, there's very little to disagree with.