Mr. Roboto

I didn't get much sleep last night. I went for a walk at about 1am with my iPod. For some reason, I found the cold, the wind, the light snow, and the creepy glow of some very fast-moving and low coiulds to be a big comfort. I read a horror story (also oddly comforting) and went to sleep. I woke up early, and still hadn't figured out how I was going to say what I knew I was going to need to say. I got showered, listening to NPR's broadcast of the BBC News Hour. (I really do find some odd things comforting.)

I've been hearing a lot about money lately from an unlikely source, and it's not sitting right. I hadn't been able to figure out what I was going to say.

On the way to work, this was what I heard:

I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain IBM
So if you see me acting strangely, don't be surprised
I'm just a man who needed someone and somewhere to hide
To keep me alive, just keep me alive

I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see
I've come to help you with your problems so we can be free
I'm not a hero, I'm not a savior, forget what you know
I'm just a man who's circumstances went beyond his control
Beyond my control, We all need control

I am the modern man (Secret secret, I've got a secret)
Who hides behind a mask (Secret secret, I've got a secret)
So no one else can see (Secret secret, I've got a secret)
My true identity

Domo arigato, Mr, Roboto
Domo, Domo
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto
(Thank you very much oh Mr. Roboto for doing the jobs that nobody wants to)

Ok, an epiphany inspired by a Styx song is kind of... Actually, it's sort of a ridiculous proposition, but bear with me...

I had never really thought about the level of desperation in those lyrics before. The guy trying to help, with a message no one gets, hidden behind a facade people misinterpret, doing thankless tasks, and fearing for his survival.

I do a nice job of passing for "the well-off young man." People see me as someone that is, to some degree, a known and understood element. A lot of people take it for granted that, whatever angst I have, I will do some fairly predictable things. I'll carry heavy loads (in both senses), and at the end of the day, I'll be glad to "be part of things." I'm removed enough from the factory that made me that I can be relied on to play my part on the assembly line.

As Dennis DeYoung was singing Thank you very much oh Mr. Roboto for doing the jobs that nobody wants to, I was pasing a crew that's building a retaining wall in front of a big, recently expanded house. The guys lifting stone were all fellas with darker skin, of Mexican or another Latin American origen. And thus, the epiphany.

The rich white couple in that house would be welcome at my church. They would be encouraged to join the church vestry and take on positions of leadership. They would be full members of the community. The men moving stone in the morning cold would not. I doubt those men could afford to tithe, especially if they have families. I don't think they could comfortably buy over priced wine, and they probably don't have the chance to read email 6 times a day to keep up with discussions, revisions, and "dialoguing" and "wordsmithing." They work for a living. Their hands are a lot like St. Joseph, human father of our Lord. They're a lot like my grandfathers' hands. A lot like mine used to me.

Those men would be "diversity" for all the fake progressives, but the fact is, they wouldn't count for as much as the folks with big money. They couldn't meet the standards for the Purpose Driven Assholes.

About 28 years ago, a little boy woke up on a cold morning, in the trailer he shared with his parents. He looked out the side window at the little patch of woods and the fields behind the trailer. He watched the first snow flakes of the year fall, and wondered what the day had in store for him. Some of the rich people he would see at the private school he had been admitted to would view him as diversity. Some would simply be open about their contempt. His parents were perfectly good people that just hadn't caught a series of breaks yet; their hard work hadn't made them successful, middle-class people yet. And so, their voice would have to count for a little less. Their son would have to count for a little less.

He couldn't afford Polo jeans to rip holes in, or a Mercedes Benz to crash. He worked as a golf caddy, carrying the toys of the rich so he could have some money for things like gas, pizza, comics. He took two job and student loans, studying history between loads of cafeteria dishes, studying English between selling theater tickets. He missed dinner with his wife more than once so he could set up a computer lab for professors that makes 3 times his salary but couldn't meet the deadline for ordering new software because they were "just too busy." He dedicated himself to things, he won more and more approval. He raced from work to church to serve on a Search Committee, missing meals, not seeing his wife awake many days, not being there to hug her when she was down. He paced the lab floor, doing his job while she was home alone, thinking she might lose her job. He knew he couldn't afford to screw up and lose his.

That little boy, and a lot of people that loved him, made a lot of sacrifices to build me: a guy that makes solid money now, and tries to stretch paychecks to cover a few nice extras for himself and his wife. A guy that has survived way too much to put up with any more bullshit.

I wasn't sure what I was going to tell people when I woke up this morning, but I knew I would have to say something. Then I saw the Mexicans hefting stones in the cold morning air, and heard that stupid song.

I'm going to tell them "Fuck you. If the kid that I was, the parents I had, the person I am, or the guys that still do shit work wouldn't be fully welcome at your church, then I'm not welcome either. I can't meet your goals, and even if I could, I wouldn't. So you will get nothing, and I will tell you exactly why. Maybe I didn't have money then, and maybe I have money now, but if you wouldn't have loved me then, I don't want your love now."