"First World Refugee" All-Stars

I'm not blogging much these days.  Mainly because I'm a frusteratingly inconsistent person.  But also because I am on vacation.  It's one of those relaxing kind of vacations that involve a lot of sitting around in a hot tub sighing and saying "isn't this nice?"  Everything has been working out really well (except for when me and my Dad accidently bumbled into Meth Cooker Island), and in fact there is only one cringe-worthy episode from the past five days that I can think of (aside from all the meth heads in their natural habitats):

Last Sunday my parents and I wandered into some bar and Grill called "The Tides".  It's the kind of place that has a great view of the harbor, homemade beer on tap, and like five different kind of fries on the menu.  Apparently, it's also the kind of place that lets any old coot with an accoustic guitar and a song about drinking mai tais up on stage for the brunch hours.  So this guy, let's call him Shark Shulligan, is up on stage ruining the patio view with his hawain shirt and his ray bans and his pride in knowing three and a half chords.  I could barely choke down my cheezy chive fries!  Mom could barely finish her Hot and Spicy Fries!  Dad almost tossed his plate of Chili Chum Fries at the stage! 

Shark specialized in that brand of old man mellow angst that is the specialty of... no not James Taylor...noooooo not Neil Young... but yes... the one, the only, the imcomprable Jimmy Buffet.  I say "old man mellow angst" because under their tropical hardwood veneer of drinking and sunshine and more drinking and islands and more drinking is a certain disatisfaction at the life that allowed said people to escape to the Bahamas or Cancun or Port Arthur, TX or wherever.  Boy, do these vacationing middle aged men look at contempt on their boooooring 9-5 job as the CEO of a packing peanut manufacturer.  Man, do they hate their lame-o suburban McMansions.  They totally resent their Coach wing tip shoes and their Brooks Brothers ties.  Why can't they just escape to an all-inclusive resort conveniently located at the end of a 4 hour non-stop flight from DFW airport?  You know, forget all the troubles of the modern world.  Throw their repressive cell phones into the sea, so to speak (they would never actually do that).  Become a... like a... what's the perfect term for it... Oh man, totally!  Like a "First World Refugee"!

No matter how lame Shark Shulligan is while covering Buffet songs, I have to say his original contribution to the genre of Parrot Rock or whatever the fuck they call it, is superior only in that it makes me feel something.  Something like a complete shame in my socio-economic strata.  Or maybe just a dormant hatred for hawain shirts.  The term "first world refugee" happens to be a Shark Shulligan original, you see.  And in the song of the same name, Shulligan really does advocate throwing your cell phone into the sea, and all the wanton littering that entails.  A first world refugee is apparently not one of the army of people living silently below the poverty line in a G8 country, but rather some schmuck like Shulligan who is desperately seeking to escape the trappings of his ultra-luxe, convenience-oriented first-world life.  So, according to the song, he goes somewhere where he doesn't have to wear shoes, or check his e-mail, or (apparently) deal with a hangover.  He is escaping the crushing wealth of his life in the first-world.  Thereby becoming a refugee, just like they have in the third world!  Only instead of escaping a life of ease with more ease, third world refugees are escaping a life of poverty and/or certain death for a tenuous status as a "guest-worker" in an unfamiliar country. 

Hmmm... I am a little angrier here than I thought I would be.  Maybe it's because the term "third world" has been phased out since 2000, or that SHulligan has a crappy voice and annoying stage presence, maybe I'm just too darn bored with my own life of ease and I need some kind of outlet other than a bottle of wine and a movie on demand.

Before I leave you all to ponder this hypocrisy-filled blog, allow me to illustrate: