First, a rant. I was listening to the local Clear-Channel owned 90s rock radio station yesterday, you know, the one where there are no live DJs because its all done with computers (robojock?). Ah yes, computers, putting hardworking disc jockeys out of work since the days of Stampy the Elephant. Don't praise the machine.
Anyway, the prerecorded and/or computerized to be sexy female voice comes on and says something along the lines of "Radio 104.5 -- music for the disillusioned, and the enlightened."
This got me thinking -- am I disillusioned or enlightened? Are the two mutually exclusive? I don't think so. After all, I'm certainly disillusioned with a lot of things, and I also use phrases like "mutually exclusive" which I think shows some degree of enlightenment. Shit, I even enjoyed "The Station Agent" for reasons beyond "ha ha look at the drunk dwarf."
But in the course of writing this, I realized I was trying to gain some measure of insight and meaning from a bullshit radio spot. Coming from one of the most soul-sucking neocon corporations out there, no less. Fuck you Clear Channel! Fuck you with Barbaro's dick!
Yep, definitely disillusioned.
I'm going out of town on balloons this weekend, so no phriday philler this week. But here are few links to tide you over.
The Simpsons wikiquote page. It's missing some of my favorites, but the page does list every freaking episode, so there's bound to be some goodness. Sugary goodness for example. Mmmm ... creamy middles.
The Top 25 Censored News Stories of 2007. That's some fucked up shit right there. Even if only half of it is true. Gold mining threatens Andean Glaciers? Nooooooo!
Less than 2 weeks til the best show on TV comes back. As Clay Davis would say -- "Sheeeeeit."
And because I'm feeling all listy this week, here's a some things that could/should happen in the final season:
Bubbles finally gets off the needle
Clay Davis and the developers get taken down for corruption
McNulty dies in a drunken-driving accident
Brother Mouzone comes back for some reason
Method Man aka "Cheese" learns Randy Wagstaff is his son, forcing him to leave the Wu Tang Clan and start a family with Randy's burn victim foster mother
Under the tutelage of Bunny Colvin, Namond Brice gets into college
Avon gets out of prison and starts his own bakery
Prop Joe goes on "The Biggest Loser"
Carcetti becomes a racist
Snoop and Chris get bizayyyy
Freamon ponders a problem, then figures it out
Rawls meets Omar, they run off together
Two words: Race Riots
Bunk lights his clothes on fire ... again
That's all I got, feel free to add your own in the comments (you know, if you watch the show)
Being as I'm stuck at work today, I thought I'd put together some sort of fainting-goats wish list. If you want to hook me up with anything on this list -- send it to the goat, courtesy thope (I don't know what that means).
Earlier this week I voted for Stephen Colbert as AP celebrity of the year. Small perk to being the only one in my office technically savvy enough to figure out the online ballot. And he won. Kudos to me for voting in a contest none of my editors knew existed (Plus our paper only gets one vote). They probably would have voted for Miley Cyrus or something.
Apparently there is some sort of mortgage crisis. Fuck you, uh, banks! As long as I have beer, I could care less about the problems of the world. What? Noooooooo!
In sexy news around philly this week, CBS3 anchorslut Alycia Lane punched a cop in New York City, after uttering the immortal words "I don't give a fuck who you are, I'm a fucking TV reporter, you fucking dyke." Fantastic. As usual, Philadelphia Will Do is all over it. Also, here's a somewhat humorous and horribly slow loading breakdown of Lane v. last weeks scandalous hottie in Philadelphia news, Jocelyn Kirsch.
I have finally caught up and seen the entire series of the Wire. Here I may occasionally offer my take on some of the notable plot lines in advance of the new season premiering January 6. It's an expansive show with complex characters, but I'll do my best. As with any show, the interactions between characters on 'The Wire' make it what it is. Conflict and resolution, I think they call it in high school english class. Be it Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell, McNulty and Bunk, Bubbles and Greggs, Sobotka and Valchek, Prop Joe and Marlo, the list goes on and on. My point is the truths revealed by the way characters play off each other is a big reason the show is so good.
One of the best examples is the relationship between arguably two of the most stone cold gangsters on the show, Omar Little and Brother Mouzone.
Omar, quite frankly, is unlike any other character in the history of television. Robs drug dealers for a living, yet never turns his gun on a citizen. A thorn in the side of Baltimore kingpins from Barksdale to Marlo, kind of like a modern day Robin Hood. Also, he fucks dudes.
Brother Mouzzone is muscle enlisted from New York by Avon to hold onto the towers while Avon is in prison. He's basically a Louis Farrakhan rip off, if Farrakhan killed niggas. He's got the trademark suit and bowtie, rimmed glasses, is well-spoken and has penchant for highbrow literature and public commentary. Much comedy comes from Mouzone harassing his assistant for forgetting to buy his Harper's magazine.
In season 2, String allows East siders to take over a couple towers, so Prop Joe would provide him with that good package. Unfortunately, Avon (who is in prison) doesn't want to give up any territory, so he calls in Brother Mouzone. Stringer then enlists Omar to take out Brother Mouzone, because no one else is badass enough to take him out, and String needs Prop Joe to keep hooking him up with the good dope.
Omar is beholden to no man, so String tells him that Mouzone was the guy who tortured his lover in season one. Omar gets the drop on Brother Mouzone, with the help of his skank friends.
The brother returns to New York, only to return in season 3 -- in the clip embedded above. He gets Avon to sell out Stringer, and then he and Omar team up to form the deadliest hit duo pretty much ever. Stringer's got to get got.
As the brother says to Avon Barksdale, "The inner workings of your organization are of no concern to me." Stringer's fall cannot be called tragic, it was all part of the game.
You've all seen the videos where some jerk takes a picture of themself everyday for some length of time. Those people are losers. Not like me, I have a blog.
I love the end of the year, because with it comes a bajillion "best of" lists. Music, movies, pictures, tacos -- you name it, I want a list of the best of it. In that vein we have the Onion AV Club's best albums from 2007. I like how they provide music samples. It's no Maxim list, but then again, what is?
Mitt Romney made waves with his speech about how freedom is only for Christians and a bunch of other constitution-violating bullshit. Christ. I am getting sick of all this god talk.
Saw a preview for There will be Blood, the other day. Pretty sure that Paul Thomas Anderson plus Daniel Day-Lewis equals pure fucking awesome. Check out a deleted scene.
I enjoyed this Always Sunny montage, despite the Vengabus.
Sometimes an athlete comes into a town and there is an instant connection. In Philly it seems to happen with gritty, scrappy players who lay it all on the line. David Eckstein would be huge here. Also it helps if they aren't a quarterback.
Rowand gained instant cred in Philly a couple years ago when he ran down a fly ball in center, then stopped at the wall using his face (see pic top, video sadly unavailable). Bobby Abreu nearly fainted at the unusually large amounts of blood. He was also amazed.
Personally, I'm going to miss how Rowand's batting stance looked like he was taking a dump. But I think the Phils will miss him more in the clubhouse than on the field. Clearly the combination of Shane Victorino and Jayson Werth is something or other.
I was kind of worried about a lack of giant pick up trucks in the Phillies team lot, but then I remembered they still have Jon Lieber.
Anyway, I wish Rowand good luck on the Giants -- there are some big shoes to fill out there, and I'm not talking about Dave Roberts.
The headline above is taken from the most popular show 500 years from now. At least in the mind of Mike Judge. Idiocracy is Judge's cult (read: little seen) satire set in a dystopian future where the population has become immensely stupid because morons have way more kids than the smart folks. Luke Wilson is cryogenically frozen for 500 years as part of an army experiment gone wrong, and when he wakes up he is the smartest man in the world.
The film is a bit uneven. There are funny parts and parts that ring true, sure (Welcome to Costco. I love you.) But there is also Dax Shepard as the most annoying character outside of a Dane Cook movie.
Those who have seen it know about how once the government learns that Wilson is the smartest man alive, they ask him to figure out why all their crops are dying. He thinks it may have something to do with the fact that they water their crops with Brawndo (The Thirst Mutilator) and not water. It's got what plants crave!
Well, in a sad, sad turn of events -- it's never pretty when life imitates art -- Brawndo is becoming a real drink. Christ. Nevermind that the commercial blatantly rips off Powerthirst and yet isn't as funny.
The movie was fucking satire people. It was mocking our super-consumer ways. When a satirical drink in a film about how far humanity has fallen due to outright stupidity becomes an actual product you can buy, well, I weep for humanity. I pray that this is an elaborate joke.
Moving on. This post started as a reason to put up a kind of old video. Then I got carried away with my Idiocracy talk. Ha ha, Beef Supreme.
So, anyway, there's this newfangled cup called the nutty buddy, which was inexplicably been featured in a story by the Associated Press. Truly we are entering a new age of ball protection.
I think I saw this video on Deadspin or somewhere like a year ago, but the goats unofficial motto at this point is "better late than never." Also, it's worth taking a look at the web site.
You may remember a couple years back, this dude in Tennessee got busted for growing a shitload of pot in natural cave under his house. Basically, the guy grew something like 100 pounds of pot every couple months via his elaborate underground operation. Slideshow here, graphic here.
The guy is in prison now. And his pot cave has been sold, to what some might consider an unusual buyer -- here's the AP story:
A home built above a large cave that once housed a sophisticated underground marijuana operation may have a delicious — and legal — future.
Authorities seized the home in 2005 after finding more than 850 marijuana plants growing under lights in two secured, 100-yard-long underground rooms connected to the home.
"Everything was just perfect. Look at the craftsmanship," auctioneer Pete Scruggs said of the marijuana operation in the natural cave about 45 miles northeast of Nashville.
Roth Kase USA Ltd., a Wisconsin-based maker of European-style cheeses, won a court-ordered auction of the property Saturday with a bid of $285,000. The company's auction representative, Chuck Olson, hinted about the future of the cave after he was named the winner.
He said the plan is to "make money," and the cave's new operation will be legal "in a tasty way." Caves, with their consistent cool temperatures and humidity, have long been used to age cheeses.
Hilarious and informative. So this cave was used to grow copious amounts of ganja, and now its gonna hold cheese. European-style cheese at that.
Also, this story is retarded. I'd like to point out that the plan is to "make money." Also the guy who comments on the craftsmanship of the pot cave. Nothin' but the best!
So greenpeace had an online poll to name a whale. They offered all kinds of lame names like Libertad, Aiko, Shanti, etc. And they also included the name "Mister Splashy Pants" as a joke. And once again the internets prove their genius, as Mister Splashy Pants dominated the competition, gathering up some 78% of the 150,000 votes cast, despite hippy dweebs trying to alter Mister Splashy Pants' fate.
I guess the reason for this whole thing is to save the whales? What is this 1980? What the fuck have the whales ever done for me? Majestic dancers of the sea my ass. Greenpeace just wants to save the whales because they don't care about you and your family.
Did you know whales are the number one sea-going supporters of illegal immigrants? It's true. In fact, many a Mexican and Central American illegal ride Humpback whales to our shores, bypassing the stringent checkpoints along our secured borders. Fact. And then when the whales get here, they die, polluting our beaches. Ain't gonna be no beach blanket bingo with a big ol' whale carcass ruining the mood, thats for sure. Thankfully our brave first responders are doing the Lords work, blowing up whales.
Anyway -- back in reality -- Mister Splashy Pants is threatened by the Japanese and their hatred of all things large and oceanic. But you can make a difference by signing this petition urging the Japanese Fisheries Agency not to kill Mister Splashy Pants. Only you can save Mister Splashy Pants.
I got a couple things to round out the week. Taking a break from my constant vigil to determine the lowest gas prices within a 40-mile radius. I love data entry.
All the news around here right now is the Rittenhouse Grifters, the so-called "Bonnie and Clyde" of identity theft. The story has serious legs -- philly.com has been running it on their homepage all week. None of which has to do with the the fact that "Bonnie" is a hot 22-year old with fake tits.
If you are craving more stuff on The Wire, here's a blog solely dedicated to the show, Heaven and Here. Also, Thats on Point is discussing some of the smaller characters. In case you weren't aware, Cutty is the Man.
Finally -- a video about marijuana.
Oh yeah, and I saw No Country for Old Men yesterday. It was fucking amazing. Totally lived up to the hype. Most satisfying film I've seen in the theater in quite some time. Call it.
I have finally caught up and seen the entire series of the Wire. Here I may occasionally offer my take on some of the notable plot lines in advance of the new season premiering January 6. It's an expansive show with complex characters, but I'll do my best.
The above scene is one of the best from season one. Its D'Angelo Barksdale, confronting Stringer Bell after D got popped driving back from NYC with a trunk full of heroin.
Lets back it up. In season 1, D ran the low-rises, which were basically the low rung amongst Barksdale drug territory. He was demoted from running a tower because he let his emotions get away and capped someone in front of citizens. D'Angelo employs a bunch of young kids, aka hoppers, to sling the stash.
One of these kids is Wallace.
Without getting into too much detail, Wallace IDs a guy who had been involved in stealing the stash. The guy gets tortured to death and dumped in public so everyone can see what happens to those who steal from a Barksdale crew.
This seriously fucks with the young man's head, and he approaches D about getting out of the game, maybe going back to school. Meanwhile, our favorite Baltimore cops approach Wallace and flip him.
You know what happens to people who snitch.
It's a dark show. Sympathetic characters like D'Angelo and Wallace tend to end up victims of predatory motherfuckers. I had hopes that both of them could be redeemed at some point.
Wallace and D'Angelo share a bond -- D sees some of himself in Wallace, both have an awareness of how vicious the game is. Both wrestle with the uglier parts of street life, and wonder why it has to be that way. This is in contrast to soldiers like Bodie or Wee-Bey, who accept their lot and play their role.
Contemplative isn't a trait favored on the street.
So the chapter 2 finale of Heroes aired last night, and outside of Hiro the time-traveling Nip shouting "Flying Man!" I was kinda disappointed. Hiro is by far my favorite character, although the crazy-electra girl played by Kristen Bell is pretty good too.
To sum up: Virus stopped! Kenzei buried alive! Nathan shot! Nikki presumably dead! HRG back with the company! Magical ashes! Sylar back!
I guess they rewrote the ending or something cause of the the writers' strike, but I've heard that this chapter was only supposed to be 11 episodes anyway, so whatever. Looking forward to the next chapter to see if Nathan is really dead. He has magic Adam-blood! Also, please let Mohinder die. Christ what a douche.
And if you don't watch Heroes, well, none of that made any sense. So here's a completely unrelated music video. It's "To Fix a Gash in Your Head" by the Brooklyn-based band A Place to Bury Strangers.
I have always been a fan of westerns. From Unforgiven to Blazing Saddles, films about the frontier just seem to capture my imagination. Not sure if its the wide open spaces, the lack of laws or what. And this fascination of course includes the most ridiculously entertaining western of all time, Tombstone.
Sure, it plays fast and loose with the facts. Did Wyatt Earp did walk out into the middle of a crossfire, repelling bullets by fiercely bellowing "Noooooo!"? Was there really a person named Johnny Ringo who wanted to take peoples blood AND SOULS? Did Doc Holliday really say ridiculous shit like "You're a daisy if you do"? Doubtful.
But whatever Tombstone lacks in historical accuracy, it makes up for in awesome. Is Ike Clanton based on a real person? No. Do I care? Certainly not. Charlton Heston plays a bit part, and his characters name is Henry motherfucking Hooker.
Kurt Russell is at his squintingest as Wyatt "Kansas Law Dog" Earp driving his wife to copious opium consumption while getting busy with Dana Delaney. Bill "Don't call me Pullman" Paxton and Sam "I play nothing but cowboys" Elliot are Earp's (derps?) two brothers.
Pretty much every character is played by a "that guy". For example, McMasters is the evil dad from Mallrats. The head cowboy was in a bunch of shit, recently Deadwood. Shit, it even has Billy Zane as the flamboyant actor dude. He's cool.
Yeah. Here's the scene where Kurt Russell makes fat Billy Bob Thornton his bitch.
Tagline: Every town has a story. Tombstone has a legend.
Plot Spoilers:The bad guys are all drunk, and then they shoot a bunch of dudes, including Wyatt's brothers, so Wyatt goes all ape shit and starts killing them all with the help of some sort of posse. After the main bad guy dies, crazy ass Johnny Ringo takes over the gang and wants a duel with Wyatt, which Ringo knows he'll win because Wyatt sucks at gunfighting(?). But Doc Holliday takes a badge and kills Ringo before Wyatt can get there. Later Doc dies of TB.
Best Character: Doc Holliday. As if there is any question. You know your badass when your tuberculosis somehow makes you more ruthless. This is clearly Val Kilmer's best work outside of Top Secret. Non-sherpa that is. Plus he and Johnny talk shit to each other in Latin.
Memorable Quotes
Johnny Ringo: Don't any of ya have the guts to play for blood? Doc Holliday: I'm your huckleberry.
Ike Clanton: What is that now? Twelve hands in a row? Holliday, son of a bitch, nobody's that lucky. Doc Holliday: Why Ike, whatever do you mean? Maybe poker's just not your game Ike. I know! Let's have a spelling contest!
Wyatt Earp: From now on I see a red sash, I kill the man wearing it. So run you cur. And tell the other curs the law is coming. You tell 'em I'm coming! And Hell's coming with me you hear! Hell's coming with me!
Doc Holliday: Nonsense, I have not yet begun to defile myself.
Wyatt Earp: What makes a man like Ringo, Doc? What makes him do the things he does? Doc Holliday: A man like Ringo has got a great big hole, right in the middle of him. He can never kill enough, or steal enough, or inflict enough pain to ever fill it. Wyatt Earp: What does he want? Doc Holliday: Revenge. Wyatt Earp: For what? Doc Holliday: Bein' born.
Doc Holliday: [to Johnny Ringo, after shooting him in a duel] You're no daisy! You're no daisy at all. Poor soul, you were just too high strung.
Another reason to see it: Uhh... the fight at the OK Corral?
For those of you on the lookout for new music, check out Hype Machine. It scours music blogs and finds mp3s that people have posted recently. Oh, and it's searchable. I found this band "MGMT" (pronounced "management") that I have been listening to quite a bit the past week. It's some sort of psychedelic disco punk space rock or some such. Time to Pretend is undoubtedly a great song.
Speaking of the GOP, anyone watch that Youtube debate earlier this week? I tuned in for the raw comic gold, then turned it off after the catfight between Mitt Romney and Rudy 9/11.
If you don't read the ridiculously profane Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jambaroo you are missing out. What? It's been going on all season? As always, you can count on the goat for timely links.
I came across this little article in my daily internet travels. It seems the powers that be in Scotland decided they needed a new slogan to bring in the tourists. I guess "Best Small Country in the World" was getting a little tired. So they dropped 125,000 Euros to bring in the best slogan writers ever.
And the exciting new catchphrase dreamed up by top advertising brains is..."Welcome to Scotland".
Really? That is crap. William Wallace is rolling in his grave. Granted, it is part of a larger whole that includes catchphrases for different major cities. Forest for the trees and all that. Although "Birthplace of Charles Rennie Mackintosh" doesn't really inspire you to visit Glasgow, does it?
In an attempt to right this horrid injustice I tried to come up with a few slogans of my own. Granted I've never been to Scotland, but surely combining my Scottish ancestry (MacFarlane clan, holla!) and creative skills can come up with something better. Hopefully not involving the Loch Ness monster and kilts.
Come see people throw those big railroad tie things, what're they called? Cabers? Yeah, Cabers! In Scotland!
OK thats all I got, writing slogans for something you know little about is tougher than I thought. If you have any suggestions of you own, have at it in the comments.
The other day I was driving around listening to shitty Metallica songs (an amazing way to clear the mind and come up with new ideas) and I stumbled across what may be the ultimate question:
What is stupider, talk radio or internet forums?
Both have assured anonymity for the participants. I guess talk radio hosts aren't anonymous, but they are blowhards and douchebags, so whatever. Although anyone who has ever looked at a discussion thread on Fark knows the internet has no shortage of pretentious assholes either.
It's kind of fun to think about the differences between the two mediums. On one hand, talk radio offers old media types a way to limit the discussion while still reaching out to the common clay of today's society -- you know, morons. On the other hand, the internet forum is accessible to anyone with a computer and an opinion, which is a blessing and a curse.
Lets break it down:
Patron Saint Radio: Rush Limbaugh Internet: Al Gore Gatekeepers Radio: The hosts and producers -- paunchy assholes with inflated opinions Internet: "Mods" -- pasty losers with an axe to grind
Audience: Radio: Construction workers Internet: Office workers George Bush is supported by: Radio: Conservative idiots Internet: Liberal trolls
Material Radio: Current events, shit they stole from blogs Internet: Current events, making fun of other mediums Greatest Achievement: Radio: Poisoned the well of American political debate Internet: LOLCats
Participants: Radio: Losers who spend hours calling in Internet: Underemployed jackasses
So there you have it, radio is clearly dumber. Although if anonymous makes another comment that completely misses/ignores the point of a post I may change my mind.
Last night I was watching March of the Penguins (What? It's not like there was a football game on or anything) and I came to the conclusion that penguins are great. Easily in the animal top 10 and probably the only birds on the list.
Listening to the dulcet tones of Morgan Freeman describe those little suckers braving the cold of Antarctica on their 70-mile walk to and from the sea every couple months, I realized something. Awwwwwwwwwww.
Looking around the internets, there are a ton of homemade penguin movies set to electronica for some reason. Does the birds flightless nature mean they take e-bombs? I guess chilling under the aurora australis is kind of like being around a bunch of free-basing glowstick dancers.
You may remember the Futurama episode were Bender thinks he's a penguin. I just read the script and it was good. Penguins only have two goals in life: 1. Acquire food 2. Frolic. Always remember the wisdom of Free Waterfall Sr. who once said, "Look nobody enjoys shooting penguins. But if you have to shoot penguins, well you might as well enjoy it." Also the buttocks are nature's pocket.
As per usual I am a little late picking up on this whole penguin trend -- there have been a couple animated features in the past year or so capitalizing on penguin popularity. But to be honest, I prefer real life penguins, not the surfing or dancing variety.
Anyway, here's a video. I think its from the british version of Planet Earth. David Attenborough > Sigourney Weaver
In regards to a couple commenters who have been asking for posts on various topics, I'll paraphrase Slug from Atmosphere: I have nothing but respect for my audience. NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Yeah J-Roll won the MVP. Huzzah! Bask in his reflected glory white people!
Yeah I ride a fucking bicycle. What's it to you? I'm a communist (also poor), no real news there.
The reason I haven't had any posts up this week is I've been sick with some sort of flu-like virus. Coughing up yellow shit, breaking a sweat. Shaking like a leaf. But that's what I get, for pouring my own poison and throwing it back[dead prez].
That said, here's some links to consider while reveling in the knowledge of who Sweet Caroline (BAH BAH BAH) is.
There was some big baseball news yesterday. No not Barry Bonds' indictment. Although I guess some people still give a shit about perjury or something. Me? I perjure myself on a regular basis. And by perjure myself I mean sit alone in my darkened apartment quietly whistling the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
No, the big news is noted time traveler Darren Daulton has finally released his book, detailing his life in the fifth dimension and providing his answers to life, the universe and everything. "If they only knew" takes a look at the the metaphysical relationships that shape our world, or something.
For a taste of what to expect, here's some downloadable audio where Dutch talks about experiencing different planes existence and realms. Also astrotravel.
I was poking around on Daulton's website, and I have to say the FAQs about the book are pretty amusing. "You were a baseball player, why are you writing about something nobody cares about?" and "I have seen you on TV but the pastor at my church has never said anything about this stuff. Why should I believe you?" for example. Apparently the webmaster decided not to post the "How does it feel to be crazier than Carl Everett?" question I submitted.
So if your not satisfied with surfer's explanations of how the universe fits together, check out Daulton's book. I already ordered mine from Amazon. The user reviews there are is pretty compelling. Like this:
At the heart of the book we find a man who believes that he has been chosen. Chosen?..for what u ask?...TO AWAKEN US.
Yeah, that headline is from The Onion. Fucking sue me. Blood from a stone, darling.
Andrew WK is one of the most underrated musicians ever. He's like some sort of lovechild of a coked up Steve Perry and i dunno, uh, Slayer? Frank Zappa could be in there somewhere. The man makes music, it's the truth. Take it from WK himself.
"It's the truth. This music is the truth and it's also freedom. It's so big, so huge and so spanning. So many things, so much, and so true. This is the most wonderful thing that's ever happened in the history of human kind."
This post probably would have been a lot more timely back in 2001. Get wet.
So it's been a while since I've posted (my debut post) and my Deathmatch: Best Simpsons Episodes post never really came to fruition. It probably would have been pretty cool, but it would have required me to post at work and also use my computer at home to pirate the requisite multi-media enhancements. If you don't know me very well, we lost my ambition level at "it would have required me to..." Now that we got that out of the way, lately my choices in female companionship have come under scrutiny within our social circle and have been the target of unsolicited personal attacks. I would like to take a moment here to justify my actions and defend my value system. So without further ado, let's bring the classiness of Fainting Goats down a couple notches. Here's what I found out about 18-year-olds first hand last night:
1. 18-year-olds will drink you under the table. The conspiratorial novelty of procuring alcohol whilst underage is pretty much at its peak and they revel in this with gusto. Plus, if you're outpacing me, you're probably ignoring very serious problems in your life.
2. 18-year-olds like sex more than you do. I know, I was scared too. Nothing makes you feel more like a crusty old bastard then having this nubile little thing ready to go and the only thing you can think of is the Snu-Snu episode of Futurama.
3. 18-year-olds can cum solely by oral stimulation of their nipples. I'm no player, but I've never encountered this in a girl ever. All I can say is that it's fantastic. Additionally, it's the only thing that saved my sorry ass from the whole Snu-Snu debacle.
4. 18-year-olds make some of the cutest noises you've ever heard and some of the scariest body contortions you've ever witnessed when they make their Oh-face. Seriously, I stopped for a second because I thought I broke her or triggered a previously benign case of epilepsy.
5. 18-year-olds will give you head for an hour and then take a sip from a glass of water so they can give you head for another hour. It's just as awesome as it sounds. I can never go back to the two-licks lollipop treatment followed by the desperate "is that good?" mutter that seems to be so popular in my actual demographic.
6. 18-year-olds that are on the rag will unprovokingly offer the dirt pipe as a legitimate substitute. On the first date, with no condom and no qualms about busting inside them. This takes at least three dates in my actual demographic
7. 18-year-olds don't know very much about guys. You never have to say to a guy, "I don't know if you're into anal..."
8. 18-year-olds make the world a better a place to live. There's always been this void in my life... I've tried filling it with work, friends, alcohol, drugs... but those were all dead ends. I've found my calling.
Yes, today was the best day of my life.
Yes, today my breakfast tasted better than any meal you've ever eaten.
And by breakfast, I mean sex with an 18-year-old dark-haired, light-eyed hottie.
I started a new job today, editing these daily local interwebs in earnest. Basically it just means I have to get up earlier than I have in nearly 6 years. No more Jim Beam fueled Wire marathons where I stay up until 4 am unfortunately(?). But it could benefit you, the three fainting goats' readers, because I can bang out all my work in about an hour and then spend the rest of my morning hours searching google images. That said, here's a much-delayed philler post, starting off with a quote from The Wire (Season 2) that I find amusing.
"Let me ask you something important. Do you like fake tits? I can't decide. Thus far undecided on fake tits." -Horseface
I recommend you check out this site. Warning: May cause hallucinatory nightmares. If that kind of interactivity is too much for you, you are a square. But try this one out instead. It's G-rated and the creator probably wasn't on DMT. Although if you seriously do want to trip, go here. I can vouch for its effectiveness.
In my many hours of scouring the AP wire, sometimes I come across something that makes me wonder if the author maybe isn't having a bit of fun. For example this is from the latest writer's strike story.
"As a writer, this is what you do. You have no other way to truly express yourself," said screenwriter John Ridley, whose credits include "Undercover Brother."
I'm sure readers across the country were quite concerned about how one of the creative geniuses behind Undercover Brother is expressing himself. The article also quotes one of the writers of Deuce Bigelow.
Fear is an interesting emotion. It's everywhere these days. Turn on the news and it's terror this and killing that. With the falling dollar and runaway trains and stormwater management and Hillary Clinton it seems everyone has something to be scared of.
Not me. I respect the legacy of FDR and the New Deal. The only time I feel even an inkling of fear is when I dream about raccoons. Those fuckers are nasty and spread disease. But then I'm unconscious so I don't think it counts.
The other day I was riding my bike and some unknown in a white Mercedes SUV swerved at me for no apparent reason. In that split second my emotions were racing from vulnerability to anger to acceptance to pity to yearning and back again. But the one thing I didn't feel was fear.
As a guide I always try to remember this anecdote from the late great American Patriot Hunter S. Thompson.
Fear? I know not fear. There are only moments of confusion. Some of them are deeply stamped on my memory and a few will haunt me forever.
One of my ugliest and most confused moments, I think, was when I was driving a junk Cadillac down the Coast Highway to Big Sur and a large mountain lion jumped into the moving car.
I had stopped for a moment beside the road to put out a newspaper fire in the backseat when this huge cat either jumped or fell off a cliff and landed on its back in the gravel right beside me. I was leaning over the side and pouring beer on the fire when it happened.
It was late in the day and I was alone. When the beast his the ground I had a moment of total confusion. And so did the lion. The I jumped back in the car and took off down the hill in low gear, thinking to escape certain death or at least mutilation. The beast had tried to pounce on me from above, but missed. ... And now, as I shifted the junker into second, I heard a terrible snarling and realized that the cat was running right behind me and gaining ... (I was, in fact, Terrified at that moment.) ...And I think I must have gone temporarily insane when the goddamn thing came up beside me and jumped right into the car through the passenger-side window like a bomb.
It bounced against the dashboard and somehow turned the radio volume all the way up. Then it clawed me badly on my arm and one leg. That is why I shudder every time I hear a Chuck Berry tune.
I can still smell the beast. I heard myself screaming as I tried to steer. The blood was all over the seat. The music was deafening and the cat was still snarling and clawing at me. Then it scrambled over the seat and into the back, right into the pile of still-burning newspapers. I heard a screech of pain and saw the cat trying to hurl itself through the back window.
We were still rolling along at about thirty miles per hour when I noticed my ball-peen hammer sticking out of the mangled glove compartment. I grabbed the hammer with my right hand, steering with my left, and swung it wildly over my shoulder at the mountain lion.
Whack! I felt it hit something that felt vaguely like a carton of eggs, and then there was silence. No resistance in the backseat. Nothing.
I hit the brakes and pulled over. My hand was still on the hammer when I looked back and saw that I had somehow hit the animal squarely on top of its head and driven the iron ball right through its skull and into its brain. It was dead. Hunched on its back and filling the whole rear of the car, which was filling up with blood.
I have reached the end of the internet waiting for these stupid votes to be counted. No one cares about municipal elections anyway, right? County commissioners? Really? Why can't the votes be instantly tabulated via some sort of electronic device. The electoral college can eat my ass. Fucking bitches.
This video is far from the best I've seen over the last 2 hours, but its what I just watched, so there.
Sitting here in the newsroom on election night -- seven hours of boredom followed by an hour and a half of screaming and gnashing of teeth.
So how better to kill some time than with a rambling post about something I watched on TV last night while drinking delicious Wild Turkey?
As I may have mentioned before in this space, I have gotten into the show "Heroes" in its second season. As it has progressed I have slowly been able to determine what the hell is going on. Although not having the first season as background means I make the confused dog noise (Aroo?) at least twice an episode.
Another plus is that shit finally started going down this week. Hiro returned from fuedal Japan, but it turns out the guy he taught how to be a hero and then stole his girl and then thought he killed is actually still alive and hasn't aged at all in 400 years. Oh healing ability, is there anything you can't do?
Anyway, one of the best (and by best I mean most confusing) characters is horned rimmed glasses (aka HRG). Dude is the father of Claire (the indestructable cheerleader who I guess is the key to it all). I especially enjoy the Dawson's Creek style dialogue they have i.e. "You cannot date!" "You're not the boss of me!" and so on.
Anyway, he's pretty badass. He shot some Russian guy last week, after using "The Haitian" to torture him via memory loss. I imagine if you do not watch this show, none of this makes any sense whatsoever, so lets switch it up.
The writers in Hollywood went on strike this week. This means new episodes of all your favorite shows like "The Big Bang Theory" and "Back to You" will be running reruns. And Heroes supposedly will end its season in December. What a shame.
As to be expected, gentle members of the press are all over this story. FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, WHAT WILL WE WATCH they say, and then answer their own question: Reality TV writers are non-union.
But the good thing is some are having a bit of fun with it. Take for example Frazier Moore of the AP, who had this to say:
Sure, the impact of the strike so far has been limited to late night, instantly banishing comedy-and-talk shows into rerun purgatory. But how are you supposed to know what's happening in the world without Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" mocking current events? How will you keep your grip on contemporary life deprived of David Letterman's nightly Top Ten List? The prospect of a strike was a wake-up call for viewers. Last Friday, "Late Night" host Conan O'Brien dispelled the popular belief "that I make the whole show up." Not true, viewers learned. "Believe it or not," confided Conan, "some of the show is scripted." But that was then. On Monday, writers who once scripted "Late Night" and so many other shows (and movies, too) were picketing outside NBC's Rockefeller Center headquarters. "Hey, hey, ho, ho, management can't write the show," they chanted, demonstrating that their own writing skills don't include poetry. The dispute between Writers Guild of America members and the networks and studios that employ them centers on issues like Internet royalties for TV shows. But it's you caught in the middle. As a pitch for "Jimmy Kimmel Live" put it so vividly, "The more I Jimmy, the better I feel." With the strike going on, you just can't Jimmy like you used to. And things could get worse. If the strike drags on (and the last one, in 1988, went for 22 weeks), the reservoir of new scripted shows could run dry.
Indeed. As a fellow writer, who is way lowerly paid, I feel somewhat sympathetic to those writers who come up with the comedy gold that is "Two and Half Men" I guess. On the other hand, this guy.
Reeves. Swayze. Busey. Together they team up in the the greatest film about skydiving, bank robber-surfers in the history of creation.
OK, it's probably the only movie about skydiving, bank robbing surfers, but you get my point.
There are so many things to enjoy here. Keanu plays ex-Ohio State QB "Johnny Utah" ferchrissakes whose love interest is none other than Lori "Tank Girl" Petty. Not to mention Gary Busey's trademark old cop with an ax to grind or Swayze's wild-eyed anti-establishment mysticism.
The whole thing is just so ridiculous. The combination of Swayze's whole "living past the edge" philosophy and Keanu's trademark wooden line-reading has a surreal effect.
The plot keeps moving with suspense and despite all the different ridiculous things going on it somehow hangs together -- credit the director I guess. Plus there's one part where Keanu almost gets his face shredded by a lawnmower.
Tagline: 100% Pure Adrenaline. Plot Spoilers: Not really a whole lot to spoil. Busey dies, as does pretty much all the bad guys. Here's the final scene. Apparently still leaving options open for Point Break 2.
Memorable Quotes: Bodhi: It's basic dog psychology, if you scare them and get them peeing down their leg, they submit. But if you project weakness, that promotes violence, and that's how people get hurt. Roach: Peace, through superior firepower.
Ben Harp: You're a real blue flame special, aren't you, son? Young, dumb and full of cum, I know. What I don't know is how you got assigned here. Guess we must just have ourselves an asshole shortage, huh? Johnny Utah: Not so far.
Johnny Utah: Bohdi! This is your wakeup call I AM AN F...B...I AGENT! Bodhi: I know, isn't it wild! That's what makes it so interesting. You can do what you want, and make up your own rules. Why be a servant to the law, when you can be it's master?
Bohdi: You want the ultimate, you gotta be prepared to pay the ultimate price. It's not tragic to die doing what you love.
Ben Harp: Special agent Utah! This is not some job, flipping burgers at the local drive-in! Yes! - your surf board bothers me! Yes! - your approach to this whole damn case bothers me! And yes! - YOU BOTHER ME! And Pappas! Oh, for the love of Christ. How the hell did I even let you talk me into this whole bone-headed idea to begin with. Pappas: Harp! We are working under-cover. It takes time. We've produced a few... Ben Harp: NO! No no no no no no NO! Let me tell you what you've produced... Over the last two weeks, you two have produced exactly squat! SQUAT! During which time the ex-presidents have robbed two more banks. Now for Christ's sake, does either one of you have anything even remotely interesting to tell me? [pause] Johnny Utah: I caught my first tube today... Sir.
Pappas: I'm so hungry I could eat the ass end out of a dead rhino.
Johnny Utah: Where is Roach? Bodhi: He's around somewhere. Listen Johnny, we're in a kind of a hurry; is there anything you need? Johnny Utah: You gotta tell me where she is. Bodhi: Oh yeah, and let my policy expire. Good idea. Johnny Utah: Look Bodhi, people are dead, the ride is over. Bodhi: Oh, no no no. I say when it's over. Johnny Utah: They will nail you wherever you land. They'll use something new called radar, maybe you've heard of it. Bodhi: What is your... Johnny Utah: Bodhi, I know you man. When they fall on you, you won't back down and they'll have to burn your ass to the ground. Bodhi: Shit happens. Johnny Utah: You got a death wish. You want to ride to glory, fine. But, don't take Tyler with you. I'm begging you. Tell me where she is, and I walk away. Bodhi: You walk away? Johnny Utah: I walk away. Bodhi: That's beautiful Johnny.
Johnny Utah: Vaya con Dios, Brah.
Best character: Here I'll go with Gary Busey as Special Agent Angelo Pappas. Nevermind the fact that Busey in no way looks spanish. The character loves burritos and Calvin and Hobbes! Plus he somehow figures out the whole surfer as bank robber angle that makes the entire film possible. This is probably the first and only time "best character" will go to a glorified plot device. But hey, it's Busey, no apologies.
Another reason to see it: The part where Johnny Utah jumps out the plan with nothing but a six-shooter is fucking awesome.
Gotta give a shout out to what I consider to be a spinoff of this blog, dr.gpeice's Why I'm Radical. It's like the fainting goats had a baby, and it looks like Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force.
Speaking of babies... Hey TMoney, as the only known peruser here with any kids, I require you get a monkey babysitter and let us know how its goes.
I'm a little late on this, but this is the most ridiculous ending of a football game I have ever seen.
Speaking of old crap you may have already seen, this map of the online world from xkcd is pretty good.
Andrea is a girl's name you 7-foot multi-talented douchebag.
Yeah so tonight the sixers dropped the first of what is sure to be many games this season. Despite being down 22 in the the third quarter, they managed to make it interesting -- getting within 1 before a four point play by the aforementioned dego.
Still, I think this young, shitty sixers team could be fun this season. The potent three-point shooting of Kyle Korver, dominating rebounding of Reggie "Nutgrabber" Evans, competent passing of Andre Miller and development of young players like Rodney Carney, Lou Williams and Jason Smith are all pretty compelling, to me at least.
On the other hand, Chris Bosh plays the game like some sort of dinosaur (a raptor perhaps?). That is to say -- he is a relentless killing machine, stopping at nothing until he has slit opposing teams' guts with his razor sharp claws so he can feast on their innards.
You may think the life of a small town reporter/web editor is all political intrigue, rapidly spinning newspapers with crazy headlines, sexy parties and rum chased with whiskey.
It's more like looking through boring legal documents, four hour meetings about sewers, waiting for people to not call you back and fatties throwing themselves at you.
It's not at all how they described it in several movies like the one with Sally Field and Paul Newman, that's for sure.
This blog is small respite. I am too lazy to be creative. Tonight, for example, I just started writing whatever crap came to mind.
"There will come a time when you have to decide: Is it about you? Or is it about the work?" -Daniels
I may have mentioned it before in this space, but lets reiterate once again how great "The Wire" is. The new season starts on January 6, and I already have half a hard on. Plus the theme this season is going to be "journalism" and how a newspaper interacts with the inner city community.
Each season deals with a different theme and its role in city life -- first season is cops and the drug game, second season is on the docks with the blue-collar stevedores, third brings politics into the mix, and the fourth season deals with schools.
I have a few theories on how the newspaper angle might play out, but I won't get into them too deeply because none of you will have any idea what I'm talking about, both because of my "insider" newspaper status and because no one watches the show. Lets just say McNulty will go back to the bottle.
Here's an apt review. It's from the internet.
Approximately 12 people will watch the final season of HBO's The Wire, the most amazing thing on television in ages. So haunted and moved by the show's brilliance, these precious few will proceed to nag everybody else to watch it to such an annoying degree that the entire world will write the show off out of pure spite.
True? Probably, but I'm still going to slang my knowledge on the show before January. And if you don't watch it you're racist.
The NBA is starting next week. I'm going to be a contrarian and say it's my second favorite league, behind the Barclay's English Premier.
There are two easily tangible reasons why the NBA is so high on my list. Ernie, Kenny and Charles in the best sports studio show in the world, and freedarko. Turn on TNT for one, and for the other, check out the EVERY PLAYER PREVIEW here, here and here.
To be a complete homer, my favorite is Allen Iverson:
TRUE I GOT MORE FANS THAN THE AVERAGE MAN BUT NOT ENOUGH LOOT TO LAST ME TO THE END OF THE WEEK, I LIVE BY THE BEAT LIKE YOU LIVE CHECK TO CHECK. IF YOU DON'T MOVE YO' FOOT THEN I DON'T EAT, SO WE LIKE NECK TO NECK. YES WE DONE COME A LONG WAY LIKE THEM SLIM ASS CIGARETTES FROM VIRGINIA, THIS AIN'T GON STOP SO WE JUST GONNA CONTINUE.
Also, Sam Cassell looks like an alien. And is quite patient.
My feelings toward big corporations are no secret. They are evil, fascist organizations that can be blamed for many of the plights of humanity on earth. Big media is no exception, except for Google, which publishes this blog.
My C- in Macroeconomics tells me that free market forces the consolidation of media organizations. Well that, and this outdated chart. This consolidation of media to fewer and fewer controlling interests is a bigger problem than you may think.
Some may argue that that chart is from six years ago, and that a C- isn't very good. They'll say that the rise of blogs, social networking and internet memes allows savvy American consumers to avoid big media in how they get their information. I say people are idiots, and point to lolcats.
The average American douchebag has no idea what is important. They have no "news judgement." The problem with giving a voice to the masses, is the masses are really fucking stupid. Pop culture throughout the ages is terribly embarassing. From the pet rock to the Macarena to Deal or No Deal, its not exactly intellectual pursuits that rise to the top of mainstream conciousness.
As media companies consolidate, it means their are fewer experienced, intelligent people providing the public with information. Without that filter, we end up with 800 million people talking about fat Britney Spears. Edward R. Murrow would be proud.
Journalism is now reactionary. California burns to the ground, it shows up on TV. There are very few reporters out there digging the dirt, looking for scandal. Watergate would never happen today.
For one, its all about ratings now. I can say, from experience, that at least 90% of editorial decisions made in newsrooms today are decided by how well it will sell. Gotta get that color above the fold.
Classic example -- there was a shooting in the back of some Jap restaurant in Downingtown last year. Some employee was out front smoking a cig and police rolled up, pointed their assault rifles at him, and he put his hands up. At this point, the intrepid photographer snapped a photo, which ran 6 columns across the front page with the screamer of a headline, "I just shot someone."
"It's not the first life I've ruined," the photographer said. That front page is now framed and sits on the floor in the video room. Litigation is pending.
Another problem is access. Big Media has the dollars to throw around to get access to the halls of power. By and large, bloggers sit behind their computers and interpret what they read, watch or get sent via email. Someone typing away in their parents basement isn't going to be able to interview general's and shit like that. Or go to Iraq and report from the front lines, Michael Yon aside.
This completely ignores the fact that the owners of the media corporations may have some vested interest in what information is widely disseminated.
"Your voice it is so soothing That cunning mantra of killing I need you my witness To dress this up so bloodless To numb me and purge me now Of thoughts of blaming you"
So maybe this is not the way to let people know...but I have created a blog of my own. I will still try to contribute here on a fairly regular basis, which admittedly I haven't been doing for a while. Mainly my blog is going to consist of me talking about music, movies, tv, and the observations from my day to day life. No philly sports. Maybe some minnesota sports. Yeah, so click here to check it out. A review of a recent concert and movie will be coming soon.
Sup fatties, sorry for not getting this up earlier, I was in NYC drinking beer out of styrofoam cups at a bar with hipsters. Plus now I work on Fridays, so I don't have all afternoon that day to look for the good stuff, possibly while high.
Speaking of fatties, here's an interesting article about how the farm bill shapes what it is we eat. Although farmer grant may have a differing opinion.
Quick question. Why would you want to legalize drugs? After all, they are already California's number one cash crop. Think about all the hippie farmers who would be out of work.
Flaming squirrel blows up car. Now there's a headline you don't see everyday. It's some quality journalism, especially the part about the tombstone. And speaking of squirrels, here's a video.
What's that? There should be more break-dancing movies? Well I guess you haven't heard about Step Up 2 the Streets. I don't know.
