Here's some half-baked philosophizing
"My president is black. My lambo's blue."
I had this idea for a post a couple weeks back, possibly while high or riding my bike (not mutually exclusive). "Things, man. We're surrounded by stuff, and that ends up defining us, man," I said to myself in Tommy Chong's voice. No? Well to put it another way, certain items are what best describes yours truly. If I were to abducted by aliens/Mexicans/both and they forced me via technical interview to tell them what I derive the most enjoyment from, these are the like results, in physical form. Also a possible the answer to the question, "When did you realize you might be a hipster?"
Materialism. The only thing that exists is matter. Value, and values formed, by associating oneself with the doodads in life. There is nothing intrinsically bad about this. Being able to acquire some happiness from stuff around you can be a good, simple way to maintain a basic level of mental alacrity and health. At least that's what I think. As a specific example: After a particularly stressful day work, one where the Internet becomes less of a tool and more gaping maw filled with gears and angry illiterates for teeth, that stuff pictured is a kind of balm, for the brain. Even changing a flat tire on the bike is enough sometimes.
I'm not one of those hippy-dippy fucks that says shit like "Kill your television" or whatever (at least not while sober). I actually like technology most weeks. But that's not to say materialism can't be carried to dangerous (American?) extremes through status as competition, keeping up with the Joneses, and so forth. Which brings us to that quote up top. Really Young Jeezy? Hey, rapping about the first African-American president, and the next thing you need to mention is your exotic Italian car? Perhaps its folly to look to a piece of culture that includes a lyric about emailing Jesus (and forwarding to Moses and CCing Allah. So relevant!) as precedent for an argument.
And once again the attempted shoehorning in of cocaine rap* has driven a post here off into strange territory. My point as it stood was that forming attachments to and using objects in one's life is not necessarily a bad thing, but taken too far and you can end up writing a rap song with unfortunate lyrics. Or to put it into a movie quote ... the things you own end up owning you. Brad Pitt said that, and he was just a figment of Ed Norton's imagination. A life of the mind, so it makes sense that he would have a anti-materialist message.
*Blame gifs of popular rappers, probably
6 comments:
Thank goodness you've kept to a heavy regiment of drugs and alcohol so that you can keep your mind focused on the case, you know, what with the mental alacrity required.
But I think limiting yourself to a certain number of bangs (just one!) helped to free up a sort of subconscious defamiliarization, which is to say that this may have been one of the better uses of the adjective "unfortunate" I've seen in some time.
From your boy Taibbi:
There probably isn’t a more potent symbol of the insanity of the PC age than the forced sobriety of the Bernie Brewer character at Milwaukee’s Miller Park. The Bernie of the ’70s was a flesh-and-blood dude with a real mustache made of real smelly man-hair, and the setup he had at the old County Stadium involved hurtling down a slide into a giant stein of beer after Brewer homers. He also had a “companion” (the Brewers refused to elaborate on the nature of their relationship), Bonnie Brewer, a real chick who would hit opposing third-base coaches in the ass with a broom. Nobody knew what the hell that meant, which was what made it so funny. After a nine-year exile, fans voted for Bernie’s return in 1993, but what the new management brought back was a scary, fake-ass-looking foam-headed creature with a yellow mustache, a sort of McDonaldland version of a mall pedophile. And instead of sliding into a pool of beer, a ritual that apparently sent a morals-corrupting message (in Milwaukee! A city that does nothing but make beer!), the mall pedophile now must slide onto…a platform. The sight of the “new” Bernie Brewer standing alone on his high perch, waiting to slide down into a nonpool of nonbeer in a dying rust-belt city, is a sure sign of the decline of the American empire.
Bangs?
Re: Taibbi, agree with him 100 percent as per usual. Also here's a possible comedy bit: Mascot Rehab. The Phillie Phanatic is obviously on some sort of uppers. Not to mention the pharmacological cocktail the Phoenix Sun's gorilla takes just to make it through his daily routine of trampoline-based dunks.
You have a batman backpack! Where do you get those wonderful toys?
-Dan
Why is Matt Taibi so anxious to witness this "decline of the American Empire?" Also, how do ridiculous worries about corrupting our youth (our youts?) signal decline? Havent we been worried about that stuff for a long time? Werent people afraid of rock and roll music at one time? Didnt we actually pass prohibition way back when? Explain please.
Also, to be fair, real people with mustaches look just as much like pedophiles as cartoon people.
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