The goats have been slacking off, having meetings about the future of newspapers (bleak), eating cans and what not. But fortunately for those of you who want a new post, Dan offered this video in the comments and I just got back from happy hour. It deserves a view I think, if only because one of my dreams is someday doing a story about a hooved animal that surfs. You win this round, South America. Also who doesn't like the phrase "peruvian surfer." The list of animals he has seen surf is impressively hilarious.
Look at that bear. So fucking pissed. A berth in the sweet sixteen is no consolation for him. He's all like "Get this goddamn giant C off of me. I find it constricting!" Or maybe he's like "Ge da fuck away fo ma C! It mines." And in case you couldn't tell in the second scenario the bear has a West Philly accent. Either way the bear is frustrated with it's existence, trapped and/or defending a giant red letter C.
And before you get all up in my face in the comments, like "Dude, why you repping Cornell?" "PAC-10 rulz, Ivy League droolz!" (don't deny these were your initial sentiments) keep in mind that I merely enjoy looking at that bear, and laughing at it because it can't get to me with an albatross of a giant letter around its neck (also: imaginary). A scarlet letter, even. Levels!
And its a good thing too! Because "competitive pigeon racing" exists and Mike Tyson is involved in some official capacity via reality show. Fun fact: Tyson got into boxing after fighting to defend his beloved childhood pigeon pets, it has been reported. And now he takes that lifelong love of sky-rats to Animal Planet.
I think if there is one word I could use to describe this ... wait, what is this exactly? Grotesque. I didn't even make up that part about the pigeon-defense spurring Tyson's boxing career. It was from a press release/blog, in which an Animal Planet media rep (who I assume also wrote the release) says things like "Tyson’s passion for his pigeons takes my breath away" and that pigeons are the "king of the bird world" for their trainers. No doubt these pigeon fans will be watching in slow motion.
One thing that I think is unique to this internetted age, and possibly also unique to my perspective, is how one will find some weirdly amazing site/blog/content online and check back on it obsessively for a while, look up the creators on facebook, do assorted google image searches if they are female (creepy!) and basically stalk the shit out of them in the form of consuming everything visual and aural and sometimes via touch in as short a time as possible. Then later the engrossment trails off and you forget to look at whatever it was for months. Drug related?
But then later still you remember it suddenly, and its like hey, wonder if that weirdo has any new content. And sometimes they do and you are amused/once again enjoy life for several seconds until the attention drifts elsewhere, like Human Taxidermy Services. Poses? But the point is when you go back and see if there is new content after several months of lying fallow and not looking/forgetting it existed, and there is a whole slew of new things there, its fun and almost like a gift for your mind. And unexpected free gifts are the best.
IMPORTANT BREAKING NEWS THAT AFFECTS MY LIFE AND YOU PROBABLY DON'T CARE ABOUT: The bossman who started following me on the twitter just got shit-canned. This was the reason for its swift abandonment (It had nothing to do with laziness) (at all). Oh happy days are here again. There is much rejoicing and dancing in my brain in the form of an recalled image of an old black-and-white cartoon of a cow. And now I'm doing a jig. Literally jigging right now. Sucks for that guy though, the guy that was canned. Time to pawn the Lincoln Navigator.
Anyway. I wonder if there is some "real world" equivalent (or as the kids say: IRL) to that phenomenon I was describing above where you stumble back upon a thing you once liked but forgot about on the Internet. Except that thing had changed/grown slightly. It is thrilling in a way. Like if you had a girl that you forgot existed and then ran into her in the street decided to meet up for drinks at a dive bar and hooked up but she had a new tattoo or had a tattoo slightly altered? These are the things that run through my head it's sunny out. Tacos! No wait, Victory!
Ominous shrubs. That's what I thought of while watching Lost the other day, during the scene where Linus gets seduced by the sweet ankle restraint removing powers of the smokey/evil Locke. It seems a bit stupid now, in hindsight, probably because it is no longer taco tuesday. The blood should be riddled with both booze and mexican food for optimal Lost viewing, I have found through rigorous research. Double blind studies and so on. I think that focusing on the Locke concealing bushes (I'm just going to call him Locke, fuck it) was due to how stupidly obvious and on the nose everything had seemed to that point. And they looked scary and/or smoke-like? I don't know.
Meanwhile, in an alternate reality: Linus is a history teacher, under the thumb of Principal "Jerkass Newsguy from Die Hard" who makes him monitor detention despite his Ph.D. It's enough to make a pathetically single man just puke! Also there was the actress who played his daughter now as a student who is trying to get into Yale and blah blah blah this plotline was limp, except for the part with the always popular double reverse blackmail from Principal Dickless. It was also indicative of the island's powers, e.g. making Linus's daughter no longer his daughter, genetics be damned.
More entertaining was when Jack went all zen-crazy and was like, "There's no way this old-ass dynamite will blow us up because we are destined to do something in regards to the future and also pertaining to the island and Jacob, most likely. Also the smoke monster." This new faith-inspired yet still recklessly impulsive Jack is intriguing, despite the failure of the explosive suicide pact. He saw his childhood home! I did like the part when Richard fondled those slave chains though. Because it inferred his former slaveness -- which he escaped into another form of slavery, this time to the island, via Jacob touching. This show is mad deep, yo.
now point to where Jacob touched you
But boy did does this show lay it on thick sometimes. Lecturing about Napoleon's exile and quest for power, ON AN ISLAND? Subtle. Locke encouraging Ben to act out and make a play for principal? Ben's infirm dad wondering what would have happened if they had just stuck it out with the old Dharma Initiative? There are levels here people. This thing is mildly similar and comparable to that thing! ESOTERIC.
Lingering questions: What was the deal with that shovel Linus was using to dig his own grave? Could it be more ineffective? Will I ever delve into whole the "fate v. free will" theme after it got spiked from this post? How did Ana Lucia Ilana separate the Jacob-derived ash from the other ash in the firepit? A strainer of some sort? Where the fuck is Sawyer?
Today I learned this is the official rock song of the state of Oklahoma, which was confusing until I realized Flaming Lips are from there. I also realized that I'd like to see them in concert, The Flaming Lips. They are playing Fourth of July in AC, anyone interested? Shit you could just gamble the whole time if you wanted.
A Lost post is lurking, and also sprawling and nonsensical (can you do any less?). And I need to get some art for it. So it would have been up today but for those issues. Also, I had to build a blog for work called "A Day in the Life of a Sexologist" and that took up a good part of the day, what with the coordinating with the sexologist and whatnot. She majored in sexology. It's definitely not a made up term I once saw used in the Weekly World News. Blogtown!
These are the crucial types of items that might have been posted to the twitter, if I didn't beat it over the head and knees with an iron pipe and then stomp on it with my handy jackboots. I think it fled to Venezuela after that. This was because of all of your advice, so thanks.
First, one more Oscar-related thingy ... the best films never nominated for any Oscar at all since 1980. I don't really know/care if it is "correct" or not, but hey it's interesting to briefly consider and then discard at the least.
And in conclusion how bout a Sabotage-Battlestar combination, until it gets removed due to numerous copyright violations? Can't stand it, ya know I planned it, etc. etc. etc.
I don't think its any secret that movies can be worthwhile. Not all of course, but media made for a huge screen with crazy sound quality is not a bad idea in this post 9/11 world. "Once upon a time in Nazi-Occupied France" is a thing now because Quentin Tarantino is huge nerd. I'm no authority, but I do prefer my history in film form. As many once said somewhere, at some time, probably, "I like what I like." Or maybe it was "There's no accounting for taste."
But really -- the one thing that you should seek out for sure is animated short winner "Logorama" which I saw while back when it made a cameo on Vimeo. Vimeo Cameo. Maybe you haven't heard of this one? A Ronald McDonald goes on a violent criminal rampage taking Big Boy hostage and getting chased by Michelin Men who are performing in a cop-like capacity. Also there is an earthquake. Literally the entire movie is trademarks, I'm glad I saw it because it comes across as near straight Capitalist Samizdat*.
Additional comment:
Good that Hurt Locker beat Avatar. The only criticism I've read of Hurt Locker is that its an unrealistic depiction of war, what with the small number of characters diffusing deadly bombs in set pieces. This is like criticizing Point Break because of the surfing/skydiving scenes. So in other words, a stupid and without merit argument to make about a fictional movie. There have been many criticisms levied at Avatar -- like how its a FernGully rip off and dizzying and how it made billions of dollars and is long. I haven't seen a Cameron movie since True Lies and I'd like to keep it that way.
Happy now? And thanks for all the twitter advice you good for nothing pieces of garbage. Maybe later today there will be something about the Oscars (Avatar sux). Cross your fingers.
So I have a bit of a problem. A conundrum that has vexed me for the past week and precluded output here. The gist is this: My boss of bosses at work is now following the twitter feed I made a while back. The one over there on the right (until I take it down). Which obviously has nothing to do with work, except that maybe it was made out of professional curiosity. How the fuck he determined it to be me anyway? Did he even look at the page, with its squid-blasty goodness? This remains unexplained and I sure as hell ain't asking.
Now, maybe you are wondering why the hell I would care if this authority figure (who is a creationist, apparently, and doesn't believe in dinosaurs we joke) follows my twatting or whatever the cool thing to call it is. To that I say: Shut the fuck up you neophyte bastard. In case you hadn't noticed, I tend to use this blog, which has mercifully remained anonymous, and later the twitter for "creative content" that wouldn't fly at a community newspaper. For pop-culture comparison, it's like when Relationship George and Independent George are forced together.
So I've been mulling my options, none of which are post things on there while drunk, my previous secret to future success. No, the options are thus; a: block this man, possibly forcing a some sort of reckoning, b: deletion, c: abandonment. I put it to you, literate reader -- what is the best option? If you put the solution well it may be referred to at an upcoming "content conference" that I will be attending in 2 weeks as some sort of corporate stooge.
"Axe to the chest! Axe to the chest! Axe to the chest! Axe to the chest! Yeahwooooooooo!" -yours truly
I don't know if its ever come up before, but I am shamelessly pro axe in media. Axe Cop for example. So when feral Claire started sharpening one on "Lost" last night, it was so exciting I started yelling loud enough for my landlord/neighbor to hear. It's OK though cause I got him drugs one time. Also: A giant goat(?) skull in a baby carriage is a normal thing to have, if you are fucking crazy and your friend is a giant evil pillar of smoke. That was a dark scene, and one that intrigues me. Are there any other main guys still at the temple? Methinks some smoky/axe mayhem may be afoot.
Skullfur baby!
Later due to drunken fumbling of my remote while fast forwarding through the commercials, I thought that Jack and Hurley went into a magical lighthouse, where they found a piano recital. But that would be too Lynchian of a scene, even for this show. Lost isn't Muhlholland Dr. even if it does make about the same amount of sense. So there was some number mumbo-jumbo so Jack goes all "My childhood home? Greagh, stupid island! I smash mirrors now!" and then stares out to sea/reflects on what he has learned/meditates on his unborn teenaged child. Spoiler alert.
Lingering questions: What's the body count going to be next week? Screencaps from Hulu Y/N? Perhaps a Dingo took Claire's baby?
Stringer Bell Cedric Daniels Bubbles Omar Little Frank Sobotka Ellis Carver Preston "Bodie" Broadus Clay Davis Jimmy McNulty Howard "Bunny" Colvin D'Angelo Barksdale Rhonda Perlman Brother Mouzone Norman Wilson Dennis "Cutty" Wise Jay Landsman Wee-Bey Brice Tommy Carcetti Gus Haynes Felicia "Snoop" Pearson Clarence Royce Slim Charles Bill Rawls Marlo Stanfield Bunk Moreland "Proposition" Joe Stewart Thomas "Herc" Hauk Michael Lee Roland "Prez" Pryzbylewski Avon Barksdale Namond Brice Maurice Levy Duquan "Dukie" Weems Scott Templeton Ziggy Sobotka Kima Greggs Randy Wagstaff Ervin Burrell Lester Freamon Chris Partlow Donut James Whiting Brianna Barksdale Nick Sobotka Nerese Campbell Melvin "Cheese" Wagstaff Wallace Marcia Donnelly Mike Fletcher Sergei "Serge" Malatov Theresa D'Agostino De'Londa Brice Stanislaus Valchek Johnny Weeks Alma Gutierrez David Parenti Leander Sydnor Roger Twigg Odell Watkins Coleman Parker Albert Stokes The Greek Beadie Russell Walon Butchie Grace Sampson Andy Krawczyk "Monk" Metcalf Anthony Gray Daniel Phelan Thomas Klebanow Sherrod Bird Eddie Walker Ilene Nathan Jeff Price The Deacon Spiros "Vondas" Vondopoulos Kenard Rupert Bond Squeak Bernard Jen Carcetti Gary DiPasquale Terrence "Fitz" Fitzhugh Michael Crutchfield Damien Price Zenobia Dawson Anthony Collichio Savino Bratton Bill Zorzi Malik "Poot" Carr Edward Norris Dennis Mello Old Face Andre Michael Steintorf Vernon Holley Wendell "Orlando" Blocker Michael Santangelo Bobby Brown Stinkum Thomas "Horseface" Pakusa Shaun "Shamrock" McGinty Darnell Tyson Eunetta Perkins Amanda Reese Kenneth Dozerman
This took a long time/likely there are some minor omissions.
OK, I may take some heat for this from those who hate on the hipsterishness of certain things posted on here. But honestly, whatever, I can take it (and later weep silently to myself).
This past weekend I was in Brooklyn, where I attended a live reading of an interpretation of a Lewis Carroll poem. This was not my reason for going there, but the opportunity presented itself. It was "The Hunting of the Snark" adapted by some girl and performed by a group of 7 people or so, including not one but two narrators. One of the narrators also played the Snark I think. Needless to say it was hard to follow. The Beaver was hilarious.
Another possibly relevant fact -- the "performance" was in some house in Brooklyn Heights, which is a particularly tony section of the borough, known for the prevalence of tiny dogs wearing coats. It's no Bushwick, suffice it to say.
At one point while everyone was milling around drinking wine out of paper cups I overhead some presumably tweed-wearing guy* say "This is such a New York thing to do!" I was disgusted/amused by this, a feeling which I struggled to conceal from the harsh-faced girl I was talking to. She expressed a similar, condescending thought to me when I informed her of the population of the town in which I live (est. 20,000).
The point is these are things people do for fun in New York City.
So this was the video I showed the publisher of our newspaper today when he asked me how we should promote our new video initiative. He was impressed. Related: if any of you ever say the words "hyperlocal" or "blogtown" to my face there will be consequences, which you may or may not like depending on your level of masochism. Vent over.
So the Olympics are happening on television, and while I enjoy the sport aspect, I think all the extra stuff is giving me diabetes. You know what I'm talking about: Those gently-narrated Olympic moments™ brought to you by Tide detergent. Bob Costas or Jimmy Roberts are usually involved. While avoiding these monuments to the soft focus lens for the most part, I did see some Al Michaels interview with a short-track speed skater who cut his leg off with his skate in an accident 6 short months ago. I guess they sewed it back on and now he has an Olympic medal.
That said, things appeal to/cut through my sense of ironic detachment:
1. The opening ceremonies were hilarious. I mean, a snowboarder jumping through the Olympic rings? Extreme. Also good: The Olympic flag was carried out by Donald Sutherland, Anne Murray, Bobby Orr and an astronaut, among others. Canadian celebrities are so cute! Not too mention Wayne Gretzky and Steve Nash visibly squirming during the mechanical failure of the torch lighting. That kind of failure can only be soothed with a KD Lang rendition of Hallelujah.
2. The obscure "sports" that only surface every 4 years are the best. At one point the color announcer for something called Nordic Combined had some line like "All die-hard nordic-combined fans are absolutely riveted by this historic race" which was so patently ridiculous I can't even make fun of it. Well, maybe a little. Also, he went absolutely apeshit when the American won the silver medal. Like Gus Johnson on an eight-ball. I'm not sure which was more exciting: the photo-finish or gambling on whether or not that guy was going to stroke out. I look forward to more of that.
3. Bode Miller: Redeemed via shameful bronze. It was almost enough to get me to make a "Bode vs. Bodie" comparison here on this blog, between him and the character from The Wire. But that would have taken more effort/analysis than making an expository list. Effort is bad for "Team Apathy" of which both I and Bode Miller circa 2006 would probably be members, if anyone cared enough to create such a team. This is all a roundabout way of saying Bode Miller is my hero. Moving on.
4. When the girl mogulist (a word Y/N?) won Team America's first gold medal she said something about her goal coming to the games was "to be in an montage." The montage, which is perhaps most emblematic of the melodrama so common in Olympics TV coverage (and all sport for that matter). It makes me smile when this is acknowledged in a meta way (ie by a participant).
Finally, a few lingering questions: Are the winter Olympics the coolest? What is the weirdest/most obscure sport besides of course curling? Who would win in a fight, Team Apathy or Team America? What is the deal with that guy's hat? When does the men's hockey start?
One thing I've noticed in the past five or six days is that 40-some inches of snow have made this town more of a comradeship. A nicer place to live. The number of hellos and even eye contact acknowledgements of my existence have at least tripled since Saturday. It's not clear why this is exactly, but I have theories.
The first is that Vermontesque weather is a kind of shared experience/hardship. It doesn't seem right to be an uncaring asshole just trying to get ahead when its totally shitty out. Plus the reminder that for all our technologies and cultural ephemera, old Mother Nature can still bring the pain, for lack of a better term. It's along the same lines as why hazing exists. This morning I walked around town shooting video of people shoveling back to their lives. Neighbors threw out their backs getting to their cars.
Wait for it ... Cars are to blame! Everyone is friendly because no one can drive anywhere. This weather has forced all but the snow-plow owning elite out of their cars and onto their feet, if they want to go places. Forced out of the glass and steel bubble and into face-to-face interaction, its actually kind of amazing how fast civility is restored. Granted, I have a somewhat warped perspective on this. Two years of interacting with cars as a person will do that. Dehumanizing. But the car-person dynamic is a topic for another day/non-internet writing.
Third theory: It's all just projection. It's possible that I am only recieving more positive vibes because I am sending more out. Because yeah, I am extremely happy about the snow. Records are awesome. Now no old people can talk shit about snow-related back in the day because this is the most snow in 150 years and no one is that old yet. But I can! Also there is schadenfreude in seeing everyone look pained while digging out. You know who wins when no one can drive? A man who never drives and wears waterproof boots.
So yeah, those are the theories. Proofs coming/not.
Maybe book club isn't the best term for this, a drifting post about David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, which I am reading. Because "book club" insinuates people, or at least more than one person, participating. So this is less book club, and more person reading a book, and then blogging about it. If we're calling a spade a spade, you know? Although maybe someone else has read this book and also this blog and can provide some comment. Yes/No/Maybe so?
I heartily recommend making the effort (and it is an effort), at this point of my being 150 pages into the 1097 or so total, including some 100 pages of endnotes. There are stumbling blocks, like the "Wardine/dopesick" sections, which switch over to a weird narrative voice that is like the dumbest of Youtube comments, without the L337. These sections vaguely remind me of the parts of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying that are narrated by Vardaman, the retard or whatever. I haven't read that shit since high school. But these narrators are not retarded, just drug addicts/residents of the projects.
Anyway: Endnote 304. It's about kids in Canada playing this game where they jump in front of approaching trains -- the winner is the last person to successfully cross the tracks in front the train safely. Actually, that's not exactly true -- the endnote (which is some 8 pages long) is about one character plagiarizing a scholarly work that describes the above game, as it pertains to the Quebec separatists. This takes place in the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment. The plagiarizing, not the train jumping. Although maybe the train jumping still takes place in the Y. of the D.A.U., its not exactly clear at this point.
I felt guilty about reading this endnote, which was referred to in other endnotes but had not yet come in the actual text. So reading it, skipping ahead, felt like it was cheating somehow. Which is kind of a weird emotion to have about reading a book I own. But I was assuaged by various posts at Infinite Summer (a valuable resource), that said its no big deal to read 304, and that the narrator was telling us to read it by referring to it in the other endnotes. And now I am glad I read it, because the wheelchair assassins make more sense, at least in their origin.
In conclusion, a description of Cage III: Free Show, which is contained in the filmography of one James O. Incandenza, aka Endnote 24.
* B.S. Latrodectus Mactans Productions/Infernatron Animation Concepts, Canada. Cosgrove Watt, P.A. Heaven, Everard Maynell, Pam Heath; partial animation; 35 mm.; 65 minutes; black and white; sound. The figure of Death (Heath) presides over the front entrance of a carnival sideshow whose spectators watch performers undergo unspeakable degradations so grotesquely compelling that the spectators’ eyes become larger and larger until the spectators themselves are transformed into gigantic eyeballs in chairs, while on the other side of the sideshow tent the figure of Life (Heaven) uses a megaphone to invite fairgoers to an exhibition in which, if the fairgoers consent to undergo unspeakable degradations, they can witness ordinary persons gradually turn into gigantic eyeballs. INTERLACE TELENT FEATURE CARTRIDGE #357-65-65
edit: Upon rereading this post, I have come to realize it makes little to no sense outside of my own brain/the brain of someone who has also read this book. I would try and fix this post, by which I mean make it coherent, but that's impossible barring a red wine and quaalude bender. So read this book and then you will be privy to jokes about Interdependence Day and The Year of the trial-size Dove Bar and excessive use of acronyms. Also here's a DFW interview if you are interested.
As per request, here is a "humorous" take on the season premiere of LOST. Although I am hesitant to devote much time to writing about television, because, ugh, TV blogging. Hey look everyone, we watched the same show, and now we can talk about it in some sort of virtual water-cooler/comment section. A hearty congratulations to all for watching the same program that is beamed into our homes through cables and satellites. We have truly achieved something to be proud of: A shared experience through the miracle of modern technology!
Cynicism aside, LOST is one of those shows where a deconstruction can add value, or at least understanding. This particular post will likely do neither. But I'd much rather write about this, as opposed to something disposably wretched like "Jersey Shore" or "Hoarders," which are barely worth thinking about during viewing, let alone after the fact. No, LOST actually has something to it. Themes and such. Also it's plenty confusing/convoluted. This interactive timeline is handy in that respect.
So, we come to the episode. A quick disclaimer: Don't look to me for clues and facts about what is going on, plotwise. My knowledge of this show's mythology is spotty at best, considering I didn't watch most of seasons 3 and 4. If you want that, by all means, go read some other shit somewhere else. Lord knows it's out there. That is not to say there won't be SPOILERS below for people who care about such things. Anyway: The premiere starts right after last season's cliffhanger ending, with the aftermath of the flash that happened when Juliet decided that banging on a nuclear warhead with a rock was a good idea/would work out. But wait, it did work out, because now all the castaways are back on the plane and it doesn't crash!
But wait again, how is that possible? Because if they never crashed in the first place, then none of the time-travelly events that led to that nuke-smashing would have taken place. I smell paradox! So obviously the answer that this non-crash world is an alternate reality, where Jack and Locke form the natural friendship of a paraplegic and a spinal surgeon, forged through the mutual experience of lost luggage containing knives and dead father. Meanwhile, in the narrative where the plane still did crash, the "blow up electromagnetic energy" plan didn't work, shockingly, but still transported everyone back to the present? Although Juliet says it did work, and then promptly dies, presumably to return to her child-molesting/murdering ways back on the mainland (oh, a Running Scared reference, clearly necessary).
Which puts us where? The smoke monster in human form, then not, then again? Kate beating the hell out of some U.S. Marshall-type figure, and then going on the run, like Harrison Ford or dare I say Wesley Snipes? The two realities having vague, non-descript parallels, until somehow merging into one mid-season? Desmond popping up in random places/times, because the rules don't apply to him? Sawyer sounding suspiciously like the voice of the dog from A Boy and His Dog? Space coyote?
Tune in next week, when none of these questions will be answered, and 10 more will be introduced.
Those Hollywood taste-makers were in full affect this morning, with the announcing of the Oscar nominations. The Oscars are probably the second most important awards in the history of ever, just behind MacArthur Grants. So obviously I watched the live feed in here my cubicle. Anne Hathaway has an enormous mouth!
But that's neither here nor there ... this year there are 10 films up for best picture, in what some call the "Dark Knight" rule. Which means shit like "The Blind Side" and "District 9" are nominated this year. Nothing against District 9 of course, it was quite good. "The Blind Side" on the other hand? Throwing a bone to people who love them some Dancing With the Stars. Bear Jew!
But really the most exciting moment of anticipation is wondering how the hell they are going to try and show any pertinent clips from the best adapted screenplay nom "In the Loop" during the Oscar broadcast. Because there is a lot of awesome cursing, presumably a big reason for its nomination. For example "Fuckety Bye" which is how I always end conference calls at work now. Also: "I know you don't like cursing, you F, STAR, STAR, CUNT!" (paraphrased)
Hmmm, what other instantaneous analysis can I make without consulting/plagiarizing other blogs/twitter trending topics? Hurt Locker was awesome, and totally deserves to win all the awards/plaudits it can, especially over "Avatar" which I haven't seen but my dad said it made him nauseous, so obviously it sucks. Also, "Up In The Air," which I also haven't seen, is fucking dumb. That's my impression at least. If George Clooney came to my job to lay people off that would be kind of cool though I guess. It's no Michael Clayton as far as I'm concerned.
Stumbled across this article from 2005 about fraternities by Benoit Denizet-Lewis, which includes a little walk down memory lane.
Since 1997, the year I graduated, Northwestern has expelled five fraternities -- in cooperation with their national organizations -- for alcohol and hazing violations. The last casualty was Kappa Sigma, banished after its 2003 formal dance party at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. In a gaffe almost too dopey to be believed, a Kappa Sigma brother dropped a flask into the aquarium's beluga whale tank. Already on probation for an alcohol-related incident that sent a pledge to the hospital, the fraternity was booted off campus by Northwestern administrators (it can petition to return in 2007), but not before the brothers could make going-away T-shirts. They read, "Kappa Sigma -- a Whale of a Good Time.
So I was doing a quiz on sporcle earlier today, as is my wont, Rolling Stones' top ranked songs of the decade, and found the weird mix of songs kind of hilarious, what with the juxtaposition of LCD Soundsystem and Kelis (also: Clipse/Dirty Projectors, and others). Sure Rolling Stone's attempting to stay hip in a world where its irrelevancy would still be increasing, if it were possible to divide by zero. That is to say, Rolling Stone's relevance these days is best measured in imaginary numbers. I mean, Randy fucking Newman? At number 28? IN A LIST OF SONGS FROM THE AUGHTS? Damn you to Taibbi!!
Faux-outrage to subjective lists notwithstanding, I scored about 45 out of 100 songs -- a high number, if percentiles in the "see how you did" link are to be believed. I might feel guilty knowing that I know so much about the "good" songs from the past decade in the opinion of whomever at RS made that list. I mean what an arbitrary thing to be good at, and not at all beneficial! But I usually own the quizzes on there anyway, what with my own user account and occasional comment. Never made a quiz though, maybe I'll try. Suggestions?
Off track, back to the RS list, because I feel like meta-enabling myself and whoever else has made it this far. A few things: 99 Problems and Crazy in Love were at the same time, which greatly inflates their ranking. I know this not because I read the Rolling Stone article corresponding with that quiz, because it is probably not online, and their website sucks so back I refuse to look. That was on Pitchfork, whose decade best of had a striking (or not) amount of redundancy with this list. Although since they are separate publications, I suppose you can't really blame them for that. Finally, all the best music from the past 10 years can be boiled down to parts of indie/alternative rock, electronic, and hip hop. So there's that.
Point: Few things make the passage of time sink in my brain like a few of the songs on there, Stan for instance. It's been 10 years since the Marshall Mathers LP, no wonder the world is fucking crazy. There was a track on there called Kill You for chrissakes. I remember driving around smoking trees in a Rocky Mountain Sports Magazine car, in Colorado, listening to songs on that list. Namely the above and Outkast. And then I went to Vail for free! Those were some halcyon days, that's for sure. Ignition Remix=slapping random ass at The Keg, anyone?
Anyway, enough navel-gazing (or shoe-gazing? terrible). Here are some links:::::
Maybe its wrong, perhaps elitist, to think that all Saints fans are like those depicted in the above video from earlier this season, getting out of pick-up trucks holding high-powered guns with which they plan to shoot expensive electronics in the face. Wouldn't Ignatius J. Reilly support the Saints?
Point: The average American football fan is not a pinnacle of culture and enlightenment. This is true of any team. Of course it would be folly to say that East Coast fans are somehow superior to those down in the Big Easy, or Midwest, or anywhere else. This is not my point. Football fans are lunatics, regardless of geography. If measuring fan cultures on sophistication, put football just above NASCAR, and certainly below rodeo.
Aside: I recently watched the film "Big Fan" which may be coloring my opinion of football fans darker than usual. The story, about an enormous Giants fan (Patton Oswalt) whose life revolves around calling into radio talk shows and sitting in the Meadowlands parking lot to watch his team on television, does not exactly show fandom in the best light. It's just pathetic, especially after Oswalt gets his ass kicked by his favorite player, in da club, as it were.
But that's fiction. By definition "not real." The real easy point is that Indiana and the South are both backwards and filled with hicks, all of whom likely support the regional professional sports team. So kudos to them.
Yo, you fucks remember this thing like two years ago when we would do those "deathmatch listoffs" with subjective opinions on various cultural ephemera? Was that good times? I mean, it was a certainly a good way to build a community in theory I thought at the time. But not in practice, because let's be honest: The goats are not exactly on the radar of anything, despite THE definitive listing of stoner movies. In the end I think the whole list-off thing was just a way for the select few to be self-indulgent and maybe a word that means having poor taste that I can't think of right now because I am drunk and have swine flu probably. It starts with "a" ... fuck. Not asinine. Once again vocabulary lets me down. next day edit: The word was insipid! So I was wrong, but it did start with a vowel. Close enough.
Anyway, I think the point of this as it was started was that I wanted to list something, because I was listening to "Prison Sex" by Tool, which has an amazing opening bass riff. And I thought to myself, what are some of the other top riffs to start songs? Rock riffs: I have limited mental faculties at the moment because of the drinking and the swine flu. So this seemed like it might work, but unfortunately the only other song I could think of was "Blind" by Korn because they always open their sets with it and I thought I might die at Woodstock 99 when that happened. ARE YOU READY for a formative experience?
There is no way I can think of any other good openers at this time, but I don't want to just delete this little guy. So now I'm just going to listen to some Massive Attack, or something else with heavy bass, and reflect on all the things that have gone wrong, you could say, to put me in a place where I am sitting on an uncomfortable couch updating a long-running barely read blog on a Friday night. Drunk with swine flu (probably). Publish post.
An argument erupted last night during a discusion of the whereabouts and future of Sinclair, who has been been neither seen nor heard from since he was tased a few months back (I heard something along the lines of "erasing his past" whatever that means). This weirdo guy who writes an unsuccessful web-comic and wears Sarah Palin glasses was all in my face about how Sinclair was probably forced to join alcoholics anonymous by the court. Of course I called bullshit on this, because AA is a religious group (I think), and this would be a violation of church and state.
I don't care about accuracy, I said to myself. This is a matter of personal pride and I want to show this fuck up with vehement declaration of falsehoods, like making up several of the 12 steps to put this sucker in his place. But then the weirdo says he knows about it from personal experience, which was basically inferring that he was in AA. I'm not sure if it was court-mandated, because this made me want to end the argument right away. So I told the guy I didn't want to argue with him, and I left the bar.
Haven't gone through the Netflix history in a while, so why not today? As always, these are actual DVDs that were sent to me through the mail. Not mentioned: This American Life, which I have been watching through the "watch it right on your computer" option. The Wiener Circle piece is a classic. Chocolate Shake! Terrible.
The Lives of Others East Germany! Voyeurism! Two great tastes that go great together. But seriously, this movie is really, really good. It is subtle, and has subtitles, and gains momentum throughout, building to an outstanding payoff ending. You should probably watch it at your first opportunity. The best film on this list in my opinion.
Drag Me To Hell Tightly-plotted horror story which doesn't need much explanation, as it's all right there in the title. I watched Sam Raimi's un-rated directors cut, for bonus grossness. Absurdly gross, really, is a old gypsy "gumming" attack on the protagonist necessary? Two times.
The Magic Christian Dear God, Ringo Starr is a terrible actor. I assume this is what passed for "edgy" in the sixties. Pretty fucking stupid, the only thing that saves it is Peter Sellers. And John Cleese.
State of Play This is basically newspaper journalism porn. Oh, Russell Crowe, look at you protecting your Capitol Hill sources from the evil young blogger, played by Rachel McAdams. But maybe she could teach you a few things you didn't know about the changing world of news! Not so fast there missy, this old dog might still have a few new tricks up his sleeve. Or in his notebook, as it were. Together, they might just make the perfect reporting team! Still -- there are good performances, which combined with a twisty plot makes for an enjoyable, if disposable viewing experience. Also: Ben Affleck for Congress?
Duplicity Clive Owen and Julia Roberts as pathologically lying corporate spies. With a romantic past!
Thirst This DVD was all scratched up, so I only watched the first 45 minutes or so. Unfortunately this happens on occasion with the Netflix. I can only assume in this case that the damage resulted from someone biting the disc, because they thought they had Korean vampire disease.
In the Company of Men One thing for sure: Aaron Eckhart plays slimeball well. It's pretty obvious the casting director for Thank You For Smoking had seen this. But yeah, this movie hurts one's soul -- two businessmen romancing a deaf woman with the idea of dumping her simultaneously. At first it seems like misogyny, but it kind of turns out to be misanthropy. Big words!
Raising Arizona Best. Comedic Chase Scene. Ever.
Haha. Dogs.
Wild at Heart More Nicolas Cage acting crazy! This must have been right after I saw BLPOCNO. The opening scene could be one of the greatest beating deaths in the history of cinema. Not sure if "greatest" is the right word. Moving on ...
Cloverfield I think a better title for this would have been "Real World: Godzilla." Still, it held my interest for its full running length.
Anvil: The Story of Anvil A surprising amount of heart in this, a movie about a washed up Canadian metal band. Think Spinal Tap plus earnestness.
Twin Peaks WTF, David Lynch.
Adventureland Feh. A coming of age tale, solid fun if not spectacular. From the director of Superbad, says wikipedia. That makes sense. The one guy, the nerdy sidekick/sage observer type, kind of steals the movie.
Observe and Report Ah yes, now we are really getting into hazy memory territory. It was super dark, I do recall that. Seth Rogen beating the shit out of drug dealers, and a date rape scene. Kind of similar in tone to Foot Fist Way, which makes sense as they have the same director.
Dirty Pretty Things Illegal immigrants sure do have it rough. Methinks this did a good job of portraying the hopelessness one might feel, living in the margins of society. Also it has organ harvesting, always suspenseful.
Being There This was in another post here. Peter Sellers is hilarious as an imbecile obsessed with TV who rises to political glory through an increasingly improbable set of circumstances. Also, the grizzled dad from Dirty Work plays the president.
After Hours Wait, a comedy directed by Martin Scorsese? What the hell? This movie is fucking weird.
Schindler's List Just brutal, but with an uplifting finish. Which is kind of strange to say about a holocaust movie. This is something one has to watch to get a "cinephile" card. If such a thing existed.
Night on Earth Separate stories of cabbies and their fares on one night in cities across the globe. Jim Jarmusch films are usually too slow for me, but the switching of locales (LA, New York, Rome, Paris, and Helsinki) kept me interested. Watching this builds indie rep, or so I'm told.
The Fall Something about a paralyzed stuntman telling a little girl stories so she'll steal morphine for him. The visuals are amazing.
Well that's it. Putting this together took up a good part of the day. I think this is the first time I would heartily recommend any one of the films listed. Well, except for The Magic Christian, which managed to make me hate it even though I agree with its message.
Hmmm ... what should I put here on the old blog today? The bloggeroo, ol' bloggy mcblogblog ... a madcap rant on the Simpsons 20th anniversary documentary from last night? Funny, in parts. A picture found via through a cursory 2-minute google image search? Been done. Something seal related (either the animal or the singer, doesn't matter)? Bad joke. These are the types of "difficult editorial decisions" I make each day when confronted with this screen:
Daunting right? Staring at all that white space for hours and hours, an intimidating thought. One I am forced(?) to confront everyday, when putting things up here. Which I guess isn't every day. But it is, because often times I'll plan/start posting something, only to violently close the tab in frustration. But will that happen today? Well, no, probably, because you are reading this.
This would be easier if there was some measurable outcome. At least that's what I tell myself when I read some other shit online that's mad prolific. On the other hand, what do I mean by "this" at the start of this paragraph? Writing for the internet? Watching videos of animals doing things one might not expect them to? Taking screenshots? Too many questions, and this is already way over the line of self-indulgence, veering dangerously into violent tab-closing territory. Better put it out there, and be done with it.
God what a terrible time of year this is, with its darkness and cold. The first week in January is a bad time for a season affective disorder to get rolling. There's several more months of this! Which is daunting. Is is bad when you have three pairs of long-underwear, and that's not nearly enough? On the other hand it could be worse, i.e. living in Iowa, with its impassible highways. But riding bikes in the snow is fun. Cars are scared of you! At least that's my impression.
That's it, look on the bright side. Imagine positivity. Like that guy up top, who is so fucking thrilled to have an enormous superhero pig placed in his yard. Serious happiness, only half of which is mugging for the camera (This is a guess). The reality of a 2000 pound animal eyesore has yet to set into his mind. It will likely be a major expense to move. Although maybe giant pigs are how he gets his rocks off. It certainly looks that way.
Oh yeah, by the way, I made a twitter for some reason the other day. So, you know, follow that or whatever. I may even "tweet" something at some time in the future. To use the parlance of our times.
"Let me tell you something," says Freddie. "Something about this country. Anybody can do anything. But first they gotta try. And you guys ain't. Two don't work and one strips naked? I don't consider that trying. You kids make squat. And therefore you live in a dangerous craphole. And what happens in a dangerous craphole? Bad tragic shit. It's the freaking American way-you start out in a dangerous craphole and work hard so you can someday move up to a somewhat less dangerous craphole. And finally maybe you get a mansion. But at this rate you ain't even gonna make it to the somewhat less dangerous craphole."
- from Sea Oak, which is so freaking hilarious I can't adequately express it. My abilities of expression are inadequate. Here's another passage from there:
After dinner the babies get fussy and Min puts a mush of ice cream and Hershey's syrup in their bottles and we watch The Worst That Could Happen, a half-hour of computer simulations of tragedies that have never actually occurred but theoretically could. A kid gets hit by a train and flies into a zoo, where he's eaten by wolves. A man cuts his hand off chopping wood and while wandering around screaming for help is picked up by a tornado and dropped on a preschool during recess and lands on a pregnant teacher.
Also another short story in this, The End of Firpo in the World is heart-breaking, yet funny. It's like Vonnegut had a baby, and that baby met the baby of David Foster Wallace and those two babies had a baby? Yes, it's the product of baby fucking.
edit: I knew that baby bit was from something, but couldn't remember what. But now I do remember: Pineapple Express. Which was a movie I sort of hated when I first saw it, but now if I see it on Starz or whatever I usually watch it for a bit and its weird violence is somehow becoming endearing? Anyway.
I took the chinatown bus to Philly from D.C. the other day. Notable moments included a more-crazy-than-usual driver tailgating some Honda for several miles on I-95. Dude was a maniac and I loved it. Less loved: The middle-aged couple in front of me feeding each other cheese puffs while whispering sweet nothings to each other in some Slavic language. Shit was depraved at best.
I would have simply shut my eyes and dozed off to avoid that nastiness, but the aforementioned nutball driver had a swerving, lurching style. So I was forced to find different modes of distraction. First I went to my normal time-killer in public: Reciting non-milkshake lines from the bowling alley scene in There Will Be Blood, but eventually that got old, despite the timelessness of "They should have put you in a glass jar on a mantlepiece."
So I thought about what are the best modes of travel. Here it is: Definitive and without commentary.
10. City Bus 9. Taxi 8. Car 7. Someone else's car 6. Jet 5. Subway/Elevated train 4. Some other way I can't think of right now 3. On foot 2. Chinatown bus 1. Bicycle
Don't believe me? Just watch this commercial, which is a likely peek into my future some 30 years from now.
We were having this conversation yesterday, and I thought it might be goat-relevant, paraphrased:
D: So I was waiting for the Broad Street Line this morning and there was this fat woman spreading cream cheese on a bagel with her thumb. It was the grossest thing I've seen in some time. I kind of wanted to throw up, or punch her. E: That's not that bad. T: Was she just fat, or morbidly obese? This is an important detail. D: Morbidly obese, why not? T: Yeah that's awful. A disgusting human being in body and spirit. E: Give me a break! It's not gross, it's her thumb! T: Have you been in a Philly subway station? Eating anything in there is a terrible idea. So many homeless men pee in there that the air is permeated with urine molecules. Touching subway tokens and then eating? Horrible. E: But it was her thumb! Are you saying that eating a bagel without the cream cheese would also be gross? T: Well, it depends on what kind of bagel. The viscosity of the cream cheese certainly adds a level of disgust. E: The cream cheese makes the bagel! And it was her thumb! D: It was a plain bagel. T: OK, the cream cheese is necessary because it was a plain bagel. E: She just wanted a tasty breakfast, and didn't have a knife. T: Wait, she had a tub of cream cheese? and was scooping it out and smearing it with her thumb? I now have a full mental picture, and it is awful. E: Give me a break. Who cares? If she wants to take a chance at contracting some Philly subway germs, it's her risk. Who are you to judge? T: If someone makes the decision that they need to spread cream cheese on a bagel with their thumb in one of the most disgusting places in America, I will judge them, and declare them gross. Unilaterally.
This morning I'm posting a perfectly innocent story to the web about some kid with cancer who is able to maintain his schooling via a live classroom webcam. A perfectly fine, uplifting story for the holiday season, which takes all of my self control not to change the headline to something in bad taste.
"Technology: 1, Cancer: 0" or "The future is now" or "Cancer boy telecommutes." That last one may be a bit to far. Here is an actual sentence from the story: "After some thought, administrators decided technology could help Darius continue his studies." Now I know we're not re-inventing the cliche here, at a local newspaper (circulation: 23,000 and dropping), but that is some blandly awful writing right there.
There is no excuse for using the term "technology" three times in a story, four if you count the actual headline. Perhaps there is a less descriptive, more generic word you could use? Because "technology" describes every fucking thing invented by man, fucking ever. It's a good thing I only read copy at this place at my whim, because I always regret it.
Coma-inducing copy is part of why its important to get as much PG-rated absurdity as possible into print when provided the chance. Like a song about Allen Iverson set to the Welcome Back Kotter theme. And that is my two-cups-of-coffee-in-20-minutes rant for today.
It's snowing like a bitch, I just cracked a beer, and college hoops is on, so let's give typing stuff and then putting it on the Internet a shot. Not going to publish updates too often (or at all) because no one is looking at this. We'll see if it can hold my attention with such distractions as "other stuff on television" and "looking out the window" tempting me.
This is what I know about 2009 Northwestern Men's Basketball prior to today: Their record, and that the best player from last year is hurt. But my knowledge is increasing with every informative graphic displayed. In a couple hours I will be able to spell at least 2 players names.
I kind of hope NU can win this, because I went double or nothing on this season ending in a NCAA tournament berth. Meaning that instead of going to see the football team in the Outback bowl on New Years Day, I will go to a the basketball team's first ever tourney game. This is a gamble, that can blow up in my face in many ways. They play first round games in weird places. Which makes it all the more exciting!
John Shurna's jump shot is "flatter than the interstate between Des Moines and Omaha," According to this big ten network clown. Oh he's a clown all right. Shurna is a player, they don't let just anyone onto the USA men's under-19 national team.
Just checked out the gamecast on ESPN. Is there some poor underling in Bristol entering the stats in for this game as it goes on? Probably an unpaid intern. Or an intern that paid for the right for valuable work experience in the form of menial labor. That is an observation I'm sure no one has made before.
Oh right, the game. It's 25-23 with 5 minutes or so left in the first half. A barn burner.
What ever happened to Muhamed Hachad? Internet says: Playing in France. If you had "Playing in France" please come claim your prize. Which is ... looks around room ... a harmonica that I don't know how to play. There may be a book of harmonica lessons around here somewhere, if I find it there will be a different prize.
Juice Thompson?
Halftime: Score tied at 33. I spent the break printing out, reading, then burning this long interview with David Simon about writing the wire and other things. Good quote:
It’s one thing to recognize capitalism for the powerful economic tool it is and to acknowledge that, for better or for worse, we’re stuck with it and, hey, thank God we have it. There’s not a lot else that can produce mass wealth with the dexterity that capitalism can. But to mistake it for a social framework is an incredible intellectual corruption and it’s one that the West has accepted as a given since 1980—since Reagan. Human beings—in this country in particular—are worth less and less. When capitalism triumphs unequivocally, labor is diminished. It’s a zero-sum game. People paid a much higher tax rate when Eisenhower was president, a much higher tax rate for the benefit of society, and all of us had more of a sense that we were included. But this is not what you really want to talk about, I know.
Yeah, fuck Reaganites. If you are going to push policy with a side of morals, it helps to not be morally bankrupt.
I am going to watch the second half in earnest, which means posting this and not dividing my attention for a bit. Otherwise there is too much chance I'll get distracted by stuff like best photos of the year. More coming ...?????
There are no less than 5 unfinished, malformed posts clogging up the backend of this blog, including one about how evil chairs are. Answer: Very. All of the incomplete posts are better than that one that I "finished" this morning. Although I supposed that depends on your personal definition of the word "better." Scare quotes are great.
The point is that I will be forced indoors all weekend because of shitty weather, providing ample blog time. Maybe there will be a live account of the Stanford-Northwestern basketball game tomorrow afternoon, drunk on cheap blended scotch and PBR. Who knows? Don't get your hopes up though, because there is also a chance that I'll waste the time playing antique video games. In which case I am confident that picture of a meerkat will keep you entertained. Constantly refresh this page, just to be safe.
It's nearly 2010, which means it's time to reflect back on the past 10 years. That's what media people do, because its easier than trying to come up with something new, and everything's half-staffed around the holidays. Arbitrary lists of subjective things are all the rage. But honestly, who fucking cares if Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was better than City of God, or if In Bruges was better than The Royal Tenenbaums. Argue their respective merits all you want, it's still pointless. Pop-culture lists fill me with loathing, mostly because I can't stop reading them. I blame baby Jesus and job stress.
That said, I'm all for taking this frivolous pass-time and turning it back on itself. For example, the top stories of the past 4.5 billion years, or the 50 states in order. Pennsylvania number one! And I've been thinking, what would be an original and subversive thing I could do with a decade-ending list, here on this blog? And this is what I came up with, the top 5 drugs of the past 10 years, in chronological order (I don't know what that means). So unscientific and based on personal experience, yet possibly accurate?
Opium You really haven't lived until you've flown on a commercial flight with a gram of this sticky treat folded up in a scrap of paper and stuffed in your wallet.
Cocaine This would be higher, if it wasn't so prone to abuse. Using drugs is one thing, abusing them is another. Somebody famous said that, I don't remember who, possibly Marilyn Manson. I'm not sure if that makes the statement more or less credible. There are a number of other strikes against this one: Expense, terrible hangovers, etc. But on the other hand, it can be really fucking fun in the right setting. Like at a bar talking to a bunch of Mexican workers who just got off their shift at a nearby Cuban restaurant.
Alcohol The fact that this is legal alone merits its inclusion. It's prolific. Getting older does destroy a bit of booze's mystique, I think, but doesn't take away from it's abilities to help one celebrate or wallow, according to mood. And of course the whole lowering inhibitions thing is pretty awesome.
Mushrooms Spawned the classic "You're in the painting" sequence, which I don't feel like explaining at this time. If you know, then you know. The only problem with the shrooms is too much can result in temporary the breaking of one's mind by hacky-sackers, thinking you are holding the entire universe in your hand when in fact you are holding a pebble, etc. But the benefits, i.e. Chicago looking like an alien spaceport, far outweigh the disadvantages, given proper preparation. Heh, preparing for drugs.
Marijuana An obvious number one. It's both a hallucinogen and a depressant! A two for one, if you will. Plus its increasingly decriminalized, and a plant. No better way to take the edge off. I tend to regard anyone who has never even tried weed this with suspicion, at least upon first meeting them. Stupid stigmas.
Not for this commercial though, despite the presence of a talking dog. What's the Japanese advertising equivalent of the Academy Awards? I want to say The Emmys, but that's probably wrong.
Oh Taibbi, you had me when you compared Goldman Sachs to a vampire squid, and now this Obama Selling Out piece. I like that this actual journalism sort of backs up gut-reactions I made nearly a year ago: "So this means that we will avoid a new great depression by miring ourselves in endless class warfare."
Also might I suggest reading that article while listening to this girl who does piano covers of metal songs, i.e. Toxicity. Impressive that she does all the arrangements herself.
Back to politics and economics: Here is an International Workers of the World interview with Noam Chomsky (or as I like to call him "The Chomster") that includes all the commie-style back-slapping you would expect and enjoy. But there is an interesting point at the end about how the left should not be ridiculing the idiot right (last answer).
And finally, here's a thought-provoking piece on Iverson and public image, with passages like this:
It is sad example of how our perceptions are shaped not only by what we see, but also by conceptual frameworks that we draw upon as short hand to “make sense” of the world, as described by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson in their classic book Metaphors We Live By. The problem is that to the extent that we draw upon pre-existing metaphors to make sense of people, we strip them of the agency to represent themselves as human; while these metaphors frame expectations for behavior, they also irrationally justify us assuming that our perceptions are universal common sense and those who don’t fit can be demeaned, dismissed, mocked, or vilified.
Indeed, the classic "Metaphors We Live By." Who could forget that one?
So I'm thinking big wave surfing videos are the oceanic equivalent of Warren Miller movies. Which are all generic and the similar in their badassery, but differing in that one will have skiers being pulled by snowmobiles, and another will have a skiers flying down the mountain half-skiing half-para-gliding. In my opinion either skiing or surfing vids are much more watchable than the skateboard variety. This is due to the giant mountains and waves, rather than some guy on a sidewalk doing kickflips.
Also I suppose its important to acknowledge the song in the video above, by some band called Freedom Hawk. Which is a dumb name for a band, I think, but still appropriate for their style. Sworn enemies of rival-band Fascist Falcon! Clearly Democracy Owl wasn't rawk enough. Liberty Buzzard? Independence Vulture? Together all these form the super-team I would call the Bill of Rights Birds of Prey. Ok I'm done. That song kicks ass.
They said you shouldn't blog angry, or maybe it was drunk? I don't remember because I am so bitter and scotch-ridden. Those people that say that, whatever that is, are FUCKING ASSHOLES. Also they may not exist. Oftentimes seething, unexplainable rage at things beyond one's control can be a powerful motivator, at least for me, to punch random people in the face and groin. But for now we'll have to settle for writing about things on the internet. These things, rantly:
Drivers of Cadillac SUVs, and the Cadillacs themselves. Enemies to all road users small in stature. A trip to the inside of a "brain" of someone who thinks that driving a enormous luxury-SUV-pick-up-truck Frankenstein creation would be fun maybe, if it wouldn't surely drive me insane. More so that is. Runners up as the worst fucking vehicles ever: Audis and school buses. They all think they own the goddamn road what with their dropping off of the children and the attached swinging stop signs and the European engineering and the four interlocking circles. What is this the shitty Olympics? Well you just lost, asshole.
What the hell is this supposed to be? Terrible use of Photoshop.
Kings of Leon. I swear to God if I ever hear that "Sex on Fire" song ever again I will immediately turn down the volume or cover my ears and start screaming "LALALALALALA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU ANY MORE YOU AWFUL TENNESSEANS." To think I once thought buying that CD would be a good investment, for its resale value. "Only by the night" will someone please shoot them in the face and murder them by stabbing. Because they would be surprised by the non-fatal face-bullet, enabling numerous easy knife wounds.
Sarah Palin and the Washington Post and Climate Change. Mother of squealing Jesus this shit again. I know the Post is an empty husk of an institution, much like all American newspapers, and its Op-Ed page is a goddamn joke that I avoid at all costs. Richard Cohen for example. So maybe it fits that a national symbol of intellectual bankruptcy, willful ignorance and disgrace would get a place in its pages in a bid for "buzz" or pageviews. But on the other hand, as Cheese Wagstaff might say, "Shit is unseemly, Unc." That is what he would say if he knew how to read and was not a fictional character played by Method Man.
The other side of the climate debate isn't much better. To wit this horrifying ad:
"The bottom line is money. Nobody gives a fuck." -System of a Down
And just as I thought my rage would be assuaged by the soothing sounds of avant-garde post-metal mixed with protesters ... cuntstick! It's raining again. Goddamn clouds pissing all over my shit. Walking to work horribly wet sometimes makes me wish I had a car, or at least water-proof pants. Rain really fucking blows. I'd prefer snow even. Did I mention that I am soaking wet right now? Probably the main reason for my current state of displeasure. Root cause found! I'm signing off and publishing this nonsense. Tune in next time, when I paraphrase idiotic comments from news websites.
apoplectic edit: And now I go back on to work and the first thing I see on the wire is a story about a newly opening Marshmallow Peeps store. Yeah, that's worthy of 500 words. I need a joint.
I met the first man as I was going home from a dance at the Veterans of Foreign Wars Hall. I was being taken out of the dance by my two good friends. I had forgotten my friends had come with me, but there they were. Once again I hated the two of them. The three of us had formed a group based on something erroneous, some basic misunderstanding that hadn't come to light, and so we kept on in one another's company, going to bars and having conversations. Generally one of these false coalitions died after a day or a day and a half, but this one had lasted more than a year. Later on one of them got hurt when we were burglarizing a pharmacy , and the other two of us dropped him bleeding at the back entrance of the hospital and he was arrested and all the bonds were dissolved. We bailed him out later, and still later all the charges against him were dropped, but we'd torn open our chests and shown him our cowardly hearts, and you can never stay friends after something like that.
-Denis Johnson, Jesus' Son
My favorite thing about reading a book is getting a glimpse of unexpected truth. That is to say a piece of information or knowledge never occurred to me before, but then some passage provides a flash of insight. Maybe this can happen in other media as well, but I get it most reading post-modern fiction, a genre I have been into as of late. Specifically DeLillo. I recently tried to remember all the books I'd read in the past year, and list them.
The Macrophenomenal Pro-Basketball Almanac Guns Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond Anathem by Neal Stephenson Jesus' Son by Denis Johnson For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut The Ingenuity Gap by Thomas Homer-Dixon Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut Cosmopolis by Don Delillo White Noise by Don Delillo The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace The Road by Cormac McCarthy Breakfast of Champions by Vonnegut
Yeah, so that's a pretty self-indulgent post, and not as many books as I thought. Oh well.
In the future, news will only be broadcast in foreign languages, forcing English speakers to interpret what is happening via computer-generated animation. I am going to start learning how to do 3-D graphics right now, they are the logical next step beyond where we are now in news-gathering/distribution, which is I dunno, Twitter? I'm not kidding, except about the learning part. This is because I assume there are thousands of Chinese and Thai people willing to make these animations of women swinging golf clubs for slave-level wages. Wages that could never support my American lifestyle.
I love me some Ritz Theaters in Philadelphia, even if the trip takes average 2 hours on public transit one way. It's worth it to see a good film on the big screen with a mature audience. Last year after a serious thrilling, movie-guy voice trailer, everybody laughed when it went to black while a guy was wielding an outboard motor in a threatening way and the title card "Donkey Punch" went on screen. The multiplex is OK, but art house cinemas are a better way to kill winter.
So ... The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is the first movie I've seen at the Ritz in a while. I like to think of the cumbersome name (TBLPOCNO is a handy acronym) as a smirk toward the cookie-cutter police procedurals following the "Title:Subtitle" structure you see on television. So as a counter to those, this movie is batshit insane. Nic Cage's bad lieutenant is a huge part of it, with his non sequitur yelling, evil shaving, maniacal laughing, and old-lady menacing. His performance combined with the fearless Werner Herzog direction (i.e. hand Iguana Cam) makes for something you just have to sit back and marvel at. They are going for it, good or ill.
It's certainly not for everyone. The film is a hot mess, and if you can't laugh at the absurd, that can be a problem. But on the other hand: Souls breakdancing. It's matter of filmmakers trusting the audience/not giving a fuck while making a pitch-black comedy about the nature of man in a ravaged city where inhumanity is the norm, rather than the exception. It could be nihilistic if not for the animals that cast a mocking eye at the unconscionable acts. The animals laugh at the folly of man. Specifically the dog, and even the baby alligator whose mother was just run over by a car.
