The list of 25 Albums I Most Enjoy/Enjoy Most concludes:
Alkaline Trio - Maybe I'll Catch Fire: As Adam said, it's a tough call between this album and Infirmary. In the end, I chose Fire because 1)Radio is a damn good song and 2)Oddly enough, it doesn't seem as dark to me, in comparison. This is still a dark album, sure, but it's a lighter dark.
As Tall As Lions - s/t: I knew a kid in high school named Richard Meader. Haven't spoken to him since, but, if I did, I'd thank him for introducing me to three bands: As Tall As Lions, Dredg, and Count the Stars. Count the Stars is a pop-punk band I outgrew by junior year of college. However, As Tall As Lions and Dredg are both pretty fantastic. This self-titled album is not actually their freshman effort, it's their sophomore release. And instead of suffering the sophomore slump, they expand their sound from the first album, morph it into something a bit more 60's-inspired, and leave you with a fun, fun, fun album.
The Ataris - Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exits: It always kind of bugged me that there were 14 songs on this album, but whatever. Here's an instance where I think The Ataris' End is Forever album is a better album, but Blue Skies is the one I enjoy more. This CD pretty much IS my junior year of high school. Yeah, it made the list purely on sentimental value, but there's no denying that this is some of the best pop-punk ever.
Bad Astronaut - Houston, We Have a Drinking Problem: What to say about this iconic album? It's been a staple on my Top 10/25/whatever CDs list since it first came out. It's not simply punk. It's not simply rock. It's not simply indie. It's just what it is. I was a Joey Cape fan before hearing this, but afterward: damn. The other impressive thing about this album: I had exceedingly high expectations for it. Unrealistically high expectations. And yet this album lived up to the hype, then surpassed it.
Brand New - The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me: Unlike Bad Astronaut, I had written off Brand New. I liked their previous album, Deja Entendu, but it never stuck with me much past the first year or two of college. Fast forward three years. I'm reviewing CDs at the radio station, looking through my stack of CDs, and see this. "Huh," I think. Noteworthy not only because I recognize the name, but also because, since I had stopped following the band, I had no idea they were releasing a new CD. When I put this CD in, I was blown away with how good it was. This is not the bratty pop-punk band they were on their first album. This is not the indie rock band they turned into for their second album, Deja Entendu. This is a new band entirely. They're angry, they're passionate, and they write songs that will knock your socks off. Highly recommended.
Cadillac Blindside - These Liquid Lungs: Another staple on my Top 10/25/whatever CDs list. I keep using the word "dark," and I'd really like to find another word, but this is a dark album. However, Cadillac Blindside doesn't wallow in their dark world. They fuse the dark subject matter with some of the most infectious melodies I've found in the punk scene. I love singing along to this record.
Dashboard Confessional - The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most: Once again, this is all about sentimental value. High school, for sure. But goddamn, it's still catchy as hell. This is probably the best bunch of songs Chris Carrabba will ever write.
Dredg - Catch Without Arms: Richard Meader, thank you. Back in high school, he introduced me to Leitmotif, Dredg's first album. It was good, I liked it. But it was only good. It was a little too heavy for me. Kind of a mix of, say, Apex Theory with Pink Floyd. (I have no idea if that's accurate, but it sounds good to me.) I liked them enough, however, to stick with them. Dredg's next album, El Cielo, was more mellow. Less angsty. But very artsy. Seriously. It's like art rock. Some filler songs, but a cohesive album with some complex work. Then they released Catch Without Arms. This is an unabashedly pop album. Gone are the heavy elements of their first album. Nonexistent are the filler tracks from their second album. What's left is twelve superbly-written songs that focus on melody. It's a harmonious album. They shed their pretension and make simple, glorious music. Also highly recommended.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
The list continues:
Elliott Smith - XO: It's a damn shame Elliott Smith killed himself. Unlike some of the bands/artists on this list, I feel as though Smith really could have topped himself. XO is a fantastic album -- sad, dark, and beautiful -- yet I can't shake the feeling that, if he had kept making music, I'd be picking a different album.
Explosions in the Sky - The Earth is not a Cold Dead Place: This is the first instrumental album on the list, and a necessary companion to the second instrumental album if you're new to the whole instrumental indie rock genre. It's only five songs, but it lasts forty-five and a half minutes. Epic.
Filmmaker - An Invitation to an Accident: I wish I could remember how, exactly, I discovered Filmmaker. I think I found their page on mp3s.com (or something) and took a listen to their songs. I discovered articulate rock songs with some impressive guitar work. I promptly ordered the only two CDs they ever released: an EP and a full-length. The Canadian record label, Farway Records, disappeared a few months later. I have never met another person who has heard of this band, which is an injustice. I still go to their Purevolume page in the hopes that they'll add mp3 versions of the 3 songs that are streaming there. It's been six years, and I'm still hoping...
The Gaslight Anthem - The '59 Sound: I love this album. When I first heard it, I thought the songs were catchy, but that they all kinda sounded the same. Then I kept listening to it. And I kept listening to it. And I kept listening to it. I was powerless against it. The songs just kept calling me back. And now, after countless listens, I'm proud to say that the songs, in fact, don't all sound the same. If you like blue collar, Bruce Springsteen-inspired tunes, then this is the band for you.
The Get Up Kids - On a Wire: Something to Write Home About is the album that hooked me on The Get Up Kids, but On a Wire is the one that I keep coming back to. They sound a little more mature on this one or something, I don't know. Can't quite explain it. But it's great stuff, whatever it is they're doing.
Lagwagon - Let's Talk about Feelings: The definitive So-Cal skate-punk album. Clocking in at around 25 minutes, it's short, it's fast, it's rockin'. And with the one-two punch of "May 16th" and "Owen Meany" to end the album, what more could you ask for?
The Lawrence Arms - Oh! Calcutta!: Picking my favorite Lawrence Arms record was the hardest choice I had to make on this list. But I settled on this, what could possibly be (though I really, really, really, really, really, really hope not) their last album. It's a perfect mix of Chris and Brendan's vocals (we all knew they needed to team up on more songs). It's got that gritty, Midwestern vibe. It's punk rock.
Okkervil River - The Stand Ins: If these guys don't get to the super stardom level of the Arcade Fire or the Decemberists, I will be very surprised. They have all the elements in place: catchy indie rock tunes that crowds can sing along to, and... well, let's be honest, what more do you need?
Osker - Idle Will Kill: I loved this album in high school. I loved this album in college. And I love this album even more now. Sure, it has snotty-sounding teenage vocals, but, goddamn, some of the lyrics are far beyond what a snotty-sounding teenager should be writing. On a side note: More than any other album, I think my voice sounds best when singing along to this CD. Either Devon's vocal range is exactly the same as mine, or I have just as bad of a voice as he does.
Elliott Smith - XO: It's a damn shame Elliott Smith killed himself. Unlike some of the bands/artists on this list, I feel as though Smith really could have topped himself. XO is a fantastic album -- sad, dark, and beautiful -- yet I can't shake the feeling that, if he had kept making music, I'd be picking a different album.
Explosions in the Sky - The Earth is not a Cold Dead Place: This is the first instrumental album on the list, and a necessary companion to the second instrumental album if you're new to the whole instrumental indie rock genre. It's only five songs, but it lasts forty-five and a half minutes. Epic.
Filmmaker - An Invitation to an Accident: I wish I could remember how, exactly, I discovered Filmmaker. I think I found their page on mp3s.com (or something) and took a listen to their songs. I discovered articulate rock songs with some impressive guitar work. I promptly ordered the only two CDs they ever released: an EP and a full-length. The Canadian record label, Farway Records, disappeared a few months later. I have never met another person who has heard of this band, which is an injustice. I still go to their Purevolume page in the hopes that they'll add mp3 versions of the 3 songs that are streaming there. It's been six years, and I'm still hoping...
The Gaslight Anthem - The '59 Sound: I love this album. When I first heard it, I thought the songs were catchy, but that they all kinda sounded the same. Then I kept listening to it. And I kept listening to it. And I kept listening to it. I was powerless against it. The songs just kept calling me back. And now, after countless listens, I'm proud to say that the songs, in fact, don't all sound the same. If you like blue collar, Bruce Springsteen-inspired tunes, then this is the band for you.
The Get Up Kids - On a Wire: Something to Write Home About is the album that hooked me on The Get Up Kids, but On a Wire is the one that I keep coming back to. They sound a little more mature on this one or something, I don't know. Can't quite explain it. But it's great stuff, whatever it is they're doing.
Lagwagon - Let's Talk about Feelings: The definitive So-Cal skate-punk album. Clocking in at around 25 minutes, it's short, it's fast, it's rockin'. And with the one-two punch of "May 16th" and "Owen Meany" to end the album, what more could you ask for?
The Lawrence Arms - Oh! Calcutta!: Picking my favorite Lawrence Arms record was the hardest choice I had to make on this list. But I settled on this, what could possibly be (though I really, really, really, really, really, really hope not) their last album. It's a perfect mix of Chris and Brendan's vocals (we all knew they needed to team up on more songs). It's got that gritty, Midwestern vibe. It's punk rock.
Okkervil River - The Stand Ins: If these guys don't get to the super stardom level of the Arcade Fire or the Decemberists, I will be very surprised. They have all the elements in place: catchy indie rock tunes that crowds can sing along to, and... well, let's be honest, what more do you need?
Osker - Idle Will Kill: I loved this album in high school. I loved this album in college. And I love this album even more now. Sure, it has snotty-sounding teenage vocals, but, goddamn, some of the lyrics are far beyond what a snotty-sounding teenager should be writing. On a side note: More than any other album, I think my voice sounds best when singing along to this CD. Either Devon's vocal range is exactly the same as mine, or I have just as bad of a voice as he does.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Hello, friends. Yes, I did have a birthday this past week. I'm actually 54, but hey, Adam was close enough. Anyway, I don't really have a proper update for you. Instead, I'm going to give you the first third of my list of 25 Albums I Most Enjoy/Enjoy Most. See, back when Adam and I first reunited the band (as it were), he said he'd be interested in seeing my list of top 25 albums. Since I'm a jerk (and/or lazy), I'm twisting it a bit. Instead of ranking them from 1 to 25, I'm just going to give you an alphabetical list. This is mostly because I love all of these albums and there's no way I can effectively order them. Now, you may be wondering just what the hell "Most Enjoy/Enjoy Most" means exactly. Basically, these might not be the greatest/best CDs in the world, but they're either the ones that I've played the most or the ones that have give me the most enjoyment (duh). (Apparently I've traded in my love of colons for a love of forward slashes.) Anyway, don't be surprised if you see several repeats from Adam's list. Since he introduced me to punk music back in the day, most of these selections cull from our younger and more vulnerable days when we would swap song and CD suggestions using AOL Instant Messenger. (Seriously, IM? Who the hell uses THAT any more? Actually, probably everyone but me.)
Radiohead - OK Computer: This is the only mainstream album that made the cut. It's also one of the reasons why I don't feel comfortable calling this list a list of 25 Best Albums Ever in the History of the World. I haven't listened to many of the albums in the "classic CD" cannon. However, this is one of them that I have. It's also one of them that I thoroughly, thoroughly agree is worth the hype. This entire album needs to come out for Rock Band. Now.
Rocky Votolato - Suicide Medicine: A fantastic singer-songwriter. Also, he came and played a show in Harrisonburg (my college's poor excuse for a college town). No one came to Harrisonburg! (This is not true. Several bands came to Harrisonburg. But not really.)
Saves the Day - Stay What You Are: Listening to this CD takes me back to high school. Summer. Playing online card games with Adam. I know no one cares about how dorky we were (Ha! "Were."), but I'm just saying. Saves the Day will never, never, never top this album. Frankly, I'd be okay if they stopped trying. It's not gonna happen, fellas.
Saxon Shore - The Exquisite Death of Saxon Shore: This is the second instrumental album on my list. The songs are fairly short and they're a bit more upbeat, but they still pack quite a punch. If you're feeling like wading into the waters of instrumental music, this is a great place to start.
Sleep Station - After the War: For me, this is the definitive Sleep Station album. Not only are the songs top-notch, but also the sound clips fit in with the rest of the CD without detracting from the mood or feeling like filler.
Some by Sea - On Fire! (Igloo): The only reason I heard about this album was because I reviewed it while working at the radio station. It is one of a handful of true gems to come from the radio station review process. Call it orchestral/chamber pop/indie rock whatever, it's damn good. Catchy, catchy, catchy tunes that will have you singing along with a smile.
Thursday - Full Collapse: This album was in heavy rotation during the end of high school and beginning of college. I still listen to it every now and then, though not nearly as frequently. (Thankfully, I'm also not nearly as angsty as I was back in those days.) I'm consistently pleased with how well it holds up.
The Weakerthans - Left and Leaving: Strong lyrics? Check. Catchy melodies? Check. Canadian musicians? Check. This album has it all. Extremely superly highly recommended.
Radiohead - OK Computer: This is the only mainstream album that made the cut. It's also one of the reasons why I don't feel comfortable calling this list a list of 25 Best Albums Ever in the History of the World. I haven't listened to many of the albums in the "classic CD" cannon. However, this is one of them that I have. It's also one of them that I thoroughly, thoroughly agree is worth the hype. This entire album needs to come out for Rock Band. Now.
Rocky Votolato - Suicide Medicine: A fantastic singer-songwriter. Also, he came and played a show in Harrisonburg (my college's poor excuse for a college town). No one came to Harrisonburg! (This is not true. Several bands came to Harrisonburg. But not really.)
Saves the Day - Stay What You Are: Listening to this CD takes me back to high school. Summer. Playing online card games with Adam. I know no one cares about how dorky we were (Ha! "Were."), but I'm just saying. Saves the Day will never, never, never top this album. Frankly, I'd be okay if they stopped trying. It's not gonna happen, fellas.
Saxon Shore - The Exquisite Death of Saxon Shore: This is the second instrumental album on my list. The songs are fairly short and they're a bit more upbeat, but they still pack quite a punch. If you're feeling like wading into the waters of instrumental music, this is a great place to start.
Sleep Station - After the War: For me, this is the definitive Sleep Station album. Not only are the songs top-notch, but also the sound clips fit in with the rest of the CD without detracting from the mood or feeling like filler.
Some by Sea - On Fire! (Igloo): The only reason I heard about this album was because I reviewed it while working at the radio station. It is one of a handful of true gems to come from the radio station review process. Call it orchestral/chamber pop/indie rock whatever, it's damn good. Catchy, catchy, catchy tunes that will have you singing along with a smile.
Thursday - Full Collapse: This album was in heavy rotation during the end of high school and beginning of college. I still listen to it every now and then, though not nearly as frequently. (Thankfully, I'm also not nearly as angsty as I was back in those days.) I'm consistently pleased with how well it holds up.
The Weakerthans - Left and Leaving: Strong lyrics? Check. Catchy melodies? Check. Canadian musicians? Check. This album has it all. Extremely superly highly recommended.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
I just have three quick things to say. I'll give you that full post on things that are illegal but shouldn't be one day. I'm just waiting until the moment is right, and you're all salivating appropriately.
First, let's all wish a happy belated birthday to my good friend and co-author of this blog, Brian. Brian turned a youthful 53 yesterday but doesn't look a day over 77. One thing you might not know about Brian is that he was born on tax day. It's true! Therefore, he is exempt from paying taxes. Or that's what he says every year at this time, anyway.
Second, I want to give a quick "shout out" (I will honor my previous deal that if I ever used that phrase you could kick me in the nuts. I am a man of my word.) to the guys over at Rock Pedal. Now, if you know me, you know I'm a really unbelievably huge loser, and I play a LOT of fake drums in Rock Band. A while back my plastic generic kick pedal broke because I rock too fucking hard and I wanted to order the Rock Band 2 drum kit. I ordered it, only to be told it was on back order. For like four months. So I broke down and bought the $80 Rock Pedal in the meantime. Three things about this pedal. One, it looks kick ass and it makes me feel like a real drummer, though I'm so incredibly not. Two, though you have to fiddle around with it, you can eventually get it set to your exact preferences on height, resistance, and sensor point so that you can drum exactly the way you want to. This WILL increase your score and make you feel like a big fake loser BADASS. Three, I contacted the guys there because there's a piece on the pedal that I have already ruined through rocking too fucking hard, and without asking for any kind of receipt information or anything, they put a replacement part in the mail to me with a nice letter saying they were sorry for the trouble this piece breaking caused me. That kind of customer service can't be beat, and I just wanted to share that story with everyone out there. If you want to be a better fake drummer and you want to support some really nice folks who make a really quality product, drop the money on that pedal. I promise you will not regret it.
Three, tea parties? Really? Tea parties and pirates. Great, soon we'll all have polio and be heading out west looking for gold in them thar hills. Well, I'm off to get my pick axe.
First, let's all wish a happy belated birthday to my good friend and co-author of this blog, Brian. Brian turned a youthful 53 yesterday but doesn't look a day over 77. One thing you might not know about Brian is that he was born on tax day. It's true! Therefore, he is exempt from paying taxes. Or that's what he says every year at this time, anyway.
Second, I want to give a quick "shout out" (I will honor my previous deal that if I ever used that phrase you could kick me in the nuts. I am a man of my word.) to the guys over at Rock Pedal. Now, if you know me, you know I'm a really unbelievably huge loser, and I play a LOT of fake drums in Rock Band. A while back my plastic generic kick pedal broke because I rock too fucking hard and I wanted to order the Rock Band 2 drum kit. I ordered it, only to be told it was on back order. For like four months. So I broke down and bought the $80 Rock Pedal in the meantime. Three things about this pedal. One, it looks kick ass and it makes me feel like a real drummer, though I'm so incredibly not. Two, though you have to fiddle around with it, you can eventually get it set to your exact preferences on height, resistance, and sensor point so that you can drum exactly the way you want to. This WILL increase your score and make you feel like a big fake loser BADASS. Three, I contacted the guys there because there's a piece on the pedal that I have already ruined through rocking too fucking hard, and without asking for any kind of receipt information or anything, they put a replacement part in the mail to me with a nice letter saying they were sorry for the trouble this piece breaking caused me. That kind of customer service can't be beat, and I just wanted to share that story with everyone out there. If you want to be a better fake drummer and you want to support some really nice folks who make a really quality product, drop the money on that pedal. I promise you will not regret it.
Three, tea parties? Really? Tea parties and pirates. Great, soon we'll all have polio and be heading out west looking for gold in them thar hills. Well, I'm off to get my pick axe.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
I just want to say a quick Happy Zombie Jesus day to all my Chrazy Christian friends who believe that their lord and savior was a bunny that rose from the dead and ate brains, before Mohammed was sent to Earth to put an end to his reign of terror. Or something like that. It's been a while since I went to church. And I only went the one time. So yeah. Happy Easter, weirdos.
A note about this post: My intention is not to be mean. I merely find the following situation to be incredibly humorous. I hope you do, as well.
Gather 'round, kids, because it's story time. It all starts with me trying to discover where I can find Cheerwine here in the northern Virginia area. (Cheerwine, for those of you who do not know, is pretty much the most amazing soda in the world. It's like Dr. Pepper, but with more cherry flavor.) So I go to the Google machine and type in "Where can I find Cheerwine?" One of the results is a forum where someone asked, conveniently enough, "Is there anywhere I can get Cheerwine in the Washington, DC area?" I read through the responses, and one of them says, "Just FYI, I was part of a Cheerwine focus group a few months ago... they are indeed looking to make a national push." This is great news!, thinks I. Moreover, the "Cheerwine focus group" part was in clickable-link font. So I click on the link, which transports me to this blog post. Now, I'm trying my best to reserve judgment at this point. When the first thing I see is that gigantic banner/picture, it's hard for me not to start making assumptions. But I check any and all presuppositions and read the post. Sadly, it didn't reveal a massive, nationwide distribution of Cheerwine like I had hoped. But oh well. Time to move on...
Except, not quite. Since I'm a bit curious about just who this person actually is, I click on her profile. I see she has three blogs (!), and that one of them is book-related. Books? I like books. So I decide to check it out. She hasn't updated her book blog in a while, but one of the posts is her review of 1984. Now here's where things get funny/mean (depending on how you look at it). As I read her review, I'm getting a sense of what she's like as a person: not an English major, but likes to read; probably doesn't have children, but I can easily see her as a mother; a calm temperament / not one to swear / probably religious... things of that sort. And I get an idea for a funny humor piece: Stay-at-home moms reviewing classic literature. People like Sarah Palin dissecting Orwell, or Faulkner, or the Brontes, or Joyce, or whomever. But then, before I even have time to draft a copy, she gives me all I need. What follows is my cut-and-paste amalgamation of her review.
Okay. So far, so good. She confuses "protagonist" with "antagonist," but that's forgivable. Here's where I laughed out loud:
And then, and here is where I experienced a severe case of cognitive dissonance:
But really, if book reviewers started using words like "Psh!," I'd probably start reading book reviews.
Gather 'round, kids, because it's story time. It all starts with me trying to discover where I can find Cheerwine here in the northern Virginia area. (Cheerwine, for those of you who do not know, is pretty much the most amazing soda in the world. It's like Dr. Pepper, but with more cherry flavor.) So I go to the Google machine and type in "Where can I find Cheerwine?" One of the results is a forum where someone asked, conveniently enough, "Is there anywhere I can get Cheerwine in the Washington, DC area?" I read through the responses, and one of them says, "Just FYI, I was part of a Cheerwine focus group a few months ago... they are indeed looking to make a national push." This is great news!, thinks I. Moreover, the "Cheerwine focus group" part was in clickable-link font. So I click on the link, which transports me to this blog post. Now, I'm trying my best to reserve judgment at this point. When the first thing I see is that gigantic banner/picture, it's hard for me not to start making assumptions. But I check any and all presuppositions and read the post. Sadly, it didn't reveal a massive, nationwide distribution of Cheerwine like I had hoped. But oh well. Time to move on...
Except, not quite. Since I'm a bit curious about just who this person actually is, I click on her profile. I see she has three blogs (!), and that one of them is book-related. Books? I like books. So I decide to check it out. She hasn't updated her book blog in a while, but one of the posts is her review of 1984. Now here's where things get funny/mean (depending on how you look at it). As I read her review, I'm getting a sense of what she's like as a person: not an English major, but likes to read; probably doesn't have children, but I can easily see her as a mother; a calm temperament / not one to swear / probably religious... things of that sort. And I get an idea for a funny humor piece: Stay-at-home moms reviewing classic literature. People like Sarah Palin dissecting Orwell, or Faulkner, or the Brontes, or Joyce, or whomever. But then, before I even have time to draft a copy, she gives me all I need. What follows is my cut-and-paste amalgamation of her review.
I decided it was time for me to plow into George Orwell’s 1984... It was alright... but I won’t read it again. It was interesting to see the perspective of a man writing in the 1950’s predicting 30 years into the future. Jeez, talk about doomsday! 1984 tells us the story of a society where every move you make is monitored by Big Brother and the Thought Police and history is rewritten on a daily basis to conform to Big Brother’s ideology. Pretty spooky. Our antagonist, Winston, decides that he really doesn’t agree with the crap that’s being forced into his mind, and this book tells the tale of Winston’s exploration of defying Big Brother.
Okay. So far, so good. She confuses "protagonist" with "antagonist," but that's forgivable. Here's where I laughed out loud:
I think I would have enjoyed this book a little more if Orwell hadn’t launched into about 20 pages of pseudo-political commentary in the middle of the book. Psh! Who needs that crap! I just wanted to know what happened to Winston!
And then, and here is where I experienced a severe case of cognitive dissonance:
When I finished this book, my first thought was, "Alright, that’s over with." My second thought was, "Jeez, it’s a good thing that’s not REALLY how things are... I think..."
But really, if book reviewers started using words like "Psh!," I'd probably start reading book reviews.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Meditations on the Beginning and End of it all? Thoughts on life and death? Ruminations on the complexity -- and yet simplicity -- of how best to spend our brief, brief time on this world? Sure, Adam has covered some big subjects, but I think he's missing the single most important issue of them all: pirates. (He's also missing one or two Pauly Shore references. [On second thought, maybe the Pauly Shore reference drove people away.])
Yes, pirates. Have you heard the news lately? A hostage situation with pirates. Here's the thing. This is a serious matter. It could very well be a life-or-death situation. And yet, no matter how hard I try to convince myself of the severity of the situation, I get to the "pirate" part and all of that work is (excuse the term) blown out of the water. Sure, if I were to know one of the people held hostage then I would not take so kindly to the news. And I do feel for the hostages and their families. But our culture glorifies pirates. I hear the news and I immediately get a mental picture of Johnny Depp frolicking around on deck. Why can't I not think of Johnny Depp when I hear about pirates? Isn't that kind of fucked up?
Here's something else that might only bother me: (again with the colons!) I get freaked out when I'm driving and the person in front of me throws his or her cigarette butt out the window. I see the tiny red ember fall, hit the pavement, and burst into tiny sparks. And it's at that moment when my car passes right over the cigarette. I'm worried that, one day, the ember, the sparks, my car -- all if it will coalesce in a fantastic little explosion. Science people out there: Am I crazy, or is this a legitimate worry?
Finally, I'm well on my way (page 70) into Cosmos. I'm proud to report that it's much more enjoyable in my non-feverish state. I'll leave you with this quote from Isaac Newton: "I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy, playing on the seashore, and diverting myself, in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."
Yes, pirates. Have you heard the news lately? A hostage situation with pirates. Here's the thing. This is a serious matter. It could very well be a life-or-death situation. And yet, no matter how hard I try to convince myself of the severity of the situation, I get to the "pirate" part and all of that work is (excuse the term) blown out of the water. Sure, if I were to know one of the people held hostage then I would not take so kindly to the news. And I do feel for the hostages and their families. But our culture glorifies pirates. I hear the news and I immediately get a mental picture of Johnny Depp frolicking around on deck. Why can't I not think of Johnny Depp when I hear about pirates? Isn't that kind of fucked up?
Here's something else that might only bother me: (again with the colons!) I get freaked out when I'm driving and the person in front of me throws his or her cigarette butt out the window. I see the tiny red ember fall, hit the pavement, and burst into tiny sparks. And it's at that moment when my car passes right over the cigarette. I'm worried that, one day, the ember, the sparks, my car -- all if it will coalesce in a fantastic little explosion. Science people out there: Am I crazy, or is this a legitimate worry?
Finally, I'm well on my way (page 70) into Cosmos. I'm proud to report that it's much more enjoyable in my non-feverish state. I'll leave you with this quote from Isaac Newton: "I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy, playing on the seashore, and diverting myself, in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."
Thursday, April 09, 2009
It’s kind of weird to think that we’re just thrown into the middle of this world. All this stuff has already happened, and we can’t change it. The stuff that has happened has landed us here, in a world full of hatred towards people who believe different things, full of a caste system (don’t act like we don’t have one) in which certain people are powerful and certain people aren’t, full of nations, lines dividing the earth into human defined areas. We weren’t there at the beginning; in fact, no one was there in the beginning. There was no “first person.” We evolved, and at some point the animal that became us started forming these things, these countries and power structures and belief systems, and now we’re stuck living with these systems that are thousands of years old. Hell, you can’t even find a person who has a cell phone that’s more than three years old because it’s outdated, but these things, these religions and social classes, we cling to these like there are no alternatives. Just because there was at some point a reason to create these things. Can you just imagine how corrupted good ideas can become over thousands of years? Shit, if you don’t clean your house for six months, it’s going to be a pigsty. Who the hell knows what anyone at the beginning of society was thinking. Even our founding fathers, people like to go on and on about what they would want when they’re arguing points like gay marriage and such. That was only a couple hundred years ago, but I guarantee you that if one of those guys walked in our country today, he’d hang his head and ask what kind of monster he’d created. We can’t act like we know what good intentions people had when institutions were founded, but we sure do like to try.
On the other side, imagine being here at the end. There was no first person, but there will be a last person. At some point either the universe will kill us off or we will. I’m guessing the latter. Imagine being the last person alive, a great red sky above and death all around. There is literally no one left alive to talk to, and you pass away. In that moment, when you’re gone, nothing that ever happened to the human race matters at all. All the petty disagreements, all the religious and ideological differences, all the technological advances, all the money, all the achievements and failures of humanity, it’s all erased in one great split second, because nothing that remains living on this earth gives a flying fuck about any of it. Weird to think about, right? And then who’s to say that some little lizard colony that survived the end of humanity by hiding under a rock won’t come out of hiding, find an entire world to play in, and grow, evolve, become intelligent. They’ll dig our bones out from under the earth and wonder what kind of animals we were. They’ll have their chance at running the place, and maybe they’ll do a better job than we did. Maybe they’ll grow to gigantic sizes, and instead of trying to form a society, they’ll run in packs, just trying to survive. They’ll rule the earth. Maybe a meteor will hit causing climate change that wipes out the entire population and makes a small mammal be the only thing to survive. And that’ll happen over and over and the sun will explode and the earth will be swallowed and in the vast infinite space and time that is the universe, none of any of that will ever have even happened. And maybe because of that we should all lighten up a little bit and just try to be happy and make others happy while we’re here.
Thus ends Adam’s strange, seemingly drug-fueled hippy days. Next time: Things that are illegal that shouldn’t be!
On the other side, imagine being here at the end. There was no first person, but there will be a last person. At some point either the universe will kill us off or we will. I’m guessing the latter. Imagine being the last person alive, a great red sky above and death all around. There is literally no one left alive to talk to, and you pass away. In that moment, when you’re gone, nothing that ever happened to the human race matters at all. All the petty disagreements, all the religious and ideological differences, all the technological advances, all the money, all the achievements and failures of humanity, it’s all erased in one great split second, because nothing that remains living on this earth gives a flying fuck about any of it. Weird to think about, right? And then who’s to say that some little lizard colony that survived the end of humanity by hiding under a rock won’t come out of hiding, find an entire world to play in, and grow, evolve, become intelligent. They’ll dig our bones out from under the earth and wonder what kind of animals we were. They’ll have their chance at running the place, and maybe they’ll do a better job than we did. Maybe they’ll grow to gigantic sizes, and instead of trying to form a society, they’ll run in packs, just trying to survive. They’ll rule the earth. Maybe a meteor will hit causing climate change that wipes out the entire population and makes a small mammal be the only thing to survive. And that’ll happen over and over and the sun will explode and the earth will be swallowed and in the vast infinite space and time that is the universe, none of any of that will ever have even happened. And maybe because of that we should all lighten up a little bit and just try to be happy and make others happy while we’re here.
Thus ends Adam’s strange, seemingly drug-fueled hippy days. Next time: Things that are illegal that shouldn’t be!
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Well hello there. How are you? Me? I'm alright. You know, I've been better, I've been worse. But that's enough about me. Tell me about you. Tell me your hobbies, interests. What's your favorite food? Your favorite Stooge? How many times a day do you ask yourself "How the hell did I end up here?" That's enough about you. I'm glad we had this time together.
I have this file on my computer called "Blog" in which my ideas for blog posts age like a fine wine or a cheese of some sort that may either get better or moldy with age. Sometimes I open this file and I find things I forgot about, or things that don't make sense. Sometimes I open this file and I see things that I really don't feel like writing about. The point of this paragraph is to let you, dear reader, know that I have a computer and a file full of ideas, so I have no excuse for not updating this in so long. Thankfully, Brian has been here with an inordinate amount of posts to keep everyone enthralled.
If I may have a moment of your time for a sad note, loyal and dear friend, my grandfather's sister Maryann passed away last week after struggling with cancer for a long time. He said this, in a moment of sheer, unabashed loving emotion before breaking down in tears: "She was a fighter. I loved her. I loved her so much it’s hard to talk about. I loved her so much it’s hard to think about."
I feel like I should end this post there because it seems strange to keep writing after that, but I'll keep going, because we all have to move on sometimes, and sometimes the best way to do that is to just keep writing. So please allow me to continue.
Cam and I had a conversation in Red Robin a couple/few weeks/months ago (time is kind of a blur for me), and the gist of that conversation is I fucking hate working in this bullshit corporate environment where employees are nothing more than pawns for CEOs to use and throw away, a number on a sheet that either produces or doesn't produce, and if they don't produce, they can be crossed off the sheet and replaced by another number. I'm fucking tired of my people being laid off and "important people" getting bonuses for running their companies into the ground. I don't know what makes these people qualified to run a company, but the ability to run a company is definitely not a requirement anymore. I'm going to make up facts here, but did you know that 50 years ago CEOs made about 30-50 times more than their employees, and today CEOs make 600 times what their employees do? It's true! (It's not true) And what about bailouts? I'm sorry, but if I open a restaurant and I make shitty food and charge twenty bucks a plate and nobody comes to eat there, I go out of business, my employees lose their jobs, and I'm in the fucking poorhouse. However, if I run a big company that has lots of ties to Washington D.C. (which I'm assuming at this point stands for "damn corrupt"), I get lots of money with no oversight to do whatever I want with, which is a great plan because you saw how I burned through all the money my company had to begin with. I'm sick of all of this bullshit that's going on, and I'm starting to think it's time we just let everything that's been mismanaged to the point of failure JUST....FUCKING...FAIL. There are no extra lives in real life. Let the big companies go out of business, let the rich fat cats lose their money, let them live like everyone else for a while. Shit in this country has gotten out of hand, and I really think that a little leveling of the playing field wouldn't hurt anyone. And don't talk to me about job loss if these companies go out of business. If things keep moving in this direction we'll all be laid off to save money anyway, so why not take them down with us? Obama promised change. I want some fucking change.
Wait, that's not what Cam and my conversation at Red Robin was about at all. We talked about writing a TV show or a movie or something. We talked about being creative instead of working in the soul crushing corporate machine. It gave me hope that maybe one day I'll get fired, and I'll have time to be creative, and I'll have the freedom to move somewhere creativity flourishes, and I'll be able to make a living on my own terms, and I'll watch from the sidelines as corporate America burns and crumbles to the ground, and we realize that no job anyone does is worth hundreds of millions of dollars a year, and we see each other as human beings instead of numbers, and we realize that religion is a personal thing not to be foisted on everyone else, and we realize that all people, black, white, yellow, red, whatever other offensive terms I can think of, straight, gay, Christian, Jewish, Islamic, we're all just people trying to get by, and no one is any better or worse than anyone else, and we'll all just leave each other the fuck alone and let people do what they want to do, and the laws will change, and everything will rebuild into what society should have been in the first place: a bunch of people gathered in one place to celebrate life and live it without fear of being judged or hated. And I'll be there, writing things that make people happy. And I'll be happy. And you'll be happy. And that will never, ever happen, but it's kind of fun to think about.
I have this file on my computer called "Blog" in which my ideas for blog posts age like a fine wine or a cheese of some sort that may either get better or moldy with age. Sometimes I open this file and I find things I forgot about, or things that don't make sense. Sometimes I open this file and I see things that I really don't feel like writing about. The point of this paragraph is to let you, dear reader, know that I have a computer and a file full of ideas, so I have no excuse for not updating this in so long. Thankfully, Brian has been here with an inordinate amount of posts to keep everyone enthralled.
If I may have a moment of your time for a sad note, loyal and dear friend, my grandfather's sister Maryann passed away last week after struggling with cancer for a long time. He said this, in a moment of sheer, unabashed loving emotion before breaking down in tears: "She was a fighter. I loved her. I loved her so much it’s hard to talk about. I loved her so much it’s hard to think about."
I feel like I should end this post there because it seems strange to keep writing after that, but I'll keep going, because we all have to move on sometimes, and sometimes the best way to do that is to just keep writing. So please allow me to continue.
Cam and I had a conversation in Red Robin a couple/few weeks/months ago (time is kind of a blur for me), and the gist of that conversation is I fucking hate working in this bullshit corporate environment where employees are nothing more than pawns for CEOs to use and throw away, a number on a sheet that either produces or doesn't produce, and if they don't produce, they can be crossed off the sheet and replaced by another number. I'm fucking tired of my people being laid off and "important people" getting bonuses for running their companies into the ground. I don't know what makes these people qualified to run a company, but the ability to run a company is definitely not a requirement anymore. I'm going to make up facts here, but did you know that 50 years ago CEOs made about 30-50 times more than their employees, and today CEOs make 600 times what their employees do? It's true! (It's not true) And what about bailouts? I'm sorry, but if I open a restaurant and I make shitty food and charge twenty bucks a plate and nobody comes to eat there, I go out of business, my employees lose their jobs, and I'm in the fucking poorhouse. However, if I run a big company that has lots of ties to Washington D.C. (which I'm assuming at this point stands for "damn corrupt"), I get lots of money with no oversight to do whatever I want with, which is a great plan because you saw how I burned through all the money my company had to begin with. I'm sick of all of this bullshit that's going on, and I'm starting to think it's time we just let everything that's been mismanaged to the point of failure JUST....FUCKING...FAIL. There are no extra lives in real life. Let the big companies go out of business, let the rich fat cats lose their money, let them live like everyone else for a while. Shit in this country has gotten out of hand, and I really think that a little leveling of the playing field wouldn't hurt anyone. And don't talk to me about job loss if these companies go out of business. If things keep moving in this direction we'll all be laid off to save money anyway, so why not take them down with us? Obama promised change. I want some fucking change.
Wait, that's not what Cam and my conversation at Red Robin was about at all. We talked about writing a TV show or a movie or something. We talked about being creative instead of working in the soul crushing corporate machine. It gave me hope that maybe one day I'll get fired, and I'll have time to be creative, and I'll have the freedom to move somewhere creativity flourishes, and I'll be able to make a living on my own terms, and I'll watch from the sidelines as corporate America burns and crumbles to the ground, and we realize that no job anyone does is worth hundreds of millions of dollars a year, and we see each other as human beings instead of numbers, and we realize that religion is a personal thing not to be foisted on everyone else, and we realize that all people, black, white, yellow, red, whatever other offensive terms I can think of, straight, gay, Christian, Jewish, Islamic, we're all just people trying to get by, and no one is any better or worse than anyone else, and we'll all just leave each other the fuck alone and let people do what they want to do, and the laws will change, and everything will rebuild into what society should have been in the first place: a bunch of people gathered in one place to celebrate life and live it without fear of being judged or hated. And I'll be there, writing things that make people happy. And I'll be happy. And you'll be happy. And that will never, ever happen, but it's kind of fun to think about.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Here's an interesting (?) fact I learned this weekend: If you use the auto-word select function for text messaging (you know, the one where you just hit the keys for the letters and the phone spits out the word you probably mean) and you want to say "Be at Brian's house," it will come up as "Be at asians house."
Here's an inside joke that you won't get unless you're one of three of my friends, but you might still find it funny if you like laughing at people you don't know: I ate at the Olive Garden this weekend for perhaps the third time in my life. It was, however, my first time eating there with Dan and Kim. Frankly, their behavior was downright embarrassing. (To let you in: Dan made this comment self-deprecatingly, to which my response was that I would blog about it. Here I am. And here I am, also proving the point that having to explain a joke is a surefire way to nullify its humor.)
On a serious note: I've used a colon in the first sentence of each paragraph.
But seriously: I had a nightmare last night. A substitute teaching nightmare. I was subbing a class and there was one kid who just wouldn't shut up. Moreover, he was cursing. I wanted to yell at this kid, to chew him out, but I physically could not raise my voice loud enough -- or sound angry enough -- to do so.
Another fact: I ended that sentence with three two-letter words that all end in an O. Unprofessional writers wouldn't even attempt shit like that.
But seriously again: People who interpret dreams, what the hell does my dream mean?
Yet another fact: Ending sentences with slant rhyme like that is a little thing my writing professors would call "bullshit." However, I like it. So there.
(In actuality: I don't think any of my writing professors have ever described anyone's writing as "bullshit." They are nice, generous people. People who wrote me recommendations to get into grad school. And for that, I should probably avoid slander.)
If you think this colon thing has gotten old: Too bad.
Here's an inside joke that you won't get unless you're one of three of my friends, but you might still find it funny if you like laughing at people you don't know: I ate at the Olive Garden this weekend for perhaps the third time in my life. It was, however, my first time eating there with Dan and Kim. Frankly, their behavior was downright embarrassing. (To let you in: Dan made this comment self-deprecatingly, to which my response was that I would blog about it. Here I am. And here I am, also proving the point that having to explain a joke is a surefire way to nullify its humor.)
On a serious note: I've used a colon in the first sentence of each paragraph.
But seriously: I had a nightmare last night. A substitute teaching nightmare. I was subbing a class and there was one kid who just wouldn't shut up. Moreover, he was cursing. I wanted to yell at this kid, to chew him out, but I physically could not raise my voice loud enough -- or sound angry enough -- to do so.
Another fact: I ended that sentence with three two-letter words that all end in an O. Unprofessional writers wouldn't even attempt shit like that.
But seriously again: People who interpret dreams, what the hell does my dream mean?
Yet another fact: Ending sentences with slant rhyme like that is a little thing my writing professors would call "bullshit." However, I like it. So there.
(In actuality: I don't think any of my writing professors have ever described anyone's writing as "bullshit." They are nice, generous people. People who wrote me recommendations to get into grad school. And for that, I should probably avoid slander.)
If you think this colon thing has gotten old: Too bad.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
It's movie review time. I liked Adam's succinct review of Synecdoche, New York, so I'm here to dish out my own $0.02.
Choke: I did not enjoy this movie. This is strange for several reasons: 1)I like Sam Rockwell. Unfortunately, he can't carry the rest of the lackluster cast. 2)I like(d) the Chuck Palahniuk book on which the movie is based. Granted, it's been a while since I've read it (and I do fear -- dare I say it -- that I've somewhat outgrown Palahniuk), so maybe I'd have a different reaction were I to re-read the book. But, from what I remember, I laughed a lot reading the book. It was a well-crafted dark comedy. This movie, however, evoked maybe a few solid laughs from me, that's it. 3)The writer/director is an actor who has appeared in both Sports Night and The West Wing. As an actor, he does a fantastic job. But I guess maybe he should stick to acting, not writing and directing.
Synecdoche, New York: All right. I'm a bit biased here, as I'm a huge Charlie Kaufman fan. But here's the deal. The first time I saw this movie was last November in New York City with my mom. At that time, I felt cheated. I felt like it was far from his strongest work. I felt like, after all the wait (it was three years, I believe, since his last movie), that it was a letdown. However, I wanted to watch it again. As with all Kaufman movies, I knew it required a second viewing. Unfortunately, due to a limited release that never really turned wide, I never got a chance to until it came out on DVD. Watching it again, I've changed my mind considerably. Maybe it's a bit of a placebo effect: me thinking that a second viewing will be better, thus, the second viewing was better. Maybe it's because I knew what to expect, what to look for, things like that. But, whatever the reason, I'm willing to say that Synecdoche is on par with the rest of the Kaufman cannon. Certainly not his best (let's be honest, it's hard to top Adaptation or Eternal Sunshine), but a strong and worthy contender. If you like trippy mind-bending movies, I highly recommend seeing this one. Twice.
The Hospital: Paddy Chayefsky is another great screenwriter, in my opinion. George C. Scott stars in this movie from 1971. It's short, it's dark, and it's also quite funny. Here's the plot summary from IMDB: "Black comedy in which a suicidal doctor struggles to find meaning in his life while a murderer stalks the halls of his hospital." Another recommendation. This one not requiring two viewings to fully comprehend.
Choke: I did not enjoy this movie. This is strange for several reasons: 1)I like Sam Rockwell. Unfortunately, he can't carry the rest of the lackluster cast. 2)I like(d) the Chuck Palahniuk book on which the movie is based. Granted, it's been a while since I've read it (and I do fear -- dare I say it -- that I've somewhat outgrown Palahniuk), so maybe I'd have a different reaction were I to re-read the book. But, from what I remember, I laughed a lot reading the book. It was a well-crafted dark comedy. This movie, however, evoked maybe a few solid laughs from me, that's it. 3)The writer/director is an actor who has appeared in both Sports Night and The West Wing. As an actor, he does a fantastic job. But I guess maybe he should stick to acting, not writing and directing.
Synecdoche, New York: All right. I'm a bit biased here, as I'm a huge Charlie Kaufman fan. But here's the deal. The first time I saw this movie was last November in New York City with my mom. At that time, I felt cheated. I felt like it was far from his strongest work. I felt like, after all the wait (it was three years, I believe, since his last movie), that it was a letdown. However, I wanted to watch it again. As with all Kaufman movies, I knew it required a second viewing. Unfortunately, due to a limited release that never really turned wide, I never got a chance to until it came out on DVD. Watching it again, I've changed my mind considerably. Maybe it's a bit of a placebo effect: me thinking that a second viewing will be better, thus, the second viewing was better. Maybe it's because I knew what to expect, what to look for, things like that. But, whatever the reason, I'm willing to say that Synecdoche is on par with the rest of the Kaufman cannon. Certainly not his best (let's be honest, it's hard to top Adaptation or Eternal Sunshine), but a strong and worthy contender. If you like trippy mind-bending movies, I highly recommend seeing this one. Twice.
The Hospital: Paddy Chayefsky is another great screenwriter, in my opinion. George C. Scott stars in this movie from 1971. It's short, it's dark, and it's also quite funny. Here's the plot summary from IMDB: "Black comedy in which a suicidal doctor struggles to find meaning in his life while a murderer stalks the halls of his hospital." Another recommendation. This one not requiring two viewings to fully comprehend.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Dear longtime readers of The Irreverent Times Journal,
Hello. Nice to see you again, uh... friend. Sorry, I've forgotten your name. See, when you're as rich and famous as I am, you shake hand after hand, you see face after face, and you mock the poor. After a while, it all blurs together. The names, the faces, the derision towards people who still use dial-up (I mean, can you believe it???). So, please forgive me for not remembering you specifically.
Anyway, I'm just here to check in. I've entrusted Brian and Adam with the task of ghosting my autobiography. But it seems they've decided to disregard our contract entirely. Instead, they make jokes and social commentary. This blog, dear reader, is supposed to be about me! Me!
Forgive me. I don't believe I've introduced myself. I am the rabbit that, one day, ate some carrots and, thus, had good eyesight. That's me. And this is my story. At least, this was supposed to be my story. But, seeing as how Adam and Brian can't even generate more than 75 posts in a given year (Seriously? Just 75? Are you kidding me?), it looks like I'll have to do my own work here. Without further ado, my story:
I grew up on the streets. Not literally, of course, as cities are not conducive to small mammalian life such as myself. It was the streets of the deciduous forest. Needless to say, it wasn't easy. My life was carrot-less. I ate leaves, grasses, sprouts. I remember this one time that my older brother and I were fighting over a single leaf. He won, but he gave me half of the leaf, anyway. That's just the kind of guy he was.
I never saw my brother again.
That's the streets of the deciduous forest for you. Maybe if we lived in a coniferous forest things would've been different. A tropical forest -- but that's just silly. Forgive my foolishness.
I told myself that my life would be better. I wouldn't end up like them. I didn't have any friends or family at this point, mind you, so my conception of "them" was yet another deception. I turned to the normal outlets of the burnt-out bourgeois: alcohol, drugs, chewing tobacco. I was a mess. Until one day...
Carrots. Eyesight. Stardom. I was on the A list. I went to the fanciest restaurants. I slept with the prettiest women. I partied with Pauly Shore. Life was good.
And that, dear readers, is just the beginning.
Sincerely,
Rabbit
April Fool's Day! Everyone knows that's not the true story of the rabbit!
Hello. Nice to see you again, uh... friend. Sorry, I've forgotten your name. See, when you're as rich and famous as I am, you shake hand after hand, you see face after face, and you mock the poor. After a while, it all blurs together. The names, the faces, the derision towards people who still use dial-up (I mean, can you believe it???). So, please forgive me for not remembering you specifically.
Anyway, I'm just here to check in. I've entrusted Brian and Adam with the task of ghosting my autobiography. But it seems they've decided to disregard our contract entirely. Instead, they make jokes and social commentary. This blog, dear reader, is supposed to be about me! Me!
Forgive me. I don't believe I've introduced myself. I am the rabbit that, one day, ate some carrots and, thus, had good eyesight. That's me. And this is my story. At least, this was supposed to be my story. But, seeing as how Adam and Brian can't even generate more than 75 posts in a given year (Seriously? Just 75? Are you kidding me?), it looks like I'll have to do my own work here. Without further ado, my story:
I grew up on the streets. Not literally, of course, as cities are not conducive to small mammalian life such as myself. It was the streets of the deciduous forest. Needless to say, it wasn't easy. My life was carrot-less. I ate leaves, grasses, sprouts. I remember this one time that my older brother and I were fighting over a single leaf. He won, but he gave me half of the leaf, anyway. That's just the kind of guy he was.
I never saw my brother again.
That's the streets of the deciduous forest for you. Maybe if we lived in a coniferous forest things would've been different. A tropical forest -- but that's just silly. Forgive my foolishness.
I told myself that my life would be better. I wouldn't end up like them. I didn't have any friends or family at this point, mind you, so my conception of "them" was yet another deception. I turned to the normal outlets of the burnt-out bourgeois: alcohol, drugs, chewing tobacco. I was a mess. Until one day...
Carrots. Eyesight. Stardom. I was on the A list. I went to the fanciest restaurants. I slept with the prettiest women. I partied with Pauly Shore. Life was good.
And that, dear readers, is just the beginning.
Sincerely,
Rabbit
April Fool's Day! Everyone knows that's not the true story of the rabbit!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I often wonder if Billy Mays is going through an Existential crisis. Maybe his loud sales pitch is a defense mechanism to conceal his own inner-ennui at promoting yet another product about which he has diffidence. I mean, seriously, how many products can one person sell? Apparently more than 61, as Wikipedia (that ever infallible source) lists 61 products, but notes that "[the] list is incomplete." 61 products and still not complete?! Jesus!
What happens when the cameras turn off? What happens when Billy Mays goes home? Does he have a wife? Or a husband? (I'm not here to make assumptions about Billy.) I'm merely assuming that he sits quietly in a dumpster-salvaged armchair, slouched over and dimly illuminated by a single fluorescent light bulb hung in a droopy-looking floor lamp.
Or maybe he goes out and, like some magical elfin creature, bestows his products upon unsuspecting laymen. Maybe he runs around with a bottle of Mighty Mend It and repairs other people's fashion emergencies. (By the way: my birthday is coming up and, if you're looking for a gift, may I recommend the "Emily" hat used in the commercial on Might Mend It's main page. Gotta get me some of that bling!)
Who are you, Billy Mays?
What happens when the cameras turn off? What happens when Billy Mays goes home? Does he have a wife? Or a husband? (I'm not here to make assumptions about Billy.) I'm merely assuming that he sits quietly in a dumpster-salvaged armchair, slouched over and dimly illuminated by a single fluorescent light bulb hung in a droopy-looking floor lamp.
Or maybe he goes out and, like some magical elfin creature, bestows his products upon unsuspecting laymen. Maybe he runs around with a bottle of Mighty Mend It and repairs other people's fashion emergencies. (By the way: my birthday is coming up and, if you're looking for a gift, may I recommend the "Emily" hat used in the commercial on Might Mend It's main page. Gotta get me some of that bling!)
Who are you, Billy Mays?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Apparently there are people out there who think that in order to get stem cells for research, we have to go find an adorable baby, cut its head off with a dull, rusty knife, drink its blood, and spit the stem cells into a test tube.
The Obama administration is batting about .500 with me right now. I'm still struggling to see any kind of plan to get us out of this economic mess and I'm still struggling with the fact that they're all still such blatant "politicians." However, one of the main reasons I voted for the guy is because of his stances on social issues, and I count stem cell research as one of those issues. We have at our fingertips, in the very near future, cures for all kinds of diseases, and by allowing money to be spent on research in those areas, Obama is brightening the future for a lot of people, and that is a great thing.
I notice that people who are opposed to stem cell research are also opposed to abortion, which makes me think that people who oppose both of those see a clump of cells that will eventually be a human as more valuable than an actual human life. This is also exemplified by abortion clinic bombings, one of the most ironic things I've ever heard of happening. Maybe instead of pro-life, they should adopt the more suitable moniker "pro-eventual-life," because from what I can tell they really don't give too much of a shit about life after it pops out of the womb. They want us to not even think about disturbing a blob of cells, but after the baby is born to a mom that is single and can't afford to raise the child, they sure as hell don't want to have to pay taxes so that that mother can feed the kid. "Baby's born: Mission Accomplished! Now fuck 'em."
Also, how is it that so many people fit so neatly into the labels we've adopted as "liberal" and "conservative," or "republican" and "democrat?" Why is that so many people will believe ALL of the following: small government, pro-war, anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-taxes, pro-death penalty? Or the exact opposite of all those positions. But it's so much harder to find someone who believes in half of those things. Doesn't it seem like there's very little in common between most of those ideas? Yet somehow, people are more and more falling into little compartments and believing EVERY tenet of their chosen label. I think that's weird. All because I love abortion more than anything else in the world doesn't mean I need to be anti-war, does it? I guess now that I'm thinking about it, I fit pretty much into my little compartment too. Oh well. I must not know what I'm talking about.
The Obama administration is batting about .500 with me right now. I'm still struggling to see any kind of plan to get us out of this economic mess and I'm still struggling with the fact that they're all still such blatant "politicians." However, one of the main reasons I voted for the guy is because of his stances on social issues, and I count stem cell research as one of those issues. We have at our fingertips, in the very near future, cures for all kinds of diseases, and by allowing money to be spent on research in those areas, Obama is brightening the future for a lot of people, and that is a great thing.
I notice that people who are opposed to stem cell research are also opposed to abortion, which makes me think that people who oppose both of those see a clump of cells that will eventually be a human as more valuable than an actual human life. This is also exemplified by abortion clinic bombings, one of the most ironic things I've ever heard of happening. Maybe instead of pro-life, they should adopt the more suitable moniker "pro-eventual-life," because from what I can tell they really don't give too much of a shit about life after it pops out of the womb. They want us to not even think about disturbing a blob of cells, but after the baby is born to a mom that is single and can't afford to raise the child, they sure as hell don't want to have to pay taxes so that that mother can feed the kid. "Baby's born: Mission Accomplished! Now fuck 'em."
Also, how is it that so many people fit so neatly into the labels we've adopted as "liberal" and "conservative," or "republican" and "democrat?" Why is that so many people will believe ALL of the following: small government, pro-war, anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-taxes, pro-death penalty? Or the exact opposite of all those positions. But it's so much harder to find someone who believes in half of those things. Doesn't it seem like there's very little in common between most of those ideas? Yet somehow, people are more and more falling into little compartments and believing EVERY tenet of their chosen label. I think that's weird. All because I love abortion more than anything else in the world doesn't mean I need to be anti-war, does it? I guess now that I'm thinking about it, I fit pretty much into my little compartment too. Oh well. I must not know what I'm talking about.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm not ashamed to admit that I made a mistake doing the laundry the other day. I forgot that I left a tissue in one of my pant's pockets and sent it through the wash like that. What can I say? It happens. Very rarely, but it happens. So, my bad, washer. My bad, dryer. But, at this point, my punishment for said folly borderlines an 8th Amendment violation. It was bad enough when I opened the dryer and found a bunch of (what I can only attempt to describe as) "strings" of tissue mixed in with the rest of the clothes. It was annoying, but due. What's completely unjust about this whole mishap is that the "strings" have continued to recur in various pieces of laundry. I find them tucked inside (yes, inside -- how they got there is beyond me) my shirts or sweatshirts. They're hidden between socks. They're inside shirts. I really can't stress this enough. Bottom line: don't fuck around with tissues. Make sure you check your pant pockets before doing the laundry, OR ELSE.
Let's play Good Idea/Bad Idea. Good idea: This year, I'm going to read at least one non-fiction science book every two months. For January/February, I read Jerry Coyne's Why Evolution is True. I really wish I were the type of person who could read something and retain all the facts and arguments in the book forever. Because Coyne does a kick ass job of showing (spoiler alert!) why evolution is true. If you'd like a taste of this guy's writing style, check out the New Republic article I read that pointed me in Coyne's direction.
So that's the good idea. Now time for the bad idea. I wanted to get a head-start on my March/April book, Carl Sagan's Cosmos, but, unfortunately, I started reading it while I was sick after coming back from New Orleans. I say "unfortunately" only because, when you are in a feverish state, it's not exactly easy to focus on and/or follow Sagan's esoteric writing. Here's an example from page 2: "From an intergalactic vantage point we would see, strewn like sea froth on the waves of space, innumerable faint, wispy tendrils of light." A nice image, to be sure. But when I was cooped up in bed with a box of tissues next to me and an upper-respiratory nightmare, it didn't exactly have the same impact.
Still, I'm determined to finish it by the end of April. Any suggestions for future reading?
Let's play Good Idea/Bad Idea. Good idea: This year, I'm going to read at least one non-fiction science book every two months. For January/February, I read Jerry Coyne's Why Evolution is True. I really wish I were the type of person who could read something and retain all the facts and arguments in the book forever. Because Coyne does a kick ass job of showing (spoiler alert!) why evolution is true. If you'd like a taste of this guy's writing style, check out the New Republic article I read that pointed me in Coyne's direction.
So that's the good idea. Now time for the bad idea. I wanted to get a head-start on my March/April book, Carl Sagan's Cosmos, but, unfortunately, I started reading it while I was sick after coming back from New Orleans. I say "unfortunately" only because, when you are in a feverish state, it's not exactly easy to focus on and/or follow Sagan's esoteric writing. Here's an example from page 2: "From an intergalactic vantage point we would see, strewn like sea froth on the waves of space, innumerable faint, wispy tendrils of light." A nice image, to be sure. But when I was cooped up in bed with a box of tissues next to me and an upper-respiratory nightmare, it didn't exactly have the same impact.
Still, I'm determined to finish it by the end of April. Any suggestions for future reading?
Friday, March 20, 2009
If you'll allow me to make the most solipsistic post I've ever made. (Two things: One, that's an incomplete sentence, I know. And, two, I never really liked the word "solipsistic," but I've also never really had a chance to use it, so I went with it. Apologies to others who dislike the word.)
Here's some shocking news that may make you laugh: I coach a high school tennis team. No, seriously. I know I joke a lot, but, for real, I'm coaching a high school tennis team. Me, the guy who had zero high school school spirit and just a tiny little bit of college school spirit. Also, the guy who's never exactly been sports-oriented. But here I am, coaching tennis.
My team consists of 14 players. They're a nice bunch. They're also atypical athletes, for the most part, which is what makes my job enjoyable. But as far as the skill level... We're certainly not the strongest team in the world. It's okay, though, because we go out there and the guys seem to have fun.
Today we played our second series of matches. Tuesday was our first round, and we lost horribly. Nine matches, and we lost all of them. The closest match was 4-10. (Instead of playing normal six game sets, they play an extra-long set to ten games.) We lost to a school that was #2 in the district last year. But that leads us to today: a match against a school that hasn't won a match in three years. Three years. Not a single match won. This should be a blowout, right? WRONG, fool. You are wrong and a fool for even entertaining such an idea. (In the interest of full disclosure, I, too, am a fool.)
The nine match breakdown goes like this: six singles matches and three doubles matches. My top 6 players play singles, then they pair up and play doubles. That's how it normally works. Today was a little different. Today was cold. Today was windy. And today my #6 player wasn't using his normal racket because he broke a string a couple days ago. During the warm up for the matches, he wasn't playing very well. He didn't seem comfortable playing with someone else's racket. So I suggested that the #7 guy switch with #6 for singles, but that #6 still play in doubles. This decision occurred quite literally at the last minute. But we went ahead with it.
The matches began and we were off to a bad start. My #1 and #2 players were not playing well. Their matches ended fairly quickly: 3-10 and 1-10, respectively. My #7 was also off to a rough start. He had never played a varsity match before, and I think the nerves were getting to him. I believe the score was 3-6 or 3-7 at some point. The good news was that my #3 and #5 were both ahead. #4 was having a rough start, but kept the game close -- he was never down more than two games. The next matches to finish were my #3 and #5, both of whom won. Meanwhile, something clicked with #7, and he started to kick some ass. He mounted an unexpected comeback. He evened it up at 8-8, then 9-9. Sadly, he ended up losing 9-11, but it was an epic recovery. At this point, my #4's game was still not over. However, he ended up losing 8-10. Recap: At the end of the singles matches, our opponent was up four matches to two. That left the doubles.
My #1 and #2 players are the most emotional players on the team. When they're playing well, they ride the crest of that euphoria. When they're not playing well, they get really down on themselves. After their losses, they both went to their own little area to be alone and seethe. I told them to forget about it, that the doubles match was going to be their redemption. They didn't care; they were cold and angry at themselves. But it was time to get the matches started. My pairs of doubles: #1 and #2, #3 and #5, and #4 and #6.
Since #3 and #5 both won their singles matches, it wasn't a huge surprise that the two of them together won 10-2. I was also happy to see that my #4 and #6 were playing well. They won their match 10-2, as well. That evened the overall match score to 4-4. It was up to my #1 and #2 pair.
They weren't playing their best. At one point, they were up 3-2. But they lost a series of games and I believe the score was 4-5 or 4-6 by the time the other two doubles matches ended. Things weren't looking good. The opponents had stronger serves and stronger net plays, but my guys were fighting back, little by little. Then, all of a sudden, my #1 and #2 players were able to turn things around. They broke their opponents' serve. They won their serves. It was 7-6, then 8-6, then 9-6. They lost the next game, but won on their serve 10-7. And we ended up winning 5 matches to 4.
This post is solipsistic not because I'm trying to convey an interesting story or brag about my (rather lackluster) coaching skills. I'm writing it so that I can remember the nervousness of that last doubles match and the eventual relief and excitement of winning an overall match. I've never done anything remotely close to coaching a sports team before, and I've never really understood how much other people invest of themselves in sports. But today, this afternoon, I got it. I understood. It was a feeling unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and I'm not yet ready to let it go.
Here's some shocking news that may make you laugh: I coach a high school tennis team. No, seriously. I know I joke a lot, but, for real, I'm coaching a high school tennis team. Me, the guy who had zero high school school spirit and just a tiny little bit of college school spirit. Also, the guy who's never exactly been sports-oriented. But here I am, coaching tennis.
My team consists of 14 players. They're a nice bunch. They're also atypical athletes, for the most part, which is what makes my job enjoyable. But as far as the skill level... We're certainly not the strongest team in the world. It's okay, though, because we go out there and the guys seem to have fun.
Today we played our second series of matches. Tuesday was our first round, and we lost horribly. Nine matches, and we lost all of them. The closest match was 4-10. (Instead of playing normal six game sets, they play an extra-long set to ten games.) We lost to a school that was #2 in the district last year. But that leads us to today: a match against a school that hasn't won a match in three years. Three years. Not a single match won. This should be a blowout, right? WRONG, fool. You are wrong and a fool for even entertaining such an idea. (In the interest of full disclosure, I, too, am a fool.)
The nine match breakdown goes like this: six singles matches and three doubles matches. My top 6 players play singles, then they pair up and play doubles. That's how it normally works. Today was a little different. Today was cold. Today was windy. And today my #6 player wasn't using his normal racket because he broke a string a couple days ago. During the warm up for the matches, he wasn't playing very well. He didn't seem comfortable playing with someone else's racket. So I suggested that the #7 guy switch with #6 for singles, but that #6 still play in doubles. This decision occurred quite literally at the last minute. But we went ahead with it.
The matches began and we were off to a bad start. My #1 and #2 players were not playing well. Their matches ended fairly quickly: 3-10 and 1-10, respectively. My #7 was also off to a rough start. He had never played a varsity match before, and I think the nerves were getting to him. I believe the score was 3-6 or 3-7 at some point. The good news was that my #3 and #5 were both ahead. #4 was having a rough start, but kept the game close -- he was never down more than two games. The next matches to finish were my #3 and #5, both of whom won. Meanwhile, something clicked with #7, and he started to kick some ass. He mounted an unexpected comeback. He evened it up at 8-8, then 9-9. Sadly, he ended up losing 9-11, but it was an epic recovery. At this point, my #4's game was still not over. However, he ended up losing 8-10. Recap: At the end of the singles matches, our opponent was up four matches to two. That left the doubles.
My #1 and #2 players are the most emotional players on the team. When they're playing well, they ride the crest of that euphoria. When they're not playing well, they get really down on themselves. After their losses, they both went to their own little area to be alone and seethe. I told them to forget about it, that the doubles match was going to be their redemption. They didn't care; they were cold and angry at themselves. But it was time to get the matches started. My pairs of doubles: #1 and #2, #3 and #5, and #4 and #6.
Since #3 and #5 both won their singles matches, it wasn't a huge surprise that the two of them together won 10-2. I was also happy to see that my #4 and #6 were playing well. They won their match 10-2, as well. That evened the overall match score to 4-4. It was up to my #1 and #2 pair.
They weren't playing their best. At one point, they were up 3-2. But they lost a series of games and I believe the score was 4-5 or 4-6 by the time the other two doubles matches ended. Things weren't looking good. The opponents had stronger serves and stronger net plays, but my guys were fighting back, little by little. Then, all of a sudden, my #1 and #2 players were able to turn things around. They broke their opponents' serve. They won their serves. It was 7-6, then 8-6, then 9-6. They lost the next game, but won on their serve 10-7. And we ended up winning 5 matches to 4.
This post is solipsistic not because I'm trying to convey an interesting story or brag about my (rather lackluster) coaching skills. I'm writing it so that I can remember the nervousness of that last doubles match and the eventual relief and excitement of winning an overall match. I've never done anything remotely close to coaching a sports team before, and I've never really understood how much other people invest of themselves in sports. But today, this afternoon, I got it. I understood. It was a feeling unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and I'm not yet ready to let it go.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Taking a cue from Adam, technology seems to be the current topic of conversation. That got me to thinking what it would be like If Cell Phones Were Around During Key Points In American History:
Signing of the Declaration of Independence
A stifling hot July 4th. The room is packed with exhausted men, all listening to John Hancock.
JOHN HANCOCK: Let me be the first to sign it. I want King George to see my signature at the top of-
Thomas Jefferson’s ringtone, Yankee Doodle, goes off. He sheepishly pulls out his cell phone and silences the ring.
THOMAS JEFFERSON (whispering to those around him): Sorry. Sorry.
Louisiana Purchase
Robert Livingston and the Marquees de Barbé-Marbois sit in a French café, eating lunch and discussing the land deal.
LIVINGSTON: As you know, the United States is willing to offer you a great deal of money for New Orleans.
BARBÉ-MARBOIS (blowing him off): Yeah, yeah. Listen, we’re willing to give you all of the Louisiana territory. When we get back to the embassy we can discuss the specifics.
LIVINGSTON (shocked, then signals for the waitress. His voice cracking slightly): Check, please.
The waitress places the check on the table.
LIVINGSTON: This one’s on me.
BARBÉ-MARBOIS: Why thank you.
LIVINGSTON: No, thank you.
He glances the check over, then pulls out his cell phone.
LIVINGSTON (mumbling to himself): Fifteen percent of...
He looks up, notices Barbé-Marbois staring at him, then glances back to his cell phone.
LIVINGSTON: Twenty percent...
Westward Expansion
Lewis and Clark on the Oregon Trail. They’re at the top of a mountain, overlooking the vast western territory. Lewis checks his phone.
LEWIS: Shit.
CLARK: What?
LEWIS: I’m roaming again.
CLARK: Sucks.
LEWIS: You have service?
CLARK: Nah.
They both turn and look at Sacagawea, chatting on her phone.
LEWIS: We’ve gotta switch providers.
Lincoln Assassination
A text message from one of the patrons at Ford’s Theatre: “omg omg omg AL shot in head. ttyl.”
Warren G. Harding’s Affair with Carrie Fulton Philips
Mr. and Mrs. Harding are entertaining dinner guests. Everyone’s a little tipsy, if not more.
MRS. HARDING: Darling, hand me your phone. I want to show everyone pictures of Rex.
Harding hands over his cell phone. Mrs. Harding cycles through the photos.
MRS. HARDING: Here he is running around on the lawn. And here he is in the Oval Office. And this one...
The guests gasp. Mrs. Harding drops the phone.
HARDING: What? What is it?
Kennedy Assassination
In addition to the Zapruder footage, a Dallas local, one Edward Bartlet, captures the assassination on his camera phone. Bartlet’s angle reveals the true location of the assassin (or assassins). Unfortunately, because his video is blurrier than Zapruder’s, it becomes inadmissible evidence.
Signing of the Declaration of Independence
A stifling hot July 4th. The room is packed with exhausted men, all listening to John Hancock.
JOHN HANCOCK: Let me be the first to sign it. I want King George to see my signature at the top of-
Thomas Jefferson’s ringtone, Yankee Doodle, goes off. He sheepishly pulls out his cell phone and silences the ring.
THOMAS JEFFERSON (whispering to those around him): Sorry. Sorry.
Louisiana Purchase
Robert Livingston and the Marquees de Barbé-Marbois sit in a French café, eating lunch and discussing the land deal.
LIVINGSTON: As you know, the United States is willing to offer you a great deal of money for New Orleans.
BARBÉ-MARBOIS (blowing him off): Yeah, yeah. Listen, we’re willing to give you all of the Louisiana territory. When we get back to the embassy we can discuss the specifics.
LIVINGSTON (shocked, then signals for the waitress. His voice cracking slightly): Check, please.
The waitress places the check on the table.
LIVINGSTON: This one’s on me.
BARBÉ-MARBOIS: Why thank you.
LIVINGSTON: No, thank you.
He glances the check over, then pulls out his cell phone.
LIVINGSTON (mumbling to himself): Fifteen percent of...
He looks up, notices Barbé-Marbois staring at him, then glances back to his cell phone.
LIVINGSTON: Twenty percent...
Westward Expansion
Lewis and Clark on the Oregon Trail. They’re at the top of a mountain, overlooking the vast western territory. Lewis checks his phone.
LEWIS: Shit.
CLARK: What?
LEWIS: I’m roaming again.
CLARK: Sucks.
LEWIS: You have service?
CLARK: Nah.
They both turn and look at Sacagawea, chatting on her phone.
LEWIS: We’ve gotta switch providers.
Lincoln Assassination
A text message from one of the patrons at Ford’s Theatre: “omg omg omg AL shot in head. ttyl.”
Warren G. Harding’s Affair with Carrie Fulton Philips
Mr. and Mrs. Harding are entertaining dinner guests. Everyone’s a little tipsy, if not more.
MRS. HARDING: Darling, hand me your phone. I want to show everyone pictures of Rex.
Harding hands over his cell phone. Mrs. Harding cycles through the photos.
MRS. HARDING: Here he is running around on the lawn. And here he is in the Oval Office. And this one...
The guests gasp. Mrs. Harding drops the phone.
HARDING: What? What is it?
Kennedy Assassination
In addition to the Zapruder footage, a Dallas local, one Edward Bartlet, captures the assassination on his camera phone. Bartlet’s angle reveals the true location of the assassin (or assassins). Unfortunately, because his video is blurrier than Zapruder’s, it becomes inadmissible evidence.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
In reference to one of my previous posts about old technology being cool again, I've thought it over and changed my mind. Old is the new black! With that in mind, I'm coming out with some new technologies sure to get the kids excited.
I'm pleased to introduce my new summer line of togas. They're like sheets, but they have holes in them for your head and arms. No longer will you be burdened with having to match clothing, or put more than one piece of clothing on at a time. With the new togas, just throw one over your shoulder and head out on the town! You're sure to get noticed. Warning: Accidental nudity may occur.
Also, are calculators bringing you down? Would you like a new high-low-tech way to do your math? Well, I've been thinking, and I'm very excited to say that from now on I'll be offering the TI-00 abacus for all your mathematical needs. Just move the little beads from side to side, and somehow that's supposed to help you with math! WAY easier than pressing silly numbers and symbols on a little electronic thing. What do those even mean? WHO KNOWS!? With the TI-00 abacus, all you need to know is how to count. And how to use an abacus to do math. Warning: Batteries and instructions not included.
Do all those colors on TV hurt your brain? Do you fear all the bright colors and loud noises may give you an epileptic seizure? Well, tune to the new station ADTV to watch all new shows produced in new black and white, silent vision! Only two colors, with varying shades of gray, and no talking! Instead, take a break from all the noise and watch people talk, and then read what they just said on a card held in front of the camera! Warning: The ability to read is required to fully enjoy ADTV. And isn't reading totally awesome?
Speaking of reading, have you wanted to be a writer, but all the scribbling or typing has prevented you from doing it so far? Do you wish there was a more tactile way of getting your thoughts down for others to see? Well now you can, with my new Tablet and Chisel set! Just like Moses bringing down the Ten Commandments, you too can spend an ungodly amount of time writing a page worth of stuff. Just take the tablet, place it on the ground, and chisel your thoughts into it. Just think of all the fun stuff you could write! Warning: Tablet may weigh in excess of 50 pounds. Warning: Chisel should not be used as a weapon, though it would be really easy and fun to do so.
And finally, are you tired of pressing buttons on your cell phone? Are your giant, fat fingers inaccurate at best when you're trying to dial? Well guess what. I've solved your problems. Introducing the rotary cell phone! Instead of stupid buttons, you simply insert your fingers into a small hole in a circle, rotate that circle until you can't rotate anymore, and release! Your time dialing will be tripled, maybe quadrupled! And with today's crazy hustle and bustle world, isn't it nice to just take fifteen or twenty minutes to sit down and dial a phone? Imagine how relaxing that sounds. Warning: Text messaging not available on rotary cell phones.
I'm pleased to introduce my new summer line of togas. They're like sheets, but they have holes in them for your head and arms. No longer will you be burdened with having to match clothing, or put more than one piece of clothing on at a time. With the new togas, just throw one over your shoulder and head out on the town! You're sure to get noticed. Warning: Accidental nudity may occur.
Also, are calculators bringing you down? Would you like a new high-low-tech way to do your math? Well, I've been thinking, and I'm very excited to say that from now on I'll be offering the TI-00 abacus for all your mathematical needs. Just move the little beads from side to side, and somehow that's supposed to help you with math! WAY easier than pressing silly numbers and symbols on a little electronic thing. What do those even mean? WHO KNOWS!? With the TI-00 abacus, all you need to know is how to count. And how to use an abacus to do math. Warning: Batteries and instructions not included.
Do all those colors on TV hurt your brain? Do you fear all the bright colors and loud noises may give you an epileptic seizure? Well, tune to the new station ADTV to watch all new shows produced in new black and white, silent vision! Only two colors, with varying shades of gray, and no talking! Instead, take a break from all the noise and watch people talk, and then read what they just said on a card held in front of the camera! Warning: The ability to read is required to fully enjoy ADTV. And isn't reading totally awesome?
Speaking of reading, have you wanted to be a writer, but all the scribbling or typing has prevented you from doing it so far? Do you wish there was a more tactile way of getting your thoughts down for others to see? Well now you can, with my new Tablet and Chisel set! Just like Moses bringing down the Ten Commandments, you too can spend an ungodly amount of time writing a page worth of stuff. Just take the tablet, place it on the ground, and chisel your thoughts into it. Just think of all the fun stuff you could write! Warning: Tablet may weigh in excess of 50 pounds. Warning: Chisel should not be used as a weapon, though it would be really easy and fun to do so.
And finally, are you tired of pressing buttons on your cell phone? Are your giant, fat fingers inaccurate at best when you're trying to dial? Well guess what. I've solved your problems. Introducing the rotary cell phone! Instead of stupid buttons, you simply insert your fingers into a small hole in a circle, rotate that circle until you can't rotate anymore, and release! Your time dialing will be tripled, maybe quadrupled! And with today's crazy hustle and bustle world, isn't it nice to just take fifteen or twenty minutes to sit down and dial a phone? Imagine how relaxing that sounds. Warning: Text messaging not available on rotary cell phones.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
This is dangerous. I don't have a plan for this post. Normally I have some sort of rough idea of what I'm going to say, but nope, not this time. Totally on the fly. Off the cuff. Improvised. Stream of consciousness. From my thoughts, to my fingers, to you. Uncensorsed. Shit. Uncensored. See, I'm not even going back to fix my typos. My sister just commented on a bizarre commercial for chewing tobacco. Or fake chewing tobacco, she says. She seems very confused. As am I. And are you, probably.
This is why this is dangerous. I guess maybe I could say a few things in response to Adam's recent posts. So here goes, in no particular order: Commenting on racism, Adam? That sounds BORING. I'm glad you didn't devote a WHOLE POST to something so boring. I suggest buying things online. In store experiences are boring and so 20th century. I don't like fancy technology like touch screens, either, but Coraline came out in 3D and that movie is cool and not boring. Everything else in 3D, however, seems boring.
Someone gave me a thesaurus one time, but it was a boring gift, so I threw it away.
This is really just an obligatory post, I'm not gonna lie. I'm leaving again. Up to Syracuse, New York for a bachelor/bachelorette party. I'll be back Sunday. That means no update from me in the next few days, regardless of the fact that it's been over a week since my last post and I've been not-traveling the entire time. So... yes. But hey, check it out. It's only March 11th, and this will mark our 30th post of the year. That's crazy. We're already past the one-third mark of surpassing our record-breaking 75 posts in one year. It's true -- I don't think any other blog has ever posted more than 75 times in one year. Why, that's an average of one post every 4.866666666666666666 days! Who can possibly top that?! Impossible!
Oh, and I got into grad school. One of my grad schools, anyway. Haven't heard from the other four. Regardless, this amateur shit will turn into professional shit starting this August. Mark your calendars.
This is why this is dangerous. I guess maybe I could say a few things in response to Adam's recent posts. So here goes, in no particular order: Commenting on racism, Adam? That sounds BORING. I'm glad you didn't devote a WHOLE POST to something so boring. I suggest buying things online. In store experiences are boring and so 20th century. I don't like fancy technology like touch screens, either, but Coraline came out in 3D and that movie is cool and not boring. Everything else in 3D, however, seems boring.
Someone gave me a thesaurus one time, but it was a boring gift, so I threw it away.
This is really just an obligatory post, I'm not gonna lie. I'm leaving again. Up to Syracuse, New York for a bachelor/bachelorette party. I'll be back Sunday. That means no update from me in the next few days, regardless of the fact that it's been over a week since my last post and I've been not-traveling the entire time. So... yes. But hey, check it out. It's only March 11th, and this will mark our 30th post of the year. That's crazy. We're already past the one-third mark of surpassing our record-breaking 75 posts in one year. It's true -- I don't think any other blog has ever posted more than 75 times in one year. Why, that's an average of one post every 4.866666666666666666 days! Who can possibly top that?! Impossible!
Oh, and I got into grad school. One of my grad schools, anyway. Haven't heard from the other four. Regardless, this amateur shit will turn into professional shit starting this August. Mark your calendars.
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