I was told recently that my phone did not exist when trying to register it online. BUT IT DOES EXIST! It is IN MY HAND. At least, that's what I think of when I am considering whether something exists: IS IT IN MY HAND?
If yes, then it does exist. If no, then it does not exist. It's an easy flowchart to follow. I made a big poster of the flowchart for easy reference. Whether I'm holding something or not, I can quickly glance at the poster and quickly answer whether it exists or not.
Actually, maybe this is why my partner left me. He did not exist when I was not holding him, which made for some awkward sexual experiences whenever we briefly lost contact when switching positions. Therefore, I should not switch positions when engaged in sexual activity.
4.09.2010
EAT THIS POST
I like eating. It's what I do best. People will come up to me and say, 'Eat this!' And I will oblige and eat whatever they're handing me. I have a hard time saying no. And I think people have started to clue into this, because people have been feeding me what I call 'non-food items,' (or NFI for short). Like branches. You know how hard it is to finish a branch? A lot of chewing. A lot of work.
I think this goes back to the time of my childhood; I have fond memories of my mom spoon-feeding me delicious muck when I was seven. She'd go, 'Ah,' and I'd go, 'Ah,' and before I knew it there was a spoon in my mouth and I was slurping up whatever she gave me. Then the spoon would exit, and with-ever-more care it would be dipped into the jar of food, and then the process would repeat itself.
So, yeah. That's why I ate that sandwich. I thought you were handing it to me, and I just went for it. Also, I'm really sorry for your finger. Not sure how my teeth work, exactly, but I think that fault might lie with you--don't put fingers near my mouth. I will probably eat them, like a dog who overestimates the size of its treat and underestimates the size of the treat-giver's fingers.
I think this goes back to the time of my childhood; I have fond memories of my mom spoon-feeding me delicious muck when I was seven. She'd go, 'Ah,' and I'd go, 'Ah,' and before I knew it there was a spoon in my mouth and I was slurping up whatever she gave me. Then the spoon would exit, and with-ever-more care it would be dipped into the jar of food, and then the process would repeat itself.
So, yeah. That's why I ate that sandwich. I thought you were handing it to me, and I just went for it. Also, I'm really sorry for your finger. Not sure how my teeth work, exactly, but I think that fault might lie with you--don't put fingers near my mouth. I will probably eat them, like a dog who overestimates the size of its treat and underestimates the size of the treat-giver's fingers.
3.31.2010
YOU AND I ARE NOW FRIENDS
Pre-Facebook:
When the person you are seeing meets your friends, you find out whether they will get along or not, and you respond accordingly. And that was that.
Post-Facebook:
When the person you are seeing meets your friends, not only do you find out whether they will get along or not, but a digital copy of the moment in question is recorded for the world to see.
When the person you are seeing meets your friends, you find out whether they will get along or not, and you respond accordingly. And that was that.
Post-Facebook:
When the person you are seeing meets your friends, not only do you find out whether they will get along or not, but a digital copy of the moment in question is recorded for the world to see.
3.15.2010
SO IT'S COME TO THIS
I'm not really sure why I was chosen; my communication skills are, well--uh, they are lacking. I also have a tendency to use the wrong word or use words incorrectly. It probably comes from my desire to want to sound more intellectual-er than I actually am.
That's another reason, actually! I'm not the brightest bulb in the tool shed. I also mix metaphors up quite a bit, like a blender to food. Yeah, see, I thought that was a metaphor, not a simile. But I guess that's the way the cookie is eaten. By hungry people. On a blisteringly hot day. When they are starving. And have no food. Except for that cookie, that has yet to be eaten. By that hungry person. On that really hot day.
I also can't describe things good. Er, well. Sorry. Yeah, can I go now?
That's another reason, actually! I'm not the brightest bulb in the tool shed. I also mix metaphors up quite a bit, like a blender to food. Yeah, see, I thought that was a metaphor, not a simile. But I guess that's the way the cookie is eaten. By hungry people. On a blisteringly hot day. When they are starving. And have no food. Except for that cookie, that has yet to be eaten. By that hungry person. On that really hot day.
I also can't describe things good. Er, well. Sorry. Yeah, can I go now?
3.10.2010
COMPLAINTS
Sometimes I think that the world is not enough. But then I realise that I'm not a secret agent and move on with my life.
3.09.2010
YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG
A man, Man, stands alone on a street corner. Another man, let's call him Man B, approaches.
Man: Hey, man.
Man B: Hey. Let's just walk down to the bridge.
They walk.
Man B: So I was using a fake name, but I can give you my real name and my primary e-mail address for further trades.
Man: Cool.
Man B gives Man an empty cigarette pack.
Man: Uh, what's this?
Man B: It's your stuff, neatly packaged in some tinfoil.
Man: Wait, I thought I was selling you stuff.
Man B: No, I thought I was selling you stuff.
Man: Oh. Well, um...
Man gives back the cigarette pack. Both men stare at each other awkwardly.
Man B: Do you still, uh, want it?
Man: No. Do you want my stuff?
Man B: No.
They continue to look at each other awkwardly. Minutes pass.
Man: Are you sure?
Man B: Yup.
More awkward staring. More minutes pass. With out saying another word, they head in opposite directions.
Man: Hey, man.
Man B: Hey. Let's just walk down to the bridge.
They walk.
Man B: So I was using a fake name, but I can give you my real name and my primary e-mail address for further trades.
Man: Cool.
Man B gives Man an empty cigarette pack.
Man: Uh, what's this?
Man B: It's your stuff, neatly packaged in some tinfoil.
Man: Wait, I thought I was selling you stuff.
Man B: No, I thought I was selling you stuff.
Man: Oh. Well, um...
Man gives back the cigarette pack. Both men stare at each other awkwardly.
Man B: Do you still, uh, want it?
Man: No. Do you want my stuff?
Man B: No.
They continue to look at each other awkwardly. Minutes pass.
Man: Are you sure?
Man B: Yup.
More awkward staring. More minutes pass. With out saying another word, they head in opposite directions.
3.05.2010
JUST STOP IT
There was this guy...a guy who had stars in his pocket. No, not literal stars--do you know how hot and big those things are? Very hot! And very big. He had stars in his pocket--isn't that the saying? Shit, yeah, you're right. That's not a saying at all. Okay, let me start over. No, wait! Come back! I wasn't finished my story!
A WOMAN WALKS INTO A ROOM
So, uh, I know this isn't really common--or maybe it is, I'm not sure--but can I have an advance on my pay? I know I just started, but I'm positive you won't regret hiring me! I'm the best there is! Just ask the other girls; they can prove my strong track record. What? Why do I need an advance? Uh, well, I'm in some dire straits--financially, that is. And this would just kind of, well, make me feel a little at ease. Why do I have to wait for my pay? You hired me, you know I'm going to do a really, really, really good job. I just--you know what it is? I'm bad with money. There, I said it. But I'm learning! My pimp is trying to be understanding, but if I could just get an advance on my pay, I can pay him and then quickly service you! No, not quickly--you know what I meant. You're leaving? Shit. Not again.
3.02.2010
I THINK THEREFORE I TWEET
I've unearthed (un-interneted?) a few ancient gems in the past couple of days: three Photobucket accounts and a really old blog.
With regards to the Photobucket accounts: my god, why the fuck didn't anyone tell me to stop taking photos of myself?
With regards to the old blog(which actually might have an 's'): actually, I'm not too sure where to start with this one. I've been reading old entries, and I know I thought I was writing really deep and meaningful shit, but now I just cringe after reading certain paragraphs. Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me to stop writing about myself? Was it because we were all doing the same thing, and we all actually gave a shit about each other's 'deep insight' to the proclaimed nuances of our so-called lives? Fuck, what a pretentious fucking thing to have. (Yes, I know, shut up.)
Anyways, it made feel nostalgic, and as horrified as I am to know that these things exist in a medium that at the best of times is a fucking wasteland, I'm still kind of glad these blogs exists. It's almost like a tracking device; I can track the trajectory of my so-called life, and pinpoint times when my biggest worry was over when I would see my then-boyfriend (as opposed to now, where 'then-boyfriend' has been replaced with the infinitely more scarier--and elusive--'next paycheck.'
Nostalgia is a tricky girl. It's constantly re-creating something that I once cherished, slowly morphing it into some unrealised idyllic time in my life. Naivety also has a large role to play, I would imagine. I was a pretty clueless, shit-eating young adult who thought I was better than most because...I don't even know why. Why the fuck did I think I was better than most people? Because I had a blog? Hah, what bullshit. I was just as clueless as everyone else, trying to carve my space out in this life, using the internet as a crutch to thinking everyone gave a damn.
Maybe that's what's wrong with this new generation. I would like to think my internet-self has matured, realising that 100% of the internet does /not/ give a shit about 99.9% of the things I do. And that has come from years of having shitty blogs. I am able to stand back and think, "wait, I should not share this because a) no one cares, b) it's inappropriate, c) everyone can see it." Unfortunately for a lot of people, they didn't really have that maturing stage or beta testing. They have been thrown into this hyperconnected world where (and this is where Orwell and co. got it wrong) everyone can spy on everyone else. And they want to tap into that because it might make them feel connected to something or someone--share some universal human events or some such.
We all have this incessant need to share things about ourselves, and it pretty much stems from--at least this is the case for me--wanting to feel part of something. A comment, a like, a repost--somewhere someone has recognised something I did, and it somehow validates my existence. Someone somewhere has experienced the same thing, and somehow a connection is forged. At least in the internet world in which my old-self used to relish. Everyone wants to feel part of something, and the internet, especially social media, has made that possible. To quote one of the first lines I have fallen in love with,
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
If everyone has their eyes closed, no one is watching me, and I am dead to all. My old-self needed those eyes on me in order to prove to someone (and myself?) that I was not alone and was part of something. If no one comments or sees what I do on the internet, the word has dropped dead.
I think, therefore I blog, I tweet, I comment, I like, I am.
With regards to the Photobucket accounts: my god, why the fuck didn't anyone tell me to stop taking photos of myself?
With regards to the old blog(which actually might have an 's'): actually, I'm not too sure where to start with this one. I've been reading old entries, and I know I thought I was writing really deep and meaningful shit, but now I just cringe after reading certain paragraphs. Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me to stop writing about myself? Was it because we were all doing the same thing, and we all actually gave a shit about each other's 'deep insight' to the proclaimed nuances of our so-called lives? Fuck, what a pretentious fucking thing to have. (Yes, I know, shut up.)
Anyways, it made feel nostalgic, and as horrified as I am to know that these things exist in a medium that at the best of times is a fucking wasteland, I'm still kind of glad these blogs exists. It's almost like a tracking device; I can track the trajectory of my so-called life, and pinpoint times when my biggest worry was over when I would see my then-boyfriend (as opposed to now, where 'then-boyfriend' has been replaced with the infinitely more scarier--and elusive--'next paycheck.'
Nostalgia is a tricky girl. It's constantly re-creating something that I once cherished, slowly morphing it into some unrealised idyllic time in my life. Naivety also has a large role to play, I would imagine. I was a pretty clueless, shit-eating young adult who thought I was better than most because...I don't even know why. Why the fuck did I think I was better than most people? Because I had a blog? Hah, what bullshit. I was just as clueless as everyone else, trying to carve my space out in this life, using the internet as a crutch to thinking everyone gave a damn.
Maybe that's what's wrong with this new generation. I would like to think my internet-self has matured, realising that 100% of the internet does /not/ give a shit about 99.9% of the things I do. And that has come from years of having shitty blogs. I am able to stand back and think, "wait, I should not share this because a) no one cares, b) it's inappropriate, c) everyone can see it." Unfortunately for a lot of people, they didn't really have that maturing stage or beta testing. They have been thrown into this hyperconnected world where (and this is where Orwell and co. got it wrong) everyone can spy on everyone else. And they want to tap into that because it might make them feel connected to something or someone--share some universal human events or some such.
We all have this incessant need to share things about ourselves, and it pretty much stems from--at least this is the case for me--wanting to feel part of something. A comment, a like, a repost--somewhere someone has recognised something I did, and it somehow validates my existence. Someone somewhere has experienced the same thing, and somehow a connection is forged. At least in the internet world in which my old-self used to relish. Everyone wants to feel part of something, and the internet, especially social media, has made that possible. To quote one of the first lines I have fallen in love with,
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
If everyone has their eyes closed, no one is watching me, and I am dead to all. My old-self needed those eyes on me in order to prove to someone (and myself?) that I was not alone and was part of something. If no one comments or sees what I do on the internet, the word has dropped dead.
I think, therefore I blog, I tweet, I comment, I like, I am.
WHAT IN BLAZES?
I'm not exactly sure how we got here...probably had something to do with all that alcohol we ingested. It's been fun, though--right? No? Oh. Well, my memory gets a little hazy as well. It's not all my fault! It takes two people to take off clothes, y'know. And to have the sex. Yeah, actually, it takes two people to have sex. Or more. It's usually more fun when it's more. But, yeah, one person is all that is really needed when you're in the undressing stage--you're right. But, yeah, this does not improve our predicament. Well, truth be told, I'm not really in a predicament. From what I remember, I had fun last night! You should have, too. I don't know why you're all up in arms over this. Okay, I get it, this is your first one-night stand. But so what?! Welcome to the first of what I hope is many. Oh. You don't want many? How come? Really? I don't think it's that slutty. Shiiit, I've quite honestly lost track of how many times I've woken up in a stranger's bed, or had a stranger wake up in my bed. I usually prefer the later; the walk of shame isn't all what it's cracked up to be. Oh. It's not cracked up to be anything? That's weird. But everyone knows what that walk is. And if everyone knows, that means everyone has done it. And if everyone has done it, it's, like, y'know, a universal human event or some shit. Oh. You didn't want to experience that event? Actually, just to back up for a second, I actually prefer waking up in a stranger's bed, 'cause then you could just sneak out in the morning and not deal with any unpleasant awkwardness...no, I was not referring to this pleasant exchange of pleasantries. Yes, I am having a good time! We should do breakfast! I love bacon. Man, do you have bacon? No? Oh. Well, I could go to the store and grab some! Really? I don't believe you. There has to be some convenient store around here. Wait--where is here, exactly? Wicked! That's only a few subway stops from where I live! That's awesome! We could do this again! Oh. You don't want to do this again? I don't understand why. I remember performing quite well last night, if I may say so myself. Just because you can't remember it doesn't mean it wasn't good! That was totally alcohol induced. Well, if you want--and I don't offer this often--I can have sex with you again right now so you can remember it. Oh. Really? Oh. Really?! Okay. I guess if that's what you want...I just thought we were getting along so well. And I got all excited when I found out we lived to so close together! Okay, okay, fine, I'll leave. I just need to collect my things.
Okay then. I'll see you around? No? Wait, you think we're never going to run in to each other on the street? We live so close! Oh. Okay. Yeah.
Okay then. I'll see you around? No? Wait, you think we're never going to run in to each other on the street? We live so close! Oh. Okay. Yeah.
2.05.2010
WAIT, WHAT?
You say you've done this before, but from what I saw, you don't know shit. No, wait, that's being generous. You have no fucking clue what the fuck is going on. I'm kind of surprised you can function day-to-day. How are you not walking around constantly shitting and wetting yourself? No, no, don't start with me. I don't want to hear your god damned excuses. I said shut the fuck up, you piece of trash. You're lucky my mom is upstairs, otherwise I would cut your fucking throat right now. You lied, man. You fucking lied. That's the end of it. What? No, I'm still going to kill you, I'm just going to wait until my mom does whatever the fuck she does outside of the house. I haven't decided how I'm going to kill you, though. You are pretty helpless, tied up like that. Yeah, it will probably slow and painful, 'cause I want to make you fucking suffer for the shit you just put me through. Seriously, how did you think you were up for this job? I've seen you put on your shoes, and, man, you even struggle with that. No, shut up. I said shut the fuck up. Okay, you know what? Fuck it. I'm just going to slit your throat now and be done with it. To hell with my mom. I can buy her a new carpet.
1.25.2010
SPARTACUS: LOSERS AND FAILURES
I was kind of looking forward to Spartacus: Blood and Sand not just because Sam Raimi was producing, but because it also promised to be better than 300...At least that was what I got out of the trailer and synopsis for the show. When I first started the episode, I was expecting a lot of awesome violence, gratuitous sex and a nude Lucy Lawless.
I got anything but. The show had a weird stylized gore about it--it looked like a mixture of sloppy anime and unrealistic CGI. And the sex, although borderline gratuitous, lacked...I dunno, substance, or passion. The sex was actually kind of boring, which is the last word you would want to describe fucking. No gritty, dirty, hot Roman sex, which is such a disappointment.
If the sex and violence had been done well, it might have made up for the atrocious acting, which was incredibly forced and awkward, and not at all menacing or gladiator-like.
Also, Lawless was no where to be found, in case you were wondering.
I got anything but. The show had a weird stylized gore about it--it looked like a mixture of sloppy anime and unrealistic CGI. And the sex, although borderline gratuitous, lacked...I dunno, substance, or passion. The sex was actually kind of boring, which is the last word you would want to describe fucking. No gritty, dirty, hot Roman sex, which is such a disappointment.
If the sex and violence had been done well, it might have made up for the atrocious acting, which was incredibly forced and awkward, and not at all menacing or gladiator-like.
Also, Lawless was no where to be found, in case you were wondering.
1.24.2010
NEVER HAVE I EVER
He was shocked over the fact that I have never played Monopoly. I did not think it was that weird, but I let him play the game with me for the first time, anyway. He should have warned me how cut-throat it is. The blood will not come out of my jeans.
MISSED CONNECTIONS M4M
Even though I was sandwiched between two beefy men, our eyes met as you passed by me to venture into the sauna. I would have called you over to participate, but the ball-gag prevented me from doing so. E-mail me with what colour the ball-gag was and we can hopefully start something special!
1.13.2010
OOPS
No, you have it all wrong. I was not trying to get into her pants. I was just trying to pee on her for stealing my drugs.
1.11.2010
UNTITLED
"It was never meant to be." Pain erupted in my chest as he slowly released his grip, sliding off me like some oily substance. I fell to the ground, paralysed from the fatal blow. After taking one last look into my eyes, he turned on his heal and walked into the shadows, never to emerge again. I could feel the blood draining from my body, reaching out and exploring its new found freedom on the cold cement. My eyes grew heavy. I saw the first hint of a new day creep in through the tall, lifeless buildings that hung over me. I panicked suddenly, not knowing how I should lay dying. Was I in a dignified position? Should I die with my eyes closed? I didn't know.
HONESTY
Face it: you are not nearly as attractive as you think you are. Also, your fashion profile would benefit from new shoes.
KARMA SUTRA
Are you sure that goes in there? Should we not get a manual? Oh, well, there should be a manual for copulating.
1.10.2010
HONESTLY
I was not trying to be mean! I was just letting you know your breath smells really badly and I did not care to be around it. Your nose would have done the same thing.
ANCIENT
I really miss the tag. Someone told me GeoCities.com closed its internet doors. The internet is changing!!
YOUR UNDERWEAR IS CUTE
Booze is like the best thing to give to someone in hopes of getting sexual intercourse on their mind.
FORGOTTEN
Replying to four-year-old Facebook messages that originally went unanswered must be weird for both parties involved.
WE INTERUPT THIS MESSAGE
Is that even possible? I wonder about the validity of your argument.
Is that even possible? I wonder about the validity of your argument.
Is that even possible? I wonder about the validity of your argument.
This has been a test.
This has been a ‘test.’
This has been a test.
Is that even possible? I wonder about the validity of your argument.
Is that even possible? I wonder about the validity of your argument.
This has been a test.
This has been a ‘test.’
This has been a test.
CENSORED!
Oh, Sh*t!
Hah! You have no idea what that word is. It was censored. That crafty little asterisk is hiding the profanity! But I will tell you what it was! It is the word shit.
Hah! You have no idea what that word is. It was censored. That crafty little asterisk is hiding the profanity! But I will tell you what it was! It is the word shit.
1
Do not get me wrong; I understand what you are saying. I am just trying to figure out how we ended up here.
11.10.2009
MODERN LOSERS
Last week I was introduced to ABC's new comedy series, Modern Family. The show revolves around three 'modern' (read: somewhat more dysfunctional than, say, Who's the Boss?) families who are all related in some way, and it's shot exactly like The Office--single-camera mockumentary--which is the growing trend for a lot of new tv series (Parks and Recreation, Party Down, etc).
I was about three episodes in when I realised I couldn't figure out if I liked it or not. I mean, I found it amusing, and it had made me laugh out loud a few times, but there was something unsettling about it: I got a serious case of deja vu with each episode, like I had seen every joke and storyline before. It was riddled with so many familiar (maybe too familiar at times) tv tropes. And that's when I realised that it was just a remake of the myriad tv family sitcoms from the late 80s/early-to-late 90s. Some of the story lines seem lifted from previous episodes from earlier family sitcoms, and just modernized (with the way it was shot, with current pop culture references) to give it a fresh breath of air. For example, in the second episode, called The Bicycle Thief, the father from one of the families, Phil, from the Dunphy household, steals his son's (Luke's) unlocked bike to teach him a lesson, but--lo and behold--it turns out that it wasn't his son's bike, but some other boy's bike, which is very similar to Jessy stealing what he thought was Stephanie's unlocked bike in Full House in order to teach her a lesson.)
Then again, I could just borrow a fitting quote from South Park and say, "Simpson's did it!"
It also feels like there's a beat added after each joke where the laugh track would have come into play. For example (not verbatim):
Oh, haha, such the life as a modern family.
I find it kind of fitting that Ed O'Neill stars as the patriarch, as he has had a similar role in another dysfunctional family.
That said, it is funny, but funny in an all too familiar way.
I was about three episodes in when I realised I couldn't figure out if I liked it or not. I mean, I found it amusing, and it had made me laugh out loud a few times, but there was something unsettling about it: I got a serious case of deja vu with each episode, like I had seen every joke and storyline before. It was riddled with so many familiar (maybe too familiar at times) tv tropes. And that's when I realised that it was just a remake of the myriad tv family sitcoms from the late 80s/early-to-late 90s. Some of the story lines seem lifted from previous episodes from earlier family sitcoms, and just modernized (with the way it was shot, with current pop culture references) to give it a fresh breath of air. For example, in the second episode, called The Bicycle Thief, the father from one of the families, Phil, from the Dunphy household, steals his son's (Luke's) unlocked bike to teach him a lesson, but--lo and behold--it turns out that it wasn't his son's bike, but some other boy's bike, which is very similar to Jessy stealing what he thought was Stephanie's unlocked bike in Full House in order to teach her a lesson.)
Then again, I could just borrow a fitting quote from South Park and say, "Simpson's did it!"
It also feels like there's a beat added after each joke where the laugh track would have come into play. For example (not verbatim):
Claire (the mother in the Dunphy household): Alex, I thought I told you to tell your sister to come for breakfast.
Alex (while busy on her phone): I'll just text her
BEAT
Claire: Haley! That dress is too short!
Oh, haha, such the life as a modern family.
I find it kind of fitting that Ed O'Neill stars as the patriarch, as he has had a similar role in another dysfunctional family.
That said, it is funny, but funny in an all too familiar way.
10.16.2009
THIS IS IT: CARBON FOOTPRINTING LOSERS
So we all know about the 112-minute documentary about Michael Jackson's rehearsal footoge is coming out in a couple of weeks. The pre-sale tickets for this highly exploitative documentary have already broken records, bumping Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring from the number 25 spot in the Top-25 Advance Ticket Sellers of All-Time. And now the people behind the documentary are predicting a $250 million dollar haul in its first five days.
This got me thinking: not about how influential he was to the world or how people all over the world know his name, but rather how fucking big his carbon footprint must be.
Seeing as a carbon footprint is "the total set of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions caused directly and indirectly by an individual, organization, event or product," his footprint goes beyond all the obvious things like his private jet excursions and fancy neverlands and the like. There are so many material goods put into production because of him. Just one guy has spawned a plethora of, well, stuff. If someone really wanted to calculate the total number of GHGs in the atmosphere right now because of MJ, they'd have to go beyond the millions of albums created and sold because of him, beyond the number of sold-out concerts and the production that went into them (let's not forget the production that went into his elaborate music videos), and beyond all the gas that was burned-up for people buying the aforementioned albums and for the concert attendees to make it to his shows. So much energy went into creating figurines, clothing, memorabilia--just a bunch of shit. So much shit exists in this world because of him. He's on walls, lunchboxes, magnets, bedsheets, schoolbags, clothing, video games, not to mention all the things he's on that's currently residing in trash dumps.
Yes, he will be remembered for a long time. We have his GHGs to prove it.
This got me thinking: not about how influential he was to the world or how people all over the world know his name, but rather how fucking big his carbon footprint must be.
Seeing as a carbon footprint is "the total set of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions caused directly and indirectly by an individual, organization, event or product," his footprint goes beyond all the obvious things like his private jet excursions and fancy neverlands and the like. There are so many material goods put into production because of him. Just one guy has spawned a plethora of, well, stuff. If someone really wanted to calculate the total number of GHGs in the atmosphere right now because of MJ, they'd have to go beyond the millions of albums created and sold because of him, beyond the number of sold-out concerts and the production that went into them (let's not forget the production that went into his elaborate music videos), and beyond all the gas that was burned-up for people buying the aforementioned albums and for the concert attendees to make it to his shows. So much energy went into creating figurines, clothing, memorabilia--just a bunch of shit. So much shit exists in this world because of him. He's on walls, lunchboxes, magnets, bedsheets, schoolbags, clothing, video games, not to mention all the things he's on that's currently residing in trash dumps.
Yes, he will be remembered for a long time. We have his GHGs to prove it.
9.03.2009
FWD: FWD: FWD: LOSERS
Are sites like Twitter, Tumblr and, to an extent, Facebook and MySpace just glossy and hip tools designed to forward e-mails for Web 2.0? (Or is it Web 3.0? I can not keep track.)
Seriously. In lieu of the annoying >s and worthless comments that accompany each forwarded e-mail, you get a hipster in an avatar adding worthless comments to the 'amusing' or 'interesting' or 'thought-provoking' or 'must read' things that they found and are trying to share.
Yes, I know. I do it too.
Seriously. In lieu of the annoying >s and worthless comments that accompany each forwarded e-mail, you get a hipster in an avatar adding worthless comments to the 'amusing' or 'interesting' or 'thought-provoking' or 'must read' things that they found and are trying to share.
Yes, I know. I do it too.
9.02.2009
FOUR-LEGGED LOSER
All the four-legged wooden chair wanted to be was a super soft sofa when it grew up, just like the sofa in the room the two pieces of furniture shared. It waited for what seemed like wood-years (one wood year is approximately 14 human years) to enter sofa-puberty. The chair checked itself constantly to see if there was hair or wool or cotton where there was no hair or wool or cotton before. It also measured itself constantly, to see if it was beginning a growth spurt which would not end until it was the full-length of a sofa.
The chair was jealous of the sofa across the room. The sofa saw more ass than the chair could dream of. Day after day, anyone who entered the room would almost beeline towards the sofa. The only ass the chair saw were the stragglers, the ones who couldn't plant their ass on the sofa quick enough, or the ones who were ejected from the sofa by a seemingly patriarchal figure. The stragglers or the ejected didn't beeline towards the chair; they hung their heads in defeat and sauntered slowly towards the wooden chair. Once, just once did the chair want to feel like it was their first choice. And the chair thought that the only way this was going to happen was to become a sofa.
The chair was in for a rather large disappointment. Y'see, neither the lumberjacks who cut the wood down, nor the lumber store that filed the wood down, nor the designer who put the wood together, told the chair that the chair was only a chair, and would not be anything else but a chair.
The chair was jealous of the sofa across the room. The sofa saw more ass than the chair could dream of. Day after day, anyone who entered the room would almost beeline towards the sofa. The only ass the chair saw were the stragglers, the ones who couldn't plant their ass on the sofa quick enough, or the ones who were ejected from the sofa by a seemingly patriarchal figure. The stragglers or the ejected didn't beeline towards the chair; they hung their heads in defeat and sauntered slowly towards the wooden chair. Once, just once did the chair want to feel like it was their first choice. And the chair thought that the only way this was going to happen was to become a sofa.
The chair was in for a rather large disappointment. Y'see, neither the lumberjacks who cut the wood down, nor the lumber store that filed the wood down, nor the designer who put the wood together, told the chair that the chair was only a chair, and would not be anything else but a chair.
LOSERBOOK
I'm sure the feelings of the future children/pre-teens who've had their Facebook profiles set up by their newbie parents and/or who've had pictures posted on their parents' walls/albums will be akin to the grown-up Nirvana baby when they realise what their parents have done. Nude baby pictures in a family album tucked away for only family and close friends to see is one thing, but these parents are completely destroying their child's right to privacy by plastering would-be embarrassing photos on a medium that everyone can read. One might say, 'Oh, you could just configure the privacy settings so that's not the case,' but newbie parents aren't familiar with/don't care about that, as Lamebook.com has a few choice pictures of babies covered in their own shit in the midst of a diaper change and of babies breastfeeding on their front page already.
I'm sure all new parents want to show off their newborns because they're so proud and yadda yadda yadda (also see: 16 and Preggers), but I don't think using Facebook is the way to go, especially since anything and everything can be unearthed, or, rather, uninterneted these days. These kids are going to want their privacy when they're older, and I'm sure they don't want their friends in elementary and high school coming across these incriminating photos. It's been stated again and again that one has to be careful when showing their Facebook friends how big of a partier they are and the like because one must assume their prospective employer is going to do a Facebook check to see what they're really like outside the interview/application process. A picture here and there of someone toking up or doing a keg stand isn't going to bode well for their chances at getting hired. If, or, as it is the case these days, when these kids are being stalked by a frienemy, potential girlfriend or boyfriend, or ex-lover down the road, well, I'm sure you get the picture.
I'm sure all new parents want to show off their newborns because they're so proud and yadda yadda yadda (also see: 16 and Preggers), but I don't think using Facebook is the way to go, especially since anything and everything can be unearthed, or, rather, uninterneted these days. These kids are going to want their privacy when they're older, and I'm sure they don't want their friends in elementary and high school coming across these incriminating photos. It's been stated again and again that one has to be careful when showing their Facebook friends how big of a partier they are and the like because one must assume their prospective employer is going to do a Facebook check to see what they're really like outside the interview/application process. A picture here and there of someone toking up or doing a keg stand isn't going to bode well for their chances at getting hired. If, or, as it is the case these days, when these kids are being stalked by a frienemy, potential girlfriend or boyfriend, or ex-lover down the road, well, I'm sure you get the picture.
8.18.2009
MARIJUANA LOSERS
I happened to be in Seattle last weekend during their Hemp Festival. It was pretty busy, with a lot of youth adorning themselves with really tacky pot culture (GET IT?!). The one thing in stark contrast to similar festivals in Canada was no one dared smoked pot in public. In Canada, a large majority of the festival-goers smoke up in the open. I didn't smell any trace amounts of the would-be aromatic smoke wafting in the air as I darted in and out of the large crowd. Sad, that.
What I did see, however, was someone with bracelets on, being man-handled by an obvious undercover cop.
What I did see, however, was someone with bracelets on, being man-handled by an obvious undercover cop.
8.14.2009
MY FAVOURITE SCENES
My favourite scene from Uncle Buck has to be when he accidentally drops one of the expensive-looking china dishes from the shelf in his brother's house. Cigar in one hand, his free hand explores the decorative wall of plates. After the plate hits the ground and comes out miraculously unscathed, Uncle Buck picks up the plate and examines it. One could only assume his logical train of thought is something along the lines of:
How could one test out this theory? Thankfully a grand piano is in arm's reach, and a quick collision of the two objects will put an end to his flawed theory. The plate shatters, and he looks at the pieces with bewilderment.
Genius.
If it doesn't break from a 6-foot fall, it must be indestructible!
How could one test out this theory? Thankfully a grand piano is in arm's reach, and a quick collision of the two objects will put an end to his flawed theory. The plate shatters, and he looks at the pieces with bewilderment.
Genius.
BROKEBACK LOSERS
Brokeback Mountain really bothered me when it received a lot of critical acclaim. It was being heralded as groundbreaking cinema, and the last new place the Western could venture into. It also featured two hot young male actors having sex on screen.
The only reason this was harpooned to the front of the nominations in the Academy Awards was because big Hollywood names were playing fags (gay is the new retarded). Brokeback Mountain was received like it was the best thing since sliced bread, which is how a lot of people view the gay community. I’m not saying this is a bad thing necessarily, but it does put the community on some sort of novelty pedestal. Everyone wanted to show how tolerant they were of fags by showing love and admiration for this mediocre movie. (I’m not racist! I have black friends!)
It was really heavy handed at times. I mean, the last scene in the film really bothered me. The audience, while weeping uncontrollably, is shown a forlorn Heath Ledger, sitting (or standing? I can’t remember) idly in his trailer home. The last shot is of a small closet adjacent to an open window, which reveals a cascading field. Beautiful touch. I mean, really, give me a fucking break. I really wish the Simpson’s had Ralph explain to the audience what this all symbolized. It’s similar to the last shot in The Departed: it was only fitting that Ralph from the Simpson’s was even able to figure out what the rat meant.
The only reason this was harpooned to the front of the nominations in the Academy Awards was because big Hollywood names were playing fags (gay is the new retarded). Brokeback Mountain was received like it was the best thing since sliced bread, which is how a lot of people view the gay community. I’m not saying this is a bad thing necessarily, but it does put the community on some sort of novelty pedestal. Everyone wanted to show how tolerant they were of fags by showing love and admiration for this mediocre movie. (I’m not racist! I have black friends!)
It was really heavy handed at times. I mean, the last scene in the film really bothered me. The audience, while weeping uncontrollably, is shown a forlorn Heath Ledger, sitting (or standing? I can’t remember) idly in his trailer home. The last shot is of a small closet adjacent to an open window, which reveals a cascading field. Beautiful touch. I mean, really, give me a fucking break. I really wish the Simpson’s had Ralph explain to the audience what this all symbolized. It’s similar to the last shot in The Departed: it was only fitting that Ralph from the Simpson’s was even able to figure out what the rat meant.
CAPE LOSER
I'd love to see a remake of Cape Fear, but with all the male roles played by females, and vice versa. Even if the remake was done shot-for-shot, I think the change would add such an interesting element. Imagine a female face that reads I'm-going-to-kill-you-and-your-family-because-I-fucking-can peering into your soul, all the while sitting idly on a concrete fence outside your home. Maybe it's because I'm not used to female serial killers (not the same as the femme fatales), but I think that'd be truly frightening.
There aren't many films that have a female in the vicious, heartless, ruthless killer role. (The ones that come immediately to mind are few and far between: The first Friday the 13th and Monster.) There are others that do exist, but they have the female killer play by a different set of rules. I mean, there's Jennifer's Body, but one could argue that a) it's the demon who's possessing her that's doing all the killing and b) she uses her sexy charm to lure her prey into striking distance, and not brute physical force. All the Boys love Mandy Lane is similar, in that the female lead lures the boys with her sexiness to be slaughtered, and it's her male friend who does all the ruthless killing.
In this slasher gender equality equation, women are falling short as the killers in these films. So let's have more maniac females cuttin' throats and taking names.
There aren't many films that have a female in the vicious, heartless, ruthless killer role. (The ones that come immediately to mind are few and far between: The first Friday the 13th and Monster.) There are others that do exist, but they have the female killer play by a different set of rules. I mean, there's Jennifer's Body, but one could argue that a) it's the demon who's possessing her that's doing all the killing and b) she uses her sexy charm to lure her prey into striking distance, and not brute physical force. All the Boys love Mandy Lane is similar, in that the female lead lures the boys with her sexiness to be slaughtered, and it's her male friend who does all the ruthless killing.
In this slasher gender equality equation, women are falling short as the killers in these films. So let's have more maniac females cuttin' throats and taking names.
7.31.2009
300 LOSERS vs SAM RAIMI
I'll admit right here and now that I didn't enjoy 300. I found it lengthy and boring, and actually fell asleep in the theatre. (I awoke to find a severed head flying through the air, and then fell back asleep promptly as soon as the flying head became a rolling head.) I'm all for blood, violence, sex and nudity in my movies, but 300 wasn't able to combine these elements successfully into a saucy bloody sexy romp, and instead it was just a lot scantly clad Spartans conversing with each other with laughable dialogue* (one Spartan wished that he could've told his son he loved him before the son was beheaded and blah blah blah). The talking usually died down here and there for the stylised fight scenes to help further the plot. The movie played its cards right, however, with quotable movie lines--THIS. IS. SPARTAAAAAA!!! comes to mind immediately, but, really, that's the only thing that I can really remember from the movie. That's kind of sad seeing as it's a movie about an army of 300 buff Spartans flexing their sprayed-on abs going up against Xerxes's ginormous army.
If only Sam Raimi had a part in this...Oh, wait:
This right here is trailer for an upcoming series on Starz, called Spartacus: Blood and Sand. Here's the synopsis lifted from the series' website:
*I'm all for cheesy dialogue for campy movies, but this movie took itself pretty seriously.
If only Sam Raimi had a part in this...Oh, wait:
This right here is trailer for an upcoming series on Starz, called Spartacus: Blood and Sand. Here's the synopsis lifted from the series' website:
Betrayed by his country. Beaten into slavery. Reborn as a warrior. "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" is a graphic and visceral account of Rome’s most famous gladiator. When he’s separated from the love of his life, Spartacus is forced into the gruesome and bloodthirsty arena, where a grisly death is primetime entertainment. Spartacus must fight for survival, befriend his enemies and play politics in this new world of corruption, violence, sex and fame. He’ll be seduced by power and tormented by vengeance. But his passion will give him the strength to prevail over every obstacle, in this modern and uninhibited tale of death, honor and endurance.Graphic and visceral is pretty spot on from the looks of the trailer. Sam Raimi is my hero when it comes to awesome violence (see: the gumming of Alison Lohman by a gypsy in Drag me to Hell and the tree rape from The Evil Dead), and it looks like he went all out for this upcoming series. And if the copious amounts of blood and violence aren't enough, the trailer showcases a lot sex and nudity. And if that isn't enough, there are reports that the series will have a nude Lucy Lawless to boot. Who could ask for more?
*I'm all for cheesy dialogue for campy movies, but this movie took itself pretty seriously.
7.28.2009
INTERNSHITS
I really don't understand the point of working for free, yet there are a ton of people who are more than willing to do so. They're doing it for the experience--or so I'm told--in order to get their foot into whatever career they so desire. I've heard of people working for beer, but that's more understandable; it's something tangible. This so-called 'experience' is just another bullshit bullet point for someone's resume, which, I guess, makes them more desirable to a future employer because they're letting them know that they'll work for nothing if the need be.
I have gotten myself into a lot of debt already by obtaining a 'higher education,' and now I'm expected to work for free because I can buff up my resume with the experience? I can't afford that! I assume these people have trust funds or bank accounts with lots of money or what have you in order to survive the perils of working for free. I find it kind of odd that slaves (or unpaid interns) used to come from what was considered the lower echelon of society, but now it's the 'upper echelon of society' that's taking advantage of these supposed prestigious positions.
I have gotten myself into a lot of debt already by obtaining a 'higher education,' and now I'm expected to work for free because I can buff up my resume with the experience? I can't afford that! I assume these people have trust funds or bank accounts with lots of money or what have you in order to survive the perils of working for free. I find it kind of odd that slaves (or unpaid interns) used to come from what was considered the lower echelon of society, but now it's the 'upper echelon of society' that's taking advantage of these supposed prestigious positions.
JOBLESS IN (A CITY TWO HOURS FROM) SEATTLE
My last post is over two months old. What do I have to show for myself since that pathetic little entry? NOTHING. I have removed myself from Asia, and have settled--albeit temporarily--in a shitty suburb outside of Vancouver. I'm trying to get myself over to Toronto where I will undoubtedly feel more self-worth, but, as it stands, no one wants to hire a loser. I'm not going to blame myself, however; I'm going to blame the loser.
I comfort myself with the excessive use of mayonnaise in my food. I don't know what it is about the creamy white condimate that comforts me...maybe it's because mayonnaise is the loser amongst its condiment friends. Think about it: mayonnaise doesn't stand out on its own. Ketchup, mustard, relish--all have distinguishable flavours. And when they're added to a mixture of other foods and flavours, they stand out and make their presence known. What does mayonnaise do? Nothing. It assimilates all other flavours, carefully tiptoeing around my taste buds to make sure it reaches the back of the mouth undetected, untasted, unnoticed.
I comfort myself with the excessive use of mayonnaise in my food. I don't know what it is about the creamy white condimate that comforts me...maybe it's because mayonnaise is the loser amongst its condiment friends. Think about it: mayonnaise doesn't stand out on its own. Ketchup, mustard, relish--all have distinguishable flavours. And when they're added to a mixture of other foods and flavours, they stand out and make their presence known. What does mayonnaise do? Nothing. It assimilates all other flavours, carefully tiptoeing around my taste buds to make sure it reaches the back of the mouth undetected, untasted, unnoticed.
5.21.2009
LET LOSING DOGS LOSE
I'm a quarter of a century old, and I have nothing to show for it. In retaliation of my age, I created this blog just so I could bitch about the inane and superficial things that actually mean nothing to anyone else just so I could feel better about myself. I could cry into a cavern or over a lake and have it echo back to me just to prove that I'm alive...OR I could create a blog where my stupidity is everlasting.
I'm going to go with the latter because, hey, someone might enjoy this.
I'm going to go with the latter because, hey, someone might enjoy this.
4.09.2009
3.29.2009
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