Here's a running commentary that Mule and I managed to string together whilst also completing the necessary tasks our employer requires of us. It made for an interesting day.
Mule: Sin City… your number one pick, it would seem somebody has issued unresolved from the decade of Reagan
Harmon: That's one way to look at it yeah. You could argue that the stoic insanity of Reagan affected my movie-going tastes as a tot. You'd be wrong, but you could look at it that way. If you'll recall in my comments (I somehow found the time to comment on all the movies I saw) I did note that I didn't expect it to be my favorite of the year either. And while the movie is incredibly violent and equally grisly I would argue that the movie is so over the top in everything - violence/sexuality/language - that it would have been a disservice to the story to not go over the top with the violence. The reason why it was number 1 was because it was boldly original AND executed perfectly.
Other movies, like Walk the Line, were executed perfectly but not that original. We've all seen biopics by this point and they all, more or less, follow a similar structure. While Walk the Line pees on the shoes of Ray it's still in a story structure that we all understand immediately. I rewarded Sin City for stretching the norms a bit and trying to be something new. My only regret with my top 10 is that your favorite, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, should have been #4 on my list. It was definitely more original than 40 Year Old Virgin and deserved merit for it.
I really liked KKBB (obviously) but I don't think it was the best movie of the year. I wonder if you give it more credit because you discovered it and made all your friend's see it, thereby taking some quasi-ownership of the movie because everyone was indebted to you for making them see it. I thought it looked like a solid rental until Mule and his pom poms (one with Kiss Kiss and the other with Bang Bang written on it) came bouncing out. I'm still haunted by the cheerleader outfit by the way.
Mule: Wow, why don't you cry about it. Jerk.
Harmon: I've shed my last tear over that. So...Kung Fu Hustle....seriously. Top 10? I know you saw 12 non adult-themed movies this year but #8? I didn't even see it. The guy's first attempt at a film over here, Shaolin Soccer, was one of the worst uses of 90 minutes in my life. And I can waste time with the best of 'em. Why not just put Pokemon 3 in your top 10 and let everyone know that you have no taste. It's essentially the same thing.
Mule: Unfortunatly for you, but fortunate for those of us that understand humor, the movie was very good. Very original and gave good nods to such actors that would be unbeknowst to you as Buster Keaton, Bugs Bunny and Kung Fu flicks. But of course these weren't summer blockbusters from last year, so I can see how you'd overlook them.
Harmon: Actually I'm a big fan of Buster Keaton, but why watch something derivative when you can watch the real thing? I also like Bugs and I watched so many kung fu flicks as a kid that I got all the way down the list to American Ninja 4 before I realized I was watching them out of habit and had run out of all the good stuff from overseas. Let's face it though, if some MTV video director from Ohio had made this movie you'd be complaining about all the stupid, unnecessary action and lame camera work. But because it's from a foreign land it immediately has the air of authenticity when it doesn't deserve it. You probably think people in Australia all say "g'day mate" and drink Fosters just because that's how they're marketed here in the states. Open your eyes. See. Think for yourself. You don't have to buy the hype. And for someone who thinks I just love summer blockbusters you may want to look at my top 10. There isn't one in there. I like movies. And I only care about whether they do what they say they're going to do. Armaggedon didn't suck because it was a summer blockbuster, it sucked because it was a stupid story directed by a guy who seems like he parties a bit too much with Bruckheimer. Help me out with the Wedding Crashers thing. I liked it and I laughed, but not nearly enough. The theatre I was in was packed but there were very few laughs, hardly any of the kind that make you slap your buddy and give that "this is awesome" look to.
Mule: When you're wrong your wrong and you… you're always wrong. And because you didn't see the movie you don't understand, close minded individual that you are. I enjoyed the Wedding Crashers and didn't see 40 year old virgin, though I did hear it was excellent. Wedding Crashers was funny cos, well, we've all been there before, drunk at some party you didn't know anybody at and yet… I don't know I found it to be more of a documentary than a comedy. And Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was the best movie of the year, regardless of the fact that I was pleasantly surprised by it. It was an original, dark comedy. Dark comedys that are well done, should deserve to be the best picture of the year, every year.
Harmon: Dark comedies are very difficult to pull off and usually great if done right, but I don't know if that's enough. I like that I'm considered close minded because I have seen other films by Stephen Chow and not liked them but you're not close minded for saying all blockbusters suck. Most of them do suck, but, speaking to someone who is all fired up about X3, I think it's a little ridiculous. Most movies in general are bad or they don't appeal to a certain audience or there is another reason why they're not worth seeing. I only saw 25 movies this year. Only twice a month did I think it was worth it to trek out to the theatre to see something. That's not much.
Mule: Well, duh… American cinema is pretty much dead, which is another point I've proven and you've now made for me. Making me the smartest man ever. The only reason why people even watch your precious little Oscars is because they want to cheer for a movie. And the only movies that get considered are your precious little blockbusters.
Harmon: And I thought I didn't do any research. For the first time in history the movies nominated for Golden Globes were not big successes at the box office. None of them were. American Cinema is alive and still dominating just as it has for just about forever. And here's why, we put out more movies than any other country. When you have that kind of quantity plenty of them will be bad. It's a completely different atmosphere. But I'm going to give you a little insight into the Hollywood process because it's obvious you have no idea how it works. You rail away on all these evil Hollywood blockbusters all the time but you ought to love them. They're the reason your little indie-esque movies get made. You think Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is being made if the studio hasn't already made $100 million on one of their evil blockbusters? It doesn't happen if all the studios focus on are small, artistic movies with limited appeal. Sure the small movies tend to be better aesthetically but that doesn't stop people from lining up for Spiderman 2 does it? No, and it shouldn't. With the money the studios make off the big blockbusters they can afford to take a risk on Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Heck, Shane Black, the writer/director of KKBB made his money off of the Lethal Weapon movies and The Last Boyscout and Long Kiss Goodnight. So, other than the fact that he really likes the letter L what does that tell us? Would he have made this movie if he didn't have the prior success with his evil blockbusters? No. It's all part of a chain, William H Macy takes a small role in an action movie, makes $5 million and turns that around and buys a screenplay he likes and co-produces it and voila we have a nice little movie out of it. Everybody wins. Stop bitching about the blockbusters and start realizing they're all part of the cycle.
Mule: I'm going to be honest, I didn't read the last rebuttal, I'm sure it was insightful. What movies were nominated for the Golden Globes; so that I might be offended.
Harmon: I have no idea. I was counting on you not knowing anything about them, I didn't think you'd call me on it. I waste hours surfing the net at work but I've never been so bored that I would need to check out the Golden Globes nominees. I think it's time we hang this up. We've managed to bore ourselves.
Mule: Well, I'm still going strong and fortunately the logical conclusion has been reached. My picks are correct, and you are fucking moron.
Harmon: ...and yet I can string together a full sentence without missing any words. Curious. Well my boss is letting me go home early so nuts to you.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Mule's Correct Picks for Movie of the Year
I do not consider myself to be a film buff, however I do enjoy going to films. The notion of owning movies or DVD's is an act that is completely lost on me. I'm a book owner and while I can appreciate the irony of my statement when put into the context of books, I somehow feel more comfortable surrounded by books than by DVD's. My notion of cinema isn't strictly due to something as deep and complex as thinking that my imagination is fantastic and books allow me to take off and find new worlds; no, my dislike for DVD's is actually far shallower than that. I really don't like standing up, removing the DVD from the case, putting the DVD into the DVD player, then waiting for the menu to come up followed by the frustrations of trying to move the stupid cursor over the stupid piece that I wish to hit.
That said, the military operation that comes into the act of going to the theater seems like an act of God. But, nonetheless here is the list that I found myself at this year. I enjoyed all of them, some more than others, hence the list in descending order with one being the best and ten being still a solid movie, but not the favorite. Or, in better English, you're all winners, some of you just won more than others. Regardless, below is the correct list of the best movies this year.
10 Wallace and Grommit
9 Sin City
From the storytelling aspect, I've always been a big fan of this book. And this was, without a doubt one of the best adaptations from book to movie that has ever been done. Why more movies don't use comics as a storyboard, or why they don't try to emulate the stories that are good, that have already been written down is a mystery to me. This is a violent comic, a violent movie. And that's my problem with it. I don't want to come across as a bleeding heart liberal that doesn't appreciate violence but... So much of the beautiful art of the movie is lost in the violence that continues to hit the audience over the head with a sledge hammer.
8 Kung Fu Hustle
7 Constantine
6 Wedding Crashers
5 Syriana
4 Goodnight and, Good luck
3 Walk the Line
2 Batman Begins
This is the greatest comic book movie ever made, and it's because they didn't make a comic book movie. This movie made good on all of the promises that were given to us with X-Men. Batman has never really been a superhero, at least not in the classic sense of the word. He's always served as the anti-superhero, a normal person but much more disciplined. This movie captured the spirit of humanity more perfectly than any other superhero movie ever made. The ensemble cast worked well together, none of them seeking to one up the other, but all of them playing the roles that were given to them.
1. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Simply put: an amazing collection of great things all put together into one movie. Discovering this movie was like finding plutonium, by accident. It's such a combination of all of my favorite things, violence, comedy, violence. Dark comedy is such a difficult art to do right and most writers and film makers are wise enough to stay clear of it. This movie does hit it on the head though and will be one of the few DVD's that will find it's way into my collection.
That said, the military operation that comes into the act of going to the theater seems like an act of God. But, nonetheless here is the list that I found myself at this year. I enjoyed all of them, some more than others, hence the list in descending order with one being the best and ten being still a solid movie, but not the favorite. Or, in better English, you're all winners, some of you just won more than others. Regardless, below is the correct list of the best movies this year.
10 Wallace and Grommit
9 Sin City
From the storytelling aspect, I've always been a big fan of this book. And this was, without a doubt one of the best adaptations from book to movie that has ever been done. Why more movies don't use comics as a storyboard, or why they don't try to emulate the stories that are good, that have already been written down is a mystery to me. This is a violent comic, a violent movie. And that's my problem with it. I don't want to come across as a bleeding heart liberal that doesn't appreciate violence but... So much of the beautiful art of the movie is lost in the violence that continues to hit the audience over the head with a sledge hammer.
8 Kung Fu Hustle
7 Constantine
6 Wedding Crashers
5 Syriana
4 Goodnight and, Good luck
3 Walk the Line
2 Batman Begins
This is the greatest comic book movie ever made, and it's because they didn't make a comic book movie. This movie made good on all of the promises that were given to us with X-Men. Batman has never really been a superhero, at least not in the classic sense of the word. He's always served as the anti-superhero, a normal person but much more disciplined. This movie captured the spirit of humanity more perfectly than any other superhero movie ever made. The ensemble cast worked well together, none of them seeking to one up the other, but all of them playing the roles that were given to them.
1. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Simply put: an amazing collection of great things all put together into one movie. Discovering this movie was like finding plutonium, by accident. It's such a combination of all of my favorite things, violence, comedy, violence. Dark comedy is such a difficult art to do right and most writers and film makers are wise enough to stay clear of it. This movie does hit it on the head though and will be one of the few DVD's that will find it's way into my collection.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
HARMON'S TOP 10...
...movies of the year.
It was hard cutting this list down to a top 10. I know you're thinking, how did you do it Harmon? What were the many issues you faced in making your decisions? Please inform us forthwith!
So! The issues. The number one issue being that there were barely 10 movies worth seeing this year, so rating them is kind of ridiculous. For every solid if unspectacular CRASH there were 10 DUKES OF HAZZARDS. It was...unfortunate. I mean, if you only see 12 movies then the 10th movie in your top ten is something you probably rented on a Thursday night in August when you had a cold. It's not exactly worthy of much regard. This was the year in disappointment actually. The roster of movies looked solid with a few major releases to be excited about. Much like a KC Royals fan in spring training I was optimistic despite several reasons why I should not have been. Almost all of the movies this year disappointed in one manner or another.
The worst offenders in disappointment (does that make sense?) were THE CORPSE BRIDE, THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY, WAR OF THE WORLDS (of which I heard the most ridiculous complaint OF ALL TIME - more on that later) and THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA -THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE I'M BORED WITH YOU. They all failed to live up to what they should have been. Not the media hype or anything outside the borders of the movie screen either. I'm talking about what they could control. If you're going to make a romantic comedy at least try to make it as good as WHEN HARRY MET SALLY or NEXT STOP WONDERLAND. Oh, and stop casting J.Lo, she can't act or sing, and while it's impressive that she makes a living singing and acting despite the absences of these skills it's still pretty boring to watch. If you're going to make a comedy have some balls and make SPINAL TAP or something equally unique and daring. Those movies were good because they were honest about what they wanted and then they executed it to perfection. NARNIA failed because it tried to act like it lived in a world where moviegoers hadn't seen the LORD OF THE RINGS films. LOTR was many things but mostly it was an epic story that was okay with being an EPIC STORY! NARNIA wants to be a small character study but failed to notice that it lacked any interesting characters.
THE CORPSE BRIDE, with talent ungodly, couldn't get off the ground. Johnny Depp? Wasted. Helena Bonham Carter? Bored. Danny Elfman? Muted. The Remains of Tim Burton? Rotted. I'm a huge Burton fan but this was the most underwhelming movie of his in a long time, maybe ever. And yes that includes Planet of the Apes. I didn't want to blame him for that movie sucking, it wasn't his material after all, but maaaaaaan did CORPSE BRIDE let me down. HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE and WAR OF THE WORLDS both failed because of their respective histories. The GUIDE was always an overly literal, wordplayish, goofy English time that read well on the page, but the overall movie was boring AND rushed. It's not easy to bore people when you're running all over the place but nevertheless they pulled it off. Disappointing too in that I like the lead guy from the UK Office, I like Mos Def, and I like Zooey Deschanel, I just hope they can find their way to better material in the future. Yes, me, random blogger, is concerned about their welfare. It's touching, no?
WAR OF THE WORLDS of course has it's own history to deal with, one that I thought everyone knew about. I mean, the radio drama was amazing. I don't have much else to add on this except that one guy in the theatre stated the following after the aliens died due to our atmosphere. "Whaaaaaaat? Honey what killed 'em? Why they dyin'?" Seriously he must live in the sweetest cave ever because he never leaves the thing.
NARNIA was also a disappointment because, call me crazy, but a mystical land with magic and talking animals and whatnot ought to feel...I dunno...magical? The film made it seem like the kids were playing checkers in the park with a wino. Not the safest thing to do but not that risky either.
Some notables that just missed the cut. I don't know why I mention them, it's not like they can work harder and move up the list.
Crash - I felt like I was being preached to. Excellent cast, excellent ideas, but it seemed more like one person talking than a bunch of individual characters.
Star Wars III - Darth Vader stumbling about like Frankenstein and letting out a ridiculous bellow? Noooooooooooooooooo.
Wedding Crashers - So close to excellent and yet a bit short. I like that they ushered in the R rated comedy season again but this could have been much better.
and now to the list...
10 - CONSTANTINE. I didn't expect much of this movie. But you combine the occult, Keanu and Rachel Weisz and you get a pretty sweet little 2 hours. Also, Djimon Hounsou (love him in everything) was great as Papa Midnight.
9 - MARCH OF THE PENGUINS. I have a thing for penguins. If I were to attempt to live with any grouping of animals it would probably be penguins. I know they smell terrible and there's that whole living either in the ocean or Antarctica (neither of which I am designed for) but man they're cool. You haven't lived until you've seen thousands of penguins walking in a line of 2 or 3 across, their heads swaying ridiculously from side to side. Their story is amazing and you won't be disappointed. What they do to survive is...well...it's fucking preposterous. I don't want to ruin it for you, just check it out.
8 - King Kong. Huge sections of this movie were excellent and it had a chance at the number one spot for a while. But then self awareness set in. They didn't want Jack Black going all Tenacious D so they rein him in to the point where he's boring. It's a good thing Kong was so dynamic and bombastic because the humans in this movie were all wallflowers. Special shout out to Naomi Watts for being the 2nd most beautiful woman on the planet. One side note as well, one that kind of scares me actually, the script goes out of it's way to avoid cliches and cheesy popcorn movie acting. It succeeds. But it also felt a little hollow because of it. There just wasn't much going on (and therefore much to like) when Kong was offscreen.
7 - Syriana. There's a scene where Matt Damon's character is talking to a Prince from the Middle East. They discuss the past, present and future of the western world's perception of the Middle East. It's one of the 5 best scenes I've had the pleasure of watching in my life. The background story is complex and I won't go into it here but it's fascinating to watch these two men from different backgrounds come to terms with each other and their roles in the world.
6 - Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Ridiculously well done. I happen to know a few professional puppet/clay/etc animators (who doesn't really?) and even they are in shock at how good Nick Park and his team is. Best "family" movie of the year.
5 - Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Surprise of the year. Robert Downey Jr and Val Kilmer rock out with their cocks out in this one. A near-parody of the action genre that happens to be a damn good time. It was so good that most people never even bothered to check it out. Shane Black wrote and directed this film that openly mocks yet somehow evokes the best out of his past. Black was the screenwriter for the Lethal Weapon movies, Last Boy Scout and others. He knows action. He knows how to flip a coin too and show the other side of it. 100% awesome.
4 - 40 Year Old Virgin. I've been a fan of Steve Carell since the Daily Show days but he takes it up a notch here. And The Little Lady loves Catherine Keener so it was an easy sell. Damn funny movie, much better than Wedding Crashers (which got high rankings for being unabashedly R rated and therefore showing a lot of fake breasts landing on beds). Nothing wrong with that, but the Virgin was flat out funnier. "Know how I know you're gay? You like coldplay."
3 - Batman Begins. This deserves it's own column. An excellent cast and a very realistic approach could save the Batman franchise. Thank God. This is the best superhero movie ever made. Period. And for making us wait so damn long can someone go smack the holy hell out of Joel Schumacher for nearly burying this franchise? Even my wife was sitting there going "oh, this is cool, why didn't they mention he trained with ninjas and stuff in the other movies?". Great movie.
2 - Walk the Line. I don't normally care about awards ceremonies. But for some reason I still get a little tinkle in my heart for the Oscars and I hope they honor those who deserve it. If Joaquin and Reese (who I didn't even like prior to this film) don't win best Actor and Actress awards for their work in this film than there is a Mountain-sized agenda going on in Hollywood. Plus, Johnny Cash is one of the 5 coolest humans ever, so anything honoring him in any way is completely acceptable.
1 - Sin City. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I usually don't go in for all the Rodriguez and Tarantino bullshit. They're normally very good to excellent but they miss the point more often than not. This movie is mostly Rodriguez but due to their friendship it's hard to separate them at this point. This time they use all their bravado to excellent effect. Rodriguez (and Frank Miller) pull off the most faithful adaptation of a comic to film ever. And they reap the rewards because of it. I've never seen a movie quite like this before. Completely over the top, completely draped in beautiful lighting and the occasional color for effect. Great cast, great script, great visuals. And the perspectives on some of the scenes (many taken directly from the comic book) are heartbreakingly good. Looks better than anything coming out of Asia these days (House of Flying Daggers, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, etc) but the story is actually engrossing too. I grew up watching Mike Hammer detective shows on late night with my older brother and I'll always have a thing for the hardboiled language of the noir or noir-esque films. This movie's got it all. I'd say it's a film noir on steroids but then I'd have to slap myself, and I'm not a slapper.
It was hard cutting this list down to a top 10. I know you're thinking, how did you do it Harmon? What were the many issues you faced in making your decisions? Please inform us forthwith!
So! The issues. The number one issue being that there were barely 10 movies worth seeing this year, so rating them is kind of ridiculous. For every solid if unspectacular CRASH there were 10 DUKES OF HAZZARDS. It was...unfortunate. I mean, if you only see 12 movies then the 10th movie in your top ten is something you probably rented on a Thursday night in August when you had a cold. It's not exactly worthy of much regard. This was the year in disappointment actually. The roster of movies looked solid with a few major releases to be excited about. Much like a KC Royals fan in spring training I was optimistic despite several reasons why I should not have been. Almost all of the movies this year disappointed in one manner or another.
The worst offenders in disappointment (does that make sense?) were THE CORPSE BRIDE, THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY, WAR OF THE WORLDS (of which I heard the most ridiculous complaint OF ALL TIME - more on that later) and THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA -THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE I'M BORED WITH YOU. They all failed to live up to what they should have been. Not the media hype or anything outside the borders of the movie screen either. I'm talking about what they could control. If you're going to make a romantic comedy at least try to make it as good as WHEN HARRY MET SALLY or NEXT STOP WONDERLAND. Oh, and stop casting J.Lo, she can't act or sing, and while it's impressive that she makes a living singing and acting despite the absences of these skills it's still pretty boring to watch. If you're going to make a comedy have some balls and make SPINAL TAP or something equally unique and daring. Those movies were good because they were honest about what they wanted and then they executed it to perfection. NARNIA failed because it tried to act like it lived in a world where moviegoers hadn't seen the LORD OF THE RINGS films. LOTR was many things but mostly it was an epic story that was okay with being an EPIC STORY! NARNIA wants to be a small character study but failed to notice that it lacked any interesting characters.
THE CORPSE BRIDE, with talent ungodly, couldn't get off the ground. Johnny Depp? Wasted. Helena Bonham Carter? Bored. Danny Elfman? Muted. The Remains of Tim Burton? Rotted. I'm a huge Burton fan but this was the most underwhelming movie of his in a long time, maybe ever. And yes that includes Planet of the Apes. I didn't want to blame him for that movie sucking, it wasn't his material after all, but maaaaaaan did CORPSE BRIDE let me down. HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE and WAR OF THE WORLDS both failed because of their respective histories. The GUIDE was always an overly literal, wordplayish, goofy English time that read well on the page, but the overall movie was boring AND rushed. It's not easy to bore people when you're running all over the place but nevertheless they pulled it off. Disappointing too in that I like the lead guy from the UK Office, I like Mos Def, and I like Zooey Deschanel, I just hope they can find their way to better material in the future. Yes, me, random blogger, is concerned about their welfare. It's touching, no?
WAR OF THE WORLDS of course has it's own history to deal with, one that I thought everyone knew about. I mean, the radio drama was amazing. I don't have much else to add on this except that one guy in the theatre stated the following after the aliens died due to our atmosphere. "Whaaaaaaat? Honey what killed 'em? Why they dyin'?" Seriously he must live in the sweetest cave ever because he never leaves the thing.
NARNIA was also a disappointment because, call me crazy, but a mystical land with magic and talking animals and whatnot ought to feel...I dunno...magical? The film made it seem like the kids were playing checkers in the park with a wino. Not the safest thing to do but not that risky either.
Some notables that just missed the cut. I don't know why I mention them, it's not like they can work harder and move up the list.
Crash - I felt like I was being preached to. Excellent cast, excellent ideas, but it seemed more like one person talking than a bunch of individual characters.
Star Wars III - Darth Vader stumbling about like Frankenstein and letting out a ridiculous bellow? Noooooooooooooooooo.
Wedding Crashers - So close to excellent and yet a bit short. I like that they ushered in the R rated comedy season again but this could have been much better.
and now to the list...
10 - CONSTANTINE. I didn't expect much of this movie. But you combine the occult, Keanu and Rachel Weisz and you get a pretty sweet little 2 hours. Also, Djimon Hounsou (love him in everything) was great as Papa Midnight.
9 - MARCH OF THE PENGUINS. I have a thing for penguins. If I were to attempt to live with any grouping of animals it would probably be penguins. I know they smell terrible and there's that whole living either in the ocean or Antarctica (neither of which I am designed for) but man they're cool. You haven't lived until you've seen thousands of penguins walking in a line of 2 or 3 across, their heads swaying ridiculously from side to side. Their story is amazing and you won't be disappointed. What they do to survive is...well...it's fucking preposterous. I don't want to ruin it for you, just check it out.
8 - King Kong. Huge sections of this movie were excellent and it had a chance at the number one spot for a while. But then self awareness set in. They didn't want Jack Black going all Tenacious D so they rein him in to the point where he's boring. It's a good thing Kong was so dynamic and bombastic because the humans in this movie were all wallflowers. Special shout out to Naomi Watts for being the 2nd most beautiful woman on the planet. One side note as well, one that kind of scares me actually, the script goes out of it's way to avoid cliches and cheesy popcorn movie acting. It succeeds. But it also felt a little hollow because of it. There just wasn't much going on (and therefore much to like) when Kong was offscreen.
7 - Syriana. There's a scene where Matt Damon's character is talking to a Prince from the Middle East. They discuss the past, present and future of the western world's perception of the Middle East. It's one of the 5 best scenes I've had the pleasure of watching in my life. The background story is complex and I won't go into it here but it's fascinating to watch these two men from different backgrounds come to terms with each other and their roles in the world.
6 - Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Ridiculously well done. I happen to know a few professional puppet/clay/etc animators (who doesn't really?) and even they are in shock at how good Nick Park and his team is. Best "family" movie of the year.
5 - Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Surprise of the year. Robert Downey Jr and Val Kilmer rock out with their cocks out in this one. A near-parody of the action genre that happens to be a damn good time. It was so good that most people never even bothered to check it out. Shane Black wrote and directed this film that openly mocks yet somehow evokes the best out of his past. Black was the screenwriter for the Lethal Weapon movies, Last Boy Scout and others. He knows action. He knows how to flip a coin too and show the other side of it. 100% awesome.
4 - 40 Year Old Virgin. I've been a fan of Steve Carell since the Daily Show days but he takes it up a notch here. And The Little Lady loves Catherine Keener so it was an easy sell. Damn funny movie, much better than Wedding Crashers (which got high rankings for being unabashedly R rated and therefore showing a lot of fake breasts landing on beds). Nothing wrong with that, but the Virgin was flat out funnier. "Know how I know you're gay? You like coldplay."
3 - Batman Begins. This deserves it's own column. An excellent cast and a very realistic approach could save the Batman franchise. Thank God. This is the best superhero movie ever made. Period. And for making us wait so damn long can someone go smack the holy hell out of Joel Schumacher for nearly burying this franchise? Even my wife was sitting there going "oh, this is cool, why didn't they mention he trained with ninjas and stuff in the other movies?". Great movie.
2 - Walk the Line. I don't normally care about awards ceremonies. But for some reason I still get a little tinkle in my heart for the Oscars and I hope they honor those who deserve it. If Joaquin and Reese (who I didn't even like prior to this film) don't win best Actor and Actress awards for their work in this film than there is a Mountain-sized agenda going on in Hollywood. Plus, Johnny Cash is one of the 5 coolest humans ever, so anything honoring him in any way is completely acceptable.
1 - Sin City. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I usually don't go in for all the Rodriguez and Tarantino bullshit. They're normally very good to excellent but they miss the point more often than not. This movie is mostly Rodriguez but due to their friendship it's hard to separate them at this point. This time they use all their bravado to excellent effect. Rodriguez (and Frank Miller) pull off the most faithful adaptation of a comic to film ever. And they reap the rewards because of it. I've never seen a movie quite like this before. Completely over the top, completely draped in beautiful lighting and the occasional color for effect. Great cast, great script, great visuals. And the perspectives on some of the scenes (many taken directly from the comic book) are heartbreakingly good. Looks better than anything coming out of Asia these days (House of Flying Daggers, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, etc) but the story is actually engrossing too. I grew up watching Mike Hammer detective shows on late night with my older brother and I'll always have a thing for the hardboiled language of the noir or noir-esque films. This movie's got it all. I'd say it's a film noir on steroids but then I'd have to slap myself, and I'm not a slapper.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Lacuna
Inside she thinks of herself as a superhero. Outside she orders a double soy latte with half shot vanilla and half shot almond. For the longest time she ordered a double soy latte with a shot of vanilla. But then a cute boy was in front of her. He complained to the girl behind the counter, the girl who has perky breasts and a knack of pointing them directly at her prey. He said that anybody who ordered just a vanilla shot is boring, You need more in your life than just vanilla.
The girl that thought of herself as a superhero considered this. She considered it from the aspect that perhaps her superhero powers derived from the double soy latte with a full shot of vanilla. She then thought she would never know unless she tried. If she left her drink what harm could it really do? Then she considered what would happen if her powers never came back.
But then the girl who thought of herself as a superhero saw one of the perky breasts wink at the cute boy in front of her. In that moment she determined she was willing to give up her superhero powers. That she would show that fucking bitch behind the counter. That the world might suffer, without her, and it would be all the girl with the perky breasts fault.
She didn't like the drink but now she drinks them all the time. She still doesn't know if it affected her superhero powers. She walked out of the coffee house and punched a bus. The bus didn't move, but that's never been her super power anyway.
The girl that thought of herself as a superhero considered this. She considered it from the aspect that perhaps her superhero powers derived from the double soy latte with a full shot of vanilla. She then thought she would never know unless she tried. If she left her drink what harm could it really do? Then she considered what would happen if her powers never came back.
But then the girl who thought of herself as a superhero saw one of the perky breasts wink at the cute boy in front of her. In that moment she determined she was willing to give up her superhero powers. That she would show that fucking bitch behind the counter. That the world might suffer, without her, and it would be all the girl with the perky breasts fault.
She didn't like the drink but now she drinks them all the time. She still doesn't know if it affected her superhero powers. She walked out of the coffee house and punched a bus. The bus didn't move, but that's never been her super power anyway.
Friday, December 23, 2005
What Everybody is Getting!!
Dad: 61*, The Dante Club (by Matthew Pearl) and The Rum Diary (by the good doctor)
Dad is generally a difficult character to spend for, prizing time spent together as a present the actual physical representation of a gift. And it was down that road that I was initially trotting. I did have a lovely postcard of Bob Dylan that I was going to give him with a promise that the two of us would breakfast together at the St. Croix Broiler. The Rum Diary was also part of the initially intended gift and one that still made the final list. It's always been a favorite book of mine and when young Thompson was still finding his voice by worshiping at the alter of Ernest Hemmingway. It's a pleasant little mixture between both of the writers. 61* has always been a favorite movie of mine, Billy Crystal does a superb job of capturing the spirit of baseball in 1961, before their were real free agents or huge contracts, back when they were just boys doing what they loved. Sure it's about the accursed Yankees and sure this was the beginning of the downfall of all of baseball as the Yankees began buying everybody, but a good movie nonetheless. Lastly, The Dante Club: admittedly an impulse buy and one that I have think that the old man has read, this is a rather large issue of concern, but a reason that the good folks of the retail world invented gift receipts. It should be fun, however, as it deals with somebody murdering people in ways inspired by Dante's Inferno. Dispatched to stop him are Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell and Fields. It seems like a pleasant mixture between the League of Extraordinary Gentleman and The Club Dumas.
Mom: The Forsyte Saga (by John Galsworthy)
Mom re-got back into this when the DVD version of PBS's series came out. It was a tough nut to crack as all three parts of the saga are not in print. It was a fun adventure, tooling through the crowded markets of St. Paul's used book stores, mostly in vain. Of course, I eventually tried Amazon, they had it, wasn't as much fun, but Mom gets her book. I guess everybody is a winner.
Sister: Firefly
She's always been a large fan of the work of Joss Wheadon, or however you spell his name. I recently watched the series, thought she would like it and acquired it on her behalf.
Megan: The Ground Beneath Her Feet (by Salmon Rushdie)
This was a princely find. I had the intention of buying this for her, but whilst in the trenches of my own saga revolving around Galsworthy's book, I stumbled upon a first edition, signed copy by Mr. Rushdie. I knew I had to have it. Then, in the ultimate spirit of Christmas, gave the book to her. She had best read it, though, or else there will be comeuppance… comeuppance of the utmost degree. It is one of my favorite books as it captures most of my loves: Rock and Roll and Greek mythology. That and the fact that Rushdie books should be read by anybody trying to diet as you could live off of the savory words that he combineds into sentences for weeks on end.
Ljay: Born to Run 30th Anniversary Collectors Edition (by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band)
I had been planning on buying her a copy of the Rum Diary as well, and had every intention of doing so. However, instead of going to Barnes and Noble's first, as I originally had intended, I stopped off at Target to pick up toothpaste and other products of a hygienic nature. Whilst there, the compulsion to peruse the CD section proved to be too much, and there it was. Something that had flown under my radar, but something beautiful nonetheless. In an attractive box set, there is a DVD of a concert in London, a DVD of making the album Born to Run as well as the digitally remastered album itself. It was a steal, a steal I say. I need to pick it up for myself, but I figure this will play well as a Christmas album, at the very least it will make for something to watch on Christmas Eve.
Betsy: The Polar Express
On her last night in Sane Paul, we watched it together and I figured the movie was so good that she might like the book. It's a fun book, beautiful illustrations and for anybody that's ever believed. I do feel terrible, though, as I actually had a bell that I wanted to attach to the present, and then, in a miscalculation, neglected to attach it to the wrapping. More presents for her later though.
Brandi: In place of the usual Christmas present, we're going to go out to a bar, get smashed and then go our separate ways… the spirit of Christmas lives on.
Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, a joyous Kwanza and a loud Festivus to all… and to all a guten nacht.
Mule
Dad is generally a difficult character to spend for, prizing time spent together as a present the actual physical representation of a gift. And it was down that road that I was initially trotting. I did have a lovely postcard of Bob Dylan that I was going to give him with a promise that the two of us would breakfast together at the St. Croix Broiler. The Rum Diary was also part of the initially intended gift and one that still made the final list. It's always been a favorite book of mine and when young Thompson was still finding his voice by worshiping at the alter of Ernest Hemmingway. It's a pleasant little mixture between both of the writers. 61* has always been a favorite movie of mine, Billy Crystal does a superb job of capturing the spirit of baseball in 1961, before their were real free agents or huge contracts, back when they were just boys doing what they loved. Sure it's about the accursed Yankees and sure this was the beginning of the downfall of all of baseball as the Yankees began buying everybody, but a good movie nonetheless. Lastly, The Dante Club: admittedly an impulse buy and one that I have think that the old man has read, this is a rather large issue of concern, but a reason that the good folks of the retail world invented gift receipts. It should be fun, however, as it deals with somebody murdering people in ways inspired by Dante's Inferno. Dispatched to stop him are Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell and Fields. It seems like a pleasant mixture between the League of Extraordinary Gentleman and The Club Dumas.
Mom: The Forsyte Saga (by John Galsworthy)
Mom re-got back into this when the DVD version of PBS's series came out. It was a tough nut to crack as all three parts of the saga are not in print. It was a fun adventure, tooling through the crowded markets of St. Paul's used book stores, mostly in vain. Of course, I eventually tried Amazon, they had it, wasn't as much fun, but Mom gets her book. I guess everybody is a winner.
Sister: Firefly
She's always been a large fan of the work of Joss Wheadon, or however you spell his name. I recently watched the series, thought she would like it and acquired it on her behalf.
Megan: The Ground Beneath Her Feet (by Salmon Rushdie)
This was a princely find. I had the intention of buying this for her, but whilst in the trenches of my own saga revolving around Galsworthy's book, I stumbled upon a first edition, signed copy by Mr. Rushdie. I knew I had to have it. Then, in the ultimate spirit of Christmas, gave the book to her. She had best read it, though, or else there will be comeuppance… comeuppance of the utmost degree. It is one of my favorite books as it captures most of my loves: Rock and Roll and Greek mythology. That and the fact that Rushdie books should be read by anybody trying to diet as you could live off of the savory words that he combineds into sentences for weeks on end.
Ljay: Born to Run 30th Anniversary Collectors Edition (by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band)
I had been planning on buying her a copy of the Rum Diary as well, and had every intention of doing so. However, instead of going to Barnes and Noble's first, as I originally had intended, I stopped off at Target to pick up toothpaste and other products of a hygienic nature. Whilst there, the compulsion to peruse the CD section proved to be too much, and there it was. Something that had flown under my radar, but something beautiful nonetheless. In an attractive box set, there is a DVD of a concert in London, a DVD of making the album Born to Run as well as the digitally remastered album itself. It was a steal, a steal I say. I need to pick it up for myself, but I figure this will play well as a Christmas album, at the very least it will make for something to watch on Christmas Eve.
Betsy: The Polar Express
On her last night in Sane Paul, we watched it together and I figured the movie was so good that she might like the book. It's a fun book, beautiful illustrations and for anybody that's ever believed. I do feel terrible, though, as I actually had a bell that I wanted to attach to the present, and then, in a miscalculation, neglected to attach it to the wrapping. More presents for her later though.
Brandi: In place of the usual Christmas present, we're going to go out to a bar, get smashed and then go our separate ways… the spirit of Christmas lives on.
Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, a joyous Kwanza and a loud Festivus to all… and to all a guten nacht.
Mule
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Anticipation
The wrapping paper, on gifts, seem to catch light off the Christmas tree better than anything else. In one manner of speaking, they are a direct reflection of the relationship with the person either receiving or giving the present. Not through any sort of monetary scale, not by anything that can be judged by anybody but the person that is receiving the gift but a reflection none the less.
It's what comes to mind during the waiting period. The time spent looking at the packages, wondering what is inside of them. When I was a child I'd insist on the presents being on the mantel a week before Christmas, just so you could eye them up; now that I've grown, some, I don't like them to be up there at all; they are too scarry.
I have a mutual hatred of both giving and receiving gifts. It's bad enough giving something to somebody else, putting the time into it, thinking about them, etcetera, but at least that is doable so long as they don't buy me anything. Not because I feel like I'm better than them, but at least I don't have to deal with the guilt of receiving whatever it is that they're going to give me.
Presents are guilt, plain and simple. They represent so much more when they're in their wrapped package. They could be anything at that time; they could be something like discovering a new color in your backyard, and staring at the new color, trying to comprehend it's newness as it gurgled in front of you.
There are, of course, those cynics out there, the ones that find deep psychological problems in people that don't want to open their presents. They believe that the people that don't want to open their presents don't want to face their problems. But isn't there something more to it than that. Isn't the belief that whatever is in that package could be the greatest gift in the world, that it is something that will complete you all the way, something that will console you.
Then again, isn't that the absolute meaning of Christmas.
It's what comes to mind during the waiting period. The time spent looking at the packages, wondering what is inside of them. When I was a child I'd insist on the presents being on the mantel a week before Christmas, just so you could eye them up; now that I've grown, some, I don't like them to be up there at all; they are too scarry.
I have a mutual hatred of both giving and receiving gifts. It's bad enough giving something to somebody else, putting the time into it, thinking about them, etcetera, but at least that is doable so long as they don't buy me anything. Not because I feel like I'm better than them, but at least I don't have to deal with the guilt of receiving whatever it is that they're going to give me.
Presents are guilt, plain and simple. They represent so much more when they're in their wrapped package. They could be anything at that time; they could be something like discovering a new color in your backyard, and staring at the new color, trying to comprehend it's newness as it gurgled in front of you.
There are, of course, those cynics out there, the ones that find deep psychological problems in people that don't want to open their presents. They believe that the people that don't want to open their presents don't want to face their problems. But isn't there something more to it than that. Isn't the belief that whatever is in that package could be the greatest gift in the world, that it is something that will complete you all the way, something that will console you.
Then again, isn't that the absolute meaning of Christmas.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Sweet Pagany Goodness
So...Still not a holiday. For this being the holiday season there sure seems to be a lack of holidays huh? I mean we're not trolling the depths of the abyss that is Memorial Day through the 4th of July but I haven't had a good holiday in weeks now. And today brings me nothing at all. Well, unless I was a pagan. If I was, well then I'd rock out with my dead animal horns out buddy!
Today's the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year (I hope this applies to how work will feel today). The solstice. A day for honoring the sun and, if feeling paganish, to worship it. I don't think the whole sun worshipping thing worked out here in minnesota thanks to the fact that we don't see the damn sun for 6 months of the year (and yes, I'm fully aware of the irony of complaining about a God you don't see). I picture some Egyptians around 400 b.c. traveling to north america and ending up sunning themselves by Lake Minnetonka on a beautiful August day. They would meet the native americans and after telling each other how sweet the other group's beads were the Egyptians would try to explain Ra the Sun God and all of the native minnesotans would look at them and then finally, after a long silence the chief would say. "tell you what, you just wait here a little while". September would come and go and the Egyptians would keep on pushing the good book of Ra. They would make noodles out of the grains and eat meals together. And then October would come and the Egyptians would start sporting beaver pelts and matching hats and they'd still keep on cooking up those noodles and pitching Ra. Then november and more beaver pelts and less pitching of the idea of Ra due to the cold. Then December and so on. Around February the followers of Ra would throw their hands up in disgust, agree with the natives that they were never there, and head back home. Well, they'd have to wait thru March until everything thawed out, they didn't want to get their pelts all slushy in the melting snow. The Egyptians were finally tired of this cold land and missed their womenfolk so they headed back and no one in history would have known they were there except for one minor detail. The natives would remember the salty noodles that the Egyptians had made and pass them on to their descendents. They needed a simple, cheap food that their children could eat while they went off to the woods for 4 years to learn about life and become knowledgeable hunters. The natives had called the followers of Ra the Ra-men, and that's how we got salty noodles with no nutritional value. They had come to pass along their religion and they were remembered only for their oddly tasty but completely unhealthy food. And that's one to grow on.
So let's take this day and celebrate the fallen pagan holidays, even if they don't really apply to who we are or what we believe. Heck, other than the solstices we have 361 days to celebrate Christianity totally working over the Pagans in every fashion. They can have their one day in the sun.
Today's the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year (I hope this applies to how work will feel today). The solstice. A day for honoring the sun and, if feeling paganish, to worship it. I don't think the whole sun worshipping thing worked out here in minnesota thanks to the fact that we don't see the damn sun for 6 months of the year (and yes, I'm fully aware of the irony of complaining about a God you don't see). I picture some Egyptians around 400 b.c. traveling to north america and ending up sunning themselves by Lake Minnetonka on a beautiful August day. They would meet the native americans and after telling each other how sweet the other group's beads were the Egyptians would try to explain Ra the Sun God and all of the native minnesotans would look at them and then finally, after a long silence the chief would say. "tell you what, you just wait here a little while". September would come and go and the Egyptians would keep on pushing the good book of Ra. They would make noodles out of the grains and eat meals together. And then October would come and the Egyptians would start sporting beaver pelts and matching hats and they'd still keep on cooking up those noodles and pitching Ra. Then november and more beaver pelts and less pitching of the idea of Ra due to the cold. Then December and so on. Around February the followers of Ra would throw their hands up in disgust, agree with the natives that they were never there, and head back home. Well, they'd have to wait thru March until everything thawed out, they didn't want to get their pelts all slushy in the melting snow. The Egyptians were finally tired of this cold land and missed their womenfolk so they headed back and no one in history would have known they were there except for one minor detail. The natives would remember the salty noodles that the Egyptians had made and pass them on to their descendents. They needed a simple, cheap food that their children could eat while they went off to the woods for 4 years to learn about life and become knowledgeable hunters. The natives had called the followers of Ra the Ra-men, and that's how we got salty noodles with no nutritional value. They had come to pass along their religion and they were remembered only for their oddly tasty but completely unhealthy food. And that's one to grow on.
So let's take this day and celebrate the fallen pagan holidays, even if they don't really apply to who we are or what we believe. Heck, other than the solstices we have 361 days to celebrate Christianity totally working over the Pagans in every fashion. They can have their one day in the sun.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
The Christmas Article
If you squish your eyes together it all looks like stars. Slowly the rest of the world is vacuumed out, the lights streak towards your eyes, your nostrils fill with the smell of dinner, spices and sweetness, the warmth of your dog resting in your lap and the sounds of Bing Crosby crooning about some White Christmas.
This is, at its' most beautiful, how I imagine Christmas. This romantic ideal of peace, love, contentedness, happiness. But while I was struggling to come up with what to write for the Christmas article, I found myself not able to think of a past Christmas, or at least a memorable one. Christmas is a rushed creature, a fat man of a holiday that you try to cram too many things into until it eventually explodes.
A friend of mine, one much more educated than myself, who actually listens to the radio for content, heard a report on what people remember Christmas by. Surprisingly, very few remember what gifts they received; people are more inclined to bring back memories of a Christmas than the booty they opened up. For instance: When Dad burned the Christmas goose and the family had to eat Lemon Chicken from the local Chinese restaurant; the year the cat knocked the ornaments off the tree, when the family was at the late service, and Mom was a little quieter; or the time that Grandpa got the Turkey just right, and it melted in your mouth, and nobody has been able to duplicate it since.
We live in a time when Christmas has become Black Friday. A day when the retail stores finally catch up on their fiscal promises and little Johnny gets the newest, the latest, the best of the best toy for the next five seconds. It is a day of gift cards because you don't know the person that you're buying the gift for well enough. It's a day of mailing packages so that you don't have to go see a relative. It's a day of gluttony, as we stuff our bellies so full of food that we bulge out, safe in the excuse that it's the Holidays and this is what we're supposed to do.
It's not that this is bad and I am, perhaps, the biggest hypocrite as I foresee little glasses of scotch parading down main street in my head as I wait in line, at the dollar dance, to go waltzing with the Hamm's bear, but there should be something more to this day. So, dear reader, go out, squish your eyes together and don't look for perfection, let it come to you. I guess that's the lesson in all of this and the miracle of Christmas.
This is, at its' most beautiful, how I imagine Christmas. This romantic ideal of peace, love, contentedness, happiness. But while I was struggling to come up with what to write for the Christmas article, I found myself not able to think of a past Christmas, or at least a memorable one. Christmas is a rushed creature, a fat man of a holiday that you try to cram too many things into until it eventually explodes.
A friend of mine, one much more educated than myself, who actually listens to the radio for content, heard a report on what people remember Christmas by. Surprisingly, very few remember what gifts they received; people are more inclined to bring back memories of a Christmas than the booty they opened up. For instance: When Dad burned the Christmas goose and the family had to eat Lemon Chicken from the local Chinese restaurant; the year the cat knocked the ornaments off the tree, when the family was at the late service, and Mom was a little quieter; or the time that Grandpa got the Turkey just right, and it melted in your mouth, and nobody has been able to duplicate it since.
We live in a time when Christmas has become Black Friday. A day when the retail stores finally catch up on their fiscal promises and little Johnny gets the newest, the latest, the best of the best toy for the next five seconds. It is a day of gift cards because you don't know the person that you're buying the gift for well enough. It's a day of mailing packages so that you don't have to go see a relative. It's a day of gluttony, as we stuff our bellies so full of food that we bulge out, safe in the excuse that it's the Holidays and this is what we're supposed to do.
It's not that this is bad and I am, perhaps, the biggest hypocrite as I foresee little glasses of scotch parading down main street in my head as I wait in line, at the dollar dance, to go waltzing with the Hamm's bear, but there should be something more to this day. So, dear reader, go out, squish your eyes together and don't look for perfection, let it come to you. I guess that's the lesson in all of this and the miracle of Christmas.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Holiday
I wish today was a holiday, unfortunately it's not. And until my employer starts celebrating Jean Genet's birthday I'll just have to expect to work every December 19th. I don't know who Jean Genet is either in case you're wondering. I've got a calendar from Half Price Books and it gives you birth dates of famous and semi-famous (or all together not famous) author's birthdays. It's pretty cool, although it is annoying that my calendar is clearly more well read than I am. It is pretty sweet when someone pisses me off though and I can, for instance, say that they just ruined Oliver LaFarge's birthday party. And no, I don't know who Ollie is either.
This is the week that we've all been waiting for. People start mailing it in at work, it's completely acceptable to eat sugar cookies in the shapes of trees and chocolates all day and chex mix is a valid lunchtime meal. It must be holiday time right? And, being that this is America and we're mostly Christian we like to celebrate the ol' Christmas. Everybody has their own way of doing it. My dad likes to have his family around, a turkey nearby and plenty of port wine for his Christmas experience. I'm totally on board with this idea. Other folks like to go out on the town and dress up and stuff. Or is that New Year's? Sometimes I get confused. Anywho, drinking copious amounts of wine and getting stuff from people is always a good time. True there is a movement to stop saying "Merry Christmas" and start saying "Happy Holidays". I'm mostly indifferent to this sort of thing. I don't think it's offensive to say "Merry Christmas" to someone who isn't Christian. And I sure as hell don't care if someone told me to have a happy Kwanzaa or Chanukah. In fact I think I would think it's pretty cool. No one has ever told me to have a happy Kwanzaa and to this point in my life I have not HAD a happy Kwanzaa. Are the two items related? Only time will tell.
I guess there was some questioning about whether Chanukah would be overshadowed by Christmas this year as they are (or begin) on the same day. No one has asked if Kwanzaa feels overshadowed by Boxing Day yet but I'm sure it's coming around for our northern neighbors. No one's ever wished me a happy Boxing Day either so I can't say I care who wins that fight. I don't know much about the two of them other than they generally include people who are not me and who do not look like me and I've never been invited to join in the fun. If anyone has an invite, I'm free. So this is the beginning of this great holy time. And yes, any time that I have off from work is considered holy. I will be celebrating Charles Sainte-Beuve's birthday this Friday for instance and taking the day off. I consider it very holy. And no, I don't know what Chuck has done to merit a spot on the coveted Half Price Books poster either.
New Feature!
There are many things in life that are so stupid and/or useless that I consider them 100% awesome. These sorts of things can't be hidden from the public viewing and I just have to talk about them when I think of it. So here you.
100% Awesome!
1. Here's an excerpt on the life of Jean Genet "He subsequently escaped the criminal world to become a writer, who glorified the underworld and homosexual love."
2. Why are there ladders on range rovers and some vans? How often are they used? Can you imagine a LandRover owner daring to get mud on their ladder? Wouldn't they have a fit?
3. While getting into Mule's truck the other day after work (he was giving me a lift to my car parked elsewhere in the lot) Eddie Money blasted out "Take me home tonight, I don't want to let you go til I see the light" as I got into the vehicle.
4. The look on our coworker's faces as they realized that Mule was giving me a ride roughly one level down on the ramp and I was too lazy to walk it and that we were happily listening to Eddie Money.
5. 4 day work week.
This is the week that we've all been waiting for. People start mailing it in at work, it's completely acceptable to eat sugar cookies in the shapes of trees and chocolates all day and chex mix is a valid lunchtime meal. It must be holiday time right? And, being that this is America and we're mostly Christian we like to celebrate the ol' Christmas. Everybody has their own way of doing it. My dad likes to have his family around, a turkey nearby and plenty of port wine for his Christmas experience. I'm totally on board with this idea. Other folks like to go out on the town and dress up and stuff. Or is that New Year's? Sometimes I get confused. Anywho, drinking copious amounts of wine and getting stuff from people is always a good time. True there is a movement to stop saying "Merry Christmas" and start saying "Happy Holidays". I'm mostly indifferent to this sort of thing. I don't think it's offensive to say "Merry Christmas" to someone who isn't Christian. And I sure as hell don't care if someone told me to have a happy Kwanzaa or Chanukah. In fact I think I would think it's pretty cool. No one has ever told me to have a happy Kwanzaa and to this point in my life I have not HAD a happy Kwanzaa. Are the two items related? Only time will tell.
I guess there was some questioning about whether Chanukah would be overshadowed by Christmas this year as they are (or begin) on the same day. No one has asked if Kwanzaa feels overshadowed by Boxing Day yet but I'm sure it's coming around for our northern neighbors. No one's ever wished me a happy Boxing Day either so I can't say I care who wins that fight. I don't know much about the two of them other than they generally include people who are not me and who do not look like me and I've never been invited to join in the fun. If anyone has an invite, I'm free. So this is the beginning of this great holy time. And yes, any time that I have off from work is considered holy. I will be celebrating Charles Sainte-Beuve's birthday this Friday for instance and taking the day off. I consider it very holy. And no, I don't know what Chuck has done to merit a spot on the coveted Half Price Books poster either.
New Feature!
There are many things in life that are so stupid and/or useless that I consider them 100% awesome. These sorts of things can't be hidden from the public viewing and I just have to talk about them when I think of it. So here you.
100% Awesome!
1. Here's an excerpt on the life of Jean Genet "He subsequently escaped the criminal world to become a writer, who glorified the underworld and homosexual love."
2. Why are there ladders on range rovers and some vans? How often are they used? Can you imagine a LandRover owner daring to get mud on their ladder? Wouldn't they have a fit?
3. While getting into Mule's truck the other day after work (he was giving me a lift to my car parked elsewhere in the lot) Eddie Money blasted out "Take me home tonight, I don't want to let you go til I see the light" as I got into the vehicle.
4. The look on our coworker's faces as they realized that Mule was giving me a ride roughly one level down on the ramp and I was too lazy to walk it and that we were happily listening to Eddie Money.
5. 4 day work week.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Mailbag!!!
Welcome to the mailbag. This is a mailed in version of an article that is used in lieu of actually writing something meaningful. It is also offers an opportunity for those of you that canÂ’t speak your thoughts during the week. To make your opinion known, email badmothercoitus@yahoo.com with your question and your name and city and state youÂ’re from. Here are real letters from real people, that really read this.
Jackass,
Fuck you guys. why won't you let me back on to post? I went into my login thing and it wouldn't let me in. I totally know you guys blocked me out. What's the deal? Did Harmon do it? Whys he always got a stick up his ass anyways, I'm justrainin to have some fun. You guys need to get out and get laid by some sweetass chicks. You should go to the triple rock with me instead of doing whatever gay ass stuff you guys have been up to. did you block me out? I know what my password is so I didn't forget it. I know you're gonna say I did but I didn't forget I know my shit.
Your blog thing is lame anyways so who care if you won't let me in? I'll just be off banging some chic instead of typing on a computer like you loosers. And seriously what the hell have you been writing about lately? You two going up on a mountain together? What's it called brokeback? fags. And Harmon ripping on me for being lame? god what a dick. Where' is he anyways, he won't call me back. And what's with his post about how long it takes to drive to work? You think people care? they don't care. They want to know where to find the hot chicks in this state. that should be the blog, just me telling dudes where to get the pussy in this town. I could put up links for my 'stang and tell chicks where to audition for one of my movies. You know I'm gonna make those movies. Jason's all set up to film it, he's really good with a camera too so don't laugh. We did some tests without the chick and it was awesome. Fuckin' Harmon. He doesn't know shit about what girls want. they should call him Do No Harm cuz that's what the girls say when they think of him. Hey, we should totally call him Harm, it's like a double meaning y'know? So do you think the dipshit will let me post again? I just want to help you guys out man.
Hey, before I go I gotta tell ya I'm taking that vaca. Fuckin tahiti and st. Juans and stuff, it's gonna be awesome. cruise with a bunch of ladies down in the pacific, shit yeah. maybe i'll email ya and show you what your missing.
Todd Dancer everybody. I am almost... completely... without words on how to write back to that... Actually the two of us met for drinks at Costello's last night and he told me he was going to do this. The most painful aspect, of the creature that is known as Todd, is that he really does get laid. Ladies, I implore you, show some self respect.
I'm still of the opinion that most of it is sympathy sex, I mean, the kid isn't good looking, his pick-up lines all suck and, as you can tell from the above email he does have definite problems with the predominant language of the United States so... Todd Dancer everybody.
Why is it that your mailbag questions are asinine but not quite as obnoxious as The Believer’s “Ask Amy”? Do you intend to do something about this?
Dr Gonzo
www.pontificationsofdrgonzo.blogspot.com
Unofficial Advocate of The Believer magazine
This is one that I really wish I could float over to Harmon as he reads. I've never actually read anything in my entire life and only learned how to type in a learning style akiHelenellen Keller, this is complicated further by the fact that I only speak Wookie.
But to address your question: It's the readers that ask the questions, we're just the poor bastards forced to come up with witty retorts back to it. And, dear Doctor, at 8:12am, prior to coflegitimateimate conversation, especially in light of the previous email, is not something that comes natural to me. No, this is more of a job for a similar person in your field, Dr. Dian Fossey who studied the fabulous Gorilla's in their natural environs of Africa. Five gets you one she could train her gorilla's to adequately respond back to your question, and probably not in Wookie either.
Addressing the post Untitled Number 47 from your website.
Speaking as somebody that has been involved with poetry since the day that I was born, and being somebody that can tell good poetry, I can tell that you have never really lived. The line, "the poet's down here, they don't write nothing at all" 1) doesn't fit into the rest of piecepeice and 2) forgets the likes of all of the good young poets out here, living in this world that you are blind to.
I fancy myself to be a bit of a poet and as the acting President of the Buniversityrsity Poetry Chapter, I believe you understand nothing about the craft. Writing poetry is not something you will ever be able to understand and all that you can do is form cheap comments about it. You have no soul if you cannot grasp what poetry is. Poetry is something that is written because you have to, or else your whole body would explode.
I feel bad for anybody that does not understand poetry; and for that your life wilfulfilledilled.
Eve Cole
President of the Buniversityrsity Poetry Chapter
Hail to the Chief we say hail cos she'schiefcheif
She stole most of her argument for that she thieftheif
So instead of saying hail we'll say Heil and call her Adolf
Cos the reasoning she makes up is what wafraidafrad of
So, something kinda like that? I kid. I think you make very good points, Eve. I think you're making most of the points that were made in the article, that poetry exists everywhere and that you can't write it down, or at least that's what I'm reading out of what you're writing. Poetry is too much of an intimate art that it doesn't work for anybody besides the person that really writes it. If it's spoken, then that's something that is different and if it's put into a song then that's something else too. But those measure the inflections and intentmore sooreso than the actual written word.
Yeah, the out of context Bruce Springsteen line was a little bit on the nose, but it fit, sort of, into context. So, if poetry is nothing and you are the president of poetry, can we take that argument and prove that you are the poetry of nothing? That's something to be debated later on, but something that should be debated nonetheless.
Jackass,
Fuck you guys. why won't you let me back on to post? I went into my login thing and it wouldn't let me in. I totally know you guys blocked me out. What's the deal? Did Harmon do it? Whys he always got a stick up his ass anyways, I'm justrainin to have some fun. You guys need to get out and get laid by some sweetass chicks. You should go to the triple rock with me instead of doing whatever gay ass stuff you guys have been up to. did you block me out? I know what my password is so I didn't forget it. I know you're gonna say I did but I didn't forget I know my shit.
Your blog thing is lame anyways so who care if you won't let me in? I'll just be off banging some chic instead of typing on a computer like you loosers. And seriously what the hell have you been writing about lately? You two going up on a mountain together? What's it called brokeback? fags. And Harmon ripping on me for being lame? god what a dick. Where' is he anyways, he won't call me back. And what's with his post about how long it takes to drive to work? You think people care? they don't care. They want to know where to find the hot chicks in this state. that should be the blog, just me telling dudes where to get the pussy in this town. I could put up links for my 'stang and tell chicks where to audition for one of my movies. You know I'm gonna make those movies. Jason's all set up to film it, he's really good with a camera too so don't laugh. We did some tests without the chick and it was awesome. Fuckin' Harmon. He doesn't know shit about what girls want. they should call him Do No Harm cuz that's what the girls say when they think of him. Hey, we should totally call him Harm, it's like a double meaning y'know? So do you think the dipshit will let me post again? I just want to help you guys out man.
Hey, before I go I gotta tell ya I'm taking that vaca. Fuckin tahiti and st. Juans and stuff, it's gonna be awesome. cruise with a bunch of ladies down in the pacific, shit yeah. maybe i'll email ya and show you what your missing.
Todd Dancer everybody. I am almost... completely... without words on how to write back to that... Actually the two of us met for drinks at Costello's last night and he told me he was going to do this. The most painful aspect, of the creature that is known as Todd, is that he really does get laid. Ladies, I implore you, show some self respect.
I'm still of the opinion that most of it is sympathy sex, I mean, the kid isn't good looking, his pick-up lines all suck and, as you can tell from the above email he does have definite problems with the predominant language of the United States so... Todd Dancer everybody.
Why is it that your mailbag questions are asinine but not quite as obnoxious as The Believer’s “Ask Amy”? Do you intend to do something about this?
Dr Gonzo
www.pontificationsofdrgonzo.blogspot.com
Unofficial Advocate of The Believer magazine
This is one that I really wish I could float over to Harmon as he reads. I've never actually read anything in my entire life and only learned how to type in a learning style akiHelenellen Keller, this is complicated further by the fact that I only speak Wookie.
But to address your question: It's the readers that ask the questions, we're just the poor bastards forced to come up with witty retorts back to it. And, dear Doctor, at 8:12am, prior to coflegitimateimate conversation, especially in light of the previous email, is not something that comes natural to me. No, this is more of a job for a similar person in your field, Dr. Dian Fossey who studied the fabulous Gorilla's in their natural environs of Africa. Five gets you one she could train her gorilla's to adequately respond back to your question, and probably not in Wookie either.
Addressing the post Untitled Number 47 from your website.
Speaking as somebody that has been involved with poetry since the day that I was born, and being somebody that can tell good poetry, I can tell that you have never really lived. The line, "the poet's down here, they don't write nothing at all" 1) doesn't fit into the rest of piecepeice and 2) forgets the likes of all of the good young poets out here, living in this world that you are blind to.
I fancy myself to be a bit of a poet and as the acting President of the Buniversityrsity Poetry Chapter, I believe you understand nothing about the craft. Writing poetry is not something you will ever be able to understand and all that you can do is form cheap comments about it. You have no soul if you cannot grasp what poetry is. Poetry is something that is written because you have to, or else your whole body would explode.
I feel bad for anybody that does not understand poetry; and for that your life wilfulfilledilled.
Eve Cole
President of the Buniversityrsity Poetry Chapter
Hail to the Chief we say hail cos she'schiefcheif
She stole most of her argument for that she thieftheif
So instead of saying hail we'll say Heil and call her Adolf
Cos the reasoning she makes up is what wafraidafrad of
So, something kinda like that? I kid. I think you make very good points, Eve. I think you're making most of the points that were made in the article, that poetry exists everywhere and that you can't write it down, or at least that's what I'm reading out of what you're writing. Poetry is too much of an intimate art that it doesn't work for anybody besides the person that really writes it. If it's spoken, then that's something that is different and if it's put into a song then that's something else too. But those measure the inflections and intentmore sooreso than the actual written word.
Yeah, the out of context Bruce Springsteen line was a little bit on the nose, but it fit, sort of, into context. So, if poetry is nothing and you are the president of poetry, can we take that argument and prove that you are the poetry of nothing? That's something to be debated later on, but something that should be debated nonetheless.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Trust and Forgetting
The luxury liner sank and I swam into the deepest region of the oceans and found the Walrus there, a fellow creature not indigenous to the area. He was bathing in the bathtub of regret, but took the time to look at me, through his coke bottle glasses as I asked him my question.
He was smoking a dove tailed joint with a paperclip stabbed through the end and exhaled the statement: We cannot forgive others for their actions, only ourselves. Especially, when it was you that brought this on yourself. The deeper you swim, the more it will hurt your lungs; oh, Othello, Moor of Venice, you of all people should know this. You should be swimming into the Shallows and enjoying what you have.
But I had left Isis on the shoreline and found the tallest building in the ocean and flung myself from it, enjoying, for the briefest of moments the sensation of flying and that what I was doing was morally right. That in order to build something fresh, you need a foundation of solid bedrock.
But after 28 years of falling, I only found that there wasn't a bottom, only a creature named Despair. He took me in and fed me bangers and pancakes in the afternoon. At night he hung himself from the same rope as he'd done the night before only woke in the morning to do it all again.
In the Wallow, I knew that there was more to life than this. More than keeping old messages in a conch shell and never calling them back. More than waiting for a tidal wave to wash over us all and the sins away. More than desperately wanting to desperately want.
And in this time of need, I thought of what the Preacher man said, To forgive is to forget and I took comfort in those words. But, then again, perhaps we're supposed to listen to the Zealot: It will never be the truth, if you don't believe.
He was smoking a dove tailed joint with a paperclip stabbed through the end and exhaled the statement: We cannot forgive others for their actions, only ourselves. Especially, when it was you that brought this on yourself. The deeper you swim, the more it will hurt your lungs; oh, Othello, Moor of Venice, you of all people should know this. You should be swimming into the Shallows and enjoying what you have.
But I had left Isis on the shoreline and found the tallest building in the ocean and flung myself from it, enjoying, for the briefest of moments the sensation of flying and that what I was doing was morally right. That in order to build something fresh, you need a foundation of solid bedrock.
But after 28 years of falling, I only found that there wasn't a bottom, only a creature named Despair. He took me in and fed me bangers and pancakes in the afternoon. At night he hung himself from the same rope as he'd done the night before only woke in the morning to do it all again.
In the Wallow, I knew that there was more to life than this. More than keeping old messages in a conch shell and never calling them back. More than waiting for a tidal wave to wash over us all and the sins away. More than desperately wanting to desperately want.
And in this time of need, I thought of what the Preacher man said, To forgive is to forget and I took comfort in those words. But, then again, perhaps we're supposed to listen to the Zealot: It will never be the truth, if you don't believe.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
2 Hours 41 Minutes
That's how long it took me to get to work today thanks to a gentle powdering of snow. For those of you with your heads firmly up your butts BMC HQ is based in Minnesota. It snows here on occasion. This wasn't a problem in the past but we have some new people in the state and they're slowing things down. I don't know why you people insist on coming up here. It's cold 6 months out of the year, there's a chance for serious injury or death just because you want to go to the grocery store to get your mitts on some mac n' cheese. Do people in California or Arizona have to worry about this? And no, I'm not talking about normal run of the mill bad driving or whatever, I'm talking about people who know what they're doing and all of a sudden they're in a ditch and they don't even get to knock back their mac n' cheese and wash it down with a nice Pinot. It's ridiculous. So again, why are people moving here? I was going to do some research on google to see what the census bureau said about people moving here but then I realized I'm Harmon and I don't do those sorts of things. In fact I had a little chuckle with my laptop. We looked at each other and giggled at the thought of me doing research and then went back to the post. It was a nice moment.
So anyway I'm fairly confident that more people move here than move out, so there's more of us. Which is always bad. That, coupled with the fact that the Twin Cities metro area has the roads necessary to carry traffic efficiently only if this were 1947 makes for a bad combo. I'm just telling you folks in warmer climes, stay there. It's not totally that I'm anti-people either, although thats most of it. But I'm already stuck here. I've got family and history and a jobby job and all that here. Heck I even have friends. If I have children I will have several people willing to babysit for free. No matter how sunny it can be in Florida I can't lose out on something like that. What's the point of having kids if you don't know how to get rid of them? Like I said, I'm already dead and buried in Minnesota under 6 feet of family and friends and another couple feet of snow. But you people, you Nebraskans, you Hawaiians, You Kentuckers, you don't need to perish with me. Stay home. Or move to Alabama. It won't necessarily benefit you but it would be an interesting social experiment if it happened. Speaking of which, how much do Alabama and Mississippi suck if people are willing to freeze their little tushies off trying to deal with Minnesota weather? I've lived in Mississippi and I've got my own thoughts on that, but I'd like to know what the locals think. Are they offended? Are they happy to see the "radicals" move out of their town? It's fascinating really. For all of you on the fence, check this out www.touralabama.org. It looks awesome. Seriously. I might move there myself. You don't want to deal with snow. Snow is like Jennifer Lopez. Pretty and all, but a total pain in the ass.
So anyway I'm fairly confident that more people move here than move out, so there's more of us. Which is always bad. That, coupled with the fact that the Twin Cities metro area has the roads necessary to carry traffic efficiently only if this were 1947 makes for a bad combo. I'm just telling you folks in warmer climes, stay there. It's not totally that I'm anti-people either, although thats most of it. But I'm already stuck here. I've got family and history and a jobby job and all that here. Heck I even have friends. If I have children I will have several people willing to babysit for free. No matter how sunny it can be in Florida I can't lose out on something like that. What's the point of having kids if you don't know how to get rid of them? Like I said, I'm already dead and buried in Minnesota under 6 feet of family and friends and another couple feet of snow. But you people, you Nebraskans, you Hawaiians, You Kentuckers, you don't need to perish with me. Stay home. Or move to Alabama. It won't necessarily benefit you but it would be an interesting social experiment if it happened. Speaking of which, how much do Alabama and Mississippi suck if people are willing to freeze their little tushies off trying to deal with Minnesota weather? I've lived in Mississippi and I've got my own thoughts on that, but I'd like to know what the locals think. Are they offended? Are they happy to see the "radicals" move out of their town? It's fascinating really. For all of you on the fence, check this out www.touralabama.org. It looks awesome. Seriously. I might move there myself. You don't want to deal with snow. Snow is like Jennifer Lopez. Pretty and all, but a total pain in the ass.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Todd Dancer is an Idiot
Sorry for the delay people. Todd went in and changed all of our passwords and whatnot. To be honest Mule and I didn’t think he’d be able to figure this whole blogging thing out so we didn’t protect ourselves from the idiot’s wrath. Here at BMC headquarters we promise to do a better job of locking down the facility. I can only apologize to anyone who had to read Todd’s post. He’s not terribly bright. We will, on occasion, let him out of the cage to post something just so we look incredibly clever compared to him. But he should be kept under wraps for the most part.
Mule’s out on a little vacation. He’s doing a little recon on some mountainous regions in Tibet for us. We’ve decided that the best way to deal with the problems of the world is to form a monastery on a mountaintop. The people we hate are universally lazy and unwilling to climb any mountains so we should be safe from them. The people we like a little bit will only climb half way before they realize that they’re climbing a mountain just to see us and they’ll probably turn around and go back. We’ll set up a temple or offering table about halfway up the mountain so that they can leave us gifts like meat and cheese trays and jugs of port wine or Hamm’s beer. Mule likes his Hamm’s. And it’s true, after drinking Hamm’s and nothing but Hamm’s for a weekend your stomach rots away and you become like a goose and everything just goes straight from the throat right to the pooper. It’s not pleasant but it is cheap beer so what else can you ask for?
The people that really like us will probably make it all the way up the mountain. We are, by our very nature, not the most gracious of hosts though so we would put them to work in our garden on the southern slope. After a few weeks of tilling the earth for us they would get sick of it and go back to their every day lives. But we won’t care, we’ll have fresh chives and carrots to sustain us thanks to their labor. We hope to spread our friends out a bit throughout the year so we can avoid working as much as possible. We’ll probably bill the whole thing as a religious experience and get the pampered masses to pay us a couple thousand to come and stay with us and grow us food. We’ll put them up with a robe and a mat of bamboo in a visitor’s temple and let them feel holy. We’d feel bad about this but let’s face it, it’s going to cost us a lot of money to wire our temple on the top of a mountain in Tibet with Tivo and satellite TV and widescreen plasmas and xbox 360s. We’re not a religion so much as we are guys who find it vaguely spiritual to have a killer DVD collection. And surround sound in a temple on top of a mountain costs money people! So come on up to the mountain and we’ll set you up with some rice (if you’ll carry it from the base of the mountain). In lieu of cash we will accept copious amounts of booze. It is a weakness.
On a side note, if anyone knows what kind of acreage it takes to raise some goats or small cattle let me know. I’m assuming people will have the good sense to bring us ribs and steaks and stuff and leave it at the offering table but once I’m on the mountain I don’t plan on coming down a lot. Don’t worry though, we’ll definitely keep on writing this blog while we’re up there. We’ll need the internet for our “alone” time purposes so we may as well fill you in on what it’s like to be quasi-monklike.
One last thing, you’ll note the lack of Sherpa jokes in this post even though it’s about a mountain in Asia. Thanks to the incredible amounts of lame sherpa jokes we’ve heard lately we will not be able to use them. You sitcom writers just put a lot of good people out of work because every time you have your plucky couple climb the stairs in their apartment building they ask for their sherpa. It’s unacceptable and we can’t condone that sort of lame joke persisting on our mountaintop. If you’re cool and have a killer DVD collection that you’d like to share with us, let us know and we’ll consider allowing you a trial monk-hood in our monastery. Please note that if it doesn’t work out personality-wise, we do withhold all DVD’s presented in good faith. Consider it a sacrifice or something.
Friday, December 09, 2005
An Update from the BMC Ombudsman
Hey. This is Todd Dancer. I'm the ombudsman for this stupid site. I don't know exactly what that means but I think I get to rip on these jackasses and get away with it so I'm pumped up. I guess I'm supposed to check with what "the people" want and report on it but I seriously don't think that matters. There's like 5 people who have emailed this site and most of them can't type too good. There's one old guy named Bob who seems to be from Pequot Lakes and he isn't too happy with our choice of name. Hey, don't blame me you crazy old fucker, I din't come up with it. That's all Mule. The other people seem to want to know just who the heck Mule and Harmon are and if those are their real names. Well yeah they're real. I don't write all this crap myself. Mule also goes by Jackass but that's his name all right. By the way Harmon totally told me not to do that joke because he said you people wouldn't think it's funny. But I know funny and that shit is funny. Stupid Fuckers. To be honest I don't even hang out with these guys all that much. They like to do stupid crap together like curling and play Halo and I don't have time for that nonsense. If it doesn't involve chicks loving me up then I'm not interested. Spending a night in a basement with a bunch of dudes playing a game is totally lame right? Heck, they don't even invite me anymore, they totally know I'm off scoring with some lady so why bother? God they suck. And I don't mean that like Golly these fellas sure suck. I mean that I was telling God that they suck. I communicate with the big guy in the sky. So anyway, I've told you about myself right? Who cares, you people suck. I guess im not supposed to tell ya everything about us but we're Minnesota boys and we like it. Minne is where it's at bitches!
So, the site. I guess I just go through and point out what I don't like about the past blogs or whatever. I can tell you that mule used the word "accutrement" like 19 times in the past coupla weeks. he says it all the time in normal confersation too. I don't even know what it means. Nobody does right? Totally.
I also know that Harm said that 311 was from the OC, waaaaay off nutsucker. Their from Omaha. Last time I checked Wyoming was nowhere near the OC. Harm is the laziest fucker ever. seriously. He didn't look up that writer dude's name either in that post about the Gun movie. Totally lazy. It was from a while ago, go check it out.
I could complian about these dorks forever but I just wanted to introduce myself to you people. If you need anything just email me at badmothercoitus@yahoo.com and put my name, Todd Dancer in the subject line and I'll make sure we adress it in the future on this lame site.
So, the site. I guess I just go through and point out what I don't like about the past blogs or whatever. I can tell you that mule used the word "accutrement" like 19 times in the past coupla weeks. he says it all the time in normal confersation too. I don't even know what it means. Nobody does right? Totally.
I also know that Harm said that 311 was from the OC, waaaaay off nutsucker. Their from Omaha. Last time I checked Wyoming was nowhere near the OC. Harm is the laziest fucker ever. seriously. He didn't look up that writer dude's name either in that post about the Gun movie. Totally lazy. It was from a while ago, go check it out.
I could complian about these dorks forever but I just wanted to introduce myself to you people. If you need anything just email me at badmothercoitus@yahoo.com and put my name, Todd Dancer in the subject line and I'll make sure we adress it in the future on this lame site.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
CSR me baby
You’re really smart,
You should go into customer service.
- The Little Lady
Go ahead and raise your hand if you’ve ever had that told to you before. No? Me either, well, not on purpose. The wife (or for cutesy nickname consistency “the Little Lady”) threw that one at me a while back in jest. You never really hear anyone try to convince someone to go into customer service jobs though do you? It’s not like people are saying “look, he’s got the dexterity of a heathen God, his fingers dance like little legs of Ricky Martin! He must use these digits of his for the greater good of humanity. For dialing phones and typing memos and notes about conversations that weren’t that interesting to begin with but now they’re being documented on a file and kept for 3 years before the document destroying people come to send it away to document hell.” And yeah I used “document” a lot right there. It’s a cool word. You’d do it too if given the chance. If a guy has good hands he should be a doctor, if he has little to no discernible intelligence he should be a lawyer, people just expect this sort of thing. But why not customer service? Maybe it’s just bad marketing. Maybe if we sold people on the idea that treating people well and resolving their issues, minor as they may be, is just as worthwhile as being a doctor then they’d have some sense of accomplishment at their job. Certainly moreso than a lawyer. Not that this is an anti-lawyer rant because there are some good ones and they do, on occasion, serve a purpose, but most of them are just chuckleheads who like the idea of wearing a suit to work.
Interesting side note here regarding suits. Why is it that people who wear suits to work are either important businessmen and women with huge responsibilities and whatnot or else they work at a department store making $9.50 an hour? How did that happen? Not that I’m complaining about not wearing a suit to work but some of those department store guys have an awful lofty opinion of themselves when they’re essentially one notch above the guy at the gap wearing leather jeans and a choker necklace. Of course I work in a bastardized quasi-managerial form of customer service, so what do I know?
People work in the old CS because they can’t or won’t work anywhere else. I don’t know what kind of PR you’d have to put together to change the public’s feeling on the thing but I’m guessing it’s a lot of cash. And we’re going to need that cash for the crazy stripper party that we’re throwing for Carl for winning Customer Service Rep of the month. So this whole thing is probably a wash.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
The Great Jokester
A young black girl approaches me and tells me It's easier to hear the rain fall than it is to watch it. Then opens her eyes wide and expectant, her lips pulling back over her beautiful, white teeth. But I'm looking through my reflection in the window to the outside where the snow is falling.
Snow: the most lazy of all of Mother Nature's children save ice. I watch as the air caresses it, loves it, passes it through it's silky fingers before discarding it, like an afterthought, onto the ground.
I catch my own eye and look at its' intricacies as the child gives up on me and moves to the next table. I try to stare at this picture in the window, this self portrait, to see if I can capture my own eye moving; see if I can make out the moment when I looked away.
Down the tables, the young girl has received the answer to her riddle and her ebony hair, braided into two separate locks, bounces as she Hardy Hars with the other patron. I wonder if she even understands what she is doing, or if she's laughing and grabbing her knees because that was the reaction of the person from whom she first heard the joke.
A car skids on the ice. This car cannot stop. This car honks its' horn, trying to draw attention, trying to signal the car that's about to go, that's about to enter the intersection, trying to get it to stop. The cars collide and the world hugs herself with a sighs as everybody stops. Stops, everything stops, everything except the snow that's falling and the great jokester, the one that is still laughing at the joke.
I feel my body begin to convulse, a deep tremor hits me in the stomach, racing up the same path as the vomit has torn so many times before. It's uncontrollable now; this has passed beyond the realm of politeness. I reach out to a table for support, but knock over a chair as I begin to run the blockade out of the coffee shop.
For the briefest of infinities, I feel it. My feet hit the ice, my knees buckle from over compensation and gravity sends me crashing to the ground, with no sound.
The feeling comes gushing out of me, gaining more and more momentum until at last I am laughing so hard that tears are running to standstill; tears turning into ice and the ambulance finally arrives.
Snow: the most lazy of all of Mother Nature's children save ice. I watch as the air caresses it, loves it, passes it through it's silky fingers before discarding it, like an afterthought, onto the ground.
I catch my own eye and look at its' intricacies as the child gives up on me and moves to the next table. I try to stare at this picture in the window, this self portrait, to see if I can capture my own eye moving; see if I can make out the moment when I looked away.
Down the tables, the young girl has received the answer to her riddle and her ebony hair, braided into two separate locks, bounces as she Hardy Hars with the other patron. I wonder if she even understands what she is doing, or if she's laughing and grabbing her knees because that was the reaction of the person from whom she first heard the joke.
A car skids on the ice. This car cannot stop. This car honks its' horn, trying to draw attention, trying to signal the car that's about to go, that's about to enter the intersection, trying to get it to stop. The cars collide and the world hugs herself with a sighs as everybody stops. Stops, everything stops, everything except the snow that's falling and the great jokester, the one that is still laughing at the joke.
I feel my body begin to convulse, a deep tremor hits me in the stomach, racing up the same path as the vomit has torn so many times before. It's uncontrollable now; this has passed beyond the realm of politeness. I reach out to a table for support, but knock over a chair as I begin to run the blockade out of the coffee shop.
For the briefest of infinities, I feel it. My feet hit the ice, my knees buckle from over compensation and gravity sends me crashing to the ground, with no sound.
The feeling comes gushing out of me, gaining more and more momentum until at last I am laughing so hard that tears are running to standstill; tears turning into ice and the ambulance finally arrives.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Now That's Entertainment
It’s recently been reported that Scott Stapp wants to fight the band 311. I find this absolutely fascinating. It sheds a whole new light on the relationship between “artists” and regular folk for me. Sure there have been big feuds before Biggie-Tupac (that turned out poorly in my opinion), various factions of Fleetwood Mac, heck even the Beatles had a tiff or two.
When I was a kid I had that bizarre thing that people do where they want all their favorite celebs to be friends and hang out and love each other. And it really bothered me when they didn’t like each other. Of course in my little mind I had Kent Hrbek and Kirby Puckett hanging out with the likes of Slash from Guns n’ Fuckin’ Roses and Michael Keaton in his Batman days. I think Steve Mcqueen may have even been involved in the group, but that was more about impressing my dad. In my 14 year old brain it made total sense that these people would all like each other because they would of course be united by their common bond, me, and therefore think that everyone else was cool as hell too. Meredith Baxter-Birney would serve us tacos by the pool while we sat around mocking Top Gun and Blossom’s friend Six would swim around playfully waiting for me to hop in the pool with her.
Of course now I’ve grown up and I realize that most people in the public eye are too busy doing their things (whatever they may be) to notice what the other kids are doing. Or when they do they end up noticing they totally ruin it for everyone else. I’m sure the 3 people on the planet that actually like Jimmy Fallon weren’t too happy to see him destroying their Red Sox moment. For the record Jimmy Fallon is a douche. This is the reason why people are all fired up about the whole Brad Pitt-Jennifer Aniston thing falling apart. Most people liked both of them and wanted to sleep with at least one of them as well. But if they couldn’t sleep with Jen, they were happy she had someone equally good looking to hang out with. I dunno, maybe I’m wrong on that, but I do know most guys wouldn’t mind looking like Brad Pitt and going home to Jen every night. Now that’s all gone and it confuses people’s little dreams.
Anyway, back to Stapp and 311. Stapp was the former frontman of Creed and one of the top 5 douches on the planet. For one thing he thinks he’s Christ, which is only cool if you are indeed Christ. But I think even Jesus would be lowkey about it. He’s humble after all. For another, Creed sucked in a way that has been rarely seen in recent years. Sure the fuzzy bible type crowd loved it all but the rest of us were bleeding from the ears. I guess if I was at home and making a cover for my bible out of felt and twine and it had something like “God Rocks” on it I’d probably want to listen to Creed while I was doing it. That’s why I avoid Creed and also fuzzy bible covers. On a side note, for the kids who put “Jesus is my Homeboy” on the cover of their bibles – You’re so close to normal. Just let it happen. The girl that you think you’re in love with (and the reason you go to church camps) will never fall for you. In fact she’ll go for a strict son of a Baptist minister who says things like “Baywatch and Maxim magazine makes Baby Jesus cry” and it’ll take you years to overcome losing out to a misfit like this. But then a girl like that, well let’s just say she views sex as a means to create a child and not, you know, for fun. So you’re not losing out on anything except for a few years of forced abstinence. Let it go. Go grab an Ike Reilly album and drink a beer or two. You’ll be glad you did, just trust me on this one.
So Creed clearly sucked. And Stapp was the reason for it. And other than the sad little creatures that think Three Doors Down are a little too “edgy” for them there is no reason for Creed or Stapp to exist. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was just taking advantage of the teenage bible thumpers but he crossed over into normal radio and frankly I don’t like to see that sort of thing happen.
On the other hand you have 311. They don’t, as far as I know, think they are God. It’s entirely possible that they think they are black, even though they’re welcomed into every nice lily-white restaurant in the OC. I have no idea where they’re from but let’s face it, they seem like a band that came from the OC. And thanks to the show (which I have not seen) it seems ridiculous to call Orange County by it’s full name now, so I’m going with the initials. It just happens. I can’t be Mr. Nerdlinger and change it back. It’d be like calling NorEast Minneapolis by its full name and I can’t do that.
311 is, in a word, the-single-worst-band-I’ve-ever-seen-have-a-somewhat-legit-career-spanning-a-few-years. Part of my brain dies every time I catch a snippet of them on the radio. If I heard their full catalog I may be stupid enough to run for president or something. It’s that bad. So anyway, Stapp and 311 want to throw down with some fisticuffs. I just want to know where and when and how much are they charging for tickets? I think I could finally get some entertainment value out of these morons if they had a big fight. A steel cage death match with Stapp swinging a huge cross to crush 311 with. 311 trying to do the lame rap-dance posing thing and blind Stapp with their bleach blonde hair. It would be glorious. Plus, whoever wins, we all win. One of them dies and never comes back. My money’s on Stapp, he seems like martyr material to me. Let’s make this happen people!
Online Degrees
When I was a kid I had that bizarre thing that people do where they want all their favorite celebs to be friends and hang out and love each other. And it really bothered me when they didn’t like each other. Of course in my little mind I had Kent Hrbek and Kirby Puckett hanging out with the likes of Slash from Guns n’ Fuckin’ Roses and Michael Keaton in his Batman days. I think Steve Mcqueen may have even been involved in the group, but that was more about impressing my dad. In my 14 year old brain it made total sense that these people would all like each other because they would of course be united by their common bond, me, and therefore think that everyone else was cool as hell too. Meredith Baxter-Birney would serve us tacos by the pool while we sat around mocking Top Gun and Blossom’s friend Six would swim around playfully waiting for me to hop in the pool with her.
Of course now I’ve grown up and I realize that most people in the public eye are too busy doing their things (whatever they may be) to notice what the other kids are doing. Or when they do they end up noticing they totally ruin it for everyone else. I’m sure the 3 people on the planet that actually like Jimmy Fallon weren’t too happy to see him destroying their Red Sox moment. For the record Jimmy Fallon is a douche. This is the reason why people are all fired up about the whole Brad Pitt-Jennifer Aniston thing falling apart. Most people liked both of them and wanted to sleep with at least one of them as well. But if they couldn’t sleep with Jen, they were happy she had someone equally good looking to hang out with. I dunno, maybe I’m wrong on that, but I do know most guys wouldn’t mind looking like Brad Pitt and going home to Jen every night. Now that’s all gone and it confuses people’s little dreams.
Anyway, back to Stapp and 311. Stapp was the former frontman of Creed and one of the top 5 douches on the planet. For one thing he thinks he’s Christ, which is only cool if you are indeed Christ. But I think even Jesus would be lowkey about it. He’s humble after all. For another, Creed sucked in a way that has been rarely seen in recent years. Sure the fuzzy bible type crowd loved it all but the rest of us were bleeding from the ears. I guess if I was at home and making a cover for my bible out of felt and twine and it had something like “God Rocks” on it I’d probably want to listen to Creed while I was doing it. That’s why I avoid Creed and also fuzzy bible covers. On a side note, for the kids who put “Jesus is my Homeboy” on the cover of their bibles – You’re so close to normal. Just let it happen. The girl that you think you’re in love with (and the reason you go to church camps) will never fall for you. In fact she’ll go for a strict son of a Baptist minister who says things like “Baywatch and Maxim magazine makes Baby Jesus cry” and it’ll take you years to overcome losing out to a misfit like this. But then a girl like that, well let’s just say she views sex as a means to create a child and not, you know, for fun. So you’re not losing out on anything except for a few years of forced abstinence. Let it go. Go grab an Ike Reilly album and drink a beer or two. You’ll be glad you did, just trust me on this one.
So Creed clearly sucked. And Stapp was the reason for it. And other than the sad little creatures that think Three Doors Down are a little too “edgy” for them there is no reason for Creed or Stapp to exist. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was just taking advantage of the teenage bible thumpers but he crossed over into normal radio and frankly I don’t like to see that sort of thing happen.
On the other hand you have 311. They don’t, as far as I know, think they are God. It’s entirely possible that they think they are black, even though they’re welcomed into every nice lily-white restaurant in the OC. I have no idea where they’re from but let’s face it, they seem like a band that came from the OC. And thanks to the show (which I have not seen) it seems ridiculous to call Orange County by it’s full name now, so I’m going with the initials. It just happens. I can’t be Mr. Nerdlinger and change it back. It’d be like calling NorEast Minneapolis by its full name and I can’t do that.
311 is, in a word, the-single-worst-band-I’ve-ever-seen-have-a-somewhat-legit-career-spanning-a-few-years. Part of my brain dies every time I catch a snippet of them on the radio. If I heard their full catalog I may be stupid enough to run for president or something. It’s that bad. So anyway, Stapp and 311 want to throw down with some fisticuffs. I just want to know where and when and how much are they charging for tickets? I think I could finally get some entertainment value out of these morons if they had a big fight. A steel cage death match with Stapp swinging a huge cross to crush 311 with. 311 trying to do the lame rap-dance posing thing and blind Stapp with their bleach blonde hair. It would be glorious. Plus, whoever wins, we all win. One of them dies and never comes back. My money’s on Stapp, he seems like martyr material to me. Let’s make this happen people!
Online Degrees
Monday, December 05, 2005
Mailbag!!!!
Welcome to the mailbag. This is a mailed in version of an article that is used in lieu of actually writing something meaningful. It is also offers an opportunity for those of you that can’t speak your thoughts during the week. To make your opinion known, email badmothercoitus@yahoo.com with your question and your name and city and state you’re from. Here are real letters from real people, that really read this.
Who is your favorite news anchor of all time?
Steve Adams
Duluth, Minnesota
This is an excellent question, Stephen, and one that was debated for long hours over many pots of coffee. The coffee turned into beer and the beer into whiskey, and with the rising sun a little boy brought us all bloody marys and the process began all over again. Three weeks later and a bar tab that we're hoping that we can use as a corporate expense and as a tax write off, we reached the conclusion that Dan Rather is the official News Anchor for Bad Mother Coitus. His country bumpkinism's coupled with the fact that most of us wish that he was really our Father and that cool Texas stare have lead us to believe that this is the only logical conclusion. As of right now, nobody from Rather's camp has returned our phone call, so that we can set up an official award time; however, we are very optimistic about it and booking some time on the local cable access show to present him with the award.
Would you please provide a close reading or an interpretation of Gwen Stefani's 'Holla Back Girl'
Carrie Dye
Barrow, Alaska
Certainly! Truly this is poetry at it's finest!
Uh huh,this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this
This is an obvious homage to Homer and the Iliad. Ms. Stefani begins with the invocation of the muse and the beginning of the Epic. Whereas Homer uses, O Muse! Let me sing of the rage of Achilles, Ms. Stefani uses a much more subtle, much more textual tone when invoking her muse.A few times I've been around that track So it's not just gonna happen like that 'Cause I ain't no holla back girl I ain't no holla back girl The thesis statement, the protaganist's bold assertion that she will not go softly into the night, that she is indeed, not a holla back girl! The passion in this statement can definitely be felt as she emphatically repeats this fact again, and again and again.
ooh, this my shit , this my shit
Not being a holla back girl, appears to be something that is very important to the protaganist. While to a lesser reader, this could be misinterpreted as perhaps the protaganist had a solid night of drinking capped off by a late night trip to Taco Bell. And who hasn't had that happen to them before? Coming back from the bar, knowing that the next day is going to hurt and that some food should, at the very least, be dumped into the stomach. And who is always there at 2:30 in the morning; why your friendly, local, neighborhood Taco Bell. Taco Bell offers a wide variety of food for the wayward drunk, especially amusing is ordering the entire menu, carrying it on a tray and then combining it into a Taco Bell Ball. The Taco Bell Ball is awesome because it's both suitable for consumption as well as hurling at compatriot drunks.
I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn't think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up
So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out
That's right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up
I will address this in two parts. Yet again Ms. Stefani, dips into her alliteration hand bag, this time quoting the Bible, Psalm 71, reworking the phrase for my enemies speak against me, and those that have sought my hurt will be put to shame and disgraced. In both cases, we have our protagonist stating that they heard something that they weren't supposed to hear, a secret if you will. This has obviously worked everyone around into a tizzy. A tizzy that must be met with arms.
So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachers
Both of us wanna be the winner, but there can only be one
So I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my all
Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust
The protagonist, now offers a meeting location though no meeting time. Offering this up to the antagonist as the formal challenge, the duel if you will, but an open ended duel. This both follows the code of the epic poem and gentlemen limitations and rules. It is an enticing morsel and a true look into the vast crevasse of genius that Ms. Stefani possesses as she has her protagonist come to the epiphany that while both her antagonist and her protagonist wish to win, there can, like the Highlander, be only one. This is quite the bit to digest and a real philosophical question. One that I've poured through philosophical journals, from Hume to Jung to fully grasp and yet no one has done it so completely or been able to explain it as perfectly as Ms. Stefani does in the conclusionary line of this paragraph: Another one bites the dust.
Let me hear you say this shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s
The immediate grab of the conclusionary line is the use of rhythm and the bucking of the system of poetry as Ms. Stefani rids herself of the shackles of the conclusionary couplet, shedding herself of rigid means that have been given to us by the rest of the poetic world for an ending. Not unlike the legendary Maud Gonne shedding her old robes to reveal the beauty that was the new Ireland, Ms. Stefani finishes her epic by burying it; leaving this work for generations yet to come. All in all, it's all bananas, this conflict with the antagonist, the epic battle for protagonist it really means nothing on this great stage the world has given us. But one day, this, day she called the world her brother and drew arms with us and let us into the fray as a mere mortal and emerge. Emerge from a baptism by fire, with a flaming sword, grit and chock full of resolve.
Who is your favorite news anchor of all time?
Steve Adams
Duluth, Minnesota
This is an excellent question, Stephen, and one that was debated for long hours over many pots of coffee. The coffee turned into beer and the beer into whiskey, and with the rising sun a little boy brought us all bloody marys and the process began all over again. Three weeks later and a bar tab that we're hoping that we can use as a corporate expense and as a tax write off, we reached the conclusion that Dan Rather is the official News Anchor for Bad Mother Coitus. His country bumpkinism's coupled with the fact that most of us wish that he was really our Father and that cool Texas stare have lead us to believe that this is the only logical conclusion. As of right now, nobody from Rather's camp has returned our phone call, so that we can set up an official award time; however, we are very optimistic about it and booking some time on the local cable access show to present him with the award.
Would you please provide a close reading or an interpretation of Gwen Stefani's 'Holla Back Girl'
Carrie Dye
Barrow, Alaska
Certainly! Truly this is poetry at it's finest!
Uh huh,this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this
This is an obvious homage to Homer and the Iliad. Ms. Stefani begins with the invocation of the muse and the beginning of the Epic. Whereas Homer uses, O Muse! Let me sing of the rage of Achilles, Ms. Stefani uses a much more subtle, much more textual tone when invoking her muse.A few times I've been around that track So it's not just gonna happen like that 'Cause I ain't no holla back girl I ain't no holla back girl The thesis statement, the protaganist's bold assertion that she will not go softly into the night, that she is indeed, not a holla back girl! The passion in this statement can definitely be felt as she emphatically repeats this fact again, and again and again.
ooh, this my shit , this my shit
Not being a holla back girl, appears to be something that is very important to the protaganist. While to a lesser reader, this could be misinterpreted as perhaps the protaganist had a solid night of drinking capped off by a late night trip to Taco Bell. And who hasn't had that happen to them before? Coming back from the bar, knowing that the next day is going to hurt and that some food should, at the very least, be dumped into the stomach. And who is always there at 2:30 in the morning; why your friendly, local, neighborhood Taco Bell. Taco Bell offers a wide variety of food for the wayward drunk, especially amusing is ordering the entire menu, carrying it on a tray and then combining it into a Taco Bell Ball. The Taco Bell Ball is awesome because it's both suitable for consumption as well as hurling at compatriot drunks.
I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn't think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up
So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out
That's right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up
I will address this in two parts. Yet again Ms. Stefani, dips into her alliteration hand bag, this time quoting the Bible, Psalm 71, reworking the phrase for my enemies speak against me, and those that have sought my hurt will be put to shame and disgraced. In both cases, we have our protagonist stating that they heard something that they weren't supposed to hear, a secret if you will. This has obviously worked everyone around into a tizzy. A tizzy that must be met with arms.
So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachers
Both of us wanna be the winner, but there can only be one
So I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my all
Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust
The protagonist, now offers a meeting location though no meeting time. Offering this up to the antagonist as the formal challenge, the duel if you will, but an open ended duel. This both follows the code of the epic poem and gentlemen limitations and rules. It is an enticing morsel and a true look into the vast crevasse of genius that Ms. Stefani possesses as she has her protagonist come to the epiphany that while both her antagonist and her protagonist wish to win, there can, like the Highlander, be only one. This is quite the bit to digest and a real philosophical question. One that I've poured through philosophical journals, from Hume to Jung to fully grasp and yet no one has done it so completely or been able to explain it as perfectly as Ms. Stefani does in the conclusionary line of this paragraph: Another one bites the dust.
Let me hear you say this shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s
The immediate grab of the conclusionary line is the use of rhythm and the bucking of the system of poetry as Ms. Stefani rids herself of the shackles of the conclusionary couplet, shedding herself of rigid means that have been given to us by the rest of the poetic world for an ending. Not unlike the legendary Maud Gonne shedding her old robes to reveal the beauty that was the new Ireland, Ms. Stefani finishes her epic by burying it; leaving this work for generations yet to come. All in all, it's all bananas, this conflict with the antagonist, the epic battle for protagonist it really means nothing on this great stage the world has given us. But one day, this, day she called the world her brother and drew arms with us and let us into the fray as a mere mortal and emerge. Emerge from a baptism by fire, with a flaming sword, grit and chock full of resolve.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Believe This
People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.
- Bob Dylan
These words haunt me daily. Although maybe not in the way good ol’ bobby intended. I apply this to more than my beliefs, I apply it to my job. Applying anything to your job is always scary so I usually try not to apply myself at all. But that doesn’t provide much in the way of results. And maybe that’s just a front anyway so I don’t seem disappointed when I get effed in the A at the job. But that’s a topic for another day.
It’s a pretty decent day in officeland. I’ve got Johnny Cash singing to me via mp3 technology and $10 speakers from target. One of which doesn’t even work. But the sun’s out, it’s Friday, and I wore a tie again to work out of a bizarre form of spite so I feel good and I look incredible. Seriously, I look good. I’d do me. But that’s neither here nor there. Or even there...Okay, stop looking.
I bring this up, this fabu quote, because I don’t do what I believe in. I believe in writing, in movies and music and anything creative that actually excites a person. Hell, a model trainset is cool if the person is into it. I’m not, but it’s really just a spiffy lego set for adults and I’m always ready for some lego action.
So I believe in artsy stuff and practical stuff and things that people can say they’re passionate about on 24 hour entertainment channels when they just keep on talking so you don’t notice it’s 2 am and you’ve been watching a retrospective of Freddie Prinze Jr’s career for the last 45 minutes. I don’t really feel passionate about much. If anything really. Every once in a while it pops in for a quick how do you do but it’s not consistent. I don’t really trust people who say they’re passionate. It may have something to do with all the rappers who say they’re passionate about rap when really they’re just talking about girls and money and weed. You’re passionate about that? It just seems stupid and I don’t think the rappers are stupid so I have to assume they’re just lying. Which is fine, I’m okay with lying.
So I don’t do what I believe in and I definitely do what’s convenient. Risking my ego and a paycheck for a new job I care about is just so much damn work. It would really cut into my sitting around time man. And I don’t need that do I? Maybe I do. Maybe I’d love it. Here’s hoping I find out soon.
- Harmon
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Untitled Number 47
After all the mad people, the people that were mad for the world had left the room, I stood on the back of the hair of a dog and announced to the room that poetry was dead and those that followed that religion should be labeled as pimps and slaves and should be shot with a bang not a whimper!
Pausing to taste the stagnant air, I gained courage by taking another sip of burgundy and spit it out over the Bohemian whores that had gathered to speak in their pseudo rhythms. I heard my voice scream in more of a mandate than a challenge, letting them know the poets down here, they don't write nothing at all, they just sit back and let it all be. Poetry is the blasphemy for the inarticulate and I've seen the best minds of my generation poisoned with dreams of grandeur for this world. This world of kaleidoscopes dipped in tulip flavored water making love to a French julep by the river Thames with a salty teared kiss from the rain, and other such adjective and noun turned adjective worlds they strip themselves into.
Singer Songwriter Ryan Deblock, my pint faced friend, crammed a drink into my mouth, while inquiring into the nature of music. Feeling like a prophet, with words to savor, I told him when the scythe of art is lowered upon the chaff his will be one that is rewarded as they played by the rules of the oral tradition. I, then, graced him with a smile, fumbling in my pocket for change.
I stuffed another accoutrement down my throat and felt my body collapse onto a couch. The ash flicked off onto my hand, but I didn't care, even over the glow of my ember I looked out at this sad world of pretenders that try to capture poetry and realized I pitied them. While they're making pretty speeches, they're really being ripped to shreds. They try to capture the beautiful when in all actuality, it's something that will never be theirs, they can't even borrow it.
I stabbed my smoke out, with a force strong enough to stop a thousand ships. I had spoken my piece and was free to rise now, to go back to the world of art and a small cabin build there of clay and wattles and other shit.
Pausing to taste the stagnant air, I gained courage by taking another sip of burgundy and spit it out over the Bohemian whores that had gathered to speak in their pseudo rhythms. I heard my voice scream in more of a mandate than a challenge, letting them know the poets down here, they don't write nothing at all, they just sit back and let it all be. Poetry is the blasphemy for the inarticulate and I've seen the best minds of my generation poisoned with dreams of grandeur for this world. This world of kaleidoscopes dipped in tulip flavored water making love to a French julep by the river Thames with a salty teared kiss from the rain, and other such adjective and noun turned adjective worlds they strip themselves into.
Singer Songwriter Ryan Deblock, my pint faced friend, crammed a drink into my mouth, while inquiring into the nature of music. Feeling like a prophet, with words to savor, I told him when the scythe of art is lowered upon the chaff his will be one that is rewarded as they played by the rules of the oral tradition. I, then, graced him with a smile, fumbling in my pocket for change.
I stuffed another accoutrement down my throat and felt my body collapse onto a couch. The ash flicked off onto my hand, but I didn't care, even over the glow of my ember I looked out at this sad world of pretenders that try to capture poetry and realized I pitied them. While they're making pretty speeches, they're really being ripped to shreds. They try to capture the beautiful when in all actuality, it's something that will never be theirs, they can't even borrow it.
I stabbed my smoke out, with a force strong enough to stop a thousand ships. I had spoken my piece and was free to rise now, to go back to the world of art and a small cabin build there of clay and wattles and other shit.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Ive got concerns
I’ve got concerns
Stopped by the folks’ place last night. It was just supposed to be quick “how do you do” and then I would be off into the night to run various errands before heading home to the Little Lady.
My parents have both retired in the past few years, my dad most recently, and they are growing more and more insane with each passing day. I love the hell out of ‘em but seriously. Wow. They’re goofy. I don’t remember them being this bizarre as a kid. Maybe I was more focused on He-Man getting away from Mer-Man or something and I failed to notice. But I don’t think so. I think they’ve become unhinged now that they don’t have to act normal in society 40 hours of the week. Not that I blame them. I’m running my freak flag up the pole all day every day as soon as I get the chance. But it is disconcerting.
To be honest a large part of this may not be their fault. They’re certainly 100% batshit crazy but I mean the issue last night that led to this little post isn’t entirely their fault. My brother, who is well-meaning, had convinced them to get high speed internet, a wireless card for the laptop AND vonage digital phone service instead of their old standard phone line. He convinced them to do this all at one time. My parents are retirees and while there is no one I trust more when it comes to life and cars and stuff on this planet they definitely lack a bit when it comes to this sort of technology. Did I mention my well-meaning brother lives far, far away and can only assist by phone during the setup process? And also that he has no patience. He has never in his entire life paused for a moment to consider anything and expects that you do the same. Or else you’re an idiot. He’s what I like to call a loveable asshole. And no, I don’t mean THAT kind of loveable.
So I walk into this maelstrom (great word that, and dutch too which is always fun) of angry adult child on the phone and confused retirees in my midst and I say the stupidest possible thing at the stupidest possible moment. “Can I help?” What I should have done is gone out to the garage and grabbed a shovel and hit both of my parents in the head with it and then myself. It would have been a far more productive evening.
I spent the next few hours trying to set up email while my dad asked me to call the house to make sure the house phone was working and my mom asked me questions about the wireless card. It was chaos. I’m fairly certain that if I had looked up from the computer screen I would have seen Satan reclining on the couch with some potato chips laughing at all of us.
After much effort it was decided by my father that the wireless card is all well and good but he’d really rather run a wire to the computer. Thus making him feel good and safe because he understands wires and connections and he does not like wireless communications and spiffy little usb cards that have a little red glowing light. They are obviously evil and can only be killed by running wires throughout the entire house. If given the choice between manually running 119 wires throughout each room of the house or trying to understand the wireless system I can virtually guarantee you my dad would have been standing there with his drill and wondering when he could get started.
I ran away screaming into the night shortly after that and the rest is a blur.
Stopped by the folks’ place last night. It was just supposed to be quick “how do you do” and then I would be off into the night to run various errands before heading home to the Little Lady.
My parents have both retired in the past few years, my dad most recently, and they are growing more and more insane with each passing day. I love the hell out of ‘em but seriously. Wow. They’re goofy. I don’t remember them being this bizarre as a kid. Maybe I was more focused on He-Man getting away from Mer-Man or something and I failed to notice. But I don’t think so. I think they’ve become unhinged now that they don’t have to act normal in society 40 hours of the week. Not that I blame them. I’m running my freak flag up the pole all day every day as soon as I get the chance. But it is disconcerting.
To be honest a large part of this may not be their fault. They’re certainly 100% batshit crazy but I mean the issue last night that led to this little post isn’t entirely their fault. My brother, who is well-meaning, had convinced them to get high speed internet, a wireless card for the laptop AND vonage digital phone service instead of their old standard phone line. He convinced them to do this all at one time. My parents are retirees and while there is no one I trust more when it comes to life and cars and stuff on this planet they definitely lack a bit when it comes to this sort of technology. Did I mention my well-meaning brother lives far, far away and can only assist by phone during the setup process? And also that he has no patience. He has never in his entire life paused for a moment to consider anything and expects that you do the same. Or else you’re an idiot. He’s what I like to call a loveable asshole. And no, I don’t mean THAT kind of loveable.
So I walk into this maelstrom (great word that, and dutch too which is always fun) of angry adult child on the phone and confused retirees in my midst and I say the stupidest possible thing at the stupidest possible moment. “Can I help?” What I should have done is gone out to the garage and grabbed a shovel and hit both of my parents in the head with it and then myself. It would have been a far more productive evening.
I spent the next few hours trying to set up email while my dad asked me to call the house to make sure the house phone was working and my mom asked me questions about the wireless card. It was chaos. I’m fairly certain that if I had looked up from the computer screen I would have seen Satan reclining on the couch with some potato chips laughing at all of us.
After much effort it was decided by my father that the wireless card is all well and good but he’d really rather run a wire to the computer. Thus making him feel good and safe because he understands wires and connections and he does not like wireless communications and spiffy little usb cards that have a little red glowing light. They are obviously evil and can only be killed by running wires throughout the entire house. If given the choice between manually running 119 wires throughout each room of the house or trying to understand the wireless system I can virtually guarantee you my dad would have been standing there with his drill and wondering when he could get started.
I ran away screaming into the night shortly after that and the rest is a blur.
Monday, November 28, 2005
On Rotting In Hell for All Eternity
And as the cool November breeze of Thanksgiving washed over me, I wondered if I was indeed bound for hell. Here I am, Lord, wearing a sweatshirt that I had from high school, dirty pants, a dirty undershirt all clothes that I owned previous to college, wondering what the person that wore these clothes when they were new would think of this individual standing outside with an accoutrement and a glass of wine.
Bless me father, for I have sinned. Not in deeds, in deeds I have been fine, but in thoughts. The deeds, the helping others, have turned meaningless for me, yet I continue to do them. And all it leaves me with are the thoughts and the aftermath, the guilt.
I feel that I'm bound for trouble more then salvation. While I commit myself to actions that I believe people are grateful for, I know that I don't mean them. I go through these robotic acts so that everybody will be happy, so that the great wheel will continue to roll and the final destination will be achieved in the easiest possible way. Is it possible to invent perpetual motion and yet still be standing still?
Perhaps this is just growing up. Perhaps these are the growing pains that come with growing too fat to comfortably fit into the pants that you owned prior to college? These sacrifices that we make for others, even if we don't mean them, perhaps it's all in tune with the great deal of life. Perhaps my view is too blinded and I'm missing out on what others do for me and the sacrifices performed on my behalf? We help everybody else to advance the world and society, through self sacrifice we're able to give something back to the world.
Let us take a brief moment to thank the hippy that came up with the previous paragraph, may your bong, sir, always glow red. We all know that it isn't true. No act is ever done through a selfless act. We all make our decisions still based on ourselves and what we hope will be a happy outcome from it. When we choose self sacrifice we are just doing it because we obviously don't like ourselves well enough, or don't respect ourselves well enough to make the correct decision.
What that correct decision is, I don't know. That's not the path that I picked.
Bless me father, for I have sinned. Not in deeds, in deeds I have been fine, but in thoughts. The deeds, the helping others, have turned meaningless for me, yet I continue to do them. And all it leaves me with are the thoughts and the aftermath, the guilt.
I feel that I'm bound for trouble more then salvation. While I commit myself to actions that I believe people are grateful for, I know that I don't mean them. I go through these robotic acts so that everybody will be happy, so that the great wheel will continue to roll and the final destination will be achieved in the easiest possible way. Is it possible to invent perpetual motion and yet still be standing still?
Perhaps this is just growing up. Perhaps these are the growing pains that come with growing too fat to comfortably fit into the pants that you owned prior to college? These sacrifices that we make for others, even if we don't mean them, perhaps it's all in tune with the great deal of life. Perhaps my view is too blinded and I'm missing out on what others do for me and the sacrifices performed on my behalf? We help everybody else to advance the world and society, through self sacrifice we're able to give something back to the world.
Let us take a brief moment to thank the hippy that came up with the previous paragraph, may your bong, sir, always glow red. We all know that it isn't true. No act is ever done through a selfless act. We all make our decisions still based on ourselves and what we hope will be a happy outcome from it. When we choose self sacrifice we are just doing it because we obviously don't like ourselves well enough, or don't respect ourselves well enough to make the correct decision.
What that correct decision is, I don't know. That's not the path that I picked.
Friday, November 25, 2005
T-Day + 1
8:29 am
Show up casually late (half hour) proceed to fill up my large vat of water so that I will make necessary pee breaks throughout the entire day. The secret word of the day, kids, is Hangover. I fucking hate mornings. There is no need for Mornings.
8:36 am
First awkward conversation of the morning with a co-worker. As everybody in this office knows I am un-approachable prior to coffee and 10 AM. Most people get confused because they think that they can talk with me if it is 1) after 10 AM or 2) after the first cup of coffee. This is a common blunder and one that will received a cruel dissertation on the approaching person's inadequacies, from myself. In order for me to talk it needs to be both after 10 AM as well as after coffee. Only when both of those goals are achieved does morning begin to exist.
8:55 am
Have a slight dream of Naperville, IL. This has been with me for a while, for some reason the downtown area or down by the river. I think that I just need coffee.
9:01 am
Begin to contemplate cross country skiing again and the pros and cons of it. Begin to think that I'm still drunk from the previous night.
9:18 am
Receive a well wishing email from the president of the company congratulating us all on another s uccessful year. Yet, in an odd way. I feel no sense of accomplishment on this. I am now going to space out for the next ten minutes and give this some degree of thought. Perhaps I'll nap.
9:24 am
Slight inner monologue erupts in my head. How many lies could I use in a friendship, without losing the friend? Could I run an excel spreadsheet on this? Should I have more than one friend in this experiment? (I was thinking three: two that I would lie to and one that I would use as my control). I think I'm stupid. This folly has gone on long enough. I need coffee.
9:40 am
Stretch the coffee break into an accoutrement. It's not that I need them, but I need a break and they provide that. Re-animation process is beginning. Beginning to feel like a human again. I have been listening to a nice little Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond medley, good for the early morning hours but now I'm thinking I need to step it up a little bit.
10:04 am
I typically will put off caffeine for as long as possible. My thoughts on this are as such: if I can put off waking up for the first two hours of my day I can usually make the day go by faster. Of course now, I'm mildly coherent and need to find other distractions, outside of spacing out, to get through the remainder of my day.
10:30 am
Quality time in the restroom. I thought it was going to be much more recreational than it actually turned out to be. The sphincter was all business today, and it is always fun the day after wine to observe. Everybody is a winner.
11:18 am
Begin to contemplate lunch. I didn't bring in lunch and don't feel like leaving the building, so my options are limited or, rather not existent. But lunch still would be nice. So instead of lunch, I think about dinner. Maybe a nap.
11:27 am
I think that there is act ually a secret league that exists in my office that doesn't want me to have coffee. These sorry individuals know that I have two cups of coffee a day and don't wish for me to be happy. Thus, before my coffee breaks, they steal themselves into the break room and extract all of the coffee out of the pots so that when I go to have my coffee, all of it is removed and I am left feeling pissed at the world and need to make coffee. These people should all catch syphillis and die from it.
11:45 am
After lusting for food, I suddenly remember that I have leftover noodles here. Sure they're from roughly 1963, but mold still falls into the realm of food, it might even be considered roughage, which, so I've been told, is something that is good for me. I'm excited.
12:01 pm
I think I just had the world's first intelligent conversation of the pros and cons of watching video's of pornographic nature with the sound on or off. On one hand it is nice to hear the emotion and there are some elements of story that make it better, but on the other hand, the last thing you want is for somebody to hear you watching it. This reminds me of the time when I was a younger man, and was over at a friends house and we were watching a video of questionable content in his basement. Unknown to us, his mom, his sister and his grandmother were upstairs, and despite the fact that both his grandma and his sister are somewhat deaf, they were still able to hear most of our conversations and the video itself through the chimney. Most embarrassing comment for myself: That is the largest cock I've ever seen. I'm not proud.
12:29 pm
Begin to think about accoutrafying myself again. I've been walking around the office floor for the past half hour talking with people, but would like to actually get off the floor… now I need to convince somebody to go with me…
12:40 pm
I thought about peeing for a couple of seconds, but then decided better about it, especially after I walked over there and got into a conversation with somebody that was going to go. There is nothing more awkward than starting a conversation with somebody that is going into the bathroom. I don't know if you're supposed to call a time out so that you can go, or if you keep talking? I mean, I've been on both sides of that equation and don't really feel that comfortable with either of them
12:50 pm
I do not want a fourth cup of coffee, but I seem to have picked it up. I know that two cups of coffee are good for me, they fight some sort of oxidant or who the hell cares, the third is the roll of the dice cup and four is just plain bad for you. Still, it feels good to drink it and yesterday was the most gluttonous day of the year and I didn't eat, thus certain things are owed to me.
3:20 pm
Took an hour and a half lunch and then was stuck in a meaningless meeting for the past hour. Meetings aren't that bad. It gives me an opportunity to space out while staring at things that are different from what I usually space out on. For the common thug, this is something that isn't appreciated enough.
3:47 pm
Since the rest of the world is sane and doesn't work today, I have been keeping a running conversation going via text messaging. This, I feel is for the best so I, at the very minimum, have one intelligent person to talk to today. Seriously, I need to develop a second personality just so I have somebody to hang out with.
3:53 pm
The hangover is gone. So I make my first of what will be several attempts to talk somebody into going out to happy hour. It's not so much that I wish to go with co-workers to a happy hour and not so much that I want to d rive in the slop outside. I just wish to have something to look forward to when work is done, or a promise, to myself, that work will soon be done.
4:15 pm
Seriously, today cannot finish fast enough. Forty five effing minutes left to go. These are the hardest moments. The end is in sight, the feeling that we are going to make it is imminent.
4:18 pm
I enjoy sending out some of my orders without fully checking them for fees. I feel that it is too time consuming and that if I'm not going to make a buck off of the company, then somebody should. It's my little reward for the day, even though somebody else gets to spend it… effers
4:35 pm
Now I've painted myself into a corner. Numerous people now wish to go out to Happy Hour with me, but, in all actuality I don't want to go out with anybody and it's more a want to be included and then not to do it. This sucks for others and their social calendars but… it works for me. I conveniently have made up a lie that an uncle is coming into town and that I need to see him. It's last minute and I feel bad due to the inclimate weather.
4:36 pm
Begin to feel bad about the gas that I’m producing. It's been fairly audible all day, something I generally try to cover up with the fact that my chair is moving. But the smell, the sound, the lack of people in the office that would cover those up appears to have created a bit of a stir. Time to do a little bit of positive campaigning on behalf of myself.
4:56
Free at last… sweet baby, I am free at lastµ
Show up casually late (half hour) proceed to fill up my large vat of water so that I will make necessary pee breaks throughout the entire day. The secret word of the day, kids, is Hangover. I fucking hate mornings. There is no need for Mornings.
8:36 am
First awkward conversation of the morning with a co-worker. As everybody in this office knows I am un-approachable prior to coffee and 10 AM. Most people get confused because they think that they can talk with me if it is 1) after 10 AM or 2) after the first cup of coffee. This is a common blunder and one that will received a cruel dissertation on the approaching person's inadequacies, from myself. In order for me to talk it needs to be both after 10 AM as well as after coffee. Only when both of those goals are achieved does morning begin to exist.
8:55 am
Have a slight dream of Naperville, IL. This has been with me for a while, for some reason the downtown area or down by the river. I think that I just need coffee.
9:01 am
Begin to contemplate cross country skiing again and the pros and cons of it. Begin to think that I'm still drunk from the previous night.
9:18 am
Receive a well wishing email from the president of the company congratulating us all on another s uccessful year. Yet, in an odd way. I feel no sense of accomplishment on this. I am now going to space out for the next ten minutes and give this some degree of thought. Perhaps I'll nap.
9:24 am
Slight inner monologue erupts in my head. How many lies could I use in a friendship, without losing the friend? Could I run an excel spreadsheet on this? Should I have more than one friend in this experiment? (I was thinking three: two that I would lie to and one that I would use as my control). I think I'm stupid. This folly has gone on long enough. I need coffee.
9:40 am
Stretch the coffee break into an accoutrement. It's not that I need them, but I need a break and they provide that. Re-animation process is beginning. Beginning to feel like a human again. I have been listening to a nice little Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond medley, good for the early morning hours but now I'm thinking I need to step it up a little bit.
10:04 am
I typically will put off caffeine for as long as possible. My thoughts on this are as such: if I can put off waking up for the first two hours of my day I can usually make the day go by faster. Of course now, I'm mildly coherent and need to find other distractions, outside of spacing out, to get through the remainder of my day.
10:30 am
Quality time in the restroom. I thought it was going to be much more recreational than it actually turned out to be. The sphincter was all business today, and it is always fun the day after wine to observe. Everybody is a winner.
11:18 am
Begin to contemplate lunch. I didn't bring in lunch and don't feel like leaving the building, so my options are limited or, rather not existent. But lunch still would be nice. So instead of lunch, I think about dinner. Maybe a nap.
11:27 am
I think that there is act ually a secret league that exists in my office that doesn't want me to have coffee. These sorry individuals know that I have two cups of coffee a day and don't wish for me to be happy. Thus, before my coffee breaks, they steal themselves into the break room and extract all of the coffee out of the pots so that when I go to have my coffee, all of it is removed and I am left feeling pissed at the world and need to make coffee. These people should all catch syphillis and die from it.
11:45 am
After lusting for food, I suddenly remember that I have leftover noodles here. Sure they're from roughly 1963, but mold still falls into the realm of food, it might even be considered roughage, which, so I've been told, is something that is good for me. I'm excited.
12:01 pm
I think I just had the world's first intelligent conversation of the pros and cons of watching video's of pornographic nature with the sound on or off. On one hand it is nice to hear the emotion and there are some elements of story that make it better, but on the other hand, the last thing you want is for somebody to hear you watching it. This reminds me of the time when I was a younger man, and was over at a friends house and we were watching a video of questionable content in his basement. Unknown to us, his mom, his sister and his grandmother were upstairs, and despite the fact that both his grandma and his sister are somewhat deaf, they were still able to hear most of our conversations and the video itself through the chimney. Most embarrassing comment for myself: That is the largest cock I've ever seen. I'm not proud.
12:29 pm
Begin to think about accoutrafying myself again. I've been walking around the office floor for the past half hour talking with people, but would like to actually get off the floor… now I need to convince somebody to go with me…
12:40 pm
I thought about peeing for a couple of seconds, but then decided better about it, especially after I walked over there and got into a conversation with somebody that was going to go. There is nothing more awkward than starting a conversation with somebody that is going into the bathroom. I don't know if you're supposed to call a time out so that you can go, or if you keep talking? I mean, I've been on both sides of that equation and don't really feel that comfortable with either of them
12:50 pm
I do not want a fourth cup of coffee, but I seem to have picked it up. I know that two cups of coffee are good for me, they fight some sort of oxidant or who the hell cares, the third is the roll of the dice cup and four is just plain bad for you. Still, it feels good to drink it and yesterday was the most gluttonous day of the year and I didn't eat, thus certain things are owed to me.
3:20 pm
Took an hour and a half lunch and then was stuck in a meaningless meeting for the past hour. Meetings aren't that bad. It gives me an opportunity to space out while staring at things that are different from what I usually space out on. For the common thug, this is something that isn't appreciated enough.
3:47 pm
Since the rest of the world is sane and doesn't work today, I have been keeping a running conversation going via text messaging. This, I feel is for the best so I, at the very minimum, have one intelligent person to talk to today. Seriously, I need to develop a second personality just so I have somebody to hang out with.
3:53 pm
The hangover is gone. So I make my first of what will be several attempts to talk somebody into going out to happy hour. It's not so much that I wish to go with co-workers to a happy hour and not so much that I want to d rive in the slop outside. I just wish to have something to look forward to when work is done, or a promise, to myself, that work will soon be done.
4:15 pm
Seriously, today cannot finish fast enough. Forty five effing minutes left to go. These are the hardest moments. The end is in sight, the feeling that we are going to make it is imminent.
4:18 pm
I enjoy sending out some of my orders without fully checking them for fees. I feel that it is too time consuming and that if I'm not going to make a buck off of the company, then somebody should. It's my little reward for the day, even though somebody else gets to spend it… effers
4:35 pm
Now I've painted myself into a corner. Numerous people now wish to go out to Happy Hour with me, but, in all actuality I don't want to go out with anybody and it's more a want to be included and then not to do it. This sucks for others and their social calendars but… it works for me. I conveniently have made up a lie that an uncle is coming into town and that I need to see him. It's last minute and I feel bad due to the inclimate weather.
4:36 pm
Begin to feel bad about the gas that I’m producing. It's been fairly audible all day, something I generally try to cover up with the fact that my chair is moving. But the smell, the sound, the lack of people in the office that would cover those up appears to have created a bit of a stir. Time to do a little bit of positive campaigning on behalf of myself.
4:56
Free at last… sweet baby, I am free at lastµ
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Ode to the Football Fan
As we reach the halfway point of the football season, let us take a quick look at those dear souls that call themselves football fans. We will break down our football friends into two distinct categories; ones that we will break down by distinction, cross referencing our the good folks of the gay community.
Category 1: In the closet
The actual closet reference refers to the degree of love that this football fan has for the "sport" of NASCAR. Due to the low level of education that both sports employee, a natural marriage, or flirtation, is inevitable from both. Both claim to have actual athletes that play them (I have driven to Chicago before and know that I can make it there without stopping to go to the bathroom, take that Jeff Gordon) and both need little to no actual knowledge of the history of the game, or rules of the game, in order to appreciate. However, the distinction for these folks compared to a Category 2 football fan, is that they're not able to admit that they like NASCAR. Sure, sometimes at the bar the Category 1 fan will have an eye on the races, hating themselves with every sip of their beer. Typically, these folks aren't that well adjusted and spent most of their childhood trying on their mother's underwear.
Category 2: Out of the Closet
These are, by far and away, more comfortable with themselves than Category 1 football fans. They have accepted their love of NASCAR and now no longer care what other's think of them. Like our friends in the Gay community and their ability to develop a different lexicon in order to distinguish themselves, Category 2 football fans will typically utilize more of a broken English. This could be as simple as leaving words out of sentences that should be included, to something as difficult to comprehend as turning nouns into verbs.
Shared Characteristics
Similarities do abound throughout the football community. While the argument can be made that due to the shortened season, more games matter, it can also mean that the season is over, well now. Something that isn't lost on any true football fan. True football fans know that it isn't worth it to continue cheering for their team once they are down, and, perhaps, at that point they are able to grasp how truly boring their actual sport is to watch and thus they give up. This is the reason that there hasn't been a football fan in the city of Detroit since 1963. For the super bowl this year they are actually implementing animatronics (the same ones used during this year's World Series on the Southside of Chicago) in order to give the appearance of fans.
Other similarities include, but are not exclusive to: lack of knowledge of the sport, or rather lack of caring of the sport. With little to no actual history worth remembering in the National Football League, there is no worry about committing anything to memory. With the lack of athleticism that goes into playing any non-skill position on the football field, there is a feeling, for both category 1 and category 2 fans that they could, in effect, be called onto the field to play. And then there is the fact that it is just America's excuse to get drunk and watch guys rub against one another in tight pants.
So, go hug your football loving friends today; today, dear reader, is truly their day. For tomorrow, once the dispute over non-guaranteed contracts surfaces and there is a twenty year strike, these fine folks will become extinct.
-Mule
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