Two British Cops Gunned Down
Funny, I thought Great Britain had outlawed private hand gun ownership, thereby making the country totally safe from this kind of thing... Oh, right, they did outlaw just about anything more clearly designed to kill humans than a hunting shotgun (for the wealthy and the rural, and only after some nightmarish paperwork), and it... makes no fucking difference.
Showing posts with label BASTARDS BASTARDS BASTARDS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BASTARDS BASTARDS BASTARDS. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Cultural Insensitivity and Me
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-india-16676254
So apparently Jay Leno (Unfunny Motherfucker) displayed the holiest of holies of the Sikh faith in a skit mocking Mitt Romney. This has several Sikhs quite pissed, to the tune of starting a petition.
Mister Ravi, on behalf of the people of the united states... Get fucked.
The right to make fun of shit, no matter what it is, is one of the American people's most sacred joys... The Indian Government should also look into dealing with real problems, as opposed to the lame attempts at humor of a fucking hack.
Respect for your religion does not extend to legislating what comedians, however unfunny, can say... This not acceptable to us and we take a very strong objection to your fucking whining.
Mister Kaur, if you dislike Mister Leno's material, do what I always do- Don't watch it. Seriously, he sucks, it's not like you're giving anything up.
I try to remind myself that this kind of religious bullshit is largely brought on by human context,but the fact is, as insensitive and culturally blind as Leno's stupid joke may have been, the Sikh response shows a marked lack of respect for one of the few identifiable North American cultural imperatives, one we inherited from either Europe or a romanticized notion of Europe- the Jester's Prerogative.
Hands off, motherfuckers, or I'll unleash the hate-reanimated corpse of Lenny Bruce on you. And he will show you no mercy.
So apparently Jay Leno (Unfunny Motherfucker) displayed the holiest of holies of the Sikh faith in a skit mocking Mitt Romney. This has several Sikhs quite pissed, to the tune of starting a petition.
The Sikh community has launched an online petition and an Indian minister called the comments "objectionable".
Overseas Indian Affairs Minister Vayalar Ravi told reporters: "It is quite unfortunate and quite objectionable that such a comment has been made after showing the Golden Temple."
Mr Ravi said the Indian embassy would take up the matter with the US state department, the Press Trust of India reported.
He said: "The Golden Temple is the Sikh community's most sacred place... The American government should also look at this kind of thing.
Golden Temple The Golden Temple is the holiest Sikh shrine
"Freedom does not mean hurting the sentiments of others... This is not acceptable to us and we take a very strong objection for such a display."
Mister Ravi, on behalf of the people of the united states... Get fucked.
The right to make fun of shit, no matter what it is, is one of the American people's most sacred joys... The Indian Government should also look into dealing with real problems, as opposed to the lame attempts at humor of a fucking hack.
Respect for your religion does not extend to legislating what comedians, however unfunny, can say... This not acceptable to us and we take a very strong objection to your fucking whining.
Petition signatory Simran Kaur says: "Jay Leno must apologise and promise not to make any direct or oblique references to Sikhs or their places of worship."
Mister Kaur, if you dislike Mister Leno's material, do what I always do- Don't watch it. Seriously, he sucks, it's not like you're giving anything up.
I try to remind myself that this kind of religious bullshit is largely brought on by human context,but the fact is, as insensitive and culturally blind as Leno's stupid joke may have been, the Sikh response shows a marked lack of respect for one of the few identifiable North American cultural imperatives, one we inherited from either Europe or a romanticized notion of Europe- the Jester's Prerogative.
Hands off, motherfuckers, or I'll unleash the hate-reanimated corpse of Lenny Bruce on you. And he will show you no mercy.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Election Year. PIG and ROT
So, in keeping with the finest traditions of modern U.S. democracy, the Party In Government (hereinafter PIG) is free to sit and watch as the Rest Of Them (ROT) thrash it out amongst themselves.
Has anyone realized how fucking stupid this process is?
In the primary system, fringe and undecided voters are ignored. No, the ROT need to galvanize their base. This leads to progressively more insane and asinine claims and statements revolving around whatever in hell their narrow pool of voters care about.
Right now, objectively, what are the biggest problems in this country?
From where I sit, we've got three big 'uns.
1- The Economy, Stupid. Really, a true shitshow. The Occupy movement amuses, rather than fires me up, but they're addressing a very real perception that things are not working like they should. Then there are basic numbers like unemployment figures and home ownership. They ain't good.
2- The steady erosion of civil liberties- To be fair to the PIG, this has been going on for a long time, with some of the most precipitous damage happening in the last eleven years or so. Still and all, from both major political entities in this country, it's quite hilarious how clear they've made it that they do not give a shit about the rights of the average citizen. One sides with corporate kelptocracy. The other... sides with corporate kleptocracy with a big pretty bow on top claiming they care. Neither cares about you, fool. They care about their personal power and fortunes, about shoring up their own faction. And frankly, no alternative party would be much better once they got on top. They won't stop this on their own- they need to be scared. Neither PIG nor ROT has really had their snouts whacked on this in far, far too long- hardly surprising, when this is one area where they appear content to cooperate. Thanks, assholes.
3- Foreign Adventures- You know, there was a time when this country was inclined to let the rest of the world get by without us. I blame our shattering sense of triumph in World War II- we came out of that one on top, unquestionably the best-armed nation on the planet. But it seems that no one has taken a good long look at our track record in major conflicts since 1945- Korea was more or less a draw, Vietnam was a strategic loss and a horrible waste of life (come on, a bunch of raggedy-ass half-trained guerillas with Kalashnikovs stood us off for HOW long?), and then.... then we entered a long series of brushfire bullshit in keeping with our imperial legacy, propping up regimes and looking after our own interests- success in a lot of limited objectives against weaker foes. And then there was the failure to rescue the hostages in the Tehran embassy in 1980. In 1983, we steamrolled Grenada. Air strikes on Libya in 1986 in a bid to kill Qadaffi (which may have only strengthened his hold on power), 1989's invasion of Panama was business as usual, 1990-1991 we, with other nations, slapped Iraq upside the head but changed nothing of import, insuring that we continued to have occasional live-fire incidents with Iraqi forces from 1992-2003 as the no-fly zones were enforced. In 1995, we went into Bosnia. In 2001, we went into Afghanistan (we're still there, by the by) to repeat the lessons we should have learned in Vietnam and Cambodia. Not content with that, in 2003, we formally re-invaded Iraq, and, in the following eight years, have had victory declared twice by two different Presidents. And then there's our recent Libyan intervention. Hail, victory.
We haven't been militarily inactive since... about 1935, apparently.
So of course, rather than dealing with any of these three lingering headaches, the ROT know what we really care about... that our sitting President is a "Socialist." That he is "soft on terrorism" (Good thing for him he has Osama bin Laden's bullet-riddled corpse on his scorecard for that one). That he is "at war with Christianity." That homosexuals can openly serve in our armed forces.
Hey. Assholes. The PIG ain't going down if that's the best you can do- and by the time the ROT have chosen their boy, the PIG will know all they need to know about 'em. And they'll also have a whole primary season's worth of stupid, extremist base-flacking bullshit to throw in the public's face.
The fix is in. Bend over.
Has anyone realized how fucking stupid this process is?
In the primary system, fringe and undecided voters are ignored. No, the ROT need to galvanize their base. This leads to progressively more insane and asinine claims and statements revolving around whatever in hell their narrow pool of voters care about.
Right now, objectively, what are the biggest problems in this country?
From where I sit, we've got three big 'uns.
1- The Economy, Stupid. Really, a true shitshow. The Occupy movement amuses, rather than fires me up, but they're addressing a very real perception that things are not working like they should. Then there are basic numbers like unemployment figures and home ownership. They ain't good.
2- The steady erosion of civil liberties- To be fair to the PIG, this has been going on for a long time, with some of the most precipitous damage happening in the last eleven years or so. Still and all, from both major political entities in this country, it's quite hilarious how clear they've made it that they do not give a shit about the rights of the average citizen. One sides with corporate kelptocracy. The other... sides with corporate kleptocracy with a big pretty bow on top claiming they care. Neither cares about you, fool. They care about their personal power and fortunes, about shoring up their own faction. And frankly, no alternative party would be much better once they got on top. They won't stop this on their own- they need to be scared. Neither PIG nor ROT has really had their snouts whacked on this in far, far too long- hardly surprising, when this is one area where they appear content to cooperate. Thanks, assholes.
3- Foreign Adventures- You know, there was a time when this country was inclined to let the rest of the world get by without us. I blame our shattering sense of triumph in World War II- we came out of that one on top, unquestionably the best-armed nation on the planet. But it seems that no one has taken a good long look at our track record in major conflicts since 1945- Korea was more or less a draw, Vietnam was a strategic loss and a horrible waste of life (come on, a bunch of raggedy-ass half-trained guerillas with Kalashnikovs stood us off for HOW long?), and then.... then we entered a long series of brushfire bullshit in keeping with our imperial legacy, propping up regimes and looking after our own interests- success in a lot of limited objectives against weaker foes. And then there was the failure to rescue the hostages in the Tehran embassy in 1980. In 1983, we steamrolled Grenada. Air strikes on Libya in 1986 in a bid to kill Qadaffi (which may have only strengthened his hold on power), 1989's invasion of Panama was business as usual, 1990-1991 we, with other nations, slapped Iraq upside the head but changed nothing of import, insuring that we continued to have occasional live-fire incidents with Iraqi forces from 1992-2003 as the no-fly zones were enforced. In 1995, we went into Bosnia. In 2001, we went into Afghanistan (we're still there, by the by) to repeat the lessons we should have learned in Vietnam and Cambodia. Not content with that, in 2003, we formally re-invaded Iraq, and, in the following eight years, have had victory declared twice by two different Presidents. And then there's our recent Libyan intervention. Hail, victory.
We haven't been militarily inactive since... about 1935, apparently.
So of course, rather than dealing with any of these three lingering headaches, the ROT know what we really care about... that our sitting President is a "Socialist." That he is "soft on terrorism" (Good thing for him he has Osama bin Laden's bullet-riddled corpse on his scorecard for that one). That he is "at war with Christianity." That homosexuals can openly serve in our armed forces.
Hey. Assholes. The PIG ain't going down if that's the best you can do- and by the time the ROT have chosen their boy, the PIG will know all they need to know about 'em. And they'll also have a whole primary season's worth of stupid, extremist base-flacking bullshit to throw in the public's face.
The fix is in. Bend over.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Ten Years After September 11, 2001
So, a decade ago some murderous shits perpetrated an atrocity.
A little over two thousand people died in the course of this atrocity.
And thanks to yearly goddamned reminders, I am all but numb to the actual gravity of the horror.
Every year we get plastered with "never forget." Unless we know someone who died that day, we've ALREADY forgotten. What we're keeping alive is a mere shadow of what we felt.
The highjackers have achieved immortality. Most of us know their names, or at least a couple.
The planners are likewise memorialized every time this sad damned mess is brought up.
A few of the passengers (especially those on Flight 93) and crew murdered by the aforementioned scumbags are known to us.
But who are we really remembering?
When I write the names of Mohamed Atta, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, or Osama bin Laden, most, if not all of us, can call up not only a photograph we've seen, but a brief biography.
Now, quick. Name one person who died as a victim of the attacks. Go on. Look up the guy (Todd Beamer) who said "Let's roll." Or maybe John P. O'Neill. Perhaps Sirius the bomb-sniffing dog is recalled by some of you?
With over two thousand dead, it's easy to wrap them all up in "those who were lost" on September 11, 2001.
But that's reductionist bullshit. No one was "lost." People were murdered. And we continue to fixate upon the murderers.
I didn't know anyone who died that day.
I now know the bastards responsible better than I have any reason to.
And I'm about done venerating their gigantic goddamned crime.
A little over two thousand people died in the course of this atrocity.
And thanks to yearly goddamned reminders, I am all but numb to the actual gravity of the horror.
Every year we get plastered with "never forget." Unless we know someone who died that day, we've ALREADY forgotten. What we're keeping alive is a mere shadow of what we felt.
The highjackers have achieved immortality. Most of us know their names, or at least a couple.
The planners are likewise memorialized every time this sad damned mess is brought up.
A few of the passengers (especially those on Flight 93) and crew murdered by the aforementioned scumbags are known to us.
But who are we really remembering?
When I write the names of Mohamed Atta, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, or Osama bin Laden, most, if not all of us, can call up not only a photograph we've seen, but a brief biography.
Now, quick. Name one person who died as a victim of the attacks. Go on. Look up the guy (Todd Beamer) who said "Let's roll." Or maybe John P. O'Neill. Perhaps Sirius the bomb-sniffing dog is recalled by some of you?
With over two thousand dead, it's easy to wrap them all up in "those who were lost" on September 11, 2001.
But that's reductionist bullshit. No one was "lost." People were murdered. And we continue to fixate upon the murderers.
I didn't know anyone who died that day.
I now know the bastards responsible better than I have any reason to.
And I'm about done venerating their gigantic goddamned crime.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Why Gamers Suck
All right, so I'm a dedicated gamer, given the chance. After a shitty workweek, unleashing "Burning" Takarov, priest of the thoroughly evil god of Fire and Poison on an unsuspecting village in the company of the equally vile Lovefist brothers had a cathartic joy to it. And of course, our interminable avatar campaigns in the World of Darkness allow an even more direct opportunity to blow off steam.
But let's face it, all gamers suck. Here's why-
1- We will tell you about our characters, knowing full well that you do not give a fuck. We will also tell you about how much we hate it when people tell us about their characters, because that's how we roll.
2- We find our in-jokes funny. Then we ruin them by explaining them to you. Honestly, if you weren't there, "that time Mike said we'd kill him if he fucked up" just isn't that funny.
3- We will argue endlessly about truly pointless shit in imaginary worlds. You have not experienced Hell until you've seen a Forgotten Realms fan throw down with a Greyhawk fan about the respective merits of their settings. And while just about everyone on Earth is capable of this, only gamers and other geeks will get in a frothing rage about why Elminster could totally kick Mordenkainen's ass. If they start citing page numbers, you're probably on the internet, and should just navigate to a porn site to unwind.
4- We, aware as we are of stereotypical social awkwardness, will still pick on gamers who "do it wrong." In the game store I worked at in Bloomington, we had a guy we called C.K.W. (Coolest Kid in the World) who we endlessly put down and abused in-game. A simpler, mature solution would have been to not let him play since his style pissed us off. But lord knows, we can't turn a fellow gamer away. Especially not when he's more pathetic than we are and makes us look better by comparison.
5- We have to be cool. And we have to prove it. Drunken rednecks have nothing on pencil-wristed gamers when it comes to dick-measuring contests. About shit that is usually either trivial, fictitious, or just useless.
6- Our system is better than yours. We have a tendency to cling to a gaming system we like as if it contained the only water left in the universe. And revised versions of systems we like are greeted with hostility. For example, I started playing D&D when it was AD&D 2nd Edition. A system, which, by the way, sucked the meat missile. GOD it was awful and arbitrary. But it took me a while to warm up to 3rd Edition, because, well, it was change. And would Eldred Shadowmere, Dual-Wielding Ranger Who Could Totally Kick Drizzt's Ass And I had The Stats To Prove It survive the transition unchanged?! WHO KNEW?!
7- If you don't like a system, you clearly just played it wrong. Of course. It has nothing to do with the fact that you hated how it worked. Or that character creation required ninety-seven charts... or had NO charts! GASP! Our terminal inability to accept style differences stems from another problem...
8- We are frequently one or two players short of a good group, and will therefore take in strays who then have an awful time while we mock them. Lord knows, if we just loosened up and had fun, we might get farther, but THIS game is S E R I O U S. We promise. With all of these differences, each group inevitably feels it is doing things "right," and pities others who can't get the hang of it, which feeds back into 4, 6 and 7.
9- We spend money on crap we could easily make up. Don't believe me? World of Darkness: Hong Kong. Rather than, say, looking into an area's history and making up your own imaginary shit to put in it, you instead buy White Wolf's. Doubly shaming if you're playing a game in a TOTALLY fictitious world. News flash- Almost none of their fluff is that great or original. If you make up some derivative crap, don;t worry- you're just like 97% of published fantasy or science fiction novels.
10- We are aware of every single one of these flaws, and we do nothing about it. Seriously.
Now, in conclusion, let me say that I still love this damned hobby, and I miss my old group to death. Why? Because we try as hard as we can to mitigate some of this list. Say, I'm sure my old seat's open, why don't you drop by and try a game? Don't worry if you don't get it at first, but they're totally doing it right.
But let's face it, all gamers suck. Here's why-
1- We will tell you about our characters, knowing full well that you do not give a fuck. We will also tell you about how much we hate it when people tell us about their characters, because that's how we roll.
2- We find our in-jokes funny. Then we ruin them by explaining them to you. Honestly, if you weren't there, "that time Mike said we'd kill him if he fucked up" just isn't that funny.
3- We will argue endlessly about truly pointless shit in imaginary worlds. You have not experienced Hell until you've seen a Forgotten Realms fan throw down with a Greyhawk fan about the respective merits of their settings. And while just about everyone on Earth is capable of this, only gamers and other geeks will get in a frothing rage about why Elminster could totally kick Mordenkainen's ass. If they start citing page numbers, you're probably on the internet, and should just navigate to a porn site to unwind.
4- We, aware as we are of stereotypical social awkwardness, will still pick on gamers who "do it wrong." In the game store I worked at in Bloomington, we had a guy we called C.K.W. (Coolest Kid in the World) who we endlessly put down and abused in-game. A simpler, mature solution would have been to not let him play since his style pissed us off. But lord knows, we can't turn a fellow gamer away. Especially not when he's more pathetic than we are and makes us look better by comparison.
5- We have to be cool. And we have to prove it. Drunken rednecks have nothing on pencil-wristed gamers when it comes to dick-measuring contests. About shit that is usually either trivial, fictitious, or just useless.
6- Our system is better than yours. We have a tendency to cling to a gaming system we like as if it contained the only water left in the universe. And revised versions of systems we like are greeted with hostility. For example, I started playing D&D when it was AD&D 2nd Edition. A system, which, by the way, sucked the meat missile. GOD it was awful and arbitrary. But it took me a while to warm up to 3rd Edition, because, well, it was change. And would Eldred Shadowmere, Dual-Wielding Ranger Who Could Totally Kick Drizzt's Ass And I had The Stats To Prove It survive the transition unchanged?! WHO KNEW?!
7- If you don't like a system, you clearly just played it wrong. Of course. It has nothing to do with the fact that you hated how it worked. Or that character creation required ninety-seven charts... or had NO charts! GASP! Our terminal inability to accept style differences stems from another problem...
8- We are frequently one or two players short of a good group, and will therefore take in strays who then have an awful time while we mock them. Lord knows, if we just loosened up and had fun, we might get farther, but THIS game is S E R I O U S. We promise. With all of these differences, each group inevitably feels it is doing things "right," and pities others who can't get the hang of it, which feeds back into 4, 6 and 7.
9- We spend money on crap we could easily make up. Don't believe me? World of Darkness: Hong Kong. Rather than, say, looking into an area's history and making up your own imaginary shit to put in it, you instead buy White Wolf's. Doubly shaming if you're playing a game in a TOTALLY fictitious world. News flash- Almost none of their fluff is that great or original. If you make up some derivative crap, don;t worry- you're just like 97% of published fantasy or science fiction novels.
10- We are aware of every single one of these flaws, and we do nothing about it. Seriously.
Now, in conclusion, let me say that I still love this damned hobby, and I miss my old group to death. Why? Because we try as hard as we can to mitigate some of this list. Say, I'm sure my old seat's open, why don't you drop by and try a game? Don't worry if you don't get it at first, but they're totally doing it right.
Monday, July 5, 2010
On Comic Book Nerd Rage
So apparently, someone is tweaking Wonder Woman's costume and origin.
This, of course, has the nerds who care in a frothing rage.
Which is funny, since, speaking as a comic book geek myself, I have the following observation to make-
Scarlet Spider/Spider-Clone- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Superman Red/Superman Blue- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Eric Masterson Thor/Thunderstrike- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Arrowcar- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The High Lords in X-Force (you know, immortal mutants as a community) - It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Azbat- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Superman's Mullet- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Iron Spider Armor - It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Avengers Disassembled- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Spoiler's Death / Leslie Thompkins' Character Assassination- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
X-Corps- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Punisher versus Demons- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Kinder, Gentler Magneto- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Punker, Edgier Storm- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Nightcrawler the Priest- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The offscreen death of Sebastian Shaw- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Hal Jordan as the Spectre- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
This too shall pass.
This, of course, has the nerds who care in a frothing rage.
Which is funny, since, speaking as a comic book geek myself, I have the following observation to make-
Scarlet Spider/Spider-Clone- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Superman Red/Superman Blue- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Eric Masterson Thor/Thunderstrike- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Arrowcar- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The High Lords in X-Force (you know, immortal mutants as a community) - It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Azbat- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Superman's Mullet- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Iron Spider Armor - It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Avengers Disassembled- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Spoiler's Death / Leslie Thompkins' Character Assassination- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
X-Corps- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Punisher versus Demons- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Kinder, Gentler Magneto- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The Punker, Edgier Storm- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Nightcrawler the Priest- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
The offscreen death of Sebastian Shaw- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
Hal Jordan as the Spectre- It sucked, people hated it, it went away.
This too shall pass.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Sporting Goods Stores
... and why they are the enemy.
So today, I went in search of more ammunition. I had to leave entirely too much of it in Utah.
At first, I was going to go by the local gun shop that has served as my family's armory since 1984. After all, they have a long history of not bullshitting us about what we need.
And then I find that they have gone out of business. Just like that.
Rest in Peace, Down Under Guns.
So, instead of a GUN store, you know, a place where everything I need is in plain sight and where the countermen are knowledgeable, I have to go to a sporting goods store.
And there in the back corner, buried behind a pile of kayaks, fishing poles, and pup tents, I find their firearms section.
It is a disorganized shambles. Worse, when I ask about a tactical sling for my SKS, I get a sea of blank looks from the clean-cut kids running the section.
Fuck.
But no matter! I need a new mess kit as well, surely...
But no.
"I dunno man, you might wanna check out an army surplus-"
"You drove that place out of business."
"Oh, right..."
Fuck this noise.
So today, I went in search of more ammunition. I had to leave entirely too much of it in Utah.
At first, I was going to go by the local gun shop that has served as my family's armory since 1984. After all, they have a long history of not bullshitting us about what we need.
And then I find that they have gone out of business. Just like that.
Rest in Peace, Down Under Guns.
So, instead of a GUN store, you know, a place where everything I need is in plain sight and where the countermen are knowledgeable, I have to go to a sporting goods store.
And there in the back corner, buried behind a pile of kayaks, fishing poles, and pup tents, I find their firearms section.
It is a disorganized shambles. Worse, when I ask about a tactical sling for my SKS, I get a sea of blank looks from the clean-cut kids running the section.
Fuck.
But no matter! I need a new mess kit as well, surely...
But no.
"I dunno man, you might wanna check out an army surplus-"
"You drove that place out of business."
"Oh, right..."
Fuck this noise.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls...
... there are SO many things in this life that I hate.
I hate crowds. Any time I'm around more than, say, ten people, it drains me.
I hate parties. Most parties are simply crowds. I've enjoyed a whopping... I think three parties in the last decade.
I hate people. GOD do I hate people.
I hate being told what to do by people I'll never meet.
I hate waste- wasted time, wasted food, wasted money- it all sticks in my craw.
I hate suburbs. Oh GOD do I hate suburbs.
I hate litter. Why can't you morons pick up after yourselves?
I hate the fact that I'm apparently "really smart," but still stupid enough to let this sort of thing bother me.
I hate being lonely, and how I'm least lonely when I'm alone.
I hate the fact that I haven't been laid in four years, and that I haven't tried harder to do something about it.
I hate stupid twits who blather about "communication" when they're incapable of it.
I hate media outlets, and how we've come to rely on them even as we shout from the rooftops that they can't be trusted.
I hate the need to scurry around collecting acorns like some stinking squirrel just to stay alive.
Most of all, I hate the fact that the culture around me seems so bent on swinish self-destruction.
But I suppose it's goad enough to get ready.
I hate crowds. Any time I'm around more than, say, ten people, it drains me.
I hate parties. Most parties are simply crowds. I've enjoyed a whopping... I think three parties in the last decade.
I hate people. GOD do I hate people.
I hate being told what to do by people I'll never meet.
I hate waste- wasted time, wasted food, wasted money- it all sticks in my craw.
I hate suburbs. Oh GOD do I hate suburbs.
I hate litter. Why can't you morons pick up after yourselves?
I hate the fact that I'm apparently "really smart," but still stupid enough to let this sort of thing bother me.
I hate being lonely, and how I'm least lonely when I'm alone.
I hate the fact that I haven't been laid in four years, and that I haven't tried harder to do something about it.
I hate stupid twits who blather about "communication" when they're incapable of it.
I hate media outlets, and how we've come to rely on them even as we shout from the rooftops that they can't be trusted.
I hate the need to scurry around collecting acorns like some stinking squirrel just to stay alive.
Most of all, I hate the fact that the culture around me seems so bent on swinish self-destruction.
But I suppose it's goad enough to get ready.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Word...
So, as I blundered about this past week, shuttling to and from my job slinging pizza, I couldn't help noticing the Earth Day festivities shaping up in town.
It was a gigantic crock of egregious bullshit... as anyone with eyes could have seen.
We had a bunch of middle-class, upper-middle class, and upper-class intellectuals feeling guilty in their shirts with collars, ties, and fashionable dresses, and a bunch of smelly, unwashed, dreadlocked hippie white kids feeling smug and self-righteous in their grungy t-shirts and hemp pants.
Neither group is one I'd trust to accomplish a simple act like tying its shoes without fucking up, and I know what the view from the inside is like.
So, while the least competent people in town got together to listen to speeches on how their responsibility as stewards of the planet is immeasurable, the rest of the world just went about its business. And why not? They have theirs.
My disgust with and for my fellow man is hard to chart, and it's not like I'm appreciably better.
But God damn it, I don't lie to myself about it. I don't pretend that getting wide-eyed and nervous for one week out of the year excuses all the fucked up, wasteful things I do.
Living sustainably is going to require a cutting back in so many areas it's simply beyond what most of us- fat, happy, and easily distracted- are willing to give up.
In part, this is why I look forward to the next year or three of living in a village of fewer than 150 people.
I will HAVE to give up some of the things I take for granted. I will HAVE to be careful about what I throw out.
Because yeah, you can recycle your glass jam jars... or you can turn them into glasses and save us all a lot of goddamn trouble.
It was a gigantic crock of egregious bullshit... as anyone with eyes could have seen.
We had a bunch of middle-class, upper-middle class, and upper-class intellectuals feeling guilty in their shirts with collars, ties, and fashionable dresses, and a bunch of smelly, unwashed, dreadlocked hippie white kids feeling smug and self-righteous in their grungy t-shirts and hemp pants.
Neither group is one I'd trust to accomplish a simple act like tying its shoes without fucking up, and I know what the view from the inside is like.
So, while the least competent people in town got together to listen to speeches on how their responsibility as stewards of the planet is immeasurable, the rest of the world just went about its business. And why not? They have theirs.
My disgust with and for my fellow man is hard to chart, and it's not like I'm appreciably better.
But God damn it, I don't lie to myself about it. I don't pretend that getting wide-eyed and nervous for one week out of the year excuses all the fucked up, wasteful things I do.
Living sustainably is going to require a cutting back in so many areas it's simply beyond what most of us- fat, happy, and easily distracted- are willing to give up.
In part, this is why I look forward to the next year or three of living in a village of fewer than 150 people.
I will HAVE to give up some of the things I take for granted. I will HAVE to be careful about what I throw out.
Because yeah, you can recycle your glass jam jars... or you can turn them into glasses and save us all a lot of goddamn trouble.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
A Tree-Hugging Moment
Yes, you read right.
Today, I felt a very hippiesh sense of rage at, of all things, litter.
Allow me to elucidate-
I was walking the dogs along a Utah mountainside, as I do every day.
And then the old dog, who doesn't so much as grunt when her arthritis keeps her from jumping into the car, actually yelps.
The cause?
A bail of rusty barbed wire some asshole had dumped on the hillside. While the bail itself hadn't been impacted, the old girl didn't see the single strand sticking out until it had lacerated her leg.
So, I don't know what the fine for littering is here, but I DO know that whatever moron left that thing out there cost my family three hundred bucks in veterinary bills.
So what say we skip the middleman, and the responsible party either cuts us a check for three hundred bucks OR I go and inflict three hundred dollars worth of damage on something they value.
That's fair, right?
Ooops.
Vengeance. What a shitty hippie I'd be.
Today, I felt a very hippiesh sense of rage at, of all things, litter.
Allow me to elucidate-
I was walking the dogs along a Utah mountainside, as I do every day.
And then the old dog, who doesn't so much as grunt when her arthritis keeps her from jumping into the car, actually yelps.
The cause?
A bail of rusty barbed wire some asshole had dumped on the hillside. While the bail itself hadn't been impacted, the old girl didn't see the single strand sticking out until it had lacerated her leg.
So, I don't know what the fine for littering is here, but I DO know that whatever moron left that thing out there cost my family three hundred bucks in veterinary bills.
So what say we skip the middleman, and the responsible party either cuts us a check for three hundred bucks OR I go and inflict three hundred dollars worth of damage on something they value.
That's fair, right?
Ooops.
Vengeance. What a shitty hippie I'd be.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
On Airline Websites
So tonight, I tired to book a flight home. Away from this Mormon-infested helhole.
And both Delta and Alaska Airlines have the worst websites known to man.
There is no place to make note that I'll be bringing two dogs. There is no place to make note of number of bags. None of it.
On either company's website.
Instead, one must go through a lengthy game of phone tag.
I thought the whole point of allowing online booking was to eliminate phone tag.
Apparently not.
Apparently, it is meant to force you to wait around so long that fares double.
I am, of course, not joking.
And both Delta and Alaska Airlines have the worst websites known to man.
There is no place to make note that I'll be bringing two dogs. There is no place to make note of number of bags. None of it.
On either company's website.
Instead, one must go through a lengthy game of phone tag.
I thought the whole point of allowing online booking was to eliminate phone tag.
Apparently not.
Apparently, it is meant to force you to wait around so long that fares double.
I am, of course, not joking.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Education Revisited
Nothing, and I mean nothing, kills one's belief in a program quite like watching a video wherein someone teaching others to teach better manages to be staggeringly dull.
I find it hard to stomach instruction when the lessons involved are almost unspeakably boring, and cannot fathom what I am supposed to derive from it.
The gist of the several hours worth of video clips I've slogged through this week?
"Know thy students, know thyself."
It's a pile of horseshit.
But heaven help me, it's the path to a real job.
I find it hard to stomach instruction when the lessons involved are almost unspeakably boring, and cannot fathom what I am supposed to derive from it.
The gist of the several hours worth of video clips I've slogged through this week?
"Know thy students, know thyself."
It's a pile of horseshit.
But heaven help me, it's the path to a real job.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Of Taste and You
Allow me to begin by slaughtering some sacred cows.
Ready?
I hate Pink Floyd.
Most Jazz pisses me off.
Dio was better than Ozzie as Sabbath's front man any day of the week.
College sports are, frankly, boring as fuck (I will make exceptions if YOUR school or its most hated rival are somehow involved).
The NBA sucks.
No car excites me in the slightest.
The allure of Will Farrel escapes me (aside from Anchorman, which, frankly, would have looked good on anyone).
Now, the point of all of this?
The point is, my distaste for any and all of these things shouldn't fucking matter to anyone but me.
But without fail, ONE of these opinions will start a war of words in any and all social settings I have ever encountered.
Which goes beyond being stupid.
Your world will not end if I hate your favorite movie or band.
But it might if you keep bugging me about it.
Ready?
I hate Pink Floyd.
Most Jazz pisses me off.
Dio was better than Ozzie as Sabbath's front man any day of the week.
College sports are, frankly, boring as fuck (I will make exceptions if YOUR school or its most hated rival are somehow involved).
The NBA sucks.
No car excites me in the slightest.
The allure of Will Farrel escapes me (aside from Anchorman, which, frankly, would have looked good on anyone).
Now, the point of all of this?
The point is, my distaste for any and all of these things shouldn't fucking matter to anyone but me.
But without fail, ONE of these opinions will start a war of words in any and all social settings I have ever encountered.
Which goes beyond being stupid.
Your world will not end if I hate your favorite movie or band.
But it might if you keep bugging me about it.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Three More Goddamn Weeks
... on crutches.
This is not a good thing.
Without my left foot, I cannot operate my car (stick shift, dontchaknow).
Thus, I cannot do the ONE THING this miserable fucking state is allegedly good for.
I cannot drive to a range and get the practice with my firearms I so desperately need.
I am far too poor to afford actual training. This I can accept, until I land a real job (which being on crutches is also making hard- I can't even work part-time until I can stand up without using both hands).
But I cannot even log basic, elementary, ESSENTIAL practice.
I have never been a great marksman, but back when I was shooting at red squirrels eighty feet up on a regular basis, I at least didn't suck harder than Heather Harmon. Now, in addition to watching my left leg atrophy in the name of the healing process, I am also looking at my guns.
They look back at me accusingly.
"Motherfucker, you haven't even LOADED us since you got here."
Sorry guys. But its like buying condoms when you KNOW you're getting nowhere...
But there are silver linings. I have been accepted into a program which, if my luck stays at least tolerable, should land my pasty white ass in the middle of rural Alaska for two years. My tactical firearms training will suffer, of course, because out there, they use guns to get food, not kill people efficiently.
But I hope to learn a few key survival skills (building decent shelters, starting fires with crappy materials, preserving meat without the use of modern technology or abundant salt, trapping, navigation) and a few bells and whistles (like piloting small airplanes, maybe how to operate a boat bigger than a small Boston Whaler, perhaps some carpentry stuff). This is, of course, highly ambitious, especially since I'll have plenty of other things to do with my time, things that will earn money (for the co-op my degenerate tribe of misfits is going to purchase) and pad my resume so I can get a few more decent jobs before the whole mess goes tits-up and I have to eat what I can grow or kill.
I have a lot of time to think about this lately, because I, in my infinite wisdom, moved to a state I hate where I know no one and promptly gimped myself.
So, in summation- Time is finite, and the stuff my comrades and I need to learn is only BARELY surmountable.
Fuck me, I hate it here
This is not a good thing.
Without my left foot, I cannot operate my car (stick shift, dontchaknow).
Thus, I cannot do the ONE THING this miserable fucking state is allegedly good for.
I cannot drive to a range and get the practice with my firearms I so desperately need.
I am far too poor to afford actual training. This I can accept, until I land a real job (which being on crutches is also making hard- I can't even work part-time until I can stand up without using both hands).
But I cannot even log basic, elementary, ESSENTIAL practice.
I have never been a great marksman, but back when I was shooting at red squirrels eighty feet up on a regular basis, I at least didn't suck harder than Heather Harmon. Now, in addition to watching my left leg atrophy in the name of the healing process, I am also looking at my guns.
They look back at me accusingly.
"Motherfucker, you haven't even LOADED us since you got here."
Sorry guys. But its like buying condoms when you KNOW you're getting nowhere...
But there are silver linings. I have been accepted into a program which, if my luck stays at least tolerable, should land my pasty white ass in the middle of rural Alaska for two years. My tactical firearms training will suffer, of course, because out there, they use guns to get food, not kill people efficiently.
But I hope to learn a few key survival skills (building decent shelters, starting fires with crappy materials, preserving meat without the use of modern technology or abundant salt, trapping, navigation) and a few bells and whistles (like piloting small airplanes, maybe how to operate a boat bigger than a small Boston Whaler, perhaps some carpentry stuff). This is, of course, highly ambitious, especially since I'll have plenty of other things to do with my time, things that will earn money (for the co-op my degenerate tribe of misfits is going to purchase) and pad my resume so I can get a few more decent jobs before the whole mess goes tits-up and I have to eat what I can grow or kill.
I have a lot of time to think about this lately, because I, in my infinite wisdom, moved to a state I hate where I know no one and promptly gimped myself.
So, in summation- Time is finite, and the stuff my comrades and I need to learn is only BARELY surmountable.
Fuck me, I hate it here
Friday, January 22, 2010
My Fellow Nerds...
... are, true to form, driving me mad.
Since receiving this lovely pair of crutches, I've been free to devote even MORE time than usual to hearing the blatherings of geek culture online.
And they have found a new way to annoy me.
"Well, see, in the EXTENDED cut of the movie..."
"Well, if you read the tie-in comic book..."
"Well, as the SERIES makes clear..."
Fuck you.
Anything the filmmaker decided not to include in the theatrical release is not going to change Jack Shit.
Speaking as a fan of the series Firefly, there's a reason its associated movie, Serenity, did not revitalize the franchise. The movie made sense, there was enough exposition to see to that... but unless you'd watched the series, your investment in the universe and in the characters was minimal, and there was not enough time in the film to draw in new blood.
By the same token, trying to tell people they need to read, say, the comic-book tie-in to the new Star Trek film to address their concerns, or that the plot of Avatar actually makes some kind of sense if you sponge up all of the associated material is bullshit.
Don't defend a shitty script with an equally shitty comic book. Extended universes are for those who actually dig your little nerd-verse enough to want more.
For the rest of us, they're a goddamned waste of time.
Since receiving this lovely pair of crutches, I've been free to devote even MORE time than usual to hearing the blatherings of geek culture online.
And they have found a new way to annoy me.
"Well, see, in the EXTENDED cut of the movie..."
"Well, if you read the tie-in comic book..."
"Well, as the SERIES makes clear..."
Fuck you.
Anything the filmmaker decided not to include in the theatrical release is not going to change Jack Shit.
Speaking as a fan of the series Firefly, there's a reason its associated movie, Serenity, did not revitalize the franchise. The movie made sense, there was enough exposition to see to that... but unless you'd watched the series, your investment in the universe and in the characters was minimal, and there was not enough time in the film to draw in new blood.
By the same token, trying to tell people they need to read, say, the comic-book tie-in to the new Star Trek film to address their concerns, or that the plot of Avatar actually makes some kind of sense if you sponge up all of the associated material is bullshit.
Don't defend a shitty script with an equally shitty comic book. Extended universes are for those who actually dig your little nerd-verse enough to want more.
For the rest of us, they're a goddamned waste of time.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sweet Home Chicago
I just got back from the Windy City.
The trip, while not bad, has helped me reinforce a few things.
Namely, that I hate people.
Let's dial this one back a moment.
On Friday, I, along with two friends, ventured north from this little patch of swampland in order to attend Games Day Chicago- effectively a giant Games Workshop commercial disguised as a convention.
We did this for a number of reasons, but at least in part because we, as servants of a dreaded and dastardly games store, needed the inside skinny on what exactly the GW staff were going to do.
The convention was a big steaming pile of "all right." Not bad, but not good.
We learned a few things, but we also had to endure countless man-child reenactments of an Ork battle-cry.
The things I do in the line of duty.
Now, we've been wallowing in nerdishness all day.
My good friend and esteemed associate Bob hints that he has a line on a party we can go to.
So, after letting my mood spiral down into the basement, I agree to go.
Big mistake.
You see, it's a cast party.
Now, keep in mind that I majored in theatre. I have danced the dance of the performing arts. And knowing what I do, I should have taken the rain check I was earlier inspired to do.
Because theatre folk, for those of you just joining us, are cliquish, introverted, selfish creatures. They are convinced that what they are doing is important. They are, of course, possibly right. Sometimes.
Most of the time, they're a collection of indolent twits divorced from reality.
Which leads me to the party.
This is an apartment near Wrigley Field. Now, despise the Cubs as I may, I know that they sell a lot of tickets. And I know that real estate near Wrigley field ain't cheap.
The apartment is a luxurious affair.
Clearly, then, someone's Mommy and Daddy are forking over some dough.
I say this because the group throwing the party has just perpetrated Shakespeare in the Park, which is not exactly one of the bigger-budgeted shows on God's Green Earth.
Thus, it was like being in high school again... but without the desire to fit in.
No, this time, my bitter, scorched, blue-collar in spite of having every advantage ass was out for blood.
Particularly since these are people I have no intention of ever seeing again. Bob knows.... one or two of them.
The rest are an enigma to me.
So when a corpulent fellow in a white suit is introduced to me, and I am told he is the show's fight choreographer, my response is, "You poor bastard."
"Whoa, whoa, man, we just did a show, I don;t know if you wanna be so disparaging..."
"Look, I majored in theatre-"
"So did I!"
"... and I feel sorry for anyone who has your job."
Had he actually had the courage of his convictions, I would have been told to get the fuck out. Perhaps he might have punched me. I certainly wasn't the one with the most people in his corner.
Instead, adopting a wounded expression, he drifted away.
Which leads me to the point of this whole, ugly, rambling mess.
I often blame Indiana University for beating my love of theatre out of me... and they did their part.
But I'll be damned if, after several years of working freight, demilitarization, and retail, I'm going to put up with people so neurotic and thin-skinned. I get plenty of that shit from John Q Public.
Surrounding myself with a bunch of prima donnas convinced of their importance?
Bad move.
The trip, while not bad, has helped me reinforce a few things.
Namely, that I hate people.
Let's dial this one back a moment.
On Friday, I, along with two friends, ventured north from this little patch of swampland in order to attend Games Day Chicago- effectively a giant Games Workshop commercial disguised as a convention.
We did this for a number of reasons, but at least in part because we, as servants of a dreaded and dastardly games store, needed the inside skinny on what exactly the GW staff were going to do.
The convention was a big steaming pile of "all right." Not bad, but not good.
We learned a few things, but we also had to endure countless man-child reenactments of an Ork battle-cry.
The things I do in the line of duty.
Now, we've been wallowing in nerdishness all day.
My good friend and esteemed associate Bob hints that he has a line on a party we can go to.
So, after letting my mood spiral down into the basement, I agree to go.
Big mistake.
You see, it's a cast party.
Now, keep in mind that I majored in theatre. I have danced the dance of the performing arts. And knowing what I do, I should have taken the rain check I was earlier inspired to do.
Because theatre folk, for those of you just joining us, are cliquish, introverted, selfish creatures. They are convinced that what they are doing is important. They are, of course, possibly right. Sometimes.
Most of the time, they're a collection of indolent twits divorced from reality.
Which leads me to the party.
This is an apartment near Wrigley Field. Now, despise the Cubs as I may, I know that they sell a lot of tickets. And I know that real estate near Wrigley field ain't cheap.
The apartment is a luxurious affair.
Clearly, then, someone's Mommy and Daddy are forking over some dough.
I say this because the group throwing the party has just perpetrated Shakespeare in the Park, which is not exactly one of the bigger-budgeted shows on God's Green Earth.
Thus, it was like being in high school again... but without the desire to fit in.
No, this time, my bitter, scorched, blue-collar in spite of having every advantage ass was out for blood.
Particularly since these are people I have no intention of ever seeing again. Bob knows.... one or two of them.
The rest are an enigma to me.
So when a corpulent fellow in a white suit is introduced to me, and I am told he is the show's fight choreographer, my response is, "You poor bastard."
"Whoa, whoa, man, we just did a show, I don;t know if you wanna be so disparaging..."
"Look, I majored in theatre-"
"So did I!"
"... and I feel sorry for anyone who has your job."
Had he actually had the courage of his convictions, I would have been told to get the fuck out. Perhaps he might have punched me. I certainly wasn't the one with the most people in his corner.
Instead, adopting a wounded expression, he drifted away.
Which leads me to the point of this whole, ugly, rambling mess.
I often blame Indiana University for beating my love of theatre out of me... and they did their part.
But I'll be damned if, after several years of working freight, demilitarization, and retail, I'm going to put up with people so neurotic and thin-skinned. I get plenty of that shit from John Q Public.
Surrounding myself with a bunch of prima donnas convinced of their importance?
Bad move.
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