I Ponder The Koosh Man

A circular head rests atop a circular body. Extended from the body are several spikes, thus making this man a "Koosh Man". And yet he has arms. And yet he has legs. Were these appendages evolved Koosh spikes, previous levels of the species benefited from having slightly extended spikes in these strategic areas? The gloves. The shoes. White appears to be the color of choice as far as the Koosh Man's fashion sense goes. Clothes are out of the question. The Kooshness prevents such a concept of an semblance of covering beyond the simple gloves and shoes he has with him. A ring is formed from the top of his bald head, seemingly specifically designed for a key chain, as he is of approximate height. He does not seem to mind material looped through the hole in his head; in fact, he perpetually smiles. I know I would not smile in his situation. Though those are some damn fancy shoes. Maybe I'd smile because I'm wearing such damn fancy shoes. Or maybe I'd smile because each individual Koosh spike contains nerve endings and can thus act as several dozen penii. This is simple speuculation and cannot be proven true or false, but damn if I'm not smiling now just thinking about it. If I were him, true or not, I'd be thinking about it all the time, and hence big smiles would forever find themselves in the front of my face. A tattoo on the back of his right arm indicates his country of origin is China, either that or he holds some sort of affinity for the country for one reason or another. Much about this little man may never be explained, but he obviously pays this lack of conclusion little mind. He looks like he wants to give me a big hug, and I would accept, were he not half size of my pinky finger. Sorry, little guy, maybe another day.

Monkey Paprika, Or The Dog That Really Liked The Smell Of Other Dog's Rectums

Is it called a rectum on a dog? I am unfamiliar with dog anatomy. I really don't go exploring down there as often as I should; I ran out of peanut butter also.

I can only seem to recall three particular scenes from NBC's hit sitcom "Blossom":

1. Blossom and Joey are eating breakfast at the kitchen table. Blossom pours herself a bowl of cereal, only to realize after pouring that there is no milk left. She is visibly annoyed, as we see Joey enjoying his cereal, containing the last of the families milk. Joey offers a solution, suggesting that because he has finished the cereal portion of his bowl, she may help herself to the milk at the bottom. Blossom angrily tells Joey that she would not use his "dirty milk". Joey, good-natured but somewhat slow individual that he was, did not understand, and this parlay delighted the audience.

2. The family is at Disneyworld, as all sitcoms from the early 90's are contractually obligated to visit Disneyland in at least a two-part episode and/or season finale. Joey, good-natured but somewhat socially unaware individual that he is, is seen attempting to hit on the Cinderella charecter, with the famous Disneyland castle occupying the background. Cinderella proceeds to inform Joey, keeping in her charecter as all quality charecter performers do, that she cannot marry anyone unless their father is a king. "The king?" Joey asks. He tells Cinderella that it is a ridiculous notion for his father to be the king. We then cut, immedietly after this statement, to Joey's father, playing an Elvis impersonator at Disneyland. He spouts some innocuous phrase typically associated with Elvis, perhaps "Thank you very much" or something similar. (This set up may have been built earlier in the episode, but unfortunantly memory of anything prior to this scene is currently unavailable.) The comedy here lies in the fact that Elvis is also known as "The King of Rock and Roll", or simply "King" for short, because of his contributions to rock and roll music in the 50's, and that Joey, a scene earlier, had just finished saying his father couldn't possibly king, not realizing his father was an Elvis impersonator.

3. Blossom is found on the couch, watching MTV. Joey comes in and asks what she's watching. She says she is watching music videos, makes some sort of reference to the plot outline of the earlier part of the episode, then leaves the room, leaving Joey, good-natured but somewhat very untalented individual that he is, alone watching current musical celebrities perform pieces in the video format popularized in the 80's. He lies down, and proceeds to fantasize about what it would be like to be one of the artists on MTV. He falls asleep, and we cut to a dream sequence (with a blurry light outline so as to let the audience know this a dream) where Joey is in a music video. However, this music video is an actual music video from Joey Lawrence, the actor who portrays the charecter Joey. Lawrence was, apparantly, attempting to branch out as a musician at the same time as acting, and this ending to the episode was used to showcase his attempt, and failure, at a musical career. Credits roll.

I don't know why I thought of these: I never watched Blossom nor ever liked it. For some reason these three scenes stick out in my mind, and I thought I'd share them with you.

For more information on the (s)hit show "Blossom", please click the word in this sentence which is in blue text and has a line under it.

Spoilers Ahead!

Ha ha, I really just wanted to have a post entitled "Spoilers Ahead!", and now that dream has been fulfilled. It makes it seem like this post is a zone where fruit goes rotten and small children eat ice cream before dinner and go to bed all sick with stomach pains and remorse. No, rather this is my review of the new Star Wars chronicle, as I have just partaken in witnessing this film. There may or not be actual spoilers ahead, I haven't decided. Nevertheless, if you don't want to know anything about the film yet, don't read on.

So, yeah, as you may be able to tell from the time this post was written, depending on whether it decided to be right or not, I caught the midnight screening. You know, the one that is always supposed to be this big fucking deal, where all the hardcore fans come out from behind their laptops and don outfits to commemorate the fact that they saw the movie a few hours before other people did. So this is what I expected, a line stretching across town with plastic light saber battles and babies dressed as Ewoks against their will. Alas, such things were absent from this screening, not so much as a "Han Shot First" shirt was present, possibly because of the somewhat obscure location I chose to view the movie. There was a dude dressed in a Jedi robe thing, but he also looked like he wore that every day, so I don't really count that. What I did encounter, however, were the more ostensibly obvious elements of a first screening, which were elements such as people trying to be funny during the previews, screams of "Oh ho HO HO HO!!!" after an apparantly exciting scene, and Chewbacca impressions abound. Wow, you can growl. Singles bar, here we come. My seat conveniently is next to a pony-haired fool who looks like a Mark McKinney charecter on Kids In The Hall. This man also happens to be the most vocal of the wookies in the theatre, and the one who says each of the movies shown in the previews will, quote, "own". What they will own remains to be seen, as he did not specify, but I suppose he wished to see these movies. I was annoyed with the fact that these Star Wars fans were so suckered by the previews: Each one was based off a comic book or was an action movie starring a hot woman. "Just because we're Star Wars fans doesn't make us idiots" stated my friend, but clearly by the adrenaline rush flailed upon the audience by the promise of hackneyed one-liners and Jessica Alba in "Fantastic Four" this was not so.

After the promise of upcoming hype-fests was finished, the current hype-fest began. I admit to not being a rabid Star Wars fanatic by any means, but certainly I enjoy and have a warm fondness for the franchise. The last two movies, however, I considered a bowl of butt-nuggets, because they suffered from what I have termed "Friggin' Sweet Syndrome". The past two movies have played like George Lucas scoured the internet on Star Wars message boards, took things he thought would be "friggin' sweet" in a Star Wars movie, and threw them all together in a hung-over stooper the morning the final script was needed. "Man, a race in some cliffs and shit would be friggin' sweet... Maybe Yoda can like kick some guys ass... Oh god, I have a lot of Jim Beam empties to throw away..." Story, dialouge and general heart were not necessary elements, simply a buncha shit that people could talk about with gesticulation outside of the theatre when they were finished. Which is why I felt skeptical when this movie began. It started out like a fucking fanfiction:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ACT 1

The opening title thing comes up, you know, Star Wars and all that. Begin opening title sequence:

WAR!!!!1

Then like talk about all the stuff that happened in between movies, I dunno, but make sure you say WAR!!!!!!!12@ there, cuz that's dope as fuck. Then like the camera pans down and we're like in space an shit an like battles are waging and explosions and ships and robots and like the camera like zooms around a star destroyer like it was ships eye view an shit... Kick ass. Like better than LOTR. We see Anakin and Obi-1 like all up in there ships and like there flying them and shooting the bad guys and blowin em up... Total explosions, lots of orange. Big noises, these things is loud.

ANAKIN:

[engaging in banter wit Obi] man these guys are easy

OBI-WAN:

don't get cocky anakin its the way of the dark side

ANAKIN:

man i get cocky only cuz i am a-number 1 bad azz killah what [all showing beginings of dark side here... totally saying this like future bad guy]

Ankin and obi-wan destroying bad guy ships an stuf.... The key here is this is hella bitchin', stress the awesomeness.

Suddenly, Obi-wan gets all attacked by like little mini bug robot creature things... like their like bugs but like robots... so like hes got all the robots on him and anakin's all like "nuh-uh, fuck dat shit" and like straightens em out an stuf, kikin ass, takin names (only not actually)

OBI-WAN:

d00d, take out the shields doo0d i gotta like blow the big ship up

ANAKIN:

Man, i sved you live, you cant even say "thanx dogg" or nuthin, man i should turn evil

OBI-WAN:

No, man, none a that, lets kill bad guys together

Ships like flying into the big like star ship whatever, like bay doors open and they all go in, but like bots is everywhichway, so they all hop outta they ships and kik some azz with like light sabers an shit... Like then once their all died like r2 jumps out of the ship

R2:

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111 [does that scream thing, you know that thing]

OBI-WAN:

Are Two, you all stay here an like do that control panel stuff, we gotta go kick that one guys ass come on

ANAKIN:

Yeh, we are Jedi.

So they all leeave and like r2 like goes tot he wall and starts tinkering an shit, anf like sparks are all cummin out on accounta he's doing his thang on like the mainframe or whatever. but like then some droid-o-bots like are coming from a different place, so r2's all there by himself and like controlling shit but has to fight cuz he is under attak.

DROID 1:

Halt, robot. We see you over there and we don't want you doing that.

DROID 2:

Yeah uh [i dunno, he should say something funny to lighten the mood and make audience go 'ha", cuz like its been real heavy up til now] [like all sumthin you wouldn't expect a droid to say, thatd be funny cuz people'd go "hes a droid and thats why it is funny he said that"]

But r2 like aint havin nunna that so he all like drops what he's doing and like sprays oil or somthin on the ground and the robots slip in a comical fashion, all like slapstick funny and audience laffin, so then after audeice is all like "ho shit he just whomped they ass" he like pulls out a flame thrower or sumthin [he should totally have a flame thrower] and like sets em all on fire and like screams again, cuz that scream sound is funny and never gets tiresome...

Fade to Anakin and Obi-Wan all kicking ass, use the rectangle fill thing, you know, the one with the rectangles, yeah that 1.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ACT 4:

Anakin and Padme or however the fuck you spell it are all having an intimate moment... anakin looks like hes good still but you like see signs i dunno in the eyes or something hes gonna be like bad later... Padme is looking all hott and attainable looking, she like wants to go out with me man im like not even kidding

ANAKIN:

My love for you is like a river: There's a lot of it.

PADME:

Anakin, I have somthing to tell you... [distraught, look in eyes like about to say something hell of important, audience all on edge of seat waiting]

ANAKIN:

What is it?

PADME:

I'm preggers; your seed's all swimming in my belly, like i throw up in the mornings and want pancakes like all the time.

ANAKIN:

This is the happiest day of my life.

PADME:

It is for me too, Anakin. [they kiss and embrace, this scene is mainly for the chicks, maybe cut to a clevage shot for the dudes]

Then quik cut to a battle, people geting blowed up, less mush more crush. IN space and things.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily as the movie progressed it seemed less like this. George Lucas was never good with dialouge, which began the fanfiction comparison, but so does the Friggin' Sweet Syndrome. Fans want to see stuff that's friggin' sweet, and who can blame them? It's fucking Star Wars, not The Hours or The Notebook; we want Wookie fights and Yoda being cool and guys with four fucking light sabers and cheesy shit that any hack could've written. And, no, I'm no movie curmudgeon. There was plenty in this movie I would term non-ironically "friggin' sweet" because, damn, son, that shit was dope! This element, I felt, worked to Lucas' disadvantage in the last two films, however he seems to have struck the right amount of wallowing in his own creation in this film. I believe it was the darkness. This movie was quite dark in comparison to the others, the only one to be given a PG-13 rating. Most of the Jedi are picked off Godfather-style, meanwhile Anakin is off killing innocent children. Kick ass. I pretended every child he slaid to be his former self from Episode 1, and, sure, slaughter a little Jar-Jar while you're at it. The franchise deserved some wickedness, as the last two Pepsi-sponsored kid-friendly smile time hours known as Episodes 1 and 2 had enough schlock to make even any self-respecting 7 year old go "Alright, what the fuck? Give us more credit than that!" Here, however, a much-needed foray into the disturbing elements of the Star Wars story propelled Lucas' poor dialouge and previously inane story-telling into a world it finally deserved to be in: One of former glory. While this whole series of prequels may have been simply a cash cow to foster Lucas' appaling coke habit for a few more years, at least we got an enjoyable epic out of it. The conclusion of the evolution from Anakin to Darth Vader is here, as if to say "Fuck, I'm sorry for ever exposing you to Anakin's childhood, and his miscreant racial epithet comic relief know as Jar-Jar Binks... I'll never ever make anything as badass as Darth Vader, so here you go, have some more of him."

Things tied together pretty nicely in the end, though I must admit it always bugged me that the charecters in 4, 5 and 6 are for some reason also in 1, 2 and 3, despite being in entirely different situations in the two sections. Oh well. However, the following things weren't exactly cleared up for me:

1. How Yoda turned from CGI to Muppet
2. Why Yoda is able to do mad flips and kick enemy ass yet can't walk or put together a decent sentence
3. Why technology in the prequels is so much better and more advanced than anything in the originals

Well, I've said my peace. Good night, all, and glad to see you cared enough to read through all this garbage.

I'm Just Gonna Type

It is incredibly difficult to simply type. For me, this stream of consciousness bullshit invovles many many many typos which I feel I have to back and evaluate as soon as I create them so that it is never even an issue that they existed in the first place. I don't like to post edit my posts but rather edit everything in real time, take out the typos where they live as soon as we know where they hold up base so they can never eat our grain again. I'm used to this small keyboard, to the point where all other keyboards of larger sizes seem bulky and unsexy. The key to typing is typing sexy. You've got to think sexy or else the whole thing comes out like a vacation blog by some guy in the Appalchia's who takes lame pictures of llamas and sens 'em to his parents for approval and reaffirmation of their lineage. It involves no narcotics or psychidelia's for me to be sexy. I insert Tic-Tac's for my poor breath, not for the buzz off flying. Honey Nut CHeerio's sit on my desk, but they don't inspire me none, because I haven't eaten them in a long time because I ran out of milk and am too lazy to buy, steal, or acquire any by any other available means. Plus my bowl is dirty. Yes, bowl singular, because college level dishery is sitting plainly below the valley of the light, lest Sam Hill, who is a real hill by the by, number nine number nine nmber nine. A hundred times a hundred is not algebra; you can't claim any of the above because there is nothing above but sky, you are flying in an airplane of lies and truth is your only parachute when it crashes. But truth is really a rock, and this is really one of those Looney Tune cartoons, or perhaps a modern cartoon that has pilfered this concept, but either way you know you can't hit the ground unless you know it's there. This doesn't count as poetry because it doesn't rhyme and I'm not reading it to a hippie girl while listening to Cat Steven's on vinyl on my bed in hopes to get to second base. No, not those fashion of words, but this fashion of words. You may interpret them as you wish, because I only have three wishes left and I plan to use them all. Plants was what I was going to type: Typos are the dada of the computer age. We can fly if we pretend long enough. But why would we want to fly when all the alcohol is on the ground? Why drink alcohol when all the houses are turning blue around us? I'm not on drugs. A big talking cigarette is all I need, from an early age, to tell me that I need not these elements of science to spew dumb shit from my mouth. Others need to drink to dance. Others need to smoke to be cool. Others need. I need not. I am. Need is divergent. Need is important, though not needed. Why need when there are those who need better things than you? The cool ones know they're not cool, which is a quandary because if you know you're not cool simpy to know that you're cool, you wear black and cross your arms in the corner and you pout when handed plants. You shave youir head to draw a line. I draw lines in order to put wacky charecters with strange ideals and syntax between them. I don't know what they say, they're them. I might be them, but all in all I am here and they are there and you are you and we are us and let's dance because only when we dance are we friends. In the workplace we're hungover and angry, but dancing brings out the soul from the soulless cashier. It's no wonder that the @ symbol is placed directly above the 2.

Stream, baby.

Well, Technically The Fire Is On The House, But This Is No Time For Semantics

Yeah, that's right, I haven't posted in a while. Yeah, that's right, I don't care. Yeah, that's right, I am bad ass and would like you all to know. But I return today with ever more insightful snippets of interweb hoo-ha.

What have I been up to that has caused me leave of this typographical business, you may be inclined to ask, were this not such a stale, one-sided form of communicatory medium? Why, nothing, actually. Aren't you glad you didn't actually ask that, because I know I certainly wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. I really just didn't feel like writing anything, so I didn't. Simple as that. I like keeping it simple, gives me less to explain.

I have been on somewhat of a "media binge" lately. I have watched lots and lots of movies and absorbed much in the way of popular culture. This is different from binges of other sorts, the main difference being it is far less interesting. "Dude, I watched sooooooooooooo much TV yesterday... You shoulda seen me; food crumbs and ass sweat everywhere..." I believe a alcohol binge is officially defined as 4 drinks in an hour, so knowing the entirity of the human race, several binges can be easily attained in single nights. Drug binges are a little more difficult to pinpoint; I myself don't consider it a drug binge unless the terms "high-speed car chase" and "looking for a place to bury a dead hooker" are involved. Food binges usually involve the gaining of some sort of weight, or at least the loss of a good shirt. Sex binges... Well, I never consider it a binge, rather a damn good week. But media binges are classified differently. Media is an all-encompassing term, hence the letter a at the end. So while I may have abstained from frivolously checking my e-mail every six seconds over the past week, I have made up for it by watching many a motion picture. I think everyone goes on media binges all the time, they simply don't refer to them as "binges" to make themselves feel better about playing Yahoo Pool for a sixth of their life. I, however, am entirely comfortable with the term "binge"; I recognize this shit for what it is. My name is Jack Spencer, and I like to watch my ass a damn movie.

Recently this media binge has effected (a-ffected? b-ffected? I isn't none Engish) my speech habits. For instance, reading Achewood on a semi-irregular basis has rendered my speech patterns hella similarity to the characters, all talkin like that silly cat that makes me laugh.

Watching Dolemite makes me want to rhyme
And talk in bad-ass time
Base my speech on them things he said
Now, bitch, splay yo self up on dat bed!

Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo makes me want to breakdance, despite whatever lack of talent I may have. Style Wars makes me want to tag shit up, go bombin', talk back to my mama and wear hoodies, and generally be 1980's New York bad ass. The Big Lebowski makes me even lazier than I am already. After hearing one Mitch Hedberg joke, I'm talking like that cat for days.

I don't know, man, I'm starting to believe all those Christian mothers who think playing Grand Theft Auto will turn you into Charles Manson. People are hella influenced by the shows they watch and games they play, as evidenced by my incorporation of the word "hella" in the earlier part of this sentence. I don't actually think violent video games increase violence in real life, and I'm not even going to step into that puddle of peanut butter any time soon, but media certainly does effect us, if only in the way we talk and act (I say "if only" as though talking and acting were a minimal part of human nature). I've had dreams about Achewood and Larry David lately, and I'm not sure if that's healthy. Damn you invention of DVD!

This is all tyed in with the concept of referencing. How much of your day to day conversation consists of a reference to a book, television show, song, movie or other form of media? Being a college student, my answer to that question is undoubtedly "SLOPPY JOOOOOOOOOE, SLOPPY SLOPPY JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" So much of what we do and say is based on what people in popular culture have done before us. Why do we copt the styles and sayings of often-times fictional characters? Why, because they're so much cooler than we are. Everything in movies is funnier and wittier and sexier than anything you could've come up with, jackass. I think another important element is human beings base desire to think they're cool. If someone brings up a line from a movie, make absolutely sure you let them know you recognize what movie, or else you will be forever shunned for being uncool. However, if you know the reference, immedietly you will be accepted by your peers and the rest of the nights conversation can be quoted verbatim from said film.

I must say it is annoying when people's entire conversations consist of references, but this is yet another thing that I hate that I do just as much, if not more, than anyone. There's some sort of comfort in being able to sit around in a group of friends and parlay words some Hollywood executive fuck crapped onto paper to meet his deadline. It certainly saves having to come up with anything yourself. It often comes up when I say something that I suppose sounds original and/or humorous, at least beyond any semblance of the banality of real life banter, people immedietly ask what movie that's from. It's from the cinema of the mind, bitch! I comed up wittitt all my lonesome. I don't blame the person really; basically every comment anyone makes in modern society that smacks of originality actually smacks of the originality of someone neither party has met.

I start to wonder, if since most "real people" get their clever ideas from movies and such, where do the people who make these movies come from? Then I look at the list of movies coming out recently and realize all movies are references to movies as well. Everything's a sequel or a remake or adapted from a book or television show, and those that aren't are so heavy with cliche you couldn't tell they weren't meant to be a remake. Then I realize, hey, popular music is pulling this shit too. Sampling has gotten to the point where an entire song is basically stolen and a new vocal track is put on it, sort of like when Kung-Fu movies get dubbed into English. This bugs me mainly because this is a sneaky form of referencing; not referencing at all but rather claiming as their own. If one more person asks me if Stevie Wonder sampled Coolio, I'll have to get all Dirty Harry on they ass (reference!). Yeah, Stevie Wonder fucking invented a time machine too, simply so he could sample Coolio. That makes sense, donut? Go to hell.

I had a theory (keep in mind, I was high) that everything in life is a pop culture reference. It didn't make sense at the time, but man, was I ever adamant about getting my teetering point across. Now I think I understand what I was trying to garble out: It relates to Plato's forms. Plato put forth the idea that everything in life is an imperfect representation of it's true form, and this form is off floating somewhere in the universe. Kind of an interesting concept; I don't necessarily believe in it, especially since Plato actually believed the perfect form existed somewhere in space and you could find it if you could get out there somehow. As a metaphor, I think it's a somewhat sound idea (I talked about this briefly in my early days), at least while I'm high. Everything you see is a pop culture reference to its perfect self.

When someone says something to you, it helps for you to be aware of the things they're talking about so that you don't get lost. For instance, it certainly helps to be versed in Spanish when talking to someone who speaks Spanish. In an abstract way, this can be akin to referencing, in that the Spanish language is a reference that Spanish speakers are aware of, and if you don't catch the reference, you'll be lost.

Life is chock full of referencing. The only reason it bugs me is because people use obscure references as a way to seperate themselves from the uncool folks who don't know what they're referencing, even though they had nothing to with the creation of the reference. Wearing a T-Shirt with your favorite band on it doesn't mean you had anything to do with the music, now sit down and shut up.

Wow, I have no idea where I was trying to go with this. Maybe I should just go watch Mr. Show and yell lines at passers by.

Maybe N.W.A. Just Didn't Like "Roxeanne"

Hey, are you on the Facebook? How about MySpace? How about AIM? What's your AIM name? How about MSN Messenger? Then you've got a LiveJournal, right? I know you have a Xanga. You've got to have a Xanga. What's your oh-so-clever moniker, so I can look you up on the internet and we can pretend to be friends? I need to add more people to my buddy list so I can feel secure with myself as a popular individual. We can chat online and relay our list of favorite media to one another so we can each feel like we're indie by knowing who the Arcade Fire is. How's your rating on Hot or Not? Are an appropiate number of random people you'll never meet jerking off to it? How many e-mails did you get today? I got a whole bunch; I should forward you some of the really unique jokes I got from my friend Tadzillicus from Argentina who is apparantly a real life samurai! See any silly clips of crazy unrestrained wackiness on eBaum's World today? Have you seen the one where the kid is singing along to a cheesy pop song and doing ever-so-silly dance moves to it? Oh my god, you haven't seen it? Drop everything. I'm sending you the link. Funniest thing ever in the history of forever and ever! I was DYING! Let's reference that clip next time we're outside really loud so everyone can hear how cool we are. I suggest we use that clip in conversation every time we talk to each other, at least until the new most hilarious internet clip ever presents itself to us. Hey, do you know if this band is any good? My friend has them in their profile, you know, next to all the smilies and movie quotes. There, I just downloaded their entire discography in six seconds. Did you see the new Family Guy? Yeah, I saw it six weeks before it came out; someone leaked it onto the internet. Oh man, did you see this clip where this guy sings about America? It's soooooo funny!!! da_dawg-haus-696969696969696969696969696969666 and I were laughing forever! Isn't irony that smacks you over the head just the funniest damn thing ever?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I hate the internet. Having a blog makes me feel dirty because now when people ask if I belong to any internet communities, I have to tell them begrudgingly that, yes, I do, and hang my head in shame. I try to justify it by saying all I do in this blog is talk about how blogs suck, but then I realize the only thing "cooler" than following a trend is to follow a trend but at the same time pretend like you hate the trend. I feel like such a hypocrite. Oh well, everyone's a hypocrite to some extent. I subscribe to the classic "Everything sucks when everybody else does it, but when I do it it's ok" mantra, but at the same time hate the people who do the same, which is everyone.

Thank you internet for both creating new shitty trends and for having them exposed to me faster and to a greater degree. The last thing I need is a reminder of why everybody, including myself, sucks.

This Shit Is Dumb

Leave 12 year olds off the internet. They should be outside getting fresh air.

Don't stand outside playing your god damned A chord on your expensive acoustic guitar if you're just outside for a cigarette. An while you're at it, learn a new chord, or maybe a new rhythm instead of "BAH bah bah BAH bah bah BAH bah". I know the combination of that chord and that rhythm and that trucker hat and that t-shirt has the ladies falling out of trees and fawning over your mere existance, but grow some balls and realize you only sound any good because your parents spent thousands of dollars on your suck-butt cliched guitar. And keep the beat-boxing and lyrical forays to yourself. I don't need this.

Random Jag-Off: "Excuse me, did someone just say 'Pussy'?"
Me: "Yes, several times."
Random Jag-Off: "Is that you guys are smoking?"
Me: "Um, no, it's a reference to the vagina. You know, female genitalia."
Random Jag-Off: "Oh."

Piss off!

I want so badly to like people. I don't want to turn into some bitter antisocial curmudgeon with prostate cancer and frisbees stuck on my roof. But pretty much all I need at this point is a roof and I'm that jackass Crankshaft from the comics page, whom I also hate.

I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's another day. Big smiles. Joyous stride. Clenched teeth. Polite wave. Minimal outward resentment. Be happy, be healthy. Toothy grins, people like the toothy grins. Be sure to say "Hello" to people with whom you've made brief contact with in the past several months; wouldn't want to offend anyone by ignoring them and delaying a recognition gesture despite never hanging out with them or seeing them outside of the scope of an awkward conversation.

Everyday is boring and dumb. I wish these words were less perfect, but they describe life a little too perfectly. I wish I could call myself "bemused" or something slightly interesting like that, but no. Boring. Dumb.

Dumb.

Oh, listen to me. I just had a bummy day. Boo. People are dumb and I'm boring. Tomorrow will be better.

And I simply can't wait for the irony that will befall me based upon my usage of that adage. Goodnight, folks. Have more fun than me.