Dirty Words

When I saw a video where a supporter carries a sign at a McCain rally comparing Obama to Charles Manson, I had to pause. It reminded me o how offended I was when Sarah Palin turned the term "community organizer" into an insult at the Republican National Convention. As she called Obama out as someone who attempt to make a positive difference in the community, the audience laughed and ridiculed him. Since then, McCain supporters have used "community organizer" as a dirty word. This technique of redefining the terms associated with your opponent and spinning them as insults is a continuing tradition among the ignorant and spiteful. McCain's and other right-wing individual's accusations of Obama's connection to "terrorism", "socialism", "wealth distribution", "anti-Americanism" are an attempt to hijack language for their own purposes.

In the era of Senator McCarthy's red scare witch hunt, the word "communist" was bandied about in an attempt to weed out the enemy within. Today, "terrorist" has replaced "communist" as the term which inspires fear in society. Right wing pundits attempt to add new words to this dirty word lexicon, including "socialist", "earmarker", and now "community organizer". Socialism as a political ideology is never actually discussed when they use the term, it is simply utilized as a smear. Obviously, socialism is evil and if you're a "socialist", you must be evil as well. Sarah Palin differentiates "real America" and, I guess, fake America? Michelle Bachmann calls for a investigation as to those in the US Senate who harbor "anti-American" sentiments. These terms are thrown around to drum up support or disdain in their strict good vs. evil dichotomy. No rational arguments are made, the words simply exist to taint those they are connected with. New words are tainted with these smear tactics all the time. Language is a powerful tool in controlling peoples perceptions.

I've met a number of women who hold feminist philosophies and attempt to promote feminist ideology, but they make sure to preface any statements made with "I'm not a feminist". Why is there this concern surrounding being a feminist? Feminism is, as the bumper sticker puts it so precisely, the radical notion that women are people. Feminism is not some crazy fringe anti-male movement, as many seem to think. It simply demands a respect for and equal recognition of women. Rush Limbaugh did some severe damage to the public perception of feminism by terming feminists "femi-nazis", hiding his hatred of women by blaming the victims. This reterming has caused many would-be feminists to avoid the label, afraid of seeming like the man-hating female fascists that don't actually exist. It's a shame that people buy into the rantings of Rush and others; I say people should be proud of their feminism and not allow Rush to steal the word away from who it truly belongs to.

Why do republicans flip their shit at the idea of "wealth distribution"? Because McCain likens it to robbery. Obama is going to steal money from your wallet and give it a deadbeat. Why is "community organizing" a joke at the RNC? Because the core of the republican ideology is individualistic, unconcerned with others and focused on self-interest. "Community" means "socialism", people sharing and helping out one another. How terrible!

Don't buy into this hijacking of language. Don't accept the definitions invented by those trying to appropiate labels for their own devices.

I Think I Have A Problem, Again

Damn television. Now that I am at my parents house again, I find myself watching television on a regular basis once more, and it pains me. There really is nothing on television that's worth even turning it on, and yet I do. TV is a drug. It's much worse than any other drug available: It is easily accessible to everyone, it takes no effort to use, it is always available, and it is unrelentingly captivating. But, like other drugs, it at least gives me something to ponder. Here are my worthless opinions on the following strands of this drug I've been taking lately:

MALCOM IN THE MIDDLE

In a perfect world, Malcom in the Middle would be merely mediocre. The show is moderately funny, with manic performances and writing decent enough to continue watching. But it just doesn't strike me as brilliant or amazing, at least on its own. In comparison to other family sitcoms, however, this is Citizen god damn Kane. Certain elements can be hilarious, and when compared to other shows where I don't laugh once, Malcom in the Middle is automatically a classic. I guess.

FAMILY GUY

Why, Family Guy? Why you gotta? This show is not like other shows that aren't funny. Most bad TV shows are harmless, floating awash in a sea of shit but never actually making any difference here or there. Family Guy, however, has changed the course of television comedy, and a lot of comedy in general, and for the worse. You see Family Guy inspiration in a lot of terrible shows, and the climate of TV comedy is at one of the lowest points its ever been. Watching it hurts. It's not just "Oh, that wasn't really funny", it's "Wow, they took some real time and effort to make that not funny". Family Guy's rampant and near-disease-like use of pop culture references is so grating and lazy, and has inspired filth like "Epic Movie", comedy that thinks a reference in-and-of-itself is funny. So many jokes are not nearly worth their setup: There's a bit where Stewie is the King in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood of Make-Believe, and he makes a crack about how he must be in Mexico because the castle is right next to the trainyard. That's it. That's the joke that they bothered to film, rather than animate, with live-action puppets and scenery. The joke is throwawy at best, but took someone an awful lot of work to pull off just so Seth McFarlene can say that Mexico is poorer than the United States. The show winds up being a string of non-sequiturs, thrown out by Seth as he might at a party, then diligently animated by a team of workers who work a million times harder than the piss-poor writers. The format of using near-constant cutaways and pop culture references (which was directly stolen from The Simpsons, who incorporated these techniques into actual character development and plot lines) completely eliminates any semblance of story or connection to the characters, and the show suffers considerably. It's like watching a series of YouTube videos back to back: Hey! It's the theme song from some old 80's show! Ha ha! Hey, there's a guy getting kicked in the nuts again and again! Ha ha! It's joke after joke, but so many of the jokes take way too long to get across. I know Family Guy relies heavily on the "What The Fuck Factor" (the sole comedic element many of Adult Swim's shows), and often throws you curveballs with random events and overlong songs, but so many of these strike me more as time-wasters than legitimate comedic devices. When Peter clutches his leg and goes "Aaaaah!" for what feels like ten minutes, a show like South Park would have fit in ten or fifteen jokes instead of that single joke, which is only funny in the sense that you're confused as to why it's there. Once you're hit by the WTF Factor more than once, it becomes not so much funny as it is tiring. Also, the show relies very heavily on easy gags, like crazy characters who yell a lot in place of something clever. The writers really seem lazy to me, and often place some wacky character into a situation where better shows would put a legit joke.

Here's the abstract for all those with no attention span: Fuck Family Guy.

THE SIMPSONS

I am a long-time Simpsons fan, and so I shall remain until the day I die. At it's core period (Seasons 2-9, if anyone's counting), this is the most brilliant thing television has ever produced. The Simpsons has influenced so much of comedy and it is consistently hilarious at every viewing. It is the rare show that gets funnier and funnier the more you see it. Of course, after the big change-up of writersaround the 10th season, there became a difference between the Simpsons on TV and the Simpsons I refer to when I say I love the Simpsons. When I say that, I'm basically disregarding anything after the 9th season (with the exception of a few smatterings of quality), and other Simpsons fans recognize what I mean. There seems to be a pretty general consensus on where the run of the never-ending show's good times end.

But! The Simpsons Movie was fantastic. Yes, it was heralded by most of the original writers, but it inspired me to start watching the show again. I have come to a revelation: The Simpsons is good. It seems to me the show is in a third era, no longer in the good nor the post-good, but a an interesting subsequent period that is not as good as it ought to be but not as bad as you think it is. This designation may just be inspired by watching Family Guy in such close conjunction, but The Simpsons as it stands today really is an interesting bit of comedy in the bloated world of bland and craptacular television. It's humor is kind of surreal at times: It can be unorthodox without relying on the WTF factor, and tries decently hard to come up with some clever lines and situations. Cleverness is the key: So many shows can be funny, but what makes a show worth remembering is if its clever. The Simpsons, as it stands now, remains one of the only clever shows on television. It's still pretty hit and miss, but at least it has some hits. There was a time when I had abandoned this show, as many fans have. If you've turned your back on The Simpsons, give it another try. If you're in the right mood and you catch it on the right day, you just might find yourself laughing histarically despite yourself.

EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND

Okay, we all know this show sucks. But here is specifically why it sucks: Every episode of the show is exactly the same. There's some problem, the family finds out about it, they get neurotic and yell a lot. Roll credits. Every episode is a different problem, but it winds up the same exact way every time. The family is nuts and I guess we're supposed to think that's funny. More lazy writing. I'm sure every script is just "[something happens]; Ray's wife finds out; Wife: 'You idiot! You're a terrible husband!'; Ray: 'Well you don't let me have sex with you very much'; Ray's mother: 'I want to be involved!'; Ray's dad: 'Pork!'; Ray's brother: 'Here we go again'; [resolution]" Yes, it was a waste of time to discover why this show is awful, but there it is anyway.

Um, that is all.

Vice Versa

The following is a fictional essay I turned in for class. It is bad. Enjoy it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mel was currently on his third day without sleep. He was by no means an insomniac; no, he tried very hard to get to this point. Initially, not sleeping was a simple byproduct of Mel’s depression. He had just had a difficult breakup with his girlfriend, who left him rather unsubtly by engaging in phone sex with someone else in front of him during a night out at Denny‘s. Crushed, Mel sought solace in his best friend Andrew, who it turned out had left town with Mel’s checkbook and social security number, having used these years of trust to con him out of his money. Further crushed, Mel made his way to his parents house, who were each found dead in their armchairs watching The Price Is Right. Mel has been in their house ever since, unsure of where to go next and fearful he might bring further poor luck wherever he goes. Stationary in his parent’s house, Mel found it difficult to sleep most nights. Somewhere along the line, he decided he was going to simply forgo sleep from then on. How he came to this decision is not clear: He attempted to convince himself it was to give himself time to get his life together, to get over his loss, and to be productive for his future, but all this went out the window when he found himself listening to Bob Barker decry animals with genitals day in and day out. His motives no longer seemed to matter anyway. It was now his mission to remain awake, and that was simply that.
So here Mel was on his third day without sleeping. He drank far too much coffee and spent too many hours staring at the television. Or, to look at it another way, Mel gave his life a new direction by reconfiguring his dietary intake and gave his life focus by finding something to hold his attention. He had changed his thought process so that everything he did could be easily justified with a few simple vocabulary adjustments. He was starting to feel somewhat positive, actually. This is why I am doing this, he thought to himself. I need a change in my life, and any sort of change is invariably a good one. But when his hand began to shake uncontrollably, he struggled with a way to put a good spin on it. Equally difficult was making it seem like his sudden blurry vision and nausea were good things. And, as the room began to slowly spin around him, he no longer even made attempts at putting positive spins on anything because any more spinning and he would have thrown up. His head was swimming. His eyes began to feel like they were bleeding. He convulsed uncontrollably and finally collapsed onto the ground.
“Hey. Get up,”
“What?” Mel replied to the unknown voice. “Who said that?”
“If you want to get technical, you said that,” said the lamp. “I’m just a voice in your head, manifesting itself as a lamp. But let’s not get technical. My name is T. Lamp,”
“T. Lamp?”
“Yeah. The Lamp. I’m your lamp,”
“Huh. Tell me again why you’ve decided to start talking to me?”
“You’re hallucinating. It’s no big deal. This isn’t actually happening anyway, but for the time being, your lamp is talking to you,” said T. Lamp. Mel felt a bit confused. “You’re starting to feel the ill effects of sleep deprivation, Mel. It’s not terribly healthy to go without sleep,”
“Okay,” Mel timidly responded. His lamp had never really been so forward with him. Usually it was just on or off, depending on how Mel had configured the switch; it had never had too much to say before. “You got any bright ideas, T?”
“That’s not funny. I don’t think that’s funny at all,” Mel was afraid he had made T. Lamp upset. He had a lot of other puns relating to lamps stored away, but he decided to save them for later. “I’m not really here to advise you on anything. I don’t even know why I am here, really,”
“My parents always thought you looked nice on that table. I thought your shade conflicted with the wallpaper,” Mel replied.
“I would say that maybe it’s time for you to get some sleep,” said T. Lamp, and Mel realized this was probably sound advice. Mel crawled up to the couch and nestled amongst the cushions. Almost instantly, he was asleep.
Mel now saw he had been wrong to try to stay awake so long. Sleep was the answer! Rather than stay awake perpetually, being asleep at all times is a much better way to avoid dealing with your life. For a few brief moments, everything was dark. Then, Bam! On came an onslaught of subconscious memories, all jumbled into one cryptic and ridiculous package! The world was suddenly full of old junior high science teachers, family pets, movie stars he had recently seen on Entertainment Tonight!, spaceships, candy and unicorns! The sights he saw were pent up in his mind during his time awake, and they exploded into his brain like a firecracker. Mel could fly, he could jump higher than ten basketball players, he could eat more hot dogs than anyone in the world and he was adored by everyone. Dreamland is definitely the place to be, Mel concluded, and he was determined to remain asleep forever.
Just as Mel was about to enter a chocolate sauce factory with ten porn stars and a jumbo-sized bag of marshmallows, he was confronted by a floating television screen. On the screen was Bob Barker, again, and he did not seem pleased. “Mel, you conniving little worm!” screamed Bob, with a face of fury Mel did no imagine Barker had the energy to muster. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know specifically,” Mel replied. “I just assumed this combination would result in a good time.”
“You’ve been asleep for the past week! That is no way to live a life! I tried so hard to make a difference in the world by informing people of actual retail prices of products they may desire purchasing and preventing the birth of litters and litters of illegitimate puppy children, and here you are, ignoring reality by staying asleep!” Bob yelled. “You can’t keep this up, Mel! I won’t allow it!”
“Hey, didn’t Drew Carey take your job? That must feel pretty low, huh?”
“DAMMIT, MEL, SO HELP ME, I WILL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS FOREVER!” Bob screamed, his face turning shades of purple. “You think staying asleep is just some grandiose walk in the picnic cake? Wait until I turn this dreamland into a nightmare… There will be no escape!”
Suddenly, the ground began to open up, as giant Plinko tiles fell from the heavens like so much God’s wrath. A cavalcade of brand new cars tore through the horizon, barreling down on Mel with unstoppable fury. Zombie Rod Roddy tore up through the earth in a shirt so expertly sequined it burned a hole in men’s souls. An army of cats and dogs, wild with rabid hunger and cursed with savage, unspayed genitalia spurned forth and descended upon the landscape. Chaos was all that remained. Mel began to realize the dangers of living in a fantasy world, and began to wish he could awaken to face reality. Escape from life’s ills was a faulty decision; in trying to either absorb himself in his misery or ignore it outright, Mel had found nothing to soothe the pain. With that, he awoke. Not entirely sure where his life was to head now, he ventured outside and began to walk. He was going to continue on in this life. Be there salvation or redemption ahead, it would have to come find him.

Garble Hey What

I am working hard, people. This man is doing all sorts of things and actions, trying to make the most of this little muddle called life. Why are we here? Who put us here, and is he watching when we go to the bathroom? I do things in there I'd prefer he not see. I am being paid to write words, which is a first. For a while I was writing words, and not one of you pathetic audience members thought to say "Hey! Have some money." This disappointed me, because sometimes I need to have money if I want to either purchase something or continue having a place to live. Right now I live with my parents. Yes, I know what you're going to say: "Wasn't there a Matthew McConaughey movie where he did that?" I will say in response: "No! You're silly. Angels in the Outfield was much more of a paternal metaphor, the male father figure putting faith in arenas outside of reality and personal responsibility, relying on the outcome of a baseball team to determine his relationship with his son. This rather forgettable picture has little if anything to do with my current living situation." That's how it'll go down!

Basically, though, I don't have to spend money on rent right now. How about that, huh? That is not to say that I am suddenly Captain Moneybag, or perhaps that tycoon who adorns that Milton-Bradley game. Nay, I am as broke as ever. If you want to get technical, I have three jobs. How is it that I can have three jobs while the rest of this economy is tanking, leaving no jobs for anyone? I am selfish and greedy, and what's more, I hate America. Yes, I would like to see the American worker suffer, because they are so terrible and they always have ulcers when you don't want them to.

I am trying (feebly!) to push forward with music business. I am making (crappy!) music whenever I get the chance, and am trying to do more and more to keep up the momentum on that whole thing. Updates on that as they arise (arise!).

I have three blogs now. I get paid to do two of them, this one is for writing stupid inane shit like this, and soon I will be making one more with two colleagues of mine (when you are professional, you call your friends "colleagues", because then every time you get drunk together, it can be a business meeting!). I know this blog began with severe trepidation regarding succumbing to a popular internet phenomenon, but this no longer concerns me. The culture and bullshit which surround certain things I am involved in (blogs , mySpaASe, facebook, public universities) no longer even come into play; instead I like to look at things for their base merit. Before, when I heard the word "Blog" I said "ew. That's something that people have begun to talk about, and thus I must turn my head away in fear that I might succumb to the wiles of modern civilization." Now I'm saying: "Cha-ching! I can sit on the computer and take dumps in the monitor and suddenly people want to give me money! Fuck it, I don't care if blogging is lame! I'd much rather sell my soul doing something menial like this than shit bagels down your throat for a living!" So much of this post is dominated by imagined conversations; nothing in quotes is an actual quote.

Well, ugh. I've said something on here now, that oughta keep it alive for at least the next month or so.