He may just be following the lead of the left-wing media and fearmongering, but John, the Jigsaw Killer has promised me he will make a very important announcement on his blog in the coming days. Be on the lookout, and if I somehow die in all of this, try to bury my body next to Mark Twain's.
"The only time I ate potato salad, was the year I got shot." - Mark Twain
Friday, March 31, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Power
I just wrote a powerful section of my book, in which the hero finally stops production of a set of foil-trimmed baseball cards that were putting 2004 batting statistics in the column for 2005! As you can imagine, I'm completely and emotionally drained. Please, when you read my book sometime next year, have pills with you. If they're pills for calming, you'll be in perfect shape. If they're pills for anything else, you'll be dead before the hour.
To bring myself back to Earth from the planet of future literature, I'm going to talk about how incredibly useful my blog is. I'm not going to look at it in the hedonistic, eye-goggling way I usually do when I reload the page for the fifth time. Rather, I'm going to look at it as John Stuart Mill would have liked me to - the utilitarian way.
By the way, Georgetown wouldn't buy back my copy of Mill's Utilitarianism, so whichever one of my siblings has a child first can expect a pretty exciting baby shower gift. And for baby's first birthday, Essays on the African-American Experience. Freedom!
Back to the many uses of my blog, as decided by internet searches that for one reason or another end up here. Let's investigate:
Search: "Usher sexuality/homosexuality." This continues to be my biggest hit, though users who type the pop star's full name "Usher Raymond" have a better chance of arriving, as long as they remember to type the gay thing, too. I've been moving up the Google list for many combinations of terms involved in this oh-so-serious current issue. I don't think I ever really gave an answer regarding the question at hand, however, so now I will. Usher is neither gay nor straight. He's an eagle.
Stop grabbing. There are enough gay rumors for everyone.
Search: "Political double-entendre." Apparently I've used the word double-entendre numerous times, and searchers who use MSN love to find out about this word in the context of politics. Here are some more double words these government nerdos might like: gerrymander-salad, filibuster-soup, and veto-my-speedo. Although you wouldn't think it, I didn't just make these words up. They're actually items on the menu of a restaurant I'm opening. The veto-my-speedo is a banana pastry with just a splash of tart and some extra filling hanging out the sides.
Search: "Boobs." Why in the name of ethernet cables would anyone click on my website after running this search? They did.
Search: "Mike XXX, Chad XXX." I've put XXXs after these male names not to persevere the porn theme which almost started with the last search, but rather to attempt some anonyminity. I've included a couple of friends' full titles in my writing from time to time (which I will try to avoid doing again without permission), and I now both congratulate and warn these two people that multiple internet searches have been run on them in recent days. I'm not exactly sure about the origins of the searches, but they seem to be coming from .iaw sites. That's the protocol for insane asylum wards.
Search: "If everyone in China jumped up and down at the same time would the tidal wave destroy America?" This makes me very happy. I'm the number 2 Google result for a question on destroying America. Workers of the world unite!
And that's how I ended up in federal prison.
I'm all packed for Guantanamo!
To bring myself back to Earth from the planet of future literature, I'm going to talk about how incredibly useful my blog is. I'm not going to look at it in the hedonistic, eye-goggling way I usually do when I reload the page for the fifth time. Rather, I'm going to look at it as John Stuart Mill would have liked me to - the utilitarian way.
By the way, Georgetown wouldn't buy back my copy of Mill's Utilitarianism, so whichever one of my siblings has a child first can expect a pretty exciting baby shower gift. And for baby's first birthday, Essays on the African-American Experience. Freedom!
Back to the many uses of my blog, as decided by internet searches that for one reason or another end up here. Let's investigate:
Search: "Usher sexuality/homosexuality." This continues to be my biggest hit, though users who type the pop star's full name "Usher Raymond" have a better chance of arriving, as long as they remember to type the gay thing, too. I've been moving up the Google list for many combinations of terms involved in this oh-so-serious current issue. I don't think I ever really gave an answer regarding the question at hand, however, so now I will. Usher is neither gay nor straight. He's an eagle.
Stop grabbing. There are enough gay rumors for everyone.Search: "Boobs." Why in the name of ethernet cables would anyone click on my website after running this search? They did.
Search: "Mike XXX, Chad XXX." I've put XXXs after these male names not to persevere the porn theme which almost started with the last search, but rather to attempt some anonyminity. I've included a couple of friends' full titles in my writing from time to time (which I will try to avoid doing again without permission), and I now both congratulate and warn these two people that multiple internet searches have been run on them in recent days. I'm not exactly sure about the origins of the searches, but they seem to be coming from .iaw sites. That's the protocol for insane asylum wards.
Search: "If everyone in China jumped up and down at the same time would the tidal wave destroy America?" This makes me very happy. I'm the number 2 Google result for a question on destroying America. Workers of the world unite!
And that's how I ended up in federal prison.
I'm all packed for Guantanamo!Sunday, March 26, 2006
Education Vacation... with Vegetables
I learned a variety of things these past couple days in Minnesota. Since I prefaced my trip with a list-like post, and since more than half of my posts include lists of some form (the other half are Twain excerpts), here's another!
Oh, but because a blogger by the name of Dave commented last post that he didn't know "WHAT" was going on with my apparantly overly-avant style, I'm introducing a character named Eddie the Eggplant Educator to clarify any possible confusions. I hope you don't think he's too much of an assonance!
Eddie: Kids, assonance is similar to alliteration, except that it refers to the repetition of vowel sounds instead of consonant sounds. That last joke was a crude pun which combined this literary technique with a swear word for "rear end," or "behind."
First Learned: Jesus is powerful in the North. It seems like over half of standard cable channels cater specifically to Bicep-lovers. Whoops. I mean Bible-lovers. I confused the two because one of the shows was an exercise program in which a kid who was asked how to spell "bicep" did so correctly, only to be told he was wrong and that the actual spelling was B-I-B-L-E.
Other shows included a home video with an old black man whose hair was shaped like a side-tipped beret, as well as the cult classic The Bibleman Adventures. Bibleman battles the evil Protester (who's probably a gross secularist...eww!) with psalms and proverbs. There's even comic relief when Biblegirl, whose breasts are protected with their own shield of chastity, cites an irrelevant proverb in the middle of battle. "It's all I could think of," she doth proclaim. Well, at least she doth not protest.
They say the costumes are based off the book of Ephesians.
Eddie: Kids, don't listen to anything Harry types about religion. Because nobody's loved him for so long, he's forgotten that Jesus will always love him. Instead, he turns to slimy books and glasses-wearing intellectuals for guidance. Do you know who else wears glasses? The Protester!
Second Learned: I can still enjoy movies with Clive Owen in them. I've been begging for a good Clive flick since 2004's King Arthur. I was disappointed when he wasn't 4 real in Closer. I cried at his trainwreck of a character in Derailed. But finally, with The Inside Man, I can look to him once more as one of my major outside influences. (I'm choosing to overlook the Yankees hat he dons in the final scene, and not because I want to, but because I need to.) Welcome back, Clive. Your poster will be re-mounted on my wall.
Eddie: I believe Harry's attempting a double-entendre with this poster mounting comment at the end. He means it to imply not only that he's mounting the poster on the wall, but also that he's mounting it sexually. Not only is this behavior inappropriate, but it's immoral. Remember the forgotten commandment: "Thou shalt not mount false idols."
Third Learned: M&Ms are everywhere. As me and Chris were off on one of our wacky adventures - adventures stemming from Chris not knowing where anything is - we stumbled upon the "M and M Market." We didn't go in, but we knew that everything they sold -milk, bread, etc. - had to be filled with M&Ms! After passing the store, we sat down to eat, only to see another patron leave the restaurant with a plush M&M toy tied to his backpack. And then lightning struck thrice, when some random girl Chris knew entered the diner, sat down in the booth behind us, and turned to offer us peanut M&Ms in a kitsch M&M container.
Chris and I didn't bow to coincidence, however, for we demanded one more M&M sign appear if we were to put our faith in these candied gods. Nothing happened, and we knew the heavens were empty.
Eddie: Harry seems to be instilling more and more anti-religious content into this post as it continues. Ignore him, kids, ignore him!
Fourth Learned: Eddie the Eggplant Educator is revealing the ultimate motivations of my blog, and therefore must be released from his contract even before this post is finished.
(Gunshots sound, followed by the sizzle and smell only the preparation of butter-fried eggplant can produce. Delicious, and free of personification.)
Fifth Learned: When seeing cute Georgetown cheerleaders for the first time in years, do not mention your fervor for eating in the shower. These kinds of revelations shouldn't be released to too many too soon. Revolution begins at the hush of dawn, and only after a full day will the fireworks at night prevail!
Viva la ducha! Baja con Dios!
Oh, but because a blogger by the name of Dave commented last post that he didn't know "WHAT" was going on with my apparantly overly-avant style, I'm introducing a character named Eddie the Eggplant Educator to clarify any possible confusions. I hope you don't think he's too much of an assonance!
Eddie: Kids, assonance is similar to alliteration, except that it refers to the repetition of vowel sounds instead of consonant sounds. That last joke was a crude pun which combined this literary technique with a swear word for "rear end," or "behind."
First Learned: Jesus is powerful in the North. It seems like over half of standard cable channels cater specifically to Bicep-lovers. Whoops. I mean Bible-lovers. I confused the two because one of the shows was an exercise program in which a kid who was asked how to spell "bicep" did so correctly, only to be told he was wrong and that the actual spelling was B-I-B-L-E.
Other shows included a home video with an old black man whose hair was shaped like a side-tipped beret, as well as the cult classic The Bibleman Adventures. Bibleman battles the evil Protester (who's probably a gross secularist...eww!) with psalms and proverbs. There's even comic relief when Biblegirl, whose breasts are protected with their own shield of chastity, cites an irrelevant proverb in the middle of battle. "It's all I could think of," she doth proclaim. Well, at least she doth not protest.
They say the costumes are based off the book of Ephesians.Eddie: Kids, don't listen to anything Harry types about religion. Because nobody's loved him for so long, he's forgotten that Jesus will always love him. Instead, he turns to slimy books and glasses-wearing intellectuals for guidance. Do you know who else wears glasses? The Protester!
Second Learned: I can still enjoy movies with Clive Owen in them. I've been begging for a good Clive flick since 2004's King Arthur. I was disappointed when he wasn't 4 real in Closer. I cried at his trainwreck of a character in Derailed. But finally, with The Inside Man, I can look to him once more as one of my major outside influences. (I'm choosing to overlook the Yankees hat he dons in the final scene, and not because I want to, but because I need to.) Welcome back, Clive. Your poster will be re-mounted on my wall.
Eddie: I believe Harry's attempting a double-entendre with this poster mounting comment at the end. He means it to imply not only that he's mounting the poster on the wall, but also that he's mounting it sexually. Not only is this behavior inappropriate, but it's immoral. Remember the forgotten commandment: "Thou shalt not mount false idols."
Third Learned: M&Ms are everywhere. As me and Chris were off on one of our wacky adventures - adventures stemming from Chris not knowing where anything is - we stumbled upon the "M and M Market." We didn't go in, but we knew that everything they sold -milk, bread, etc. - had to be filled with M&Ms! After passing the store, we sat down to eat, only to see another patron leave the restaurant with a plush M&M toy tied to his backpack. And then lightning struck thrice, when some random girl Chris knew entered the diner, sat down in the booth behind us, and turned to offer us peanut M&Ms in a kitsch M&M container.
Chris and I didn't bow to coincidence, however, for we demanded one more M&M sign appear if we were to put our faith in these candied gods. Nothing happened, and we knew the heavens were empty.
Eddie: Harry seems to be instilling more and more anti-religious content into this post as it continues. Ignore him, kids, ignore him!
Fourth Learned: Eddie the Eggplant Educator is revealing the ultimate motivations of my blog, and therefore must be released from his contract even before this post is finished.
(Gunshots sound, followed by the sizzle and smell only the preparation of butter-fried eggplant can produce. Delicious, and free of personification.)
Fifth Learned: When seeing cute Georgetown cheerleaders for the first time in years, do not mention your fervor for eating in the shower. These kinds of revelations shouldn't be released to too many too soon. Revolution begins at the hush of dawn, and only after a full day will the fireworks at night prevail!
Viva la ducha! Baja con Dios!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
On the Road to Irrelevancy
Tomorrow I head up to Minneapolis for a couple of days, and for whatever reason I'm actually afraid. It's not just the fear that Chris is going to smother me to death in Brokeback posters, although that is a very real fear (I have one V for Vendetta poster with me that I hope will defeat Chris with its message of true love). Nor is it just the fear that I'll get stuck next to an incredibly smelly hobo on the Greyhound, slowly grow attracted to his lifestyle through osmosis, and abandon all I have for the allure of poverty and abandoned lumber shacks. No, the fear is much more volatile than that.
I fear there will be a clash of cultures, and existence will shudder, if not shatter! Let me explain:
First, there is Chris and his elusive avant-lifestyle, where the only thing that makes sense is our misery. Whoops, no that was his emo-lifestyle, which was actually tangible. Now I don't even think he walks so much as intermittently floats from step to step on a tirade of art.
Cultural Parallel: The Golden Horde, minus Mongol genetics, plus nerd glasses
Second, there are the hordes of sports fans sure to storm the city for college basketball. I admit that this is largely the reason I am going to the city, so as to instill IVs into a Georgetown pep band that's been without me for a year. It's not that they miss me; it's just that I got them all addicted to heroin. Nevertheless, I'm not including myself in this group, seeing as how I won't actually be attending the game. 90 dollars for the cheapest seats to watch basketball in the Metrodome? I mean, I can see a baseball from way up there, but a basketball? Doubtful, unless Torii Hunter is somehow involved. (Ask Twins fans who that is, and then ask them if he has a twin. Ha!)
Cultural Parallel: The French during the revolutionary reign of Robespierre. Beware the sports-themed guillotines.
Third, there is me. A whole group just for me? Nope. Me and the spirit of Mark Twain, which will from time to time actually steal my body; thus the need for this separate group. To ward off the allure of the hobo, I will be intensely consuming Samuel Clemens's short works on the ride up. My brain will grow 2 sizes too big, only to shrink again when I glance at the time on my I LOVE BOOBS watch. (The hour hand is linear boob!)
Cultural Parallel: 19th century authors, not including Charles Dickens. I never know whether he prefers the nickname Choo-Choo Chaz or Slippery Dicky.
And so I fear these three cultures will clash. Observe the future, in play format:
(Curtain opens on Minneapolis. Harry deboards bus.)
Harry: My oh my. What a sight the mighty Mississip is; even here, near its home of humble beginnings. A man usually becomes weaker as he nears his house, knowing that even his strongest of wits will fail against the power of the wife; but this river, He knows no woman! He surges past her glaring eyes to...
(Sports fans run by. One stops in awe of Harry's stringing together of words longer than five letters, but shakes it off and starts painting Harry's face.)
Sports fan: YEAAAAHHHH! (You know, from Chapelle's Show).
(Chris appears out of his vortex. He ponders the scene, then begins cutting it apart with his mind, posting words and phrases here and there all over the image.)
(Space/Time fractures. All is lost.)
But the mighty Mississip rages on.
Rage, in all its serenity.
I fear there will be a clash of cultures, and existence will shudder, if not shatter! Let me explain:
First, there is Chris and his elusive avant-lifestyle, where the only thing that makes sense is our misery. Whoops, no that was his emo-lifestyle, which was actually tangible. Now I don't even think he walks so much as intermittently floats from step to step on a tirade of art.
Cultural Parallel: The Golden Horde, minus Mongol genetics, plus nerd glasses
Second, there are the hordes of sports fans sure to storm the city for college basketball. I admit that this is largely the reason I am going to the city, so as to instill IVs into a Georgetown pep band that's been without me for a year. It's not that they miss me; it's just that I got them all addicted to heroin. Nevertheless, I'm not including myself in this group, seeing as how I won't actually be attending the game. 90 dollars for the cheapest seats to watch basketball in the Metrodome? I mean, I can see a baseball from way up there, but a basketball? Doubtful, unless Torii Hunter is somehow involved. (Ask Twins fans who that is, and then ask them if he has a twin. Ha!)
Cultural Parallel: The French during the revolutionary reign of Robespierre. Beware the sports-themed guillotines.
Third, there is me. A whole group just for me? Nope. Me and the spirit of Mark Twain, which will from time to time actually steal my body; thus the need for this separate group. To ward off the allure of the hobo, I will be intensely consuming Samuel Clemens's short works on the ride up. My brain will grow 2 sizes too big, only to shrink again when I glance at the time on my I LOVE BOOBS watch. (The hour hand is linear boob!)
Cultural Parallel: 19th century authors, not including Charles Dickens. I never know whether he prefers the nickname Choo-Choo Chaz or Slippery Dicky.
And so I fear these three cultures will clash. Observe the future, in play format:
(Curtain opens on Minneapolis. Harry deboards bus.)
Harry: My oh my. What a sight the mighty Mississip is; even here, near its home of humble beginnings. A man usually becomes weaker as he nears his house, knowing that even his strongest of wits will fail against the power of the wife; but this river, He knows no woman! He surges past her glaring eyes to...
(Sports fans run by. One stops in awe of Harry's stringing together of words longer than five letters, but shakes it off and starts painting Harry's face.)
Sports fan: YEAAAAHHHH! (You know, from Chapelle's Show).
(Chris appears out of his vortex. He ponders the scene, then begins cutting it apart with his mind, posting words and phrases here and there all over the image.)
(Space/Time fractures. All is lost.)
But the mighty Mississip rages on.
Rage, in all its serenity.Tuesday, March 21, 2006
I'm Entertaining Otherwise
I am slow of late, and there are a few reasons for this. Why don't I explain them to you in popular list format!
1. I am entertaining otherwise. Contrary to recent rumours, I am actually both writing a book and spelling "rumours" the British way. The book is nearing its completion story-wise, probably to be finished by the end of May and then cleaned up all summer like a clean cat. Speaking of which, did you know that Haylie Duff nicknames her sister Hilary "Clean Cat"? (Note: I purposely chose to put this question mark outside the quotations. I am against question marks as such being within them. I'm a rebel like that.) Please Haylie, your euphemisms are so easy for us perverts to see through. And so sexy.
2. The seasons tricked me. It got warm, and now it's cold again. I am not one to promote weather-speak in an already weather-obsessed nation, but things like this do piss me off. Maybe it's a good thing that TMJ 4 launched a whole channel devoted to the weather. Whoops no it's not. I hope it fails miserably and the producers drown in their bounced checks. By the way, I wrote an e-mail telling TMJ 4 to stop running an especially annoying ad campaign during Conan because, so I said, that's when people with some sense of creativity watch. I didn't get a response. They probably assume I'm just a bitter old man who passed away after experiencing the insane technology of electronic mail. At least they're honoring my last request; I haven't seen the commercial since.
3. I've been hanging out with Mark Twain, literally. Or maybe literaturally. My book will not compare to anything Mark Twain wrote, so if you're hoping for a classic short story about jumping frogs look elsewhere. Elsewhere being Mark Twain's The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, you silly head.
4. I've been watching baseball, as mentioned last week. Tonight Japan beat Cuba in the championship, and I seriously got emotional when the Cuban team came out afterwards and they all shook hands. I'd been cursing at the sportsmanship throughout the series, as teams narcissistically congratulated only their own teammates after the games, so I was glad to see the trend finally end. An unfortunate new trend began, however, when all the players started disappearing through wormholes.
5. I've been pondering the benefits of our decades old stand-off with Cuba. This distraction has actually taken very little time, as the benefits are nonexistent. I guess it is important to fight Castro and his "communist" ways, though. I'm glad we're doing the same to other dictatorial faux-socialists like China and Vietnam. What's that? All our clothes are from those places? I don't understand...
6. (Semi-spoiler alert) I've been dreaming up all the ways I can make my friends angry by arguing that V for Vendetta is a more triumphant love story than Brokeback Mountain. Natalie Portman and V had more to overcome than society's fear of sexuality. They had to overcome the impossibility of love between an innocent girl and the man who can't kiss her through his mask or sex her with his fire-scarred body. Beautiful, and filled with much more glorious fireworks scenes than Brokeback.
7. I've been eating a ton of food in the shower. Bagels with cream cheese, more pickles, frozen fruit snacks, and more! If I didn't feel so bad about the whales, I'd just sit in there all day. But alas, the blubber-fueled water heater in my house burns all too fast.
Alright, I think 7 is a good number to end at. I've been told it's lucky by a man with one eye. I'm not sure what that means.
Does he really only have one eye, or is it an optical illusion?
1. I am entertaining otherwise. Contrary to recent rumours, I am actually both writing a book and spelling "rumours" the British way. The book is nearing its completion story-wise, probably to be finished by the end of May and then cleaned up all summer like a clean cat. Speaking of which, did you know that Haylie Duff nicknames her sister Hilary "Clean Cat"? (Note: I purposely chose to put this question mark outside the quotations. I am against question marks as such being within them. I'm a rebel like that.) Please Haylie, your euphemisms are so easy for us perverts to see through. And so sexy.
2. The seasons tricked me. It got warm, and now it's cold again. I am not one to promote weather-speak in an already weather-obsessed nation, but things like this do piss me off. Maybe it's a good thing that TMJ 4 launched a whole channel devoted to the weather. Whoops no it's not. I hope it fails miserably and the producers drown in their bounced checks. By the way, I wrote an e-mail telling TMJ 4 to stop running an especially annoying ad campaign during Conan because, so I said, that's when people with some sense of creativity watch. I didn't get a response. They probably assume I'm just a bitter old man who passed away after experiencing the insane technology of electronic mail. At least they're honoring my last request; I haven't seen the commercial since.
3. I've been hanging out with Mark Twain, literally. Or maybe literaturally. My book will not compare to anything Mark Twain wrote, so if you're hoping for a classic short story about jumping frogs look elsewhere. Elsewhere being Mark Twain's The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, you silly head.
4. I've been watching baseball, as mentioned last week. Tonight Japan beat Cuba in the championship, and I seriously got emotional when the Cuban team came out afterwards and they all shook hands. I'd been cursing at the sportsmanship throughout the series, as teams narcissistically congratulated only their own teammates after the games, so I was glad to see the trend finally end. An unfortunate new trend began, however, when all the players started disappearing through wormholes.
5. I've been pondering the benefits of our decades old stand-off with Cuba. This distraction has actually taken very little time, as the benefits are nonexistent. I guess it is important to fight Castro and his "communist" ways, though. I'm glad we're doing the same to other dictatorial faux-socialists like China and Vietnam. What's that? All our clothes are from those places? I don't understand...
6. (Semi-spoiler alert) I've been dreaming up all the ways I can make my friends angry by arguing that V for Vendetta is a more triumphant love story than Brokeback Mountain. Natalie Portman and V had more to overcome than society's fear of sexuality. They had to overcome the impossibility of love between an innocent girl and the man who can't kiss her through his mask or sex her with his fire-scarred body. Beautiful, and filled with much more glorious fireworks scenes than Brokeback.
7. I've been eating a ton of food in the shower. Bagels with cream cheese, more pickles, frozen fruit snacks, and more! If I didn't feel so bad about the whales, I'd just sit in there all day. But alas, the blubber-fueled water heater in my house burns all too fast.
Alright, I think 7 is a good number to end at. I've been told it's lucky by a man with one eye. I'm not sure what that means.
Does he really only have one eye, or is it an optical illusion?Thursday, March 16, 2006
Statistical Complaint
First, I have some stats. Then, I have a complaint.
These stats are for all you superfans out there who love unpublished books with zero credibility. Recently, my book's word count surpassed the great George Orwell's Animal Farm, knowledge gained courtesy of Amazon.com. (I usually don't "shout out" to big corporations, but I had a lot of fun learning how many words were in various classics. I usually don't "shout out" either, as my street cred is statistically lagging.) The quality of my story is yet to compare to Georgie boy's, but my book could still become more famous if the right number of assassins use it for justification.
In any case, some more fun stats on my still-in-production book:
Brokeback Mountain is starting to really upset me, and not because of anything sexual, as you will discover in Scene 1. My reasoning is twofold, sixfold less than the path to nirvana:
1. The film bored me, personally. I enjoyed the nature shots, but nothing else. Given my stoneheartedness, I don't care for most love stories, and this was no exception. I didn't find the characters particularly intriguing. I didn't care about the family stories on the side. And most of all, I hated the plot aging so many years. Film is already a short-form media, and putting make-up on young actors disturbs me. Perhaps the fact that a young actor with old man's make-up raped my grandma biases me unfairly, but I don't really think it does, considering that young man was me. I got paid union scale.
2. The makers of the film are whiny as H. Why do they care so much that their movie lost? The Oscar ceremony is supposed to be entertainment, maybe made more fun if you win, but otherwise primarily for the purpose of public discourse. It's not supposed to be the Baby Express. Saying that you were the "Best Film" is merely a subjective statement, and let us look at who the selectors of these tarnished truths are. Sarah Jessica Parker admitted on Conan she didn't even watch the whole movie. Some of the Academy nominated Mystic River a couple of years ago, a movie for which I hold everlasting hatred (I saw it in a Czech theater where I only had to pay 4 bucks, but I expect a full 10 back). And of course, the Oscar voters probably overlap with the Emmy voters, and all I have to say to that is "Everybody Loves Raymond beat Arrested Development."
Why do I bring this all up now? Because the creators of Brokeback Mountain, in their whining, are only asserting for me more and more how boring the movie was. The author of the story must be a simpleton, for why else would she write the academy to deride "opponent" Crash as being Trash? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe the garbage pun works, maybe it doesn't. And even if Crash is trash, why would you care what the Academy who voted for it thinks? Your boring-arse story has gotten enough exposure to make it as successful as it can be. Next time, do a story on the sheep. Maybe I'll like that one.
To avoid the shouts of hypocrisy at my window, I do have to reveal that I once found myself in a similar predicament as the Brokeback author. In high school, my suburban pop trio Suburban Flava - consisting of myself, Arun Antonyraj, and Charley Gorzynski - were embarassingly trumped in a lip-synch contest by a group of future frat boys who performed that "Ain't Nothing But Mammals" song and humped the stage. True, we lip-synched to a song with no words, but I still openly complained about the fact that we weren't even awarded creativity points for my farm produce juggling, Arun's jig, or Charley's cord-untangling. In fact, I still complain to this day, but with a noted difference:
Then I was somewhat serious. Now I completely jest. Then I was in high school. Now I am mature.
Poopy.
These stats are for all you superfans out there who love unpublished books with zero credibility. Recently, my book's word count surpassed the great George Orwell's Animal Farm, knowledge gained courtesy of Amazon.com. (I usually don't "shout out" to big corporations, but I had a lot of fun learning how many words were in various classics. I usually don't "shout out" either, as my street cred is statistically lagging.) The quality of my story is yet to compare to Georgie boy's, but my book could still become more famous if the right number of assassins use it for justification.
In any case, some more fun stats on my still-in-production book:
- Most used word: Flabbergast.
- Least used word, of words used at least once: Sexahol.
- Word that starts and ends each chapter: Culmination.
- Most referenced animal: Komodo dragon.
- Most hated animal: Box elder beetles.
- Most sensual scene: Scene 34.
- Least sensual scene: The vomiting one.
- Most alluded to prime minister: Benjamin Disraeli.
- Least alluded to prime minister, including prime ministers not mentioned: Margaret Thatcher (all other prime ministers of historically recognized nation-states are mentioned).
- Most popular character: The dyslexic nun.
- Least popular character: The myopic lama.
- Most confused words: Lama and llama.
- Most hardcore sex scene: Scene 1.
Brokeback Mountain is starting to really upset me, and not because of anything sexual, as you will discover in Scene 1. My reasoning is twofold, sixfold less than the path to nirvana:
1. The film bored me, personally. I enjoyed the nature shots, but nothing else. Given my stoneheartedness, I don't care for most love stories, and this was no exception. I didn't find the characters particularly intriguing. I didn't care about the family stories on the side. And most of all, I hated the plot aging so many years. Film is already a short-form media, and putting make-up on young actors disturbs me. Perhaps the fact that a young actor with old man's make-up raped my grandma biases me unfairly, but I don't really think it does, considering that young man was me. I got paid union scale.
2. The makers of the film are whiny as H. Why do they care so much that their movie lost? The Oscar ceremony is supposed to be entertainment, maybe made more fun if you win, but otherwise primarily for the purpose of public discourse. It's not supposed to be the Baby Express. Saying that you were the "Best Film" is merely a subjective statement, and let us look at who the selectors of these tarnished truths are. Sarah Jessica Parker admitted on Conan she didn't even watch the whole movie. Some of the Academy nominated Mystic River a couple of years ago, a movie for which I hold everlasting hatred (I saw it in a Czech theater where I only had to pay 4 bucks, but I expect a full 10 back). And of course, the Oscar voters probably overlap with the Emmy voters, and all I have to say to that is "Everybody Loves Raymond beat Arrested Development."
Why do I bring this all up now? Because the creators of Brokeback Mountain, in their whining, are only asserting for me more and more how boring the movie was. The author of the story must be a simpleton, for why else would she write the academy to deride "opponent" Crash as being Trash? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe the garbage pun works, maybe it doesn't. And even if Crash is trash, why would you care what the Academy who voted for it thinks? Your boring-arse story has gotten enough exposure to make it as successful as it can be. Next time, do a story on the sheep. Maybe I'll like that one.
To avoid the shouts of hypocrisy at my window, I do have to reveal that I once found myself in a similar predicament as the Brokeback author. In high school, my suburban pop trio Suburban Flava - consisting of myself, Arun Antonyraj, and Charley Gorzynski - were embarassingly trumped in a lip-synch contest by a group of future frat boys who performed that "Ain't Nothing But Mammals" song and humped the stage. True, we lip-synched to a song with no words, but I still openly complained about the fact that we weren't even awarded creativity points for my farm produce juggling, Arun's jig, or Charley's cord-untangling. In fact, I still complain to this day, but with a noted difference:
Then I was somewhat serious. Now I completely jest. Then I was in high school. Now I am mature.
Poopy.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Re: Detractors = Retractors (Minus De)
Do not think I've failed to hear the mumblings and whisperings of you, the general public. I have heard it said that my blog, over the past couple weeks, has begun to slip back into hibernation. Well my apologies to you elite who have time at work to do all your blogging. I do not have a real job, so I have no real time to blog. Do I do it when I'm tutoring a student? Do I do it when I receive an e-mail from the tutoring company condescendingly telling me that I suck because I'm "too flippant to jackass students," or something like that? Do I do it when I'm writing freelance documents about how much you need a DUI lawyer to save you from a longer jail term? Do I do it when I'm riding my magical leopard Sir Bollingsworth to my castle in the jungle? I have no idea, because none of these jobs are that real, and some of them aren't real at all.
In any case, I'm back for these few minutes with a vengeance. The awards season, although "sadly" over, has reminded me that I need to blog about a wider range of topics in order to qualify for more Blogulution awards. Today I will do television:
24 - I've never seen this show, nor do I plan to. I just don't like numbers or explosions that much, which is why I dropped out of math after one college semester. Did we really need to blow up a car after every algorithm graph?
These people clearly aren't Asian. Look how big their penises are.
American Idol - I cannot believe that this show is still so popular. It is a bad talent contest for annoying, superficial people. Go watch a university music major sing with a jazz band at your local bar/pubbery and you will probably hear a singer who is twice as good as anyone on this "show." I really don't get it. I must be out of touch with America, which means that I'm in touch with George Clooney, which means that if I reach over just a bit further I'll be in touch with whatever hottie George is banging tonight. Nice.
The World Baseball Classic - Sports is the only realm in which I accept nationalism, or at least I think that's the conclusion I came to in my Justice and Peace Studies thesis about international soccer. I still don't accept patriotism, but I won't try to explain that thin line for fear that my argument will go foul. Ha! A baseball metaphor! I am seriously enjoying almost every game I watch of this inaugural classic, and I am enjoying it even more due to the fact that I paid for the MLB.tv online service in which I don't have to watch commercials. Instead, I get to hear the announcers talk to each other during the break and order food like nachos! Fun! The World Baseball Classic is also reminding me how much I loved my solo spring break trip to Puerto Rico, a land as rich in culture as it is in spirit. Enjoy Puerto Rico today, with your friends and loved ones, if, unlike me, you have some.
I've always been a sucker for shapes and colors.
College Basketball - For whatever reason, I am becoming less impressed with basketball over the years. The consistent stoppage in play makes it less consistent than my newest love soccer, and its highly subjective foul calls make it more upsetting than my oldest love baseball. But these thoughts are probably just subconscious mechanisms to prevent myself from total heartbreak when Georgetown loses in the first round next week, so don't hold me to them. If you held me to everything I thought about subconsciously, you'd be holding me to a lot of cheese yummies in the shower, and that could get expensive.
Dancing with the Stars - Let us never speak of this again.
And now I will sign off like the pretentious internationalist I hope to soon become: Ciao bellas!
P.S. Does my post title at all qualify for something like Chris's avant-blog, or am I just not new age enough to have any idea what's going on there? Hold me, Mark Twain.
In any case, I'm back for these few minutes with a vengeance. The awards season, although "sadly" over, has reminded me that I need to blog about a wider range of topics in order to qualify for more Blogulution awards. Today I will do television:
24 - I've never seen this show, nor do I plan to. I just don't like numbers or explosions that much, which is why I dropped out of math after one college semester. Did we really need to blow up a car after every algorithm graph?
Dynasty - I've never seen this show, nor do I really know what it's about. If it were about the Ming dynasty, I'd probably watch it because those treasure voyages to Arabia that the emperor funded intrigue me. I don't think it is about the Ming, though. I think it might even be about Americans? Too complex.
These people clearly aren't Asian. Look how big their penises are.The World Baseball Classic - Sports is the only realm in which I accept nationalism, or at least I think that's the conclusion I came to in my Justice and Peace Studies thesis about international soccer. I still don't accept patriotism, but I won't try to explain that thin line for fear that my argument will go foul. Ha! A baseball metaphor! I am seriously enjoying almost every game I watch of this inaugural classic, and I am enjoying it even more due to the fact that I paid for the MLB.tv online service in which I don't have to watch commercials. Instead, I get to hear the announcers talk to each other during the break and order food like nachos! Fun! The World Baseball Classic is also reminding me how much I loved my solo spring break trip to Puerto Rico, a land as rich in culture as it is in spirit. Enjoy Puerto Rico today, with your friends and loved ones, if, unlike me, you have some.
I've always been a sucker for shapes and colors.Dancing with the Stars - Let us never speak of this again.
And now I will sign off like the pretentious internationalist I hope to soon become: Ciao bellas!
P.S. Does my post title at all qualify for something like Chris's avant-blog, or am I just not new age enough to have any idea what's going on there? Hold me, Mark Twain.
Monday, March 06, 2006
A Celebration of Myself
I am proud to announce that I am the number 1 search result on Yahoo! for "Usher Raymond gay rumors."
I would like to thank Usher, for being rumored to be gay.
I would like to thank the IMDB message boards for inspiring, nay, angering me to post about Usher's possible homosexuality.
And of course, I would like to thank Yahoo!, without whom none of this would be possible. To show my appreciation, I will now use their image search tool to look for graphical representation of the word "apropos":
Given that my blog is the number 1 result for an Usher search, the randomness of this number 1 picture result is... apropos.
I would like to thank Usher, for being rumored to be gay.
I would like to thank the IMDB message boards for inspiring, nay, angering me to post about Usher's possible homosexuality.
And of course, I would like to thank Yahoo!, without whom none of this would be possible. To show my appreciation, I will now use their image search tool to look for graphical representation of the word "apropos":
Given that my blog is the number 1 result for an Usher search, the randomness of this number 1 picture result is... apropos.Thursday, March 02, 2006
For Those Wondering
For those wondering about my book progress, I just finished typing word 22,516. Ironically, that is the same number of people that die in the second chapter's battle, a chapter entitled "To the Moon in Search of Bloodshed."
For those wondering about Jigsaw's blog, he tells me he's frequently too worn out to type, due to a triad of reasons. 1. He consistently refreshes his own blog, hoping to see that another film-portrayed killer has submitted an entry in response to his latest post. The disappointment tires him. 2. He kills lots of people. 3. He has recently begun to attend yoga classes. And because of this last development, I rescind any derogatory remarks I've made concerning yoga. It is a grand spiritual tradition, truly capable of changing one's disposition and mentality. And I don't want to die.
For those wondering whether or not I'm transforming this blog into a travel site, considering I've recently featured both the Arctic outpost of Longyearbyen and the towering peaks of Brookfield, the answer is "unconsciously, but yes." Two more exotic regions have brought me here today in fact, and those are Rigi-Kulm and Europa.
Rigi-Kulm
I am determined to write about this Swiss Alp getaway, although the raccoon on my porch and the spider on my bed just attempted to stop me. I was alerted to this beautiful mountainscape by one of my best friends, Mark Twain, in his still hilarious book A Tramp Abroad. As per the title, it refers to his "tramp around Europe," though it is also intended as a double-entendre. I like to think of the title, however, in terms of the following anecdote:
About a week ago, my family dropped my sister off at a bus stop in Kenosha to go back to Ohio after her weekend vacation (with neither location deserving of a blog post... yet). I took out this book to read on the drive back, to which my father queried, "What book are you reading?" I replied, "A Tramp Abroad." My father, not actually listening as usual, then started a new topic, "Do you already miss your sister?" I immediately jumped on this opportunity to accuse my father of calling my sister a tramp, talked about it the whole way home, and e-mailed my sister ASAP. Needless to say, the fallout was fun to watch and I've been kicked out of the family.
What's that? You were too distracted by me calling Mark Twain my friend to actually pay attention during that story? Fine. Here's proof:
Me, Mark, Pauly Shore's grandfather
Another reason I like Rigi-Klum: When I visited its hotel's website, I found that instead of saying "menu" they say "gastronomy."
Europa
So apparently this moon of Jupiter is covered by a salt-water ocean. I already live in constant fear that the oceans on Earth will surprise us with some crazy deep sea creature, and now I have to worry about a whole planet of ocean? This is NOT a place I want to visit. I simply wanted to alert all of you that any donations to the "Saves the Dan!" campaign will now be matched and put towards my new "Nuke Europa!" campaign. The title for this latter campaign isn't as catchy as the former, but I just needed to make sure it wasn't confusing at all. I don't want to put any location other than this moon of Jupiter at risk, so I made sure the campaign title doesn't include a word that sounds like either of Earth's two continents, North America or South America.
For those wondering, I'm now returning to my fight against raccoons and spiders.
For those wondering about Jigsaw's blog, he tells me he's frequently too worn out to type, due to a triad of reasons. 1. He consistently refreshes his own blog, hoping to see that another film-portrayed killer has submitted an entry in response to his latest post. The disappointment tires him. 2. He kills lots of people. 3. He has recently begun to attend yoga classes. And because of this last development, I rescind any derogatory remarks I've made concerning yoga. It is a grand spiritual tradition, truly capable of changing one's disposition and mentality. And I don't want to die.
For those wondering whether or not I'm transforming this blog into a travel site, considering I've recently featured both the Arctic outpost of Longyearbyen and the towering peaks of Brookfield, the answer is "unconsciously, but yes." Two more exotic regions have brought me here today in fact, and those are Rigi-Kulm and Europa.
Rigi-Kulm
I am determined to write about this Swiss Alp getaway, although the raccoon on my porch and the spider on my bed just attempted to stop me. I was alerted to this beautiful mountainscape by one of my best friends, Mark Twain, in his still hilarious book A Tramp Abroad. As per the title, it refers to his "tramp around Europe," though it is also intended as a double-entendre. I like to think of the title, however, in terms of the following anecdote:
About a week ago, my family dropped my sister off at a bus stop in Kenosha to go back to Ohio after her weekend vacation (with neither location deserving of a blog post... yet). I took out this book to read on the drive back, to which my father queried, "What book are you reading?" I replied, "A Tramp Abroad." My father, not actually listening as usual, then started a new topic, "Do you already miss your sister?" I immediately jumped on this opportunity to accuse my father of calling my sister a tramp, talked about it the whole way home, and e-mailed my sister ASAP. Needless to say, the fallout was fun to watch and I've been kicked out of the family.
What's that? You were too distracted by me calling Mark Twain my friend to actually pay attention during that story? Fine. Here's proof:
Me, Mark, Pauly Shore's grandfatherEuropa
So apparently this moon of Jupiter is covered by a salt-water ocean. I already live in constant fear that the oceans on Earth will surprise us with some crazy deep sea creature, and now I have to worry about a whole planet of ocean? This is NOT a place I want to visit. I simply wanted to alert all of you that any donations to the "Saves the Dan!" campaign will now be matched and put towards my new "Nuke Europa!" campaign. The title for this latter campaign isn't as catchy as the former, but I just needed to make sure it wasn't confusing at all. I don't want to put any location other than this moon of Jupiter at risk, so I made sure the campaign title doesn't include a word that sounds like either of Earth's two continents, North America or South America.
For those wondering, I'm now returning to my fight against raccoons and spiders.
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