It took me looking at my dashboard for all of twelve seconds before I scrolled to a post about something something Occupy Wall Street whites only blah blah something racism something social networking something something totally misunderstood and blown up to epic proportions about whatever the fuck armchair activists just want to get riled up because they can’t get boners any other way but fuck me fuck you fuck everything.
If you took one look at this barista as I did and saw an LDS wife (ankle length denim skirt, white shirt buttoned to the neck, utilitarian eyewear, hair pulled back, no make-up) and you were so blindly prejudiced and judgmental about it that you figured there was no way in hell she could pull a decent espresso, you would be correct, actually.
NPR interview with Bill O’Reilly about Lincoln, oh man. You need to find it and listen to it because, oh mercy, you have never heard a human being speak with as much ignorance and lack of self-awareness. He spends quite a bit of time decrying the hostility of modern news media. Dude, you are the Columbus of that New World.
I might be missing the point here, but if you can’t come up with a best-case scenario for what you want your protest to achieve and a plausible series of events which would lead to the realization of that scenario, then doesn’t it seem like a huge waste of time and effort?
It is much better to live life like an IKEA manual than to strike out into the unknown. While you may not ever see the top of a mountain or solve difficult global problems, at least you’ll have a shitty bookcase.
Oh hey, no biggie. The nation’s primary anti-terrorism unit uses as reference a bunch of crazy right wing Islamophobic literature full of all the old goodies: that Islam is by nature violent, that Islam is by nature anti-women, that Islam is fundamentally incompatible with democracy, and so on.
Hey idiots: your job is finding needles, not haystacks. Your allergies to hay are beside the point. Thus, I don’t care that hay and needles are both long, thin, and roughly cylindrical. I do care that one of them is made of metal. If your job is to identify a very small group (terrorists) out of a big whole (Muslims), it does nobody any good to expend all this effort talking about the properties of the whole. On top of being offensive it is — on purely performance-oriented criteria — the OPPOSITE of what is useful.
OK, so I gave the keynote talk to open up this symposium for a bunch of VP corporate types today and during my presentation I had to buttclench so tight I started sweating for fear of ripping a nasty, and then later while at my table, I let out about ten thousand silent but deadlies that were roiling my insides and for a minute there I thought I solided, but what’s even worse is that I just did an interview with a reporter from a major newspaper and had to ask her to hold for a second while I muted the phone and let my fucking assmonster roar.
Beloved,I am Deborah Mannings.I write this email to you on my sick bed facing death.I have a substantial sum I would like you to help me distribute to the needy and helpless.God bless you as you reply through email@example.com
Looking for some mindless fun, I caught The Expendables on Netflix Instant. It was OK overall but I found it astonishing that the worst acting, by far, wasn’t by any of the aging action heroes, ex-professional wrestlers, or MMA stars, but by the dude who so admirably plays Angel Batista on Dexter. Wow.
It is really good, but do not read it unless you want wet cheeks. It’s by the girlfriend of a man who died from cancer at 33. She is haunted by his email and gchat history, for better and for worse. I read it on my phone over lunch yesterday and had to look away and take deep breaths to regain my composure.
Halfway through reading it, it hit me, I knew that guy. She doesn’t mention his last name in the article, so the pieces just kind of clicked into place. And to clarify, I didn’t know him personally, not really, more like he was in a bunch of bands and we met a few times and I saw him around quite a bit.
His last band was Statehood, which started out as him and a keyboard and a guitar, and ended up as a four-piece featuring the D-Plan rhythm section. My favorite of his bands was Motor Cycle Wars, a band that was just incredible live and pretty good recorded. Clark was a crazy frontman, completely nuts. I remember this one time, he fought a guy in a gorilla suit in the middle of a song. It was ridiculous.
That he was a singer in a band doesn’t make his death more tragic, but I mention it because having seen him play a bunch of times, he was just so charismatic and full of energy and such a positive guy, he was exactly the kind of person it’s impossible to imagine hobbled and weak and crumbling from the inside out.
This spirit comes through in the article in the form of his emails and chats, and it’s an appropriate coda for a guy about whom there exists so much stuff still online: there are articlesabouthim and loadsofvideos and a bunchofoldbandpages — weird how it shows his age as 35 on myspace, weird how his music is still for sale on bandcamp, where does the money go? And oh look that author has a blog and so if you do what I did, which was take the blue pill, you’ll find yourself tumbling down down down a clickable web history of infinite sadness. Then you’ll watch the trailer for 50/50 and get all choked up again.