Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The Starbucks Ramblings

When I manage to feel like writing for hours on end, I take a memo pad and scribble down my spontaneous reactions to the little world surrounding me as I go out. These are the best of the resulting ramblings. This one is during a personal trip to Starbucks.

Mmm Starbucks. The hangout spot for everyone who wants to appear the slightest bit intellectual. Scene kids, lonely adults, introspective introverts; seems like everyone who frequents it has something to prove. Myself included, of course.

I like this particular one, though. The staff's pretty charming as they host a book club, and, my favorite, they even have words of the day! Today's (Or 4 days ago; they're affably terribly at updating it) is "scintilla". Following that on the small chalkboard is its definition in quotes reading "A tiny amount" and "Use it in a sentence!". A little arrow curving towards it leads adorably to "...or try our bold iced coffee!" I just wanna hug all of 'em.

Ironically, someone near the little condiments island is on "Pirate Bay". Funny that this capitalist ass coffee haven plays Internet host to an infamous downloading website. Then again, here I sit with a Sex Pistols shirt and a copy of "1984".

I aaaam the aaaantiichriiisssssstah!

I come here for the staff, I swear!

Okay, the "Pirate Bay" guy keeps gawking at this teenage girl with rape-like intensity. Every time she passes by, he gives her a scanning 3 times over. Bald, wide, head like a fat jellybean; I'm convinced he's a wife-killer.

Or Butterbean.

I imagine this isn't the first time anyone's dissected this, but it truly is amazing when customers and staff rattle off a customized order.

"Soy mocha no whip double chocolate chip!"

Sounds like obscure colors from a Crayola box. Maybe I'm fascinated because I sound like a monkey mid-stroke when I order.

Hi can I have the uh...tall...blended creme...vanilla...can you just fucking give me milk and sugar?

Unkowingly, I objectify hot girls. I mean, besides the sexual part. Given the right mood, I like to see how people react to them; both guys and women alike. I never care, though, what the hot girls themselves do. It's just that something stupid and hilarious always happens in their vicinity. This dorky lesbian staffer's face when she had to hand them their order was just such a wonderful example. She looked like she ate a lemon while someone kicked her dog in the liver.

There's this other hot 20's-esque chick here and the wife-killer hasn't given her a glance! He's been upgraded to pedo-murderer. I have not a scintilla of doubt.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Things That Should Go Away Immediately: Part 2

so its been a while since my first installment of random hormonal rants. i think we're all due for another fresh, warm bowl of merciless bile. go on....try it. its free :)

1. keanu reeves. i want to duel him. apparently he's been cast to play the lead role in an upcoming live action cowboy bebop movie. this is the ONE anime that actually made it out of my anime geek phase with me. there is a special place in my heart for cowboy bebop. or at least, there used to be. im not sure his overly broody.....?acting? will ever allow me to see spike spiegal the same way again. this will not end well.

cowboy bebop movie: this decade's batman and robin

2. The World Cup. America doesnt care. especially now that we're not even in it anymore. soccer is never going to happen in the U.S. it takes forever for anything to happen, and too often ends in a tie. we dont do that here. we want a clear winner and a clear loser. none of this "tie" nonsense. and we like our sports to be ridiculously complicated. soccer is simply too.....simple. its a children's game, which no true American child plays, anyway, because they're all too busy being morbidly obese. soccer is just one more thing that the world keeps trying to shove down our throats, just like the metric system and self restraint.

seriously. name anything. guarantee you we've batter dipped it and fried it in grease.

3. David Letterman. usually i couldnt care less, but for some reason his existence has been chapping my lady balls lately. he's snarky and obnoxious, which, when done right, has great potential to be a highly entertaining combination. but when he does it he just seems bitter and old.

4. i cant believe im even addressing this, but it has to be done....Booty Pop panties (it physically pained me to type that out). anything that comes in sizes "sweet" "sweeter" and "sweetest" should never have been awarded a patent. period. i would love to go on a rant right now about how much i'd enjoy hunting down the man who created this monstrosity and kicking him in his male imperialist nuts. sadly, the.....ugh...."booty pop" was the combined effort of two women. another shameless self sabotaging moment for womankind. dont believe me? think i'm being overdramatic? i dare you to watch the commercial.

thats all for now. more later.

Thanks Common Cents!

Sweet! We got mentioned on the recent blog of note Common Cents. This blog is fantastic by the way; it keeps you up to speed on the world by aggregating must-read articles onto one or two daily posts. Poor newspapers never saw this coming.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Thanks again for the nod!

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

BP is so stupid!!!....Right?

In case you didn't know, there's a big blob of oil somewhere near Louisiana or something.

It would be delightfully stupid if the blog ended here.

I'm not writing this to do some totally original BP rant though. If you hadn't noticed, I'm not one to write about timely topics of discussion, usually because everyone beats the subject with the same criticism until it dies. Then it animorphs into a horse.

And they keep going.

The reason I bring up the oil spill is to deconstruct this conspiratorial question: Why do they look so stupid in the process?

The thing that tends to keep people from believing in conspiracies, besides the fact that they can be completely and totally ridiculous, is that they like to think anyone who isn't them is an idiot and needs to be taught otherwise. Then they often stop at that thought and move on with their lives.

And so has been the case with BP CEO Tony Hayward, who was seen a few days ago indulging in a yacht race. Here are the reactions from the article:

"Man, that ain't right. None of us can even go out fishing, and he's at the yacht races ," said Bobby Pitre, 33, who runs a tattoo shop in the crossroads town of Larose, La. "I wish we could get a day off from the oil, too."

Raymond Canevari, 59, of Pensacola, said he was insulted by the fact that Hayward would take in a yacht race while the oil still flows.

"I think everyone has the right to do what they want in their free time, but he doesn't have the right to have free time at all," said Canevari, who scouts the bayous, bays and Gulf for driftwood and other found objects, and turns the debris into nature-themed art. "Not until this crisis is resolved."

Sai Stiffler spent Saturday doing some repairs on his shrimp boat...he was not pleased that Obama was playing golf and BP's CEO was at a yacht race while his life is on hold.

"Right now is no time for that," Stiffler said. "I don't think they know how bad people are hurting. They make a lot of promises but that's it."

And the thought stops there.

What we don't do often enough is give credit to the intelligence that Tony Hayward may very well be capable of, and wonder why someone like this would make such critical errors at such atrocious times.

For example, how fucking blatant a negative PR move is this yacht race? At least George Bush went to a ranch; the pretentious involvement of yachts is just laughably dicking people in the ass at this point.

Hayward seen in the middle, about as inconspicuous as a crackwhore in a ghetto alley.

And as a man who recieved a PhD at 22 from the University of Edinborough and first joined BP as a rig geologist in 1982, you can be damn sure he's more perceptive than the greedy jackass we've framed him as. This only conjures more questions about his poor-choice of actions.

He's also executing a shell game with the blame, causing the media and Congress to waste time assessing who's fault it was, despite the glaringly simple logic that if a BP oil rig bursts and leaks, it's BP's fault.

Voila, this mother fucker figured it out.

It must have also been exceedingly obvious to him the dangers of building a rig in the deep sea. More likely than not, they must have long since created procedures and way of avoiding/remedying such accidents, no? No corporation, particularly one working with a precious resource such as oil, could be so daft as to make rigs in a pressurized environment without a backup plan.

I mean this list of resources for this unprecedented fix-up sounds like he eenie-meenie-minny-mo'd it out of a small book of nouns:

• Robot carrying a giant box (failed)
• Robot carrying a giant top hat (failed)
Human hair
Hay blower
Alpaca fleece
Nuclear bomb
Holocaust of birds
Underwater robots with a tube
Peat moss
• Siphon
Build an island to block it
Soak it up with garbage
Plug the hole up with garbage
Golf balls
Pelt it with mud
Dish soap
Kevin Costner
Vacuum-sealed underwater dome
• Ignore (failed)

Seriously? We shot golf balls and garbage into it? Before we used robots with diamond-tipped saws?!

Yeah let's just fucking throw that in there. Keep the robots with the saws on hold.

I can't honestly sit there and believe that this oil spill is a genuine accident with this many Benny Hill-esque mistakes going on. No one is that foolish, especially a man with Hayward's resumé and current position. Though stupidity makes a fine facade for cunning.

And on a fleeting yet interesting note, why would you provide the world with 24/7 video footage of the most disastrous error in the history of your company? If you were BP, would you do that? Ever?

So now the difficult part: What are the ends? Why burst an oil rig, waste precious gallons of oil, endanger the life and culture of the Gulf of Mexico, and look like a jackass in the process? Though I'm not quite certain yet, I am keeping an eye on the 20 billion dollars in funds Obama and BP agreed to in order to repair all damages caused by the spill.

Mind you, it took less than a week for Kenneth Feinberg, the government-appointed overseer of these funds, to boldly proclaim that 20 billion will not be enough.

If this is indeed the incentive, it isn't unprecedented. Remember when the banks were flailing? Oh yeah, they got money too. Especially AIG, who received 180 billion dollars.

And afterward, AIG dished out millions in bonuses last year as well. And they're in talks for 200 million in bonuses this year.

And oh, yeah, Kenneth Feinberg oversaw that one as well.

So is the oil spill an intentional catastrophe akin to the banks' intentional catastrophe? It's a bit subjective, I suppose. But I don't believe anyone involved in either of these games are as ignorant or stupid as we'd so lovingly believe their actions to be. These are wily ol' fucks we're talking about; men who drive the economy of the world.

Quite simply, muck-ups of this magnitude can't solely be the fault of human ignorance; not in a situation where everyone is as accomplished (And damn well have to be) as they are. I have an inkling this spill is something a little more calculated than "Oopsies!"; whatever the incentive may be.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Psychology Pleeaaseee

It's a kind of shitty process that the world has created for, well, life.

"Hey bro, do me a favor and uh figure what the fuck you wanna do for the next 76 years of your life starting....now" said the world when I was 14.

I was still picking popcorn out of my mouth.

I didn't quite know myself enough to even fathom what I wanted my life to center around. High school didn't provide me with enough resources to draw conclusions either, though it's not its fault. When you go to an African-American high school, you get African-American curriculum.

By the way, I'm not African-American.

No one would've or should've concluded what I'd subsequently settle on nearly 6 years later. My passion for Super Smash Bros. Melee and Linkin Park would've hazed it instantly.

I wanna be a psychologist.

I realized this about 4 nights ago, after writing what has to be a 21-paragraph dissertation about money buying happiness for no one in particular. I'm still debating posting the sophisticated brain fart anywhere. And yet, I felt extremely satisfied having created it. Like a roundabout form of masturbation.

Like a roundabout form of masturbation.

I always had a penchant for it. Not masturbation but psychology. The only question was whether or not I had a strong enough liking for it. But after playing amateur psychologist for the past 2 weeks (A weird little experiment a future blog will soon explain), and the impromptu essay, I've solidified my choice. Being a writer will come with the territory, and of course, music is never a forgotten option. But psychology will be my weapon of choice.

Mostly because anything that is comparable to a fleshlight experience is deserving of my entire life's dedication.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

The Breakroom Ramblings

When I manage to feel like writing for hours on end, I take a memo pad and scribble down my spontaneous reactions to the little world surrounding me as I go out. These are the best of the resulting ramblings. This one is during my break time at work.

I'm starting to master how to conduct myself with customers and strangers. It's a balancing act between being hospitable and not seeming desperate. I even welcome the angry customers just for the challenge of trying to reach a peaceful resolution. Then call them terrible things behind their backs.

I wonder if it's unethical to do this. There is a clothing store next door with girls who come in constantly. I've starting feigning personalities with them, just to see what's most likely to impact them. I think the word here is "lying" or "manipulation". I tell myself it's penis insurance.

Only 15 minutes could save you 15% or more on herpes prescriptions.

A lady who frequents the store came in and instigated a "kickboxing" fight between me and an elderly lady. She was joking. But I wasn't.

Bring it, bitch.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Blog Recap: You're A Douche, Pat Robertson.

I've written about several hundred blogs dating back to about 2005. Most of the early ones were as intriguing as a chapter in Twilight.

They look like two jugs of milk with eyes.

But there are several gems from here to there. So every so often, I like to re-post them. Here's one I wrote early this year on my Facebook profile.


There are many douches. Some are justifiable in their douchery, such as everyone's favorite cuddly Civil Rights leader Macolm X, and others not so much (see: Hitler).

However, some vile douchery just doesn't get enough attention in any way whatsoever. These people are so douchey, in fact, that they deserve an entire note written about them, to which I create the segment "You're A Douche."

In this one, we'll look at a complete douche who has long flown under the radar: Pat Robertson.

Where do I even start? Pat Robertson has dozens of quotes spanning 20 years where he remorselessly slanders whole countries and peoples during their most troubled times. And yet, somehow, he sticks around on the air on a show/network that runs mostly via donation: the 700 Club.

Maybe it's because his nose hairs are sooo cute.

There's even whole pages on the Internet dedicated solely to Robertson's inane babble, in which he mostly "predicts" terrible events enacted by God 'cause "God tells him". Look Pat, God says a lot of things, but I kind of maybe doubt he'd say...

"I know this is painful for the ladies to hear, but if you get married, you have accepted the headship of a man, your husband. Christ is the head of the household and the husband is the head of the wife, and that's the way it is, period."

Or, when talking about the US possibly conspiring to assassinate Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez,

"You know, I don't know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think that we really ought to go ahead and do it...We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability."

Or, after Dover elected that teaching Intelligent Design (The idea that a God created the universe) in public schools was in violation of the Constitution,

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you just rejected him from your city. And don't wonder why he hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I'm not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, don't ask for his help because he might not be there."


But the thing is that, while for years this always kinda irked me, it never really got under my skin personally. In fact, I always just laughed him off like you would some guy on Broad and Market kicking trash cans over and yelling at pigeons.

Then Haiti happened. Arguably the worst natural disaster of all-time; leaving hundreds of thousands dead. It was only a matter of time before the old bag made a statement or two, but Jesus Christ (No, I didn't do that on purpose, shut up), this was too much:

"It may be a blessing in disguise. ... Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about it. Haitians were originally under the heel of the French. You know, Napoleon the third, or whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, we will serve you if you will get us free from the French. True story. And so, the devil said, okay it's a deal. Ever since they have been cursed by one thing after the other."

True story, yo.

I mean come on. Has there ever been a paragraph that was more likely to make you say "Wow." in history? It's completely insensitive, and spits in the face of the innocent victims in Haiti.

But let's play "Debate the Stupid" for a second.

Which was also the tagline for the 2004 Presidential Primaries.

Let's say there is a God and that he's vengeful and that Haiti's uprising was 'cause of the Devil. How flawed is the logic in the thought that "Yeah, I'm just gonna earthquake the shit out of an island because 300 years ago they made me mad!!!"? I mean, isn't God infallible? Because holy shit, that's fallible as hell. Wouldn't he do it 300 years ago the moment the pact happened?

And let's say that God does attack countries and areas responsible for injustices and devil-related dealings. Wouldn't God just explode the US? I mean, the entire act of slavery is almost like the described pictures of Hell. And they even massacred Native Americans on top of it.

Shouldn't this whole continent just get devoured by a big fucking kraken or something? Because the late 1600s to the mid-1900s were some dark, bloody eras.

I mean, we had nothing to do with that, but we're on this land aren't we? Just like the innocent people of Haiti were, right?

Sorry. Kraken was the first thing that came to mind.

But that's playing Devil's Advocate and assuming he's actually being sincere. "Well gosh Brian why would anyone say these things on TV and not be serious!?"

Because they have money to make. People to please. Agendas to push.

It's so sensational, Robertson's statements, that they have to have an ulterior motive. He couldn't have possibly said it because he believes in it. So when chewing on that for a second, almost certainly he must be making these outlandish ass statements for the ratings, no? No man would just throw out insanities like this all the time if he wasn't trying to grab eyes and ears.

But let's not forget that this is all in the name of God. Even as an Atheist, I have to say, the perversion of the word of God here by this nose-whiskered fuck is abhorrent. I'm almost offended, and would be if I were Christian.

Hell, I am offended, because the fact that a guy would be willing to slander a holy deity and disgrace an entire nation in need of serious reconstruction, for the sake of ratings and publicity, means that guy is a complete selfish dick who holds nothing sacred, and is worth openly despising until his face is no longer on that screen of mine.

Or until his cheeks finally cave in on his mouth.

So this is Pat Robertson. A sensational televangelist with no respect for people or God as he yells profane words on TV. And he is a douche.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Biting My Tongue

Something I should really learn to do. so a few weeks ago, i made a little post about how i prefer Meg White to Karen Elson. And when i heard the latter was releasing an album, it only made me loath her more. turns out, she might not suck, after all, and Jack may have traded up.

Sorry Meg

i guess i just didnt expect much from a woman famous only for having bright red hair and no eyebrows.

Seriously. WHERE ARE THEY?

But i found myself being proved wrong today when i decided to listen to her new song The Ghost Who Walks. Her album has mostly been promoted as an "indie" record (whatever that means anymore), but at least from what i've heard, sounds more like a folk-trance combo.

"folk-trance." likely a term already used by some d-bag elitist on that certain website.....

like i said, i've only gotten to hear this one song so far. party because im just lazy when it comes to seeking out new music, but also because i've been playing it over and over for about half an hour now. so everything i say will be based on this one song. every other track could suck, as far as i know. anyway, she has a surprisingly good voice. very warm and kind of haunting. as far as the music, the only way i could think to describe it is western trance. like if zero 7 and John Wayne had a love child, it would be this song. think about that for a minute. sexy, right?

All in all, a cute little gothic fairy tale about a girl who falls for a guy who then takes her to a lake one night and kills her. charming. judge for yourself:

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

The Bus Ride Ramblings.

When I manage to feel like writing for hours on end, I take a memo pad and scribble down my spontaneous reactions to the little world surrounding me as I go out. These are the best of the resulting ramblings. This one is from a bus ride.

...Meanwhile, this bus is intensely packed with Latinos and their 20 kids. We'd all be detained by now if it were Arizona. The bus too. Only because it'd wreak of landscaping and cooked rice afterward.

I wonder what the unwritten social guidelines are to interacting with kids you don't know. Offering candy is an unequivocal no-no. Hi-fives? Occasionally endearing. Me whispering "I'll rape you" as they pass by? Classic.

It amuses me to no end when guys gawk at girls walking through. It has to do with cynicism, obviously, but the details [as to why it's funny] are unclear. Is it funny to see a guy just disengage from existence to play X-Ray with a girl they'll never know? Or is it as simple as seeing a person's face melt like a monkey with a stroke?

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Evolution of a Band feat. The Hives.

The Hives, as you probably already know, have been poking my curiosity lately, but in more ways than the music itself. They have a distinct personality; so powerful, that the images of their uniform and Pelle's on-stage antics outlast the actual music. So it becomes obvious when they alter their style, as they have throughout the years.

Here are the first 3 of their 4 albums, from first to the last.

1997; very simple. They clearly own, albeit an archaic version, the swagger that precedes them. But it's not quite focused here. As a result they seem a little awkward and incomplete. This came four years after the band originated.

Here's the 2000 album, Veni Vidi Vicious. This is where they established their fundamental style and music, with the insta-classics "Main Offender" and "Hate to Say I Told You So". It's somewhat of a prototype; you can see the glimpses of the modern-day Hives here, but they hadn't yet mastered the style or music. This was three years after their first album, and about seven years after the band began.

Here's the 2004 album, Tyrannosaurus Hives. This marks the appearance of the Hives' most signature style, as well as the songs that peaked their popularity and best represented the band (Particularly "Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones", and "Walk Idiot Walk"). This was seven years after their first album, and 11 years after the band was conceptualized.

Eleven whole years before the Hives became fundamentally what they are known for today. And it wasn't just their looks that altered; their music has significantly evolved since then as well.

Take "Well, Well, Well" from the '97 Barely Legal album, which is very much a punk song that sounds reminiscent of Dead Kennedys. This is in drastic contrast to their 2007 outing, "The Black and White Album", with songs like "Tick Tick Boom" and "Hey Little World", which are slower and more alternative/mainstreamed. Not to mention Pelle hadn't found his signature singing voice and live style during "Barely Legal".

It takes a decade to rip-off Mick Jagger.

This all makes me realize that the evolution of a band is a slow process; one that requires it to progress naturally and fluidly. A band finds its center late into the process, generally 3 to 4 years after either the first album or the band altogether. And even then, it takes a little longer to master that sound/image.

So music and the process of creating it becomes a matter of patience and faith, testing whether you can withstand rocky and unkempt beginnings for future understanding and success.

It's a dangerous game to play though; bands can take several years until they're picked up by a label and their first album is made, and a decade or more before making an impact on their particular scene. Flirting with time like this can end up sucking your personal life, chasing for something that may never come based on this fact.

However, it's good to know that good music, like wine, takes time. It only means that the most dedicated and prepared artists can make the biggest splashes, filtering out the impatient and the amateur.

...For the most part.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Regurgitations of a 19-Year-Old

I'm finding myself in a bit of a struggle to manage a proper physical image without falling into a mold and becoming a douche at the same time.

So...a moldy douche?

It's odd when you grow the self-awareness to manually tailor your looks and wield your appearance to get the reaction you desire. Once you do, you have to question what you look to get out of people with your appearance. Which then begs the question if you're being shallow. Which then makes you wonder if you're inadvertently diving face first into the pool of a billion assholes who throw up handsigns for their FB photos and make kissy faces.

I'm doing a fucking backstroke in it.

You can easily compromise your personality and individuality in this thought, all to impress those you may not ultimately care for. Because seriously, if you have to make an effort to look a certain way for the sake of attraction, the attraction's probably shallow and wouldn't like you as a person anyway. And may have chlamydia.

My friend here had a blog a couple days ago about Jack White and Karen whateverthefuckhernamewas.

They look like the physical embodiment of Elmer's glue.

So I ask this question: would their babies turn out transparent?