Saturday, April 22, 2006
We're so self-important. So self-important. Everybody's going to save something now. "Save the trees, save the bees, save the whales...save those snails." And the greatest arrogance of all: save the planet. What? Are these fucking people kidding me? Save the planet? We don't even know how to take care of ourselves yet. We haven't learned how to care for one another, we're gonna save the fucking planet?I'm getting tired of that shit. I'm tired of fucking Earth Day, I'm tired of these self-righteous environmentalists; these white, bourgeois liberals who think the only thing wrong with this country is there aren't enough bicycle paths. People trying to make the world save for their Volvos. Besides, environmentalists don't give a shit about the planet. They don't care about the planet. Not in the abstract they don't. You know what they're interested in? A clean place to live. Their own habitat. They're worried that some day in the future, they might be personally inconvenienced. Narrow, unenlightened self-interest doesn't impress me.
Besides, there is nothing wrong with the planet. Nothing wrong with the planet. The planet is fine. The PEOPLE are fucked. Difference! The planet is fine. Compared to the people, the planet is doing great. Been here four and a half billion years. Did you ever think about the arithmetic? The planet has been here four and a half billion years. We've been here, what? A hundred thousand? Maybe two hundred thousand? And we've only been engaged in heavy industry for a little over two hundred years. Two hundred years versus four and a half billion. And we have the CONCEIT to think that somehow we're a threat? That somehow we're gonna put in jeopardy this beautiful little blue-green ball that's just a-floatin' around the sun?
The planet has been through a lot worse than us. Been through all kinds of things worse than us. Been through earthquakes, volcanoes, plate tectonics, continental drift, solar flares, sun spots, magnetic storms, the magnetic reversal of the poles...hundreds of thousands of years of bombardment by comets and asteroids and meteors, worlwide floods, tidal waves, worldwide fires, erosion, cosmic rays, recurring ice ages...And we think some plastic bags, and some aluminum cans are going to make a difference?
The planet isn't going anywhere. WE ARE! We're going away. Pack your shit, folks. We're going away. And we won't leave much of a trace, either. Thank God for that. Maybe a little styrofoam. Maybe. A little styrofoam. The planet'll be here and we'll be long gone. Just another failed mutation. Just another closed-end biological mistake. An evolutionary cul-de-sac. The planet'll shake us off like a bad case of fleas. A surface nuisance. You wanna know how the planet's doing? Ask those people at Pompeii, who are frozen into position from volcanic ash, how the planet's doing. You wanna know if the planet's all right, ask those people in Mexico City or Armenia or a hundred other places buried under thousands of tons of earthquake rubble, if they feel like a threat to the planet this week. Or how about those people in Kilowaia, Hawaii, who built their homes right next to an active volcano, and then wonder why they have lava in the living room.
The planet will be here for a long, long, LONG time after we're gone, and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself, 'cause that's what it does. It's a self-correcting system. The air and the water will recover, the earth will be renewed, and if it's true that plastic is not degradable, well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic into a new pardigm: the earth plus plastic. The earth doesn't share our prejudice towards plastic. Plastic came out of the earth. The earth probably sees plastic as just another one of its children. Could be the only reason the earth allowed us to be spawned from it in the first place: It wanted plastic for itself. Didn't know how to make it. Needed us. Could be the answer to our age-old egocentric philosophical question, "Why are we here?" Plastic...asshole.
So, the plastic is here, our job is done, we can be phased out now. And I think that's begun. Don't you think that's already started? I think, to be fair, the planet sees us as a mild threat. Something to be dealt with. And the planet can defend itself in an organized, collective way, the way a beehive or an ant colony can. A collective defense mechanism. The planet will think of something. What would you do if you were the planet? How would you defend yourself against this troublesome, pesky species? Let's see... Viruses. Viruses might be good. They seem vulnerable to viruses. And, uh...viruses are tricky, always mutating and forming new strains whenever a vaccine is developed. Perhaps, this first virus could be one that compromises the immune system of these creatures. Perhaps a human immunodeficiency virus, making them vulnerable to all sorts of other diseases and infections that might come along. And maybe it could be spread sexually, making them a little reluctant to engage in the act of reproduction.
Well, that's a poetic note. And it's a start. And I can dream, can't I? See I don't worry about the little things: bees, trees, whales...snails. I think we're part of a greater wisdom than we will ever understand. A higher order. Call it what you want. Know what I call it? The Big Electron. The Big Electron...Whoooa. It doesn't punish, it doesn't reward, it doesn't judge at all. It just is. And so are we. For a little while.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
For example, consider the popular curse word motherfucker. When we say that, what are we trying to convey to the person we shoot this verbal harassment at? Are we stating that the person has sex with mothers? That they are a person who fucks mothers? If so, then would you be able to call a husband and father a motherfucker? Wouldn't they just look at you and say, "Well yes...I do have sexual relations with my wife, who happens to be a mother. What's your point?"
See my point? The curse word motherfucker is on the lame side, since it's really not that big of an insult, if you stop and analyze it. We often hear attractive moms affectionately referred to as MILFs (Mom I'd Like to Fuck), and yet at the same time, we consider it to be an insult to have sex with one. Where is the logic in that?
How about another popular phrase? Let's examine the phrase fuck you. When somebody walks up to you and says "fuck you", what are they saying? If we assume that fuck is a verb which relates to sexual intercourse, then is the phrase fuck you an offer of sex? How is that an insult? At least the phrase "go fuck yourself" makes sense...you're telling somebody to go home and masturbate, which has the capacity to be insulting to somebody. "Fuck you" doesn't even make sense, grammatically. Replace "fuck" with another verb and see if it makes more sense...run you, jump you, eat you. See? They don't really make sense. Neither does "fuck you".
Another derivation of fuck is to say fuck off. What does this mean? I can't even begin to analyze it. I know it's meant to replace "go away" but I just don't understand the concept here. I think the "off" is what throws me for a curve. "Go the fuck away" makes more sense to me. Somehow that morphed into "fuck off" and I'm not sure how. I think this might have been the result of a person who couldn't cuss properly. They flubbed the phrase "get the fuck off my property" and now we have the simplified and semi-confusing "fuck off".
Here's a good one: cock. When used as a noun, it's fine...but when used as an insult, it's lame. "Hey, Shanshu! You're a cock!" What the hell? When somebody calls you a cock, what's the point? They're basically saying you're a penis, which would imply that a penis is a negative thing. So, does that mean they think you resemble a penis? Or perhaps that you act like a penis? If so, in what sense do I act like a penis? Why does it insult me, to be compared to a piece of genitalia that I already own? I don't get it.
Here's one I got from my grandmother: Screw a fat duck. Ok, seriously...what? She used this not as an insult, but as a simple expletive. She'd drop a pan of cookies and yell out "screw a fat duck!" and I'd be mystified. Having sex with a duck (or, if you rather...fucking a duck) seems to be bad enough...but why does the foul have to be fat? Can ducks even BE fat? Is it more of an insult to tell a person to mate with a fat duck over a regular duck? Part of me thinks she said this phrase to avoid using a "bad" curse word like shit. But, is "screw a fat duck" really better to say, than "shit"? Shit seems more harmless, in my opinion. Beastiality is never a good thing, and is not exactly what I would call a "tame" activity. She would have been better off, sticking with "Shit!" when she dropped something...at least that's normal and doesn't involve sex with poultry.
Here's a classic: the shit's gonna' hit the fan. Um...ideas? Comments? 'Cause I don't have any clue what this means, or how somebody came up with it. I know we use it to say "things in this particular situation are going to become bad if a certain event occurs." You know, like "If mom catches us having sex with this overweight duck, the shit is really going to hit the fan." I understand the context of the phrase, but the etymology escapes me.
Another one I've always found to be humorous, in the sense that it seems like a lame attempt at insulting somebody: bite me. It makes no sense if you analyze it. You're actually telling a person to harm you. Um...helllooooooooooo? That's dumb.
Tim: I can't figure out he answer to this math problem.
Bill: Haha! You're stupid at math!
Tim: Bite me!
Tim: OW! You fucking bit me!!
Bill: Yeah, you told me to. Boy, you sure showed me, didn't you? How about the next time I insult you, you tell me to punch you in the face? Because that's the only way this would be more humorous.
Tim: I hate you.
Bill: That's better.
Anyway, those are just a few of the curses and phrases that I find to be lacking, in the "making sense" department. There are more, of course...but I've proven my point, I think. Maybe you have a curse word or phrase that you've always thought sounded strange? Maybe you've never thought about it, or could care less about why we say the things we do. Either way, I bet you'll think twice the next time somebody tells you to fuck off. Maybe you'll be tempted to respond with "Fuck off what?" and watch as they frantically try to make sense of what just happened.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
My friends are gone. There has been no movement from their blogs, for a many moons now. The skies turn red with the blood of their...um....blogger wounds. Nobody updates their blogs anymore, and I am alone. Isolation. Dispair. I feel the cold winds of change blowing against my cubicle, and while I know it is time to clean out my links, I find it difficult to let go.
So, to help me with the transition, I have assembled a list to honor those who have passed.
Last posted: January 4, 2006
Last posted: February 24, 2006
Last posted: March 25, 2006
Last posted: February 24, 2006
Last posted: January 12, 2006
Last posted: March 6, 2006
Last posted: December 22, 2005
Last posted: March 13, 2006
Last posted: March 14, 2006
To show honor to their courage to rage against the man and waste time at work for the entertainment and benefit of humanity, I will not be deleting thier names from my Links List. Instead, I will create a new links section to honor the dead. Perhaps someday, they will rise again like a Phoenix from the ashes and entertain us, once more.
I'll only put the terminally ill bloggers in the graveyard. The sick and dying will go to the Hospital.
Our thoughts are prayers are with you, MIA Bloggers.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Jen: He's coming in town this weekend? That's great! ... Well, I haven't seen him for a while. ... Yes, he's my brother and I love him. ... What? What do you mean, he doesn't know how to spell his own middle name? Oh. Wait, why? Why does he need...what?! Brian is tyring to get himself ordained as a minister?! Why is he doing... Oh, he's drunk? Ok.
Knowing Jen's brother, and knowing the random shit that he does like this...I pictured him online trying to become a minister and I laughed out loud. Then I laughed at the randomness of the situation. Then I laughed some more.
I'm not sure if this will be funny to anybody else...but I had to share the story because I had nothing else to say today and I wanted to update my blog.
So..um....that's all you get.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
1. Who was your first prom date?
My first prom date (junior prom) was Lindsey. She looked hot and we rode in my friend's Mustang. Lindsey is a huge Beatles freak, and while we were outside snogging we missed the John Lennon song Imagine, which happened to be the theme for that prom. She was not happy.
My senior prom date was a blind date. Yep, totally. She and I had never met before, until I went to her house to pick her up and let her parents take pictures of us. My friend hooked us up, but we never spent the time to get to know each other, before the dance. We were lame, but we still had fun in an arranged marriage, sort of way.
2. Who was your first roommate?
Well, in college I was in a fraternity (Tau Kappa Epsilon in case you were curious) my first semester, so I had a bunch of roomies. But my first, official college apartment roommates were Kathy and Emily. Yeah, that's right bitches...I lived with two girls. And yes, there was some hanky involved with one of them. Ka-ching!
3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink when you got drunk the first time?
Jack Daniels....out of little shot bottles, purchased from a gas station during my senior spring break. The next day was also my first hangover.
4. What was your first job?
When I was 14, I worked at a local movie theatre called The Glenwood. It was one of those movie theatres that had some class, and history. Back when people would get dressed up to go to the movies and watch propaganda ads about the war with the Nazis. It was a great first job, and I loved it.
5. What was your first car?
1986 Pontiac Sunbird, purchased for me by my grandparents. It was silver, and had all the 80's trimmings..including a pair of deer sensors on the hood. That's right, I had deer sensors. They are these little devices that emit a high-pitched sound that deer can hear from far away...so they won't stand in the road as you drive by, and crash into you. My grandparents said it was for safety. My friends still make fun of me about it, to this day.
6. When did you go to your first funeral?
I don't remember how old I was...I think 9 or 10. It was my Aunt Bunny, whom I had never met before. I remember it was open-casket and I was too afraid to go up and see her, so I stayed in my seat and thought about death and probably Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
7. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
I was 9 years old, when my mom moved us from my home of Mesquite, Texas to Kansas City, Missouri. That year was a bad year for winter in the midwest, and we got hit by a blizzard 3 months after we moved in. I had never even SEEN snow before, and seeing a blizzard pretty much freaked me the hell out.
8. Who was your first grade teacher?
I have no idea. But I can tell you the name of my 3rd grade teacher: Mrs. Kennedy. She used to give us jellybeans, when we got an answer correct. It was kind of Pavlovian in design, but seemed to work on us.
9. Where did you go on your first airplane ride?
Kansas City. It wasn't very exciting.
10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was with you?
My buddy, Ray. We were young, and didn't do anything when we did sneak out...it was just the fact that we were outside, when we weren't supposed to be. That made it fun. But in reality, it was pretty boring.
11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends always?
My first Best Friend was Jason, in Texas. When I moved away we lost touch, and I have no idea what he's up to, or where he lives. I don't even remember his last name.
12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house?
Didn't we already cover this? I lived in a fraternity house on campus at college.
13. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?
My girlfriend, and then my mistress. Just kidding!! I call my mistress first.
14. Who's wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen?
Dammit. I hate recalling bad memories...the first time I was a groomsmen, was for my father's marriage to his 3rd wife. I was too young to drink, so I had to suffer the fools sober. Don't get me started on this topic.
15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
I Wake up. This question is a little lame.
16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
Aerosmith, 1996. We sat 3rd row, center. The seats were awesome, and the show kicked major ass. Yes, I didn't go to my first concert until I was 18....what of it?
17. First tattoo or first piercing?
My first piercing was my ears. My first tattoo was kanji on my right arm. Neither one of them directly contributed to me having sex.
18. First celebrity crush?
Alyssa Milano, from Who's the Boss. And she's still hot today, bitches. Oh, and I've seen her naked before, too. In movies. Aw yea.
19. First crush?
Wow, I can't belive I still remember this, but her name was Sky Purser and it was in 1st grade...she was a brunette and wicked cute. I think we shared crayons once, or something. Sky, if you're out there and you're reading this...I already have a mistress. It would never work between us.
20. First love?
Lame, lame question. I hate stuff like this. I'm not going to answer this..too many people I know read this blog. Instead, I'll just tell you that my first date was with a girl named Brooke and we'll leave it at that.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Monday, April 03, 2006
I'm here to say, that I am not one of these people. I was raised in one of those crazy households that likes to cook the food, before we eat it. The only un-cooked food that is even remotely acceptable to me, is cookie dough. Other than that, you'd better stick it in the oven before I'll touch it. Raw meat is lame. So lame, it limps. It limps off your plate, then runs into the garden to heal and recuperate so it can come back and slap you upside the head, for trying to eat it without cooking it, first.
That being said, I went with some friends to a sushi restaurant this weekend. I allowed myself to be persuaded into trying raw fish, on the basis that it was a new experience and potentially happy situation.
I fucking hated it. I tried two different pieces of sushi...spicy shrimp and a California roll. Both of them made me fear God. When I popped the first one into my mouth, I actually had a moment in which I debated whether or not to vomit on the table in front of everybody...or simply turn my head and aim for the plant in the corner. The only other time I felt such an overwhelming need for regurgitation was that time I watched Dr. Phil without being high on crystal meth.
I take pride in the fact that I not only chewed and swallowed the whole piece of sushi roll...but I even tried a second bite of another, just to be absolutely positive that I hated the shit out of it. After that crap was done and I had proved to myself and everybody around me that my nuts are of good size, I drank as much plum wine and water as I could to help wash the taste of sea cow out of my mouth.
The taste is still there, though. Yesterday I was having lunch and I could swear I tasted raw spicy shrimp in my hamburger. I'm not crazy...it was in there, I know it. Fucking chef bastards putting sushi into my cow patty.
So, I tried sushi. I hated sushi. I'm never eating sushi again.