Frank Lloyd Wrong

From Russia with Cute

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 13:52:38 GMT

Thank you Russia

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 13:51:38 GMT

Can We Trust?

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 14:57:44 GMT

Did you know that John McCain was born in Panama? He claims to love America, but doesn't even have the balls to have been born here!

Did you know that McCain is of Scots-Irish and English ancestry? That's right, the same English people who occupied America and BURNED DOWN THE WHITEHOUSE (AND sacked New Orleans!)!!! He was educated in THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE! What's the matter? Is American to low class?

Birth Control and Paternity Testing.

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 12:55:54 GMT

It seems to me that we really have yet to see the real revolutionary aspects of reliable birth control. The technology is there, but it hasn't infused into the culture yet. This goes for paternity testing as well. Paternity testing is male birth control, or at least a form of it. For the first time in History, men can be certain that their children are biologically their heirs. This really frees things up. There is no longer any psychological pressure on men to completely and totally dominate their wives to be "certain" they aren't sneaking around on them. At the same time, with birth control pills, women can "sneak around" and avoid the biggest consequence of "sneakiness".

So far, the implications of these two bits of reproductive technology are up in the air in a way. At least socially, no institutions or memes (other than their existence) have popped up around these two things... except perhaps the ubiquitous "Who yo BabyDaddy?" episodes of Maury Povich. There's nothing like "marriage" as an institution. Which makes me think... Did "marriage" evolve out of something Maury Povich show like? I mean, if we can imagine an institution that comes out of a "WhoyoBabyDaddy?" episode of Maury Povich, why not run that process in reverse and imagine a pre-historic Maury Povich that evolved into what we now call "marriage".

I'm off track here. Basically, what I am saying is this... Social Institutions evolve out of necessity. So, obviously, "WhoYoBabyDaddy?" episodes of Maury Povich have evolved out of some necessity on the part of the viewers and the participants. Everything was more or less in place, and the innovation was the addition of the "reveal" of the paternity test. But what is being served by this ritual? First of all, there are seriously Authoritarian aspects of the ritual. You have two claimants with essentially contradictory assertions about reality. Almost invariably the woman (or commonly, the "female") is claiming that the Man (rarely, the "Male") is the father, and the Man is claiming he is not. Sometimes, the man just wants to "be sure". That's case Two, and it's a totally different deal (That is the "insecure male" case... you could provide him with non-stop video of the woman from birth to five minutes ago, and he would still be convinced that various men were sneaking semen into her cooch).

So, since Case Two is almost invariably the result of insanity, and is rare in any case, we'll stick to the common claim.

Why is this an Authoritarian ritual as I would call it? Well, if you've seen one, you'd sort of know what I mean. I have a different definition of Authoritarianism. Or at least a bit different. My concern is the mindset. I suppose I could say "Authoritarian Mindset"; Let's not quibble. By Authoritarian, I mean (in this case) a worldview in which all claims or statements serve the purpose of determining who is the "authority". The world where "calling it" somehow conveys who has "say". Who, in effect, is "Daddy". If you can read, you probably don't know what the phrase "Who's Yer Daddy?" means. And you almost certainly wouldn't know, or want to know why a man would demand that his partner answer this question while he is having sex with her. Because it immediately smacks of incest. And is disgusting. But in the Authoritarian World, Daddy is he who establishes the terms of what is and what is not reality. Daddy beats you and tells you that you shouldn't cry. Because crying makes him feel bad, and he's beating you because he loves you. Of course, these kinds of people are way down on the Social Scale, so Daddy rarely realizes that he is indoctrinating his progeny into an Authoritarian Worldview (and dooming them to a life as Cafeteria Workers or Street Prostitutes).

So, the whole ritual is essentially Authoritarian, because it comes down to two people making diametrically opposed claims. The "reveal" moment reveals the essential nature of the power play. Someone MUST win and someone MUST lose. If this weren't a zero sum game, they wouldn't be playing it. Angelina Jolie isn't going to drag Brad Pitt onto the Povich show to PROVE he her BabyDaddy... Though that would be a good show.

I wanted to discuss the whole ritual in its present form, but I am eager to get to the end. Suffice to say, if you've seen it, you're familiar, and if you haven't, it's roughly something of a cross between a court hearing and a therapy session. First, the BabyMama tearfully recounts her tale of having her baby "denied" (Can you possibly get more authoritarian? The man doesn't deny his paternity, he "denies" the baby. He is in essence, using his power to somehow make the woman and the baby unreal). Then they show pictures of the Baby, BabyMama, and BabyDaddy. Everyone in the audience agrees that the Baby looks like the Daddy. Then Maury says that the Baby is backstage. They cut to video of the cute Baby. The purpose of this is to demonize the BabyDaddy. As the audience is cooing at the cute baby, Maury says, "Let's bring [BabyDaddy] out." The potential "Father" who was shown backstage (almost invariably bouncing around as if he is a prizefighter preparing to enter the ring) emerges to a hail of "Boos!"

At this point, the BabyDaddy forwards his claims of infidelity. In essence, his claim amounts to not being "certain" that she wasn't having sex with other men. This is a verifiable mental consequence of being brain-addled by excess testosterone. (These men are convinced that strangers in line at the Grovery Store are hurling baggies full of semen at their BabyMama's crotch. The BabyMama of course immediately injects the semen of any and all passersby into her ovaries.) Then, there is a ritual where the man is brow-beaten into asserting that if the baby is "his" he will "do the right thing" "by" the baby. "I'll do right by it," he says. The mother really needs 20% of that Arby's Salary...

Which actually makes a good point. It seems like nothing, but the choice between nothing and $50 a week, is the choice between eating and not eating. It's the choice between heat or no heat, cable or no cable. These people are surviving by the barest of margins (by our standards). And when you're eating Ramen Noodles Five nights a week, the step up to chicken is HUGE.

Then they go to commercial, and after a recap, the "REVEAL".

So, what is revealing about the reveal is the reactions of the participants. The Victor is granted rights of violence (real in the case of women, symbolic for the men) and the Loser is "de-realed". They are unmade as a person. It is chilling to watch. It's like watching a turtle retreat into its shell, only it keeps going. The women yell things like, "I told you! I told you! I told you!" They may even yell this after having confessed that they were unfaithful. Somehow, the test validates their irrational emotionally assertive view of reality. For the men, a "Victory" elicits a bizarre giddy response. And there is a specific dance that you don't see anywhere else. The man will leap into the air, spread his legs and punch down. This is repeated and mixed with general air punching, all of which is symbolic violence directed at the woman who he "owned" somehow. None of it makes any sense in reality. But in the authoritarian reality where "calling it" is the highest possible virtue, it does make sense. That "down punching" dance is a sort of unmistakable act of rape-like savagery in which he symbolizes the feminine by spreading his legs, the downward thrusting punch representing the fact that he is validated in striking at her sole source of power (her ability to generate heirs for him).

Now, what weirds me out is that the matter of paternity really solves NOTHING for these people. It is clear that the men have no intention of giving the women any money. It is clear that the women have little interest in anything but money. These people have horrible lives and this act changes their circumstances not one bit, but they MUST have answers to these questions, not because the answers matter so much, but because the answer determines who is the arbiter of reality. When the women "win" they often respond with indignance or outright rage. They will often outright declare that they don't want to "hear nothin'" from the "Dog". This is the Victory they so eagerly sought? To prove that the father of their children is an animal who is beneath contempt? It is truly bizarre to watch. And I am glad that I am so unquestionably above these people! So, there's another purpose this ritual serves!

One wonders at the horrid world these people live in, and in many ways that world is our future, because these people really churn out the babies.

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 14:03:08 GMT

Please to answer:

- Favorite type of CD packaging:
- Favorite way to watch elves slowly devour Ken Starr:
- Ringo Starr (yes/no):
- Name someone you'd prefer to be President rather than Dubya, but just barely:
- Would you rather watch Matt Damon and Ben Affleck fuck each other or kill each other?
- Carl Reiner or Mel Brooks?
- How many times have you seen Ghost?
- Last Celebrity spotted:
- On a scale of 1-10, how badly do you want to shave "Joe Millionare"'s hair off:
- If you knew there was a 90% chance of escape, would you try to evade Police Pursuit?
- Last movie you payed full price for, and walked out before it was over:
- No one's looking, do you touch the corpse?
- Would you be willing to give up a finger of your choosing, if it meant that Dubya would leave office tomorrow? (no anesthesia)
- Ever licked soap in the shower?
- If a guy/gal had a strange, yet harmless condition whereby his/her nipple hairs grew like hairs on his/her head, and he/she cut them off and gave them to you in a baggie, how long would you keep them?
- Would you pay money to watch Dr. Phil fight Bill O'Reilly to the death? Dr. Laura? If so, how much?
- Complete this sentence: Noam Chomsky asked me to hold a half-eaten __________ ....
- Morton Downey Jr. or Shaquille O'Neill?
- Your locked in a room with a greased, nude (complete question):
- Immortality (yes/no):
- Name the worst movie you've ever seen that you know someone close to you enjoyed:
- Do you think Keifer Sutherland has a better sex life than you?
- What's the fastest you've ever driven?
- What's the most expensive thing you've ever stolen?
- When was the last time you shoplifted?
- Your big toe or Jon Ashcroft, one of them has to go:
- When was the last time you smoked pot?
- Joe Pesci or Jobeth Williams?

Turn a phrase

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 13:31:23 GMT

I liked this phrase. I was writing about manplanet, the band, not the planet, and I said, "They are so good, I wish I could grow another ass, so they could kick it."

I have found a way for you to make your livejournal info page more annoying! In the bio section, instead of writing:

I am a woman. I am proud. I am vegan. I am bisexual. I have tattoos. I have a wheat allergy.

Write:

I am woman. I am pride. I am bisexuality. I am tattoo. I am wheat allergy.

It puts it right over the top.

Apologies in Advance

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 12:45:43 GMT

I recently purchased the oeuvre of one John Vanderslice, and as a consequence, I have been thinking about the WTC attack. Given who I am, anything following that is going to be a big barrel of "wrong" so please accept my "apologies" in advance.

First, I wonder who was the first person or reporter or writer to refer to those events as "9/11" or "September 11th"?

Second, when investigating crimes we are supposed to pursue "means, motive, and opportunity" and I don't think enough effort was put into investigating Paula Poundstone. Ask the question: Who had the most to gain? If you will recall, the media was building her a bonfire on September 10th. I am sure she had the same reaction as most of us, shock and horror, and whatnot... But I'd have to bet that on some primitive level she must have been relieved. It's awful to say, but seriously, she was about to be crucified by the media! Although, truthfully, I think the conspiracy was a little out of her league. But if you happen to be a 9/11 "Truth" whackjob, why not direct some of your razor-sharp attentions on Paula Poundstone?

On that note, third, as much as I tried not to, I had two unshakable responses the day of 9/11. After, "This is a lucky break for Paula Poundstone," I initially thought, "and George Bush too. This is going to make him." Ask my mother. Then, soon after, I tried not to but I couldn't shake it. I was like Porkins with that T.I.E. fighter, "I can't shake it! I can't shake it!" My next thought was, "This would make one hell of a pinball game."

I couldn't help it. And I must admit now, I was right. It really would make a SUPERB pinball game. Give me a break! I was perpetually unemployed. What is there to do all day when you're depressed and unemployed. I had had to move (briefly) back in with my parents a few weeks before. I was about to turn thirty. That's a tough time! You want to talk about a lousy thirtieth birthday. I suppose it would be worse if your birthday was actually September 11th. That would be bad. Imagine how many kids were born on that day! That must suck. Happy Seventh Birthday! But back to me. I spent as much time as possible out of the house, of course. I was getting pretty good at some pinball games. I was able to keep the ball in the safe spots and out of the out lanes. I was getting good at tilting, even. And if you've ever had a period of your life where you were hooked on pinball, you know how that table infects your every waking thought. If you have no control over your life, here's a place where things can make sense.

And it is odd that pinball makes sense. What is the story? Are you the ball? Are you the flippers? Is the ball your "opponent"? Is the game itself your enemy? Or are you and the game collaborating in some sort of dance? It is a strange game, in that the analogies are all so strained. Yet at the same time, pinball is a fairly philosophical pursuit.

So, before the attacks, I was planning on hopping in my car, heading down to the Southside, and playing pinball. My mother told me about it, and she said she was scared, and I said, "Nothing to be scared of, it's over." I don't know how, but I knew. I was very calm. It was not very long afterward that I was saying, "Listen, if that's the best they can do, we have nothing to worry about... They couldn't even use their own weapons, they had to borrow a weapon, and a clumsy one at that." I am not saying the attacks weren't horrific or effective. I'm just saying that the US killed 120,000 people in one night of bombing, and that was 1945. This was (militarily) a pathetic attack, and a desperate one.

All that aside, perfect pinball narrative.

shirk

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 09:44:04 GMT

I have felt since I was very young that there is no way for me to participate in Society without being part of a killing machine. There's no art or craft or theory or gift you can give that can't be twisted to the purposes of the machine. And by refusing to participate, I am not punishing "the machine". The machine just gets some other part to plug into itself. So, I have tried to "stay out of it" as much as possible. And truthfully, I have done a pretty good job.

I am pretty sure that this instinct is Universal... the drive to "engage" the world on "one's own terms". And I am sure that the behavior pattern it leads to in my case is pretty common: A desire to simplify and barricade. Twenty Tons of canned food, Two tons of .303 rounds, a ham radio, and ten million zombies... BRING IT ON!

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 18:49:30 GMT

I don't think enough pointless speculation has been generated over the fact that we can refer to our people, our government or even our military as "US". As in U.S. This usage casually blends with "us", the second person plujunctive prepossessing personal pronoun (might've made a mistake there). I just read the headline: Newfound Iraqi confidence pleases, worries US, and of course, it irritated the hell out of me. Because, first of all, the framing is "family expansive" meaning that they are using an (imagined) standard family model and expanding it to create a metaphor. Basically, WE (the US) are terribly worried about Iraq (the teenager) getting keys to OUR CAR. But it pleases US to see Iraq (the teen) have a new-found sense of independence. We are not the world's "Daddy" country. In fact, this attitude of "Daddy" to the world, "Mommy" at home is offensive. But that model works when the Government wants to push fascism on us. At home, Mommy rules. Outside of the US, that's Daddy's territory. Different rules when you're in Daddy's world and Mommy's. That's why we are (apparently) so damn comfortable with this notion that there are different laws for Americans and Foreigners. Once you make an exception, the exception is the rule (if it happens to serve power). Which is to say, once you create Guantanamo Bay, everywhere is Guantanamo Bay.

We are not a "family". And even if we were, not every family consists of separate "spheres" of "duty" that do not ever intermix (Mommy's world of pies and cakes, and Daddy's world of DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING ASK DADDY WHAT HE DOES WHEN HE LEAVES THE HOUSE, YOU HEAR ME YOU FUCKING UNGRATEFUL SON OF A BITCH!). Not everyone is like that. But people who are think that everyone else should be... apparently. I don't know. I don't want anything to do with it, you fucking Nazis. The problem is, of course, that those Nazis overextend themselves and get us COMMITTED to their worldview. Ahh, fuckit.

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 17:23:29 GMT

Went out for a spin, and to see what movies are playing at the Super-Cheap...

Harold and Kumar 2 - Baby Mama - Speed Racer

While I was sitting there reading and pondering, my favorite example of (what I call) baroque styling pulled past. It got me to thinking. My favorite example of what I term "baroque" is a pickup truck that has big wheels, while it is simultaneously lowered. A low-riding pickup truck. It is so absurd that I actually find it to be offensive. As I was sitting there, reading the movies off the marquee, he pulled up to do the same. I was amazed he could read. Anyway, as he pulled away, I followed. The parking lots out here have these humps in them so you can't speed through and use them as short-cuts. At every hump, he did everything in his power to avoid as much of the hump as possible, and slowed down to an absolute crawl while going over it.

I thought of some other items for the gentleman with a big-wheeled/lowered pickup truck...

Never been there

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 12:01:31 GMT

I happen to be lucky enough to live a few blocks away from the Handball Hall of Fame.

It has long been a dream of mine to prank this institution. And the prank is simple. Actually, it would be enormously difficult. Basically, I would get as many people as possible to learn as much as possible about the history of handball, and then we would all show up as individuals and in small groups over the course of an hour or so at the Hall of Fame. Then we would all leave. There would be moderate interaction between the groups and individuals, but for the most part, we would all act like we had all independently decided to go to the Handball Hall of Fame. No convention. No tour group. Just fifty handball fanatics out to enjoy the Hall of Fame.

a few things

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 13:18:33 GMT

Searching for the seat of Totalitarianism in everyday things...

I doubt Cartesian Duality:

I am probably not using the term correctly. But I recall the moment I began doubting Cartesian Duality. I shouldn't use that term. It makes it seem like I've got dog-eared copies of various books sitting on a shelf in a wood-paneled room somewhere. I am talking about the "Mind/Body Split". The notion that there are things "of the mind" and things "of the body" and that the sphere of the mind is "higher" than the base body, and more... on two angles. First, that society reflects that and work "of the mind" is more valuable than base work "of the body". Second, that we will one day be able to separate our "mind" from our "body". I doubt this very much.

I began doubting it, I recall the day, when we were reading Romeo and Juliet in Ninth Grade English class. The teacher, who I despised, was reading one passage from the play, something "bawdy", and she stopped to point out that, "Shakespeare, you see, wasn't always high-minded and noble, he had philosophical soliloquies for the aristocrats in the balcony, but he also had bawdy humor for the peasants in the... [wherever the peasants sat]."

I objected and said, "I think it is presumptuous to assume that the peasants and burghers were uninterested in philosophical pursuits, and that the aristocrats were above laughing at bodily humor." She insisted that this was in fact the case. She went so far as to basically call me a peasant, and claim that I would never understand anyway. Because she was a stupid fucking self-centered bitch-cow who thought that Laurence Fishburne was going to come along any second and offer her the red pill. Sorry, Bitch, I hope your enjoying your after-life as worm food.

I recall in the mid nineties, there were a lot of people who thought we were about a decade away from "virtual reality". This was the (now) quaint notion that we could "download" our brains into a computer and then "download" that onto "the net" and then "download" reality onto a "downloaded" "download"... It was the people who liked the way "download" sounds... which reminds me... I'll get back to it... I ran into a lot of computer nerds from CMU. And it seemed to me at the time that not only were these guys hopelessly... hopelessly naive about the complexity of the mind/body system, they were pretty damn stupid as far as computers were concerned as well. And it's all well and good to yack about "downloading" yourself onto the "Net" and how physical reality is an illusion when your Dad is paying for your two story condo in Shadyside. Whatevs!

There was also this naive, non-sensical, and self-deluded notion that their minds were vastly superior. And they believed (though rarely would they state it explicitly) that when they "downloaded" themselves, they would be the new masters of society. Their brains were just SO AWESOME. So, that's the view of themselves that they had. They were brain jocks... Brain Bullies.

Dude at the Mall:

I had to go to the mall to scout ahead for a meeting tonight. There was this guy there, with his wife and a child. He was dressed totally "straight". He had a mannish shirt and ordinary cargo shorts (very standard attire for Tucson Summers). But he was also carrying a purse. Not some sort of man-purse mind you. A real, genuine, hard-core leather purse. It was styled and everything. It was the sort of purse you'd expect a rich old lady to have. And he also had outrageously long and elaborate clawed fingernails. Perhaps three inches long they were, which doesn't sound that long, but go ahead and look at your index finger and imagine that there's a nail on the end of it as long as the finger itself.

And they weren't just long, they were elaborately decorated. If they weren't on someone's hand (which serves a utilitarian function) they might have been quite pretty. Elaborate fingernails weird me out. It's like taking a cellphone, one that flips open, and wrapping it up in jewel-be-studded leather straps. Then dipping it in gold and wearing it around your neck. When I see someone with fingernails I think, "There's a person I couldn't get along with." Because not only are you saying, "I don't use my hands for anything." You are announcing that you are PROUD of this fact.

So what weirds me out is the presence of two elements of drag-queeniness, devoid of the entire getup. Like, if he was all done up I'd have my ordinary reaction to a drag-queen... Please, please, please don't notice me. Please don't talk to me. Please don't make a "joke" that I have to "laugh" at. Please go away. Please. You're not funny. If you were funny, you wouldn't have to dress like that. If you had anything at all interesting to say, you might say it, but you don't so you have to make some sort of commentary on "gender" that I totally get... and if you just stuck to the notion that gender is arbitrary and that by "crossing over" you are demonstrating that our societal views are non-sensical, you might have something. But you have to play this incredibly uncomfortable game of demanding that I notice that you are doing this, then scolding me for noticing it, but if I don't notice it, YOU POINT IT OUT... and THEN scold me for noticing it anyway... etc...

So, I suppose that he was a draggy type of guy going out in normal straight attire. But after he got used to wearing a purse, he couldn't dispense with it. And as for the nails, if you spend $500 on nails, you wouldn't cut them off to go to the mall.

People who know one thing:

Some people know ONE thing. And they like to show off that they know this ONE thing. For instance did you know that, when used to cut hair, scissors magically become "shears". And did you know that this is really important? Well I found out about this fact around ten or twelve years ago. Someone was cutting someone's hair, and asked if I wanted a haircut too. I said yes. At some point, I mentioned "scissors". She pointedly asked, "What did you just say?" and I followed up, "mumble... something... mumble... scissors... mumble-something." She literally stopped everything she was doing and stared at me, for a good five seconds. I know that doesn't seem like long, but try it the next time you are talking to someone. Just stare at them angrily for five seconds.

Then she said, "I didn't just hear that."

And I said, "Okay," and dropped it.

Now this was one of those authority-grabbing grabbing moments where I am supposed to be so horrified at disappointing her in some way that I would have to grovel to know what I had done wrong. "Please! Please tell me what I did wrong, Mommy! Please!" was the kind of response she was expecting. But I said nothing. Because I didn't care. I was getting less and less interested in having this nut-job cut my hair. She went back to aggressively cutting hair.

After an uncomfortable silence, she stopped again, glared at me and all but screamed, "SHEARS!"

I was very uncomfortable. And the guy getting his haircut was as still as a deer in headlights. I didn't say a thing, and I sensed again that I was supposed to have done something VERY WRONG. And I was supposed to be apologizing now, profusely. At this point I had no idea what I had done that was so terrible, so I asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

She threw down her scissors and comb and yelled, "Shears! They're called shears, not scissors!"

"Well," I replied, "They look like scissors to me."

That was the "wrong" thing to say. She actually had to leave the room at this point. No joke. She was red with rage. I was wondering what on Earth had happened to her that this semantic point was so unbelievably important to her. I was trying to conjure up the complicated situation in which referring to scissors as "scissors" instead of as "shears" could get someone killed.

MacGyver: Give me those scissors!

MacGyver: I said scissors, these are shears, you stupid...

BOOOOOM!

Later on, she insisted, and I mean insisted that I refer to her scissors as shears. She held them out to me and asked, "What am I holding in my hand?"

...

"WHAT... am I holding... in my hand?"

She was demanding that I say "shears" or she wouldn't cut my hair. And believe you me, I was fine with her not cutting my hair at this point. Especially since she had offered to cut it at a discount from what she imagined a fair price was... I mean, this wasn't even a FREE haircut. It wasn't even a good deal. And I had to drink Mussolini's Castor Oil AND pay $15 to get it?

No thanks... Scissors, baby, and 2+2=4. And we've ALWAYS been at war with Eurasia.

erie

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 14:07:01 GMT

Sometimes I get an eerie feeling that a celebrity is going to die.

Charles Grodin

Sometimes it is eerie enough that I want to bet on it.

Is that like... the WORST thing ever?

But seriously, there must be a pool in Vegas somewhere, right?

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 11:53:34 GMT

I like to suddenly have dumb ideas. Like: Is it possible for an optometrist to make a pair of glasses that give you a different kind of bad vision? For instance, if I wanted to see the world the way Woody Allen does without glasses, could an optometrist make me a set of Woody Allen contact lenses, so that if I then put on Woody Allen's glasses I would see fine? Or at least as well as Woody Allen? It doesn't have to be Woody Allen. It can be anyone.

The Worst!

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 10:00:22 GMT

The worst thing happened to me today. I started using a pencil that looked relatively new. The line I was drawing was not up to my standards of straightness (and neither are YOU!). So, I went to erase it. I thought the pencil was new. The eraser looked nearly pristine. It was not. Instead of erasing my errant line, it smudged it, and in a most unsatisfactory way. It did it with that sound, that awful sound that's just exactly the wrong sound. Teeth grating.

Why do terrible things always happen to me?

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 03:09:53 GMT

Am I the only one who thinks that "warning" people that some part of an entry is "not safe for work" is just asinine? Can we just knock it off? What is going to happen? If they fire you for something you saw on someone's website, rss feed or lj, believe you me, they were going to fire you anyway. You might want to pretend that you got fired because someone didn't put goatse behind a cut and that they are "spying" on you, but... I am betting there is something else going on.

Note: Please reply saying, "I know someone who got fired for reading something on their livejournal," and I will go track down the person or persons who did the firing and find out the real reason.

punchline

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 00:50:50 GMT

Sometimes I come up with a joke format or a punchline, but I can't come up with the rest of the joke. Sometimes it's because part of the joke exists in a concept, while some other aspect of the joke is in reality, and it is impossible to bridge the gap. Other times it is because the "joke" is so esoteric that it just doesn't make sense as a joke. I am sure you understand. It's one of those things that bounces around in your head like Sussudio by Phil Collins. Today I have two unamusing jokes. And a line from a Weezer song.

"Joke" #1: Republicans having sex through a hole in the Constitution (the way people think the Amish have sex through a hole in the sheet).

"Joke" #2: kristian keyed this off with a funny image! It is of a destitute Third World child sitting on a leather divan (at a Psychiatrist's Office) bitching and moaning about traffic, stocks, "the help", etc... Because some rich New Yorker had exported his neuroses to the Third World somehow. I picture it as a New Yorker cartoon. Only it's not funny.

Weezer lyric: From Get dangerous: "Lick the knives like we're evil forces." In reference to an alleged event where he lit a road kill on fire, stuck a knife in it and then licked the knife. It's just the grossest thing I've ever heard! Then the next line is about playing hockey without pads, which doesn't seem so hard-ass. In fact it's comical.

Hummering

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 12:19:05 GMT

If someone buys a "guilt stained" article... for instance, a Hummer, or a fur coat, does the "guilt" transfer to the second owner, or is the "guilt" and social stigma erased by a secondary transaction? Obviously a Hummer is an affront to nature no matter how far down the line you are from the original purchase. A fur coat, as well, because its existence implies cruelty. To wear it is celebrate stripping the skin off of living creatures (if the DVD has PETA on it, DO NOT WATCH IT, You Do Not Want To Know! Take their word on it!). But is the original owner then exonerated of the guilt when they sell the offensive object in question? What about more innocuous objects? Like ordinary clothing. Almost all of it is made by Chinese Slaves. Yet, we wear it. And almost every object we buy or possess or use is "stained" by the "sin" of petroleum abuse. You cannot feed yourself without feeding the machine. It can NOT be done.

I am looking for writing on the marketing of guilt. Because it is a commodity of sorts now. It is buyable, sellable, transferable, etc...

mini fight

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 06:11:36 GMT

These are the kinds of things that I fight about with my gf. Now, of course, I am aware that I am only presenting my angle, so I would like to hear the opposite position. Okay. If there is a "sin" or a "stain" connected to the production of an object, does that survive into the second hand market? For instance, since ALL of our clothes are now made by slaves somewhere in the "Third World" by eleven year olds, is it possible to wear clothes without "participating" in their enslavement? Are they enslaved? Or are we actually helping them? Okay, that's not we're arguing about. Let's take it as a given that our clothes are "stained" by their manner of production (by slaves). There's much to be said against this position, but my gf and I don't disagree there too much.

Now, my gf says that this stain is not present when you buy the clothes secondhand because the original profiteering slave drivers aren't seeing a profit from second hand sales. I don't see how the Thrift Store absolves the sin. Now, I grant that buying secondhand does extend the life of the item, and by buying second hand, we are certainly doing good for the environment (unless I am buying something like a second hand '73 Torino with no catalytic converter...)

Why am I so terribly wrong about this? And why should I be derailed by this side issue when I was getting a good head of steam going on an otherwise unrelated rant?

The Kid

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 23:52:27 GMT

I wonder what it's like to be this kid:

Can he vote in the upcoming election? No.

So this is something he and I share in common. If you're at all like me, you wanted to vote at the earliest possible age. And some people have the unfortunate "curse" of being born at a time that frustrates their ability to vote in a key election. I was unable to vote for Michael Dukakis (or more accurately, against George Bush) in the '88 election. I have yet to forgive myself for this flaw. Similarly, Spencer will be unable to vote against McCain.

Do you think he knows that that is him? Yes, he does.

Do you think he likes the album? Indeed.

Isn't it weird that the whole world has seen baby pictures of you? Not really.

* * *

So, this post is a reflection of the miracle of the internet age. I am "old" enough to recall a time when these kinds of questions drove people nuts. NO JOKE! People, myself included, walked around for weeks on end with questions like this teasing the tip of their brain tongue. It was infuriatingly frustrating. You had to go to the Library to even attempt to get an answer. Even then, if the topic was too esoteric, the answers were often simply unavailable. The question would pester you and pester you. If it was the right kind of frustrating, it would periodically return to the "top of the stack", preferably when you were in a position to do nothing about it. These kinds of questions could "ruin" your life for weeks at a time.

There's something odd about being able to find these things out within a moment or two. It's strangely almost frustrating to have the information at your eye's fingertips. Getting the answer with a few clicks is too easy somehow. The story is almost never as exciting as six weeks of pestering librarians would have made it twenty years ago.

Bother Bother

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 10:07:02 GMT

A few things have been "bothering" me. Questions that I can't find the answers to, and I don't even know how to find the answers to them (if there are answers).

First a "pop" question. I wonder if the people who are featured in the classmates.com and similar ads have given approval for their images to be used in this manner. Also, when you model for photographers who generate "clip-art" style content for anyone who pays $100 or what have you to use the image, you never know where you are going to end up. As an example, witness one of the various yahoo people:

Now when this guy posed for this shot... who knows what he thought he was posing for. Maybe yahoo specifically commissioned this shot, but it seems just as likely to me that he was posing for a series of stock photo shots. He could've had a goofy background. It might've been a group shot and he was cropped out of it. They might've added his head from one stock photo onto another model's body from a different stock photo. There's no way of knowing. And now, this guy will be the "face" of yahoomail for a few months at least. The same goes for flickr. Where do these photos come from? And are they adding to yahoo's functionality? I just want to know the "story" behind them.

Second, I have a real question:

Is the Earth gaining mass or losing it?

We know that "star dust" falls on the planet. How much? is it tons a day, or is it ounces per year? And we must be losing some atmosphere to the nothingness of space. Or are we? If so, is atmosphere being replaced? Is the overall composition of the planet changing with time? Are we losing energy? Gaining energy? Mass? Potential? How is the earth "doing"? But mostly I want to know about the star dust and atmosphere.

That is all.

rf jason Macromaker

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 00:12:22 GMT

GB

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 17:35:23 GMT

Is it offensive to assume that a bar is straight?

How about a Miata?

Reframe

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 16:15:29 GMT

I get stuff from my bank like this:

"Research has shown that the vast majority of millionaires are fastidious planners, budgeters and investors. They set a goal, make a plan to reach that goal, then work hard to make it happen."

Let me rephrase that: Research has shown that millionaires are lucky. When asked to look back at what they attribute their good fortune, they assert that their good fortune is due to their amazing virtues. The same non-sense can be said about someone who wins the lottery. They were fastidious, they budgeted, they invested. They made a goal (win the lottery), made a plan to reach that goal (played the lottery), then work hard to make it happen (every day, dammit). You can't slack off when you want to win the lottery, you have to play every day...

Listen, when some Uncleslicker gets lucky in the stock market, they say, "I applied basic principles. I studied the markets, I invested "prudently" and it paid off." So did ALL THE PEOPLE who LOST THEIR LIFE SAVINGS. Who here doesn't "work hard?" Who here doesn't "consider their options"? Everyone does these things. Some people get rewarded for it (i.e. get lucky) and some people don't. And that's ALL there is to it. Hard work is for suckers. Being lucky is the only way to get ahead. And you can't "plan" for it.

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 16:07:28 GMT

Everyone who reads this: please add "macgruber" to your interest list.