My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
Gritty Reboot
I need to go to sleep for a really long time. Not like, a solid 8-10 hours of sleep or a straight 24 hour chunk or even a brief coma. I need to hibernate, or better yet be cryogenically frozen, and give my brain the chance to just reset itself, do a system restore. To mix my metaphors, if my brain were an artery, it would be clogged. It would be clogged by the largest greasiest lump of neural distraction cholesterol known to man.
My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
My library, my music library, entrusted to the unreliable Apple programmers (that's right techie assholes, they are fallible), it comforts me. It’s comforting. I look at my music library, in its gargantuan beauty, and I’m comforted, even if it is just a little. 68.5 days worth of music. That’s 1.7125 lents worth of music, which is a long time. It’s well over 1 dog year. A dog could waste a year of its life and still not get through all of it. They would get to like, Stanley Clarke and have an identity crisis about the year they just wasted. And they wouldn’t even have heard Losing a Whole Year yet, so they wouldn’t have any song to express what they were going through. But out of all 21,803 songs here, not one is the right song for the feeling of having an injury that frustrates the sanity out of you, you miss the most amazing people in the world who are scattered across the state and even across the country, you can’t relate to anyone because you feel like an awkward boob, and you can’t sleep because your house is literally vibrating from all the partying going on everywhere. Everyone’s gone to the movies, and I’m stuck at home masturbating to a radio play. (What? What the hell is that even supposed to mean? That’s the most bizarre figure of speech I’ve ever heard anyone use…)
Tri-tip for Congress!
"I'll get all my papers and smile at the sky
For I know that the hypnotized never lie"
-The Who, "Won't Get Fooled Again"
Our system may be a broken mess of corrupt partisan bullshit, but I still believe in democracy, because democracy gives me free tri-tip sandwiches. Or at least Tom Watson does, who is running for congress (I'm pretty sure) as a Republican (at least I think so anyway).
We were sitting around our living room one evening when one of my housemate's friend comes in saying "dude, they're giving out free tri-tip sandwiches in that park by Embarcadero." Being strapped for cash (probably because this site generates shit revenue, you know how to help out) I jumped out of my chair and headed for the door, which was a bad idea because I have a stress fracture in my back. But free tri-tip! When we got there, we discovered there was much more than free tri-tip. There were tank tops that said "Tom Watson for Congress," bottle openers and ping-pong balls that bore the same insignia, and, holy shit, Tom Watson himself! I recognized him from the TV ad where a supposedly rational yet nonthreatening woman rips on our current congressperson. Tom Watson seems like someone who wouldn't mug me in a dark alley, and told me that he was a pole vaulter in college as he shook my hand which had cheeto dust on it. Oops. There was even music playing, including "Won't Get Fooled Again," which I never thought I would hear at anything to do with the Republican Party. Times have changed. But what as conspicuously absent was any sort of issues or even mention of politics at all. We got free meat and some shirts that could be used as viral campaigning, and for a lot of people, that is enough. "I'm going to vote for Tom Watson because he hooked me up, dude!"
Now, I'm not so easily fooled, but I realize that I know nothing else about Tom Watson other than the fact he essentially bought me dinner. Now, if he is elected because of this barbecue propaganda session and the decisions he makes while in office lead to economic collapse, that may be a very expensive dinner after all. And what about his opponent, incumbent Lois Capps? I don't know much about her either, although the vibe I get from her supporters reminds me of vegans and the smelly bra-burning friends that my mom has over sometimes. I get the feeling that she would be serving tofu instead of tri-tip at her rallies.
But I know nothing about either of these candidates' policies, platforms, visions for America, Masonic connections, and so forth. And the third guy is running as an independent, so I don't even know his name since he's effectively banished from politics by the two party system and therefore has no supporters.
This election cycle is a contest between the tide of moronic inferno that is the TEA Party movement and the impressionable idiots who are still feeling the "Yes We Can" hangover. And while this could be a golden opportunity for candidates to change the way politics is conducted by educating voters on issues rather than empty talking points, it has become worse. From watching the ads put out there by Jerry Brown and Meg Whitman, it makes it seem like these candidates are willing to go into my memories and kill my childhood pets with a rusty shovel.
Come November 2nd, I'll probably be voting for a tri-tip sandwich, because I know it can deliver. And that's more than Tom Watson or Lois Capps can say for themselves.
Edit: For congressman, I ended up placing a write-in vote for "A Tri-Tip Sandwich" today. And I hope you did too.
For I know that the hypnotized never lie"
-The Who, "Won't Get Fooled Again"
Our system may be a broken mess of corrupt partisan bullshit, but I still believe in democracy, because democracy gives me free tri-tip sandwiches. Or at least Tom Watson does, who is running for congress (I'm pretty sure) as a Republican (at least I think so anyway).
We were sitting around our living room one evening when one of my housemate's friend comes in saying "dude, they're giving out free tri-tip sandwiches in that park by Embarcadero." Being strapped for cash (probably because this site generates shit revenue, you know how to help out) I jumped out of my chair and headed for the door, which was a bad idea because I have a stress fracture in my back. But free tri-tip! When we got there, we discovered there was much more than free tri-tip. There were tank tops that said "Tom Watson for Congress," bottle openers and ping-pong balls that bore the same insignia, and, holy shit, Tom Watson himself! I recognized him from the TV ad where a supposedly rational yet nonthreatening woman rips on our current congressperson. Tom Watson seems like someone who wouldn't mug me in a dark alley, and told me that he was a pole vaulter in college as he shook my hand which had cheeto dust on it. Oops. There was even music playing, including "Won't Get Fooled Again," which I never thought I would hear at anything to do with the Republican Party. Times have changed. But what as conspicuously absent was any sort of issues or even mention of politics at all. We got free meat and some shirts that could be used as viral campaigning, and for a lot of people, that is enough. "I'm going to vote for Tom Watson because he hooked me up, dude!"
This is a viable alternative to democracy. Beware!
Now, I'm not so easily fooled, but I realize that I know nothing else about Tom Watson other than the fact he essentially bought me dinner. Now, if he is elected because of this barbecue propaganda session and the decisions he makes while in office lead to economic collapse, that may be a very expensive dinner after all. And what about his opponent, incumbent Lois Capps? I don't know much about her either, although the vibe I get from her supporters reminds me of vegans and the smelly bra-burning friends that my mom has over sometimes. I get the feeling that she would be serving tofu instead of tri-tip at her rallies.
But I know nothing about either of these candidates' policies, platforms, visions for America, Masonic connections, and so forth. And the third guy is running as an independent, so I don't even know his name since he's effectively banished from politics by the two party system and therefore has no supporters.
This election cycle is a contest between the tide of moronic inferno that is the TEA Party movement and the impressionable idiots who are still feeling the "Yes We Can" hangover. And while this could be a golden opportunity for candidates to change the way politics is conducted by educating voters on issues rather than empty talking points, it has become worse. From watching the ads put out there by Jerry Brown and Meg Whitman, it makes it seem like these candidates are willing to go into my memories and kill my childhood pets with a rusty shovel.
Come November 2nd, I'll probably be voting for a tri-tip sandwich, because I know it can deliver. And that's more than Tom Watson or Lois Capps can say for themselves.
Edit: For congressman, I ended up placing a write-in vote for "A Tri-Tip Sandwich" today. And I hope you did too.
Edible/Audible, Round 4
More answers to the tough question: what if your favorite band were a food?
Tom Petty: Leftover Meatloaf
This is food with a fuck you attitude. This is food for people who just don't have it in them to cook something, at least not right now, or maybe its your breakfast because you're out of cold pizza. Yeah, it's kind of chewy and lost a little flavor in the fridge, but fuck you man, you're gonna eat this shit. It's got protein and whatever the hell kind of other stuff you put in it.
The Shins: Lentil Soup
A food that's comfort food even though it isn't very sweet or fatty, and in fact, supplies complete proteins and complex carbohydrates. Also enjoyed by militant vegans, who are kind of like die-hard Shins fans. Kind of.
Chick Corea Electric Band: Paella
Both complex and complicated, bringing a whole assortment of melodies, sounds, and even textures together
Slightly Stoopid: Taco Bell
Taking something great, be it reggae or standard taqueria fare, and trying to both imitate it and exaggerate it thematically creates something that is awkward and obnoxious, but still provides some cheap enjoyment. Is also inseparably linked with being fucked up in one way or another.
Explosions in the Sky: Peyote-laced Jam
You would think that if a band were to be Peyote Jam, it would be Pearl Jam, since that is where their name comes from (Eddie Vedder allegendly had a great-grandmother named Pearl who had a recipe for peyote-laced jam, and anything is better than being called "Mookie Baylock") but Explosions in the Sky is a far more fitting band. Whether it is brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails, getting stuck in traffic or riding in an elevator with someone who smells bad, every moment will seem like the most profound moment of your life if you are listening to Explosions in the Sky.
Barenaked Ladies: Fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt
Something that you kind of want to take seriously, but you can't quite get there. (It probably has to do with the fact that one is most certainly Canadian and the other seems like it would be thought up by a Canadian.)
Tom Petty: Leftover Meatloaf
This is food with a fuck you attitude. This is food for people who just don't have it in them to cook something, at least not right now, or maybe its your breakfast because you're out of cold pizza. Yeah, it's kind of chewy and lost a little flavor in the fridge, but fuck you man, you're gonna eat this shit. It's got protein and whatever the hell kind of other stuff you put in it.
The Shins: Lentil Soup
A food that's comfort food even though it isn't very sweet or fatty, and in fact, supplies complete proteins and complex carbohydrates. Also enjoyed by militant vegans, who are kind of like die-hard Shins fans. Kind of.
Chick Corea Electric Band: Paella
Both complex and complicated, bringing a whole assortment of melodies, sounds, and even textures together
Slightly Stoopid: Taco Bell
Taking something great, be it reggae or standard taqueria fare, and trying to both imitate it and exaggerate it thematically creates something that is awkward and obnoxious, but still provides some cheap enjoyment. Is also inseparably linked with being fucked up in one way or another.
Explosions in the Sky: Peyote-laced Jam
You would think that if a band were to be Peyote Jam, it would be Pearl Jam, since that is where their name comes from (Eddie Vedder allegendly had a great-grandmother named Pearl who had a recipe for peyote-laced jam, and anything is better than being called "Mookie Baylock") but Explosions in the Sky is a far more fitting band. Whether it is brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails, getting stuck in traffic or riding in an elevator with someone who smells bad, every moment will seem like the most profound moment of your life if you are listening to Explosions in the Sky.
Barenaked Ladies: Fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt
Something that you kind of want to take seriously, but you can't quite get there. (It probably has to do with the fact that one is most certainly Canadian and the other seems like it would be thought up by a Canadian.)
Localism: Why Decent People Don’t Need Nationalism - A Guest Post by Justin Flom
It's not every day that you get to be the medium of expression for a new political movement. For this post, I'm very proud to present a guest piece by Mr. Justin Flom. I asked him to write this piece after a discussion we had where he coined the term "Localism." He did, and even went the extra mile as to supply song lyrics. So without further ado, here is some stimulation for your political theory palate...
“What if every living soul could be upright and strong?
Well then I do imagine
There will be sorrow no more.”
-Bad Religion, Sorrow
The guy asked me if I could spare a moment. He had his pseudo-counter-culture military-style jacket on, so I figured even if I’m going to be pleaded into signing something, at least the guy’s got a good heart about it. I forgot it was getting to November, though. I took a quick look at what he was holding, a pamphlet about prop 23, and I knew I was about to get an earful about who knows what and how I can change it. Quickly I interrupted, making clear that I don’t vote. It wasn’t really part of my, uh…
“Philosophy.” Wow. He finished my sentence for me. Although he was an alright guy, I didn’t stick around for the rest of the song and dance, so I wished Che Jr. luck on his mission and walked away. Unfortunately, there was no slow motion or explosion, just my Alaska t-shirt that says “call of the wild.”
Even though I handled that situation like a dopamined sun bear, I like advertising that I don’t vote. It makes me feel like I have a purpose, or am an individual. Sure, a sizeable portion of the population doesn’t vote, but that’s because they’re too lazy to pick up a pen to fill in the ballot with, and those ballot reading machines don’t acknowledge dorito residue.
To me, not voting is more of a form of political participation that voting actually is. People ask why I don’t vote, and if I’m in the right mood, I’ll vocalize my dissent of elections, politics and government in general. It’s like there’s a magician and he’s got everyone else fooled but me. Lots of folks treat voting like the greatest thing since sliced butter. As if the most righteous, patriotic thing you can do other than wear a flag is vote. I’m not the guy to be all up to date and accurate with statistics, but I’m sure I make a bigger difference telling others my opinion than jumping through hoops to put a checkmark next to some guy’s name.
But let me get down to the point of why Nate asked me to write a fairly unrelated chapter to the continuing story of Spaceship Earth. The key word to my whole anti-voting campaign is a word called “Localism.” There was a day, not too long ago, when I would have called myself an Anarchist. Anarchism, however, gets a bad rap from pretty much everybody. It’s associated with violence, destruction, and most tragically, with being uncivilized. For some reason, people cannot dissociate a lack of government with people being assholes to each other. They have become inseparable. After deciding that I no longer wanted to try and fight ingrained societal beliefs and be thought of as a violent radical, I came up with my own political ideology. Hence, localism was born.
Most of what Nate knows about localism came from a discussion I participated in on our way to one of our summer bowling nights. It was a very memorable conversation, especially when Max described representative democracy as one of the greatest inventions of mankind and I laughed. Sorry, Max. No offense to you. Anyway, whenever I must describe localism on the fly, it’s less effective, because I sometimes don’t have the opportunity to break down preconceived notions. Max believed democracy was the best because that’s what he’s been told his whole life. That’s not his fault, I used to be the same way, as a politically undeveloped rebel, I even voted once. Gasp! But when so many of the lessons taught to us were taught by the government, it only makes sense that the system’s first priority is the preservation of the system, so although we learn a lot of really great lessons, some of them are undeniably skewed. If you don’t trust anarchism, ask yourself why you don’t. There are reasons we don’t like fascism or communism, because there are recent historical examples of them not working.
In response to this point, Max argued that there have been ‘experiments’ of anarchism, where small states would attempt to exist without a governing body. But with the looming presence of domineering governments, the communities failed and empires worldwide chuckled to themselves. I’m picturing an analogy where a frat bro hits a pledge’s shins with a shovel, makes him shotgun 10 beers and then sprint a half-mile. Fair? I think not.
And, unless you’re a soulless demon-spawn, you’ll agree that it’s not fair. Which brings me to my next point: All people have the same basic morality. We understand that hitting other people with shovels is wrong. There are a lot of values that have been indoctrinated into our mass consciousness just because of our culture. Basic ideas like driving on the right side of the road and not wearing underwear on your head. Other ideas, however are simply part of human nature, such as not putting mayo on pizza and murdering other people. A small child, yet uninfluenced by the world, won’t know which side of the road to drive on, but will totally understand that it hurts to get your blanket stolen. As a Christian, I call the pre-placed morality part of the soul given to us by God, but for all you non-religious folks, you still understand that there are certain things that are big no-no’s, without having them be taught. So, how come these ‘natural laws’ are being broken right and left?
Well, the easy answer is that people are irresponsible. The complicated reason is that the reason people put gum under the desk is the same reason as why people hold up liquor stores. Although people may not think through the logic often, most figure that there’s someone to clean up after them, or at least they’ve been raised in a world where things are done for them. Yes, I am calling government a nanny. Can’t feed your kids? It’s okay, nanny government will provide you with food stamps. Someone making fun of you? It’s okay, nanny government will comfort you by giving the bully a stern talking-to in the court of law. It’s about time for mankind to grow up and learn to make it’s own bed and meals. Or at least be able to microwave bagel bites.
So, at this point, people ask me about various federal institutions which they feel they could not live without. I’ll admit, I love using country libraries and I attend a public university, so of course there are systems which are beneficial, but lots of other stuff could be easily privatized, even roads and schools. If you think I sound crazy, that’s because you’ve probably never seriously considered how you get your roads and schools. People pay taxes, so, you’re paying for a bunch of random crap anyways. Taxes are like taking 200$ to the supermarket and getting in return lots of things you weren’t asking for while not receiving some of the things you need. I needed a head of lettuce, why did I get a bicycle pump?
And here we are at the gist of localism. And the difference between it and the layman’s definition of anarchism. Organization can and should exist, but proximal to where you are at. Government has made shortcuts for huge corporations which lead to outsourcing, which lead to fewer ways to get the things you need locally. In turn, those big companies help get those in government reelected. My neighbors on both sides administrate the shipment of goods from overseas, but I’d much rather one of them be a cooper and the other a fletcher. That way I can support those around me and lessen my carbon footprint in one fell swoop. Of course, there’s the inconvenience of me having to go to more than one place to fetch my barrels and arrows, but that’s part of being a more responsible person. (Barrels of arrows,though, are a whole different matter.)
When everything relevant to us happens locally, we know exactly what’s going on, there’s no duplicity. We know how products are made, where they come from. We know who our local leaders are and what rules we’ve come up for ourselves and why they exist. There’s less bureaucracy and more people actually getting things done. Competition between businesses is more fair. War is less probable and in worst case scenario, less afflicting. It’s generally a whole lot easier to agree among a town council, since there aren’t hundreds of thousands of lives being affected by the decision. The people in Washington, although they may have good intentions for you, their number one priority is always the next election and whether or not they’ll hold the office. How can you trust, or even willingly put power into their hands? People love Obama, but behind all of the suave media personality that he is, what kind of man is he really? How will we ever know? What happens when one of his successors screws up? You voted for him, so the blood will be on your hands. I’d rather trust leadership with a person that I know and can personally hold accountable.
Government is a water balloon, and the bigger it gets, the closer it is to popping. Barely fill it up, and there’s less of a chance of it making it look like you peed in your pants.
So, if you were planning on voting this upcoming election, don’t. And if you really have to, well, at least try to elect your aunt or junior high band teacher or something.
The Ozone Shack is a safe place for all thoughts and opinions. If you would be interested in contributing as a guest writer, shoot me an email or contact us through our facebook page.
The Ozone Shack is a safe place for all thoughts and opinions. If you would be interested in contributing as a guest writer, shoot me an email or contact us through our facebook page.
The 3rd Millenium: Party in the Robotocracy
I'm not afraid of robot overlords, trans-humans, test tube babies, government surveillance, mind control, corporate hegemony, alien overlords, or ramped-up eugenics. I'm not even afraid of the grey goo that we'll all be turned into once nanotechnology goes awry. I'm not afraid of a dystopia because, as I've made very clear before, we are already living in a dystopia. The thing that scares me most about this dystopia is Miley Cyrus.
There are two types of people in 2010. There are those who like Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA," and then there are those who hate it but for some reason deep down inside kinda like certain aspects of it. For example, I'll punch a hole in the next speaker that I hear playing the song, but you can put a foil helmet on my head and call me paranoid if I don't like that guitar riff that they ripped off from some 70's R&B track who's title eludes me at the moment. The song is ubiquitous. You can't escape it any more easily than you can escape the watchful eye of Big Brother.
The music industry has reached the point where they can pinpoint the exact musicological aspects of songs that people will find aurally pleasing. If you've used Pandora you've experienced the lite version of this. Songs are broken down into elements, or "genomes" as they're called by the folks at Pandora, and your feedback is used to determine which elements you like. (For example, I'm all about extensive vamping, mixed electric acoustic and electric instrumentation, and busy horn sections, apparently.) You can then discover music that sounds like the music you already know, but structured differently.
If you watched last election's presidential debates (ok, you probably didn't) you noticed that certain networks had instant feedback from voters using knobs to indicate whether what the candidates were saying had a positive or negative effect. What people didn't realize is that this data was being used to determine which talking points were the best to hit, so speech writers could take the guesswork out of their jobs.
And now we have the same thing with music. Using focus groups, record companies can find out which riffs are the most pleasing. They're not looking for a riff that sounds good anymore, they're looking for the best riff, the riff that will hit our proverbial cash gag reflexes. We don't know why we like the riff at the beginning of Party in the USA, we just do. But the people who wrote and produced this song (aka, not Miley Cyrus) sampled literally dozens if not hundreds of riffs to use. The same methodology was used for the synth bass line that everyone loves. The lyrics are about what everyone loves: having fun, being un-inhibited, patriotism (sort of), hearing the music that you like, Middle America's disillusionment from Los Angeles, and the word "yeah!"
At some point down the road, it could be fifty years, it could be five, this is how all pop music will be made. It will be nothing but aggregations of musical elements that have been empirically proven to please listeners most effectively. Pop music will essentially become a gray goo of songs that all sound kind of the same. And if that's not a dystopia, then I don't know what is.
There are two types of people in 2010. There are those who like Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA," and then there are those who hate it but for some reason deep down inside kinda like certain aspects of it. For example, I'll punch a hole in the next speaker that I hear playing the song, but you can put a foil helmet on my head and call me paranoid if I don't like that guitar riff that they ripped off from some 70's R&B track who's title eludes me at the moment. The song is ubiquitous. You can't escape it any more easily than you can escape the watchful eye of Big Brother.
The music industry has reached the point where they can pinpoint the exact musicological aspects of songs that people will find aurally pleasing. If you've used Pandora you've experienced the lite version of this. Songs are broken down into elements, or "genomes" as they're called by the folks at Pandora, and your feedback is used to determine which elements you like. (For example, I'm all about extensive vamping, mixed electric acoustic and electric instrumentation, and busy horn sections, apparently.) You can then discover music that sounds like the music you already know, but structured differently.
If you watched last election's presidential debates (ok, you probably didn't) you noticed that certain networks had instant feedback from voters using knobs to indicate whether what the candidates were saying had a positive or negative effect. What people didn't realize is that this data was being used to determine which talking points were the best to hit, so speech writers could take the guesswork out of their jobs.
And now we have the same thing with music. Using focus groups, record companies can find out which riffs are the most pleasing. They're not looking for a riff that sounds good anymore, they're looking for the best riff, the riff that will hit our proverbial cash gag reflexes. We don't know why we like the riff at the beginning of Party in the USA, we just do. But the people who wrote and produced this song (aka, not Miley Cyrus) sampled literally dozens if not hundreds of riffs to use. The same methodology was used for the synth bass line that everyone loves. The lyrics are about what everyone loves: having fun, being un-inhibited, patriotism (sort of), hearing the music that you like, Middle America's disillusionment from Los Angeles, and the word "yeah!"
At some point down the road, it could be fifty years, it could be five, this is how all pop music will be made. It will be nothing but aggregations of musical elements that have been empirically proven to please listeners most effectively. Pop music will essentially become a gray goo of songs that all sound kind of the same. And if that's not a dystopia, then I don't know what is.
I Can't Believe It's Not Peyote!
Between the Demoncrats and the Republican'ts, the Robocrats and the autocrats, the oligarchs and the old farts, the cuisinarts and the fruit tarts, the world wars and the fancy cars, country stars, flying-V guitars and the life on Mars, between the nobodies and the homebodies, the deadheads and the Murphy beds, old maids, plasma grenades, and the Everglades, between Chicago and Shanghai, the Amazon and the River Kwai, the Superdome and the Coliseum in Rome, between the plans we made, the dreams that fade, the destinies we evade and the friends we made, between the A-Team and A Love Supreme, between me, and you, and all the reckless things we do, I just want a slice of the sky so that when you and I are burnt out shells of our former selves, when our adventures become misadventures and we want nothing more than to dance the night away in the corner and split a bucket of clams; I want a slice of the sky where I'm glad I'm not someone else.
Sports Are Important
If the rest of the media were run in any way close to the way that ESPN is, we would all be much more well informed people. In the parallel universe where cable news is as in-depth and entertaining as Sports Center, I could probably name all nine supreme court justices, be able to tell you exactly how much Meg Whitman's campaign has raised, and rattle off the GDP's of most industrialized nations (and of course it would be adjusted for Purchasing Power Parity). And I would care. I would really care about Kosovo and the plight of the Kurds, I would understand why the hell the Western Sahara is not really its own country and why the European Union isn't so hip anymore.
In my house right now, we care the fuck about sports. If the TV is on, your best bet is that it will be playing a football game or Sports Center. Sports Center does everything that cable news tries to do, but can't. There's in depth analysis of issues, debate, dissent, panels of experts that actually look good in suits, and most importantly, the female reporters are hotter. You want to watch Sports Center because it's entertaining, and because you care about sports, because sports are important. Granted, cable news has a huge disadvantage, in that even Cubs fans are way less depressing than another batch of starving refugees.
When we get to the levels of fandom and money that come with professional and collegiate sports, everything becomes business, and sports is only a game as much as the Pacific Theater was a bunch of people sitting in their bathtubs pretending they were ship's captains, wearing sailor hats made out of newspaper. The first experience I had with team sports was first grade tee ball league, where you never get out even if you should be out, and both teams win. And snacks, you always got snacks. Except when my mom forgot it was her turn to be the snack mom, when I got my first experience being that guy.
At some point, Little League became less about having fun and getting bonus points for not picking your nose in the outfield, and more about winning. I couldn't catch a ball, I couldn't hit the ball, and my arm was apparently improperly calibrated at birth, forcing me to assume the mantle of the worst kid on the team. Now, out of all of those kids, I am probably the only one who is an NCAA Division I athlete, which I guess gives hope to all you youngsters who suck at sports now, but only those of you who can run fast. I think that we embrace sports as a culture because it's the only real physical struggle most of us deal with in the industrialized and post-industrial world. Everybody needs to be tested, and since we are no longer taking down mastodon or defending our fields from barbarian hordes, sports serves as the last real physical testing ground. And since most of us can't play sports at a high level, with the bar rising every day, we have to settle for being fans.
I find that I can't really get behind any professional sports team (the sole exception being the A's). I know this makes me a total yurt dwelling communist-hippie, but I have come to the realization that professional sports teams are no different than IBM or Wal Mart, corporations that trick you into becoming loyal in an attempt to make money. And the professional sports industry is highly successful. That's right, it's an industry.
But a bizarre twist of events has got me to care about the NFL. This is because the evil marketing geniuses at ESPN got me hooked into a fantasy football league. And since everyone in my house is participating, we care the fuck about sports even more than we normally would. Two weeks ago, I was barely aware that the Detroit Lions existed. Their offensive line could have consisted entirely of shaved apes and I would be unaware. But now that Jahvid Best is on my fantasy team, I need to care, and I do.
Which leads us to my brilliant idea for making us all informed about global politics. Fantasy Countries! You get points for events in the news regarding world leaders and national institutions that you draft. This will trick us into watching the news, which will trick us into being informed. I'm drafting Sarkozy as my head of state, Wen Jiabao as my head of government, Canadian Parliament as my legislature, the US Constitution as my constitution, China as my military, the CIA as my intelligence agency, Germany for my manufacturing sector, Lichtenstein for my financial sector, my national history from Turkey, and my disenfranchised ethnic minorities from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It will be called Slapistan, and you can join my fantasy league if you want.
Until next time, Earth. And I promise it will be much sooner.
In my house right now, we care the fuck about sports. If the TV is on, your best bet is that it will be playing a football game or Sports Center. Sports Center does everything that cable news tries to do, but can't. There's in depth analysis of issues, debate, dissent, panels of experts that actually look good in suits, and most importantly, the female reporters are hotter. You want to watch Sports Center because it's entertaining, and because you care about sports, because sports are important. Granted, cable news has a huge disadvantage, in that even Cubs fans are way less depressing than another batch of starving refugees.
When we get to the levels of fandom and money that come with professional and collegiate sports, everything becomes business, and sports is only a game as much as the Pacific Theater was a bunch of people sitting in their bathtubs pretending they were ship's captains, wearing sailor hats made out of newspaper. The first experience I had with team sports was first grade tee ball league, where you never get out even if you should be out, and both teams win. And snacks, you always got snacks. Except when my mom forgot it was her turn to be the snack mom, when I got my first experience being that guy.
At some point, Little League became less about having fun and getting bonus points for not picking your nose in the outfield, and more about winning. I couldn't catch a ball, I couldn't hit the ball, and my arm was apparently improperly calibrated at birth, forcing me to assume the mantle of the worst kid on the team. Now, out of all of those kids, I am probably the only one who is an NCAA Division I athlete, which I guess gives hope to all you youngsters who suck at sports now, but only those of you who can run fast. I think that we embrace sports as a culture because it's the only real physical struggle most of us deal with in the industrialized and post-industrial world. Everybody needs to be tested, and since we are no longer taking down mastodon or defending our fields from barbarian hordes, sports serves as the last real physical testing ground. And since most of us can't play sports at a high level, with the bar rising every day, we have to settle for being fans.
I find that I can't really get behind any professional sports team (the sole exception being the A's). I know this makes me a total yurt dwelling communist-hippie, but I have come to the realization that professional sports teams are no different than IBM or Wal Mart, corporations that trick you into becoming loyal in an attempt to make money. And the professional sports industry is highly successful. That's right, it's an industry.
But a bizarre twist of events has got me to care about the NFL. This is because the evil marketing geniuses at ESPN got me hooked into a fantasy football league. And since everyone in my house is participating, we care the fuck about sports even more than we normally would. Two weeks ago, I was barely aware that the Detroit Lions existed. Their offensive line could have consisted entirely of shaved apes and I would be unaware. But now that Jahvid Best is on my fantasy team, I need to care, and I do.
Which leads us to my brilliant idea for making us all informed about global politics. Fantasy Countries! You get points for events in the news regarding world leaders and national institutions that you draft. This will trick us into watching the news, which will trick us into being informed. I'm drafting Sarkozy as my head of state, Wen Jiabao as my head of government, Canadian Parliament as my legislature, the US Constitution as my constitution, China as my military, the CIA as my intelligence agency, Germany for my manufacturing sector, Lichtenstein for my financial sector, my national history from Turkey, and my disenfranchised ethnic minorities from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It will be called Slapistan, and you can join my fantasy league if you want.
Until next time, Earth. And I promise it will be much sooner.
Popcorn Machine
"We got to install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these color TVs"
-Dire Straits, "Money for Nothing"
The other day at work, as I was clearing out a storage closet, I had to move a carnival-style popcorn machine. For some reason I was hoping I would feel like I was in some sort of magical, exciting, slightly whimsical state of existence as I moved it, and that somewhere in the background a pipe organ would start playing "The Entertainer." Maybe a clown car would drive up and carnies would start setting up a ring-toss game and funnel cake would come raining down. But instead it was just more shit I had to move. There was nothing exciting about it.
I think this is a sign of growing up.
As a kid, when you don't understand things, everything is exciting, or at least has the potential to be used as something fun. The older you get, and the more you understand things, everything just becomes an obstacle. If you grow up right, there are no adventures, only inconveniences.
So as much as I've tried to avoid growing up - eating apple jacks instead of special K, believing that my car is a spaceship, etc. - it looks like I may be heading in that direction. For example, I am starting to like coffee. Coffee is an "acquired taste," which means that it's something you're not actually supposed to like but you trick yourself into liking it anyway. Coffee tastes bitter. Poisonous plants usually taste bitter. You are not supposed to eat poisonous plants. This means you are probably not supposed to drink coffee, but we do it anyway because we're a society of addicts and we're convinced that it makes us adults.
I remember my first cup of coffee. I was in fifth grade. On that particular day, I had to give a speech of some sort, as I was running for class office. I was up at four in the morning because I couldn't sleep, and my dad decided that I was going to need energy for the big day ahead of me, so he gave me coffee. (It's ok, I'm 6'1" so it's not like it stunted my growth at all.) After every sip I would pour in some milk until it got to the point where I could actually drink it because it was essentially milk with a hint of mocha. And I felt so damn grown up because I was drinking coffee. I hated it, but the novelty was enough to overcome the fact that it tasted worse than all of the kale soup my mom made ever put together.
I still hate coffee, but now it's at least become something that seems normal, even though probably as early as middle school some of my peers were drinking it for its utilitarian function. If we're using coffee as a litmus test for adulthood (in an actual litmus test, coffee would give you a 6.9), then I'm, well, at least in the early stages of being grown up. As a result, the imagination lobe in my brain will now atrophy. Sticks will no longer become guns and swords, swings are no longer airplanes, brooms are no longer guitars, cooking pots are no longer helmets, broken sprinklers are things to be fixed rather than things to play with, cardboard boxes are for recycling instead of being building materials for forts, the newspaper is for reading and not for making hats, I know why the sky is blue, I know how cars work, I know where babies come from, I have to register for the draft which could (theoretically) turn me into an army man at any second as opposed to voluntarily dressing up like an army man and shooting imaginary Iraqis, I'm starting to legitimately consider things like "grad school" and "health insurance," and it will probably be in the next few years that one of my close friends gets married. I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
And to top it all off, there is nothing different between a popcorn machine and a rack of folding chairs; they're both heavy shit that needs to be moved.
All I can say is: I want my MTV.
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these color TVs"
-Dire Straits, "Money for Nothing"
The other day at work, as I was clearing out a storage closet, I had to move a carnival-style popcorn machine. For some reason I was hoping I would feel like I was in some sort of magical, exciting, slightly whimsical state of existence as I moved it, and that somewhere in the background a pipe organ would start playing "The Entertainer." Maybe a clown car would drive up and carnies would start setting up a ring-toss game and funnel cake would come raining down. But instead it was just more shit I had to move. There was nothing exciting about it.
I think this is a sign of growing up.
As a kid, when you don't understand things, everything is exciting, or at least has the potential to be used as something fun. The older you get, and the more you understand things, everything just becomes an obstacle. If you grow up right, there are no adventures, only inconveniences.
So as much as I've tried to avoid growing up - eating apple jacks instead of special K, believing that my car is a spaceship, etc. - it looks like I may be heading in that direction. For example, I am starting to like coffee. Coffee is an "acquired taste," which means that it's something you're not actually supposed to like but you trick yourself into liking it anyway. Coffee tastes bitter. Poisonous plants usually taste bitter. You are not supposed to eat poisonous plants. This means you are probably not supposed to drink coffee, but we do it anyway because we're a society of addicts and we're convinced that it makes us adults.
I remember my first cup of coffee. I was in fifth grade. On that particular day, I had to give a speech of some sort, as I was running for class office. I was up at four in the morning because I couldn't sleep, and my dad decided that I was going to need energy for the big day ahead of me, so he gave me coffee. (It's ok, I'm 6'1" so it's not like it stunted my growth at all.) After every sip I would pour in some milk until it got to the point where I could actually drink it because it was essentially milk with a hint of mocha. And I felt so damn grown up because I was drinking coffee. I hated it, but the novelty was enough to overcome the fact that it tasted worse than all of the kale soup my mom made ever put together.
I still hate coffee, but now it's at least become something that seems normal, even though probably as early as middle school some of my peers were drinking it for its utilitarian function. If we're using coffee as a litmus test for adulthood (in an actual litmus test, coffee would give you a 6.9), then I'm, well, at least in the early stages of being grown up. As a result, the imagination lobe in my brain will now atrophy. Sticks will no longer become guns and swords, swings are no longer airplanes, brooms are no longer guitars, cooking pots are no longer helmets, broken sprinklers are things to be fixed rather than things to play with, cardboard boxes are for recycling instead of being building materials for forts, the newspaper is for reading and not for making hats, I know why the sky is blue, I know how cars work, I know where babies come from, I have to register for the draft which could (theoretically) turn me into an army man at any second as opposed to voluntarily dressing up like an army man and shooting imaginary Iraqis, I'm starting to legitimately consider things like "grad school" and "health insurance," and it will probably be in the next few years that one of my close friends gets married. I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
And to top it all off, there is nothing different between a popcorn machine and a rack of folding chairs; they're both heavy shit that needs to be moved.
All I can say is: I want my MTV.